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2018 Women Writing through Reform in France and Italy: Marguerite De Navarre and the Female Spiritual Community Merry Elizabeth Low

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COLLEGE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES

WOMEN WRITING THROUGH REFORM IN FRANCE AND ITALY:

MARGUERITE DE NAVARRE

AND THE FEMALE SPIRITUAL COMMUNITY

By

MERRY ELIZABETH LOW

A Dissertation submitted to the Department of Modern Languages and Linguistics in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

2018 Merry E. Low defended this dissertation on April 9, 2018. The members of the supervisory committee were:

Reinier Leushuis Professor Directing Dissertation

François Dupuigrenet-Desroussilles University Representative

Lori J. Walters Committee Member

Irene Zanini-Cordi Committee Member

Martin Munro Committee Member

The Graduate School has verified and approved the above-named committee members, and certifies that the dissertation has been approved in accordance with university requirements.

ii

For Melanie, my sister, whose memory serves as a constant reminder of the goodness of God, who, in his grace, chose to richly bless those in her path with the gift of her life.

iii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am indebted to the scholarly community at the Department of Modern Languages and Linguistics of Florida State University for the overwhelming support and guidance that I have received throughout the course of this dissertation project.

I would like to first thank Professor Reinier Leushuis, my major professor and director of this dissertation, for allowing me the space to develop as a writer, thinker, and academic over the course of these past few years. Not only did you demonstrate the rigorous and meticulous nature of quality research and textual analysis, more importantly, your patience, humility, and generosity towards your colleagues and students have made an indelible impression on me as I envision the caliber of professor I hope to be one day.

To the rest of my committee, I am sincerely grateful for the investment that you have made in my formation as a researcher. Thank you, Professor Irene Zanini-Cordi, for introducing me to Vittoria Colonna and for instigating my love affair with all things Italian. You have set a beautiful example for me of fully embracing life, both in and beyond the academy. Your belief in me, and my work, throughout the past few years has meant the world to me and sustained me at a very difficult time in my life. To Professor Lori Walters, thank you for your work in the field that has served to further illuminate the female community of scholars, both past and present. Thank you for your encouragement to me throughout my time in the French program. To Professor François Dupuigrenet-Desroussilles, thank you for your willingness to participate as a committee member in this project as an expert in this fascinating era in Europe. To Professor Martin Munro, thank you for being a part of my committee, and for your support in both my project as well as for your directing the Winthrop-King Institute, which enabled me to perform the necessary archival research that has richly informed my dissertation.

As a graduate student in both the French masters and doctoral programs at Florida State, I am deeply grateful for the Winthrop-King Institute, which has allowed me to teach, study, research, and present papers, both here and abroad, without worrying about the financial strains that inhibit the majority of young scholars. Thank you especially to Racha Sattati, for the hard work that you do for the institute, for graduate students, and for your lovely friendship through the years.

Thank you also to the French faculty here at Florida State University. Thank you, Professor Aimée Boutin for the leadership and dedication that you have put forth to continually enhance our French program. I can only hope to follow in your footsteps as both a professor and scholar in the field. To Professor Emeritus Bill Cloonan, thank you for filling the classrooms, offices, and hallways of Diffenbaugh with levity, brilliance, and kindness, in my early years of the program.

To Professor Virginia Osborn, thank you for calmly guiding all of the French Teaching Assistants through the murky waters of language instruction at the university-level. Your peaceful attitude and desire for us all to enjoy teaching together, as a community, have been integral aspects of my academic career at Florida State.

iv Thank you, Professor Mark Pietralunga, for the service that you have given to our department as chair over the past few years. On so many levels, you have shown nothing but enthusiastic support to graduate students in all language programs: thank you, personally, for the essential role that you have played in my professional development. To the administrative support staff in our department, Wendy Pigott, Jeannine Spears, Jennifer Morton, and Emily Cole, thank you for the patience and joy that you have shown towards me through the past years with all of my questions and concerns.

To my fellow graduate students in the French, Italian, and Spanish programs, thank you for making the past seven years easier through several hilarious study sessions, “proof-reading” meetings for Terra Incognita, and the shared understanding of what it means to balance graduate studies and teaching responsibilities with taking care of ourselves and one another.

To the Italian program, thank you for letting me invade the classrooms, as both student and instructor. Thank you, Professor Katy Prantil, for your help as I improved my teaching abilities in the Italian context, as well as for your cheerful attitude, which helped me finish the dissertation with confidence. To Professor Silvia Valisa, thank you for sharing my love for soccer, for laughing with me, and for all that you have done in support of my graduate career. To Professor Beth Coggeshall, thank you for the hours that you spent with me in preparing and revising my job market materials. Thank you also for helping to calm my nerves before my defense, and for your friendship, which serves as a beautiful bookend to my career as a graduate student.

Thank you to Irene, Silvia, and Beth, for coming alongside me, in different stages of my grieving journey over the death of my sister. I consider myself incredibly blessed to have come to know such phenomenal women who have invested in me both professionally and personally, and who have no doubt aided in my healing process.

Lastly, I could not have accomplished this research without my friends and family, whose steady presence in my life served as a constant reminder of what really matters. Thank you to my two church communities, City Church and South Point, for providing me with genuine community based on a desire to follow Christ in our daily lives, and to live sacrificially for those around us. Thank you to Tallahassee Soccer Association and Warner Soccer, for allowing me to run around, release some stress, and make longlasting friendships on the soccer field.

To my parents, Larry and Beth, thank you for your unconditional love and wisdom throughout my time at Florida State. Thank you to my sister, brother, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, and in-laws, for always receiving me with warmth and laughter.

To my husband, Jim, thank you for your faithfulness and grace to me over the course of my time as a graduate student. I could not have done any of this without you or our two felines. Thank you for working hard to make our home a secure foundation from which I have been able to pursue this degree, even when it meant that I was far away in Italy. I do not want to imagine what these past few years would have been without your humor, sensitivity, and love.

v TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT ...... vii

1. INTRODUCTION ...... 1

2. SACRED DISSONANCE AND DIVINE REST IN MARGUERITE DE NAVARRE’S LE MIROIR DE L’ÂME PÉCHERESSE ...... 35

3.REFORMING THE GIFT IN VITTORIA COLONNA’S CARTEGGIO AND RIME SPIRITUALI ...... 89

4. HEARING THE ECHO “D’UNE VOIX PRESCHERESSE” IN MARIE DENTIÈRE’S EPISTRE TRES UTILE ...... 152

5. THE PRACTICE OF REFORMED FEMALE SPIRITUAL FRIENDSHIP IN THE DIALOGUES OF OLYMPIA MORATA ...... 212

6. CONCLUSION ...... 264

REFERENCES ...... 270

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ...... 283

vi ABSTRACT

This dissertation examines literary manifestations of spirituality and theology in women’s writings that appeared throughout the various Reformation movements in France and Italy during the sixteenth century, with particular focus on the oeuvre of Marguerite de Navarre (1492-1549).

The intersection of female spirituality and theology, as expressed during an epoch replete with various ecclesiastical and confessional crises, guides the direction of literary analysis of spiritual texts, written by Marguerite de Navarre, as well as her contemporaries, Vittoria Colonna (1490-

1547), Marie Dentière (1495-1561), and Olympia Morata (1526-1555). In particular, I claim that reform movements in France and Italy inspire female authors to confront and articulate spiritual and theological thought in a peculiar form of female literary discourse. Moreover, I discuss how female authors appropriate genres not generally used for purposes of theological expression by male authors, such as poetic dialogue and familiar epistolary exchange. As a result of their exploitation of these genres and literary discourses, as well as their epistolary correspondence with one another, a reformed community of women emerges, based on the shared desire to explore, express, and defend theological ideas and spirituality of the nascent Protestant faith.

vii CHAPTER ONE INTRODUCTION

This dissertation explores the literary manifestations of spirituality and theology from the female perspective throughout various reform movements in France and Italy during the sixteenth century, with a particular focus on the writings of Marguerite de Navarre (1492-1549).

My research is inspired by the intersection of female spirituality and theology as expressed during an epoch replete with various ecclesiastical and confessional crises, all of which were deeply embedded within the socio-political systems of sixteenth-century France and Italy. In particular, I argue that the rise of reformist thought in France and Italy inspired female authors to confront and voice their own theology and spirituality in a peculiar form of female literary discourse, most notably through appropriating genres not generally used for purposes of theological expression by male authors, such as poetic dialogue and familiar epistolary exchange.

Moreover, I claim that, as a result of their exploitation of these genres and literary discourses, female authors of this period were able to foster and cultivate unique forms of female friendship based on a newly found shared spirituality.

I explore these issues not only in the writings of Marguerite de Navarre, but also in the works of women writers who were associated with her, either through literary correspondence or association through various court networks. While the work of Marguerite de Navarre will be central to my argument, I include other female literary voices, namely Marie Dentière (1495-

1561) and Jeanne de Jussie (1503-1561) in France, and Vittoria Colonna (1490-1547) and

Olympia Morata (1526-1555) in Italy. Each woman played a part in Marguerite’s local and temporal community in the sense that she corresponded with them or was in either direct or indirect contact with them. Collectively speaking, the ensemble of these women’s literary works

1 and epistolary exchanges produces a feminized collectivity in a broader sense, as each woman addresses, through their writings, theological and ecclesiastical conflicts that characterized the epoch in which they lived.

The following questions guide my exploration: What impact did religious reform movements have on female production of spiritual and theological writing? To what extent did the Protestant Reformation promote female spiritual community and friendship? Did the

Reformation, in particular, present a more individualistic approach to the expression of female spirituality in light of the reformist emphasis on one’s personal unmediated relationship with

God? Lastly, what specific discourses and what genres did women choose and exploit to frame their ideas and give shape to their sense of community?

For the purposes of this study, I will differentiate the terms “spirituality” and “theology.”

In my research, spirituality, or spiritual literature, refers to the more mystical and interior approach to Christian faith. Throughout this dissertation, I will use the terms, “devotional,”

“spiritual,” affective,” “contemplative,” and “mystic” interchangeably to refer to any type of approach to the Christian religion that emphasizes one’s experiential encounter of God, in particular through the meditation on the life of Christ, which should result in one’s bearing the image of Christ (imitatio Christi). Theology, on the other hand, refers to the study of God.

Throughout the history of Christendom, theology also encompasses the (male) production of

Christian dogma often produced through exegesis, biblical and patristic commentary and philosophical inquiry, and commonly delivered through sermons, catechisms, creeds, and treatises written for homiletic purposes. For my research, I have found the intersection of spirituality and theology in the works by female authors of this era to be of particular interest, as

2 they shed light on a feminine spirituality that seeks to sort through and participate in the theological debates of this religiously volatile era.

Furthermore, it is helpful to define the term, “Reformation.” Following Kirsi Stjerna, I contend that any type of movement that sought to address and purify corrupt practices of the

Roman Catholic Church or to correct misguided theology through a more historically accurate hermeneutic can be understood as “reformist.” Kirsi Stjerna inscribes the concept of the

Reformation as a culmination of “a shared vision of re-Christianizing Europe and a shared conviction of the primary authority of the Scripture” which led to “questions and strategies about what reforms to make and how to make them varied, leading to the formation of different confessions and confessional groups.”1 The vigorous Counter-Reformation that was birthed out of the Council of Trent (1545-1563) can therefore also be grouped in this broader concept of reform. Although the Council of Trent seemed to have been, at first, a swift response to the

Protestant Reformation with the intent of eradicating all “heretical” claims, there were many objectives and ideals in Counter-Reformation thought and theology that mirrored the aims of the

Protestant Reformation, particularly the desire for a renewed spirituality that focused on one’s personal relationship with God.

Context: Humanism and Religious Reform in Renaissance Italy and France

Over the course of the Renaissance we see the steady progression of humanist thought, which sought to reform various social systems such as education and religion. In the earliest manifestations of the Renaissance in Italy, Petrarch (1304-1374) presented a re-discovery of the self, unveiling the inner turmoil of one’s individual experiences. Coupled with this desire for reform and the importance of the inner man, was a return to the sources of Antiquity (ad fontes).

A parallel movement of returning to the sources erupted within Christianity as humanists, such

1 Kirsi Stjerna, Women and the Reformation (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2009), 3. 3 as Lorenzo Valla, Erasmus, Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples, and Luther, who sought to reinterpret the

Bible with a closer analysis of the original biblical languages, Hebrew and Greek. Returning to the biblical languages, the desire for religious reform, as well as the rediscovery of the inner man, gave way to the Protestant Reformation, resulting in the schism between Catholics and

Protestants spearheaded by Martin Luther (1483-1546) in Germany with his 95 Theses (1517). In these statements, Luther condemned the selling of indulgences, and other abuses of power within the Church; but more importantly, Luther’s emphasis on salvation through faith alone (Sola

Fide) and his belief that Scripture alone was the authority for the Christian (Sola Scriptura) marked a significant break from Catholic dogma. Despite his excommunication from the

Catholic Church in Germany, Luther’s beliefs along with the ideals of the Protestant

Reformation reached all ends of Europe.

However, in the French and Italian context, the desire for reform within the church was more nuanced and differed significantly from the Reformation in Northern Europe. Concerning the reaction to Luther’s Reformation, Barry Collett informs us that prior to Luther’s explicit criticisms of the Catholic Church, “the ecclesiastical hierarchy in both France and Italy was being assailed by questions that struck at the very tenets of the faith.”2 The reaction to Luther was more complicated in France and Italy than in Germany for several reasons, not to mention the close ties of both countries to the papacy that characterized French and Italian religious society. Despite this close connection, French and Italian reform-minded leaders started to question the dogma and critique the abuses of the Roman Catholic Church long before and independent of the Protestant Reformation in Germany.

2 Barry Collett, A Long and Troubled Pilgrimage: the Correspondence of Marguerite d’Angoulême and Vittoria Colonna, 1540-1545, Studies in Reformed Theology and History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Theological Seminary, 2000), x. 4 In Northern Europe, Desiderius Erasmus (1466-1536) called for church reform in his emphasis on the communication of the ennobling purity of the Christian faith as exemplified by

Christ in the New Testament. To this end, Erasmus sought to make Scripture more accessible to lay people, but also sought to render the Bible more accurate through careful study of its original languages, Hebrew and Greek. Therefore philology, coupled with a humanist approach to hermeneutics, inspired his Novum Instrumentum (1516), comprised of the first published Greek edition of the New Testament combined with a new Latin translation, which authoritatively superseded the Vulgate, as well as a series of scholarly Annotations. As explained in several prefaces to the Novum Instrumentum, Erasmus’s goal was to establish a reliable Biblical text that more fully relayed and propagated the purity and beauty of the message of the Gospel. C.A.L.

Jarrott points out that Erasmus included in his annotations “an unbiased presentation of differing points of view […] he will present them, pointing out which seems best to him, but leaving the decision up to the reader’s own judgment.”3 This ‘open-ended’ and ‘reader-oriented’ approach is characteristic of humanism. The “religious purpose” was Erasmus’s aim to relay a practical application of the message of Christ, useful for one’s everyday life (Philosophia Christi).

Following these three successive editions of the New Testament (1512, 1519, 1522), Erasmus went on to write his extensive Paraphrases of the New Testament in order to appeal to an even broader and less-educated lay audience. Finally, other texts by Erasmus, such as his Colloques, a series of dialogues written in Latin between 1518 and 1534, reveal his desire to teach the simplicity of the Christian faith while also challenging prevailing thoughts on sexuality, women’s education, and marriage.

3 C.A.L. Jarrott, “Erasmus’ Biblical Humanism,” Studies in the Renaissance 17, The University of Chicago Press on behalf of the Renaissance Society of America (1970): 122. 5 Erasmus significantly influenced reform-minded humanists in France, such as Jacques

Lefèvre d’Etaples (1455-1536), who was responsible for the beginnings of church reform in

France and advanced the humanist project of propagating a simple religion with his translations of the Bible into French. Rouben Cholakian informs us that Lefèvre, as a leader of the so-called

“evangelists” (the évangéliques) of the 1520s in France, set forth a “theory of biblical exegesis that emphasized the spiritual rather than the merely literal meaning of the text.”4 Lefèvre’s goal was for believers to approach God through a meditative and intentional interaction with Holy

Scripture. Heavily influenced by the early Church Fathers, such as Augustine, Jerome, and

Origen, Lefèvre and his circle sought a more affective and unmediated approach to God.

According to Eugene Rice, Lefèvre’s predilection for the Patristic writers existed because their piety “was eloquent; it was a simple, affective wisdom, not a syllogistic science; it was, finally, peculiarly authoritative, far closer to the primitive source of Christian illumination than the scholastics.”5 Of particular significance to Lefèvre were the early Church Fathers’ emphasis on philology, that is to say, the purity of the original biblical languages of Hebrew and Greek, which led to a more intimate and less adulterated rapport between man and God. Eventually Lefèvre and Bishop Guillaume Briçonnet (1472-1534) formed the “Circle of Meaux,” a reform-minded group that sought to renew the church with an emphasis on preaching from biblical texts and an overall spiritual reform within the life of the leadership of the Church as well as her laity.

In Italy, Lorenzo Valla (1407-1457) had a marked impact on the expression of reform movements. Valla sought to revitalize theology through a classical, humanist approach in looking at the early Church Fathers and biblical texts more closely instead of relying solely on

4 Cholakian, “Introduction” to Marguerite de Navarre, Selected Writings: A Bilingual Edition, eds. Rouben Cholakian and Mary Skemp (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 5. 5 Eugene F. Rice Jr., “The Humanist Idea of Christian Antiquity: Lefèvre d’Étaples and his Circle,” Studies in the Renaissance 9, The University of Chicago Press on behalf of the Renaissance Society of America (1962): 129. 6 later dogmatic interpretations of Scripture by the Roman Church, which over-emphasized biblical commentaries and thereby diminished the Bible itself. Valla’s Latin dialogues, such as

De libero arbitrio (1439), added to the humanist spirit in their critiques of traditional moral and religious problems.6 Valla encapsulates the humanist approach to spirituality, which tended to syncretize Antiquity with Christianity.

Following Valla, Juan de Valdés (1509-1541), a Spanish reformer, who was living in

Naples in the 1530s, gained a significant number of supporters who would eventually be known as the spirituali.7 Dermot Fenlon suggests that Valdés concept of the beneficio di Cristo, in particular, reflected Protestant theology in its emphasis on justification by faith leading to one’s salvation, as imparted to humanity “as a gratuitous gift, whereby he [the Christian] enjoyed the benefit accruing from Christ’s death.”8 Valdésian spirituality, like Lutheran theology, was firmly rooted in Scripture. For Salvatore Caponetto, “The aim of Valdés was to lead towards knowledge of the central doctrines of the Christian faith based on Scripture and to the consequent knowledge of the book of one’s own soul.”9 For Valdés, one’s personal encounter with the Bible was imperative for his followers to enter into communion with God; this Valdésian spirituality, in essence, was the basis for the spirituali.

After Valdés’ death, the spirituali congregated around the powerful English cardinal

Reginald Pole (1500-1558) in Viterbo. Pole and the spirituali held ideas on church renewal that were closely linked to Reformist thought, particularly Luther’s views on sin, grace, justification,

6 See David Marsh, The Quattrocento Dialogue: Classical Tradition and Humanist Innovation (Harvard University Press, Massachusetts: 1980), 55. 7 See Virginia Cox, Women’s Writing in Italy, 1400-1650 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 72. 8 Dermot Fenlon, Heresy and Obedience in Tridentine Italy: Cardinal Pole and the Counter Reformation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 69. 9 Salvatore Caponetto, The Protestant Reformation in Sixteenth-Century Italy, translated by Anne C. Tedeschi and John Tedeschi (Kirksville: Thomas Jefferson University Press, 1999), 66. 7 and the response of faith.10 However, Pole was placed in a difficult position due to his appointment as Papal governor of the ecclesiastical domain of Viterbo. Pole, who had been deeply impacted by Lutheran theology, was now in a position to mediate the maintenance of the

Catholic Church as he led the spirtiuali in Viterbo. In fact, as Collett notes, Pole sought to find

“a means of enabling preachers to convey the essence of the matter without encouraging their congregations to abandon the Church.”11 Nevertheless, some preachers who identified as spirituali, such as Bernardino Ochino, who proclaimed his belief in Luther’s doctrine on justification by faith alone in his Lenten sermons of 1542,12 eventually fled Italy because of their

Protestant leanings. After these types of departures, the spirituali in Italy were eventually categorized as threats, synonymous with the heresy of Lutheranism, to Catholic hegemony.

Although the early reformers such as the évangéliques in France and the spirituali in Italy were not ‘confessionally’ attached to the Protestant Reformation, their sympathies toward reformist theology did not go unnoticed by the Inquisition and the papal powers. As a response to their apparent ties with Lutheran/Calvinist theology, many évangéliques and spirituali were forced to choose between heresy and orthodoxy. It is within this atmosphere of intellectual and spiritual reform that Marguerite de Navarre and the women authors in her direct or indirect sphere of influence in France and Italy contributed to and confronted many of the theological issues raised in this tempestuous context.

Literature Review

Early Modern Women and Reformation

A plethora of existing scholarship situates the cultural and literary role of the woman in the early modern era. Foregrounding the overarching discussion of my dissertation, concerning

10 Collett, A Long and Troubled Pilgrimage, 4. 11 Fenlon, Heresy and Obedience, 62. 12 Caponetto, The Protestant Reformation, 101. 8 women and their role in society at large, is the infamous Querelle des femmes, which took place in the time period leading up to the Renaissance and continued until the French Revolution of

1789. Much scholarship has been dedicated to the beginnings of the “woman question,” with a particular focus on Christine de Pizan (1364-1430) as the instigator of this debate. In The

Allegory of Female Authority (1991), Maureen Quilligan expounds upon Christine’s defense of women as a “continuation of her anti-misogynist arguments” against Jean de Meun’s Roman de la Rose.13 While mainly male theologians had previously made the “case for women,”14 long before Christine, with Christine we find a marked break in the Querelle des femmes as she defended women in her own voice. By partaking in a public debate through writing letters to powerful leaders in France as well as through her writings, such as her Epistre au dieu d’amours

(1399) and Cité des dames (1405), Christine started a literary tradition that sought to defend and celebrate women in reaction to the pervasive misogyny of the early modern period. More specifically, Christine made her polemical engagement public with learned clerics, which was conducted by means of epistles and letters, through her later assembling and publishing these debate epistles for royal patrons as part of her collected works.15

In more recent years, gender studies have undertaken the task of unearthing the female voice in the Renaissance, which is often covered by the predominately masculine texts that occupy the canon of early modern literature. In so doing, many have come to sharply disagree with the nineteenth-century historian of the Italian Renaissance, Jacob Burckhardt, who held that

13 Maureen Quilligan, The Allegory of Female Authority: Christine de Pizan’s ‘Cité des dames’ (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991), 2. 14 For the beginnings of the “woman question,” see Alcuin Blamires, The Case for Women in Medieval Culture (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997). 15 See Kevin Brownlee, “Discourses of the Self: Christine de Pizan and the Romance of the Rose,” in Rethinking the ‘Romance of the Rose’: Text, Image, Reception, eds. Kevin Brownlee and Sylvia Huot (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992), 234-61. Reprinted from The Romanic Review 79 (1988): 199-221. To fully grasp Christine as publisher of her own texts, see Christine de Pizan, et al. Album de Christine de Pizan, n.p. (Turnhout: Brepols, 2012), which provides entries for each of Christine’s works and direct involvement in manuscript production. 9 both men and women began to achieve equal status during the Renaissance: “we must keep before our minds the fact that women stood on a footing of perfect equality with men.”16 Several scholars have since deconstructed this myth, including Joan Kelly, whose seminal article, “Did

Women have a Renaissance?” (1977), argues the contrary: “the startling fact is that women as a group […] experienced a contraction of social and personal options that men of their classes either did not […] or did not experience as markedly.”17 Kelly goes on to bolster her claims by looking at the regulation of women’s sexual, economic, political, and cultural roles, as well as commonly held ideological views concerning women.

Adding to Kelly’s findings, Constance Jordan, in Renaissance Feminism (1990), reveals a greater range of female identities and distinguishes several types of “pro-woman” arguments that took on various genres, such as histories, conduct books, treatises on government, letters, popular and courtly dialogues, and prose romances.18 According to Jordan, the texts written in the context of Renaissance feminism, like the works of Christine de Pizan in the fifteenth-century, present a cohesive corpus which sought to “justify feminist assumptions of the virtue of women and, conversely, to call into question patriarchal assumptions of their inferiority.”19 Jordan’s comprehensive study shows, however, that Renaissance defenses of women did not result in any sort of social revolution. In a similar vein, Sarah G. Ross observes how “proto-woman” arguments continued to develop in the sixteenth-century as women authors capitalized on the cultural legitimacy that the patriarchal system afforded them. According to Ross, this “domestic paradigm” afforded by patriarchy should be understood as a “powerful discursive tool that ambitious women and their male supporters used to build a foundation of authorial credibility for

16 Jacob Burckhardt, The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy (London: Penguin Books Limited, 1990), 250. 17 Joan Kelly, “Did Women have a Renaissance?” in Becoming Visible: Women in European History, eds. Renate Bridenthal, Claudia Koonz and Susan Stuard (Houghton Mifflin: Boston, MA [1977]: 175-201), 176. 18 Constance Jordan, Renaissance Feminism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990), 2. 19 Ibid., 6. 10 a new figure in the Western social paradigm.”20 Moreover, Ross conceptualizes three forms of proto-feminism in the Renaissance: 1) the explicit critique of male-dominated society, i.e. misogyny; 2) the celebration of female excellence; and 3) participatory feminism, that is, women’s proving their intellectual equality by performing the same rigorous scholarly activity as their male counterparts. These three versions of proto-feminism are concise and helpful as they prevent anachronistic approaches to understandings of women’s status in the early modern period.

Likewise Evelyne Berriot-Salvadore has addressed the status of Renaissance women in

Les Femmes dans la société française de la Renaissance (1990).21 Berriot-Salvadore contends that Renaissance women escape any sort of fixed portrait, especially due to the presence of an elite group of women who often transgressed social expectation and norms, due to their highly held positions in society (i.e. Marguerite de Navarre). Nevertheless, Berriot-Salvadore provides a diverse array of portraits of Renaissance women: la femme incapable, la femme ménagère, la femme secourable, and la femme sçavante. Of utmost relevance to my project is the recent turn to women’s roles and experiences in religious institutions and movements of the early modern era, which Berriot-Salvadore includes in her sketches of women throughout the Renaissance. With regards to la femme savante, Berriot-Salvadore discusses the impact of reform on women, citing

Luther’s desire for a stronger education for women. Berriot-Salvadore considers women such as

Marguerite de Navarre and her daughter Jeanne d’Albret, as key figures in understanding the various reform movements vis-à-vis the role and response of women.

In Women of the Renaissance (1991) Margaret King explores women from a variety of social backgrounds in their familial roles, their church lives, and those exceptional women who

20 Sarah G. Ross, The Birth of Feminism: Woman as Intellect in Renaissance Italy and England (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2009), 2-3. 21 Evelyne Berriot-Salvadore, Les Femmes dans la société française de la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 1990). 11 found their place in higher social roles. King discusses the centrality of the convent in

Renaissance society, which offered a “positive choice for God and a triumphant negation of the labyrinth of familial relationships.”22 However, with the closing of many convents caused by the onset of Protestantism, many women became subject to different forms of patriarchy. According to King, “Protestantism limited choices, and closed off that one in particular which, at the cost of abnegation of the flesh, had for some purchased dignity and solitude.”23 For King, the

Reformation is a limiting social constraint on the expression of women’s spirituality.

More recently, Kirsi Stjerna’s Women and the Reformation (2009) offers another perspective on women’s experience of the Reformation. Stjerna reframes Joan Kelly’s question as to whether or not women had a Renaissance in terms of whether or not women had a

Reformation. Although Stjerna argues that the Reformation was not the same for women as it was for men, she is quick to point out that, “it is not true that men were always active or leaders and women always passive bystanders or receivers, or that women adopted the gendered world

[…] without scrutiny.”24 Like King, Stjerna admits that the obliteration of the convent signaled a loss of sacred space for female spiritual production and presence in society: “women lost the environment that had most essentially supported women’s individual spiritual development and mystical activity.”25 The women on whom Stjerna focuses in her book are the exceptions to this spiritual isolation.

Devoting the bulk of her work to the German matriarchs, such as Katharina von Bora,

Stjerna also includes Renée de France, Marie Dentière, Marguerite de Navarre and her daughter

Jeanne d’Albret from France. From Italy, Stjerna only discusses Olympia Morata. Stjerna

22 Margaret King, Women of the Renaissance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 93. 23 Ibid., 138. 24 Stjerna, Women and the Reformation, 4. 25 Ibid., 13-4. 12 contends that the odds stacked against women as writers on theological subject matter were infinite. For instance, women, in order to publish a text that in any way contained theological matter, had to have some sort of connection to more powerful figures in the court, or the king himself, in the case of Marguerite de Navarre, whose access to classical education no doubt aided in her authorial development. Moreover, when women were granted the opportunity to publish such works that addressed contentious religious topics, the genres in which women wrote were not traditionally recognized as theological. The fascination with women’s holy lives of piety further overshadowed their contribution as writers of theology.

Marguerite de Navarre

Marguerite de Navarre was one of these rare privileged women who not only received a classical education but also had written several works of literature that affirmed her learned status. The most comprehensive compendium of Marguerite de Navarre’s life and her works is

Pierre Jourda’s Marguerite d’Angoulême: Duchesse d’Alençon, Reine de Navarre (1492-1549):

Étude bibliographique et littéraire (1930).26 Jourda’s extensive two-volume work outlines the details of Marguerite’s life in the first volume and then Jourda analyzes some of Marguerite’s earliest poems, such as Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse. The second tome is devoted to

Marguerite’s Heptaméron. In fact, Marguerite is most known for l’Heptaméron, which she wrote towards the end of her life, and was published posthumously in 1558. Throughout the years, scholars of the French Renaissance and of Marguerite de Navarre have devoted a significant amount of attention to l’Heptaméron. For example, Lucien Febvre’s Autour de l’Heptaméron:

Amour sacré, amour profane (1944) explores the Heptaméron in terms of spiritual, philosophical, theological, and ethical dynamics at play throughout the text. Febvre’s diptych

26 Pierre Jourda, Marguerite d’Angoulême: Duchesse d’Alençon, Reine de Navarre (1492-1549): Étude bibliotraphique et littéraire (Paris: Libraire Ancienne Honoré Champion), 1930. 13 approach posits “Marguerite la Chrétienne,” in the first part, contrasted with “Marguerite qui fit l’Heptaméron,” in the second part. Febvre ultimately concludes that Marguerite’s Heptaméron represents the overarching theme and profound unity of the évangile in which the profane and sacred intersect.

In more recent years, however, scholarship has turned towards the literary richness and historical importance of Marguerite de Navarre’s poetic, theatrical, and spiritual works. In The

Grammar of Silence (1986), Robert Cottrell suggests that the Augustinian tradition had a profound influence on Marguerite de Navarre. Augustine’s notion of the Incarnate Word (logos), referring to the “Word of God made flesh” from the first chapter of the New Testament Gospel of John, should be conceived as an essential element of her quête linguistique in which she seeks to express the divine with a fallen language. In other words, the central dilemma in Marguerite’s writing becomes the quest to communicate the unspeakable (silence), that is to say, the sacred truths and aspects of God.27 Moreover, Cottrell uses Marguerite’s epistolary correspondence with

Guillaume Briçonnet as a lens to interpret its influence on Marguerite’s writing. The hermeneutics employed by Briçonnet are based on Augustine’s conception of words and things:

“things become words that the Christian must read in such a way that he will arrive at an interpretation pointing to the law of love.”28 Cottrell therefore argues that Marguerite is constantly attempting to interpret le texte du monde in her writing as she explores how profane objects and realities point the Christian to sacred truths. Cottrell uses this approach to analyze several other works by Marguerite de Navarre, including her Dialogue en forme de vision nocturne as well as La Coche and Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse.

27 Robert Cottrell, The Grammar of Silence: a reading of Marguerite de Navarre’s poetry (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1986), ix. 28 Ibid., 15. 14 Drawing from Cottrell’s insights, Paula Sommers’ Celestial Ladders: Readings in

Marguerite de Navarre’s Poetry of Spiritual Ascent (1989) analyzes the mixture of literary styles that Marguerite employs to communicate her religious experience. Sommers concentrates on

Marguerite’s religious poems, such as Le Dialogue en forme de vision nocturne (1524-1526) and

Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse (1531), as she constantly detects the image of the ladder as

Marguerite’s principal means to convey the upward movement to the divine. More precisely,

Sommers suggests that Marguerite returns to the simple tertiary progression of purgatio

(purification, repentance, and reform), illuminatio (spiritual insight), and perfectio (celestial bliss or prolonged mystical rapture), based on generations of Christian writers, such as St.

Bonaventure in his De septem gradibus contemplationis, who had highlighted this type of spiritual ascent.29 This imagery would have been “familiar to members of her own milieu and to the evangelical community” while creating “lyrical personae whose intimate dialogues with God lead the reader into the text.”30 Essentially, Sommers views Marguerite’s poetry as heavily influenced by ladder imagery and the tertiary progression, both of which were well known to those who would have read her works.

Gary Ferguson further nuances Marguerite’s expression of her faith through writing as he classifies Marguerite’s poetry as spiritual, rather than theological, in his Mirroring Belief (1992) where he studies the art of her poetry as a reflection of her religious beliefs. Stressing the complementary nature of Marguerite’s spiritual and theological writing, Ferguson states:

“Dogmatic theology does not preclude an experiential approach to God [and] mystical theology can only be valid from a Christian point of view if it is firmly situated within the context of the

29 Paula Sommers, Celestial Ladders: Readings in Marguerite de Navarre’s Poetry of Spiritual Ascent (Geneva: Droz, 1989), 12. 30 Ibid., 12-3. 15 mysteries of the Church.”31 Like Cottrell, Ferguson suggests that Marguerite can be aligned neither purely with Catholic writers nor purely with Protestant writers, but rather that her religious poetry reveals that she was Augustinian. Yet this Augustinian influence is often communicated in reformist terms with Marguerite’s various theological conceptions, such as the

Fall and justification, particularly in Marguerite’s Dialogue en forme de vision nocturne and in the Miroir de l’âme pécheresse.

Kirsi Stjerna, in Women and the Reformation (2009), classifies Marguerite as a mystical writer who combined the “centrality of Scripture” with the “centrality of the Spirit.”32 In other words, the importance of the biblical text and the spiritual experience of one’s personal relationship with God converge in Marguerite’s writing. Stjerna also argues that there is a “social dimension” to her writings since they contributed in many ways to the religious and political debates of her era and served as a bridge between, on the one hand, the theological and spiritual sphere, and, on the other hand, the political sphere. According to Stjerna, Marguerite’s spiritual writings exemplify how “theologically she was closer to Calvin in sacramental theology, while

Luther’s justification by faith […] had shaped Marguerite’s faith radically” and her mysticism is clearly drawn “from Catholic tradition and her experiences as a woman, all of which distinguished her from some of her reformer associates.”33 Accordingly, Stjerna claims that

Marguerite’s allegorical and cryptic writing styles allowed her to mask her theological intent, which could be seen as both Protestant and Catholic. The way in which Marguerite wrote made it difficult for her readers to pin her to a specific ecclesiastical confession or tradition. As such,

31 Gary Ferguson, Mirroring Belief: Marguerite de Navarre’s Devotional Poetry (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1992), xi. 32 Stjerna, Women and the Reformation, 156. 33 Ibid., 157. 16 Marguerite continues to escape any sort of theological framework even as modern scholars attempt to decipher the nature of her religiosity.

In addition, Jonathan Reid’s King’s Sister – Queen of Dissent: Marguerite of Navarre

(1492-1549) and her Evangelical Network (2009) provides a significant overview of the formation of Marguerite’s network, the development of French evangelicals, as well as the impact of Briçonnet’s theology on Marguerite de Navarre. Reid’s discussion on the “Navarrian network” establishes the basis on which I build my textual analysis of Marguerite’s Miroir de l’âme pécheresse. Reid details the connections between the reform in Germany and Briçonnet’s, and, by extension, the Meaux Circle’s, aims for church renewal in France, including the invention of the French evangelical press in 1525. For Reid, in 1525, “just after the flood of

Reformation pamphlets in Germany had reached its high-water mark, […] evangelical books written in French appear in significant numbers, including the first translations of Luther’s and other reformers’ works into French.”34 Reid strengthens the idea of Marguerite’s undeniable leadership of evangelical reform in France in “Marguerite de Navarre and Evangelical Reform”

(2013), where he asserts, “The letters, books, and deeds of Marguerite and her collaborators reveal they were waging a coordinated campaign to advance the renewal of the faith and the

Church on several fronts.”35 While neither Marguerite nor prominent leaders of the évangéliques publicly rejected the Roman Catholic Church, they attempted, as Reid argues, to convert

François I and the French court to a truer understanding of Christianity.

34 Jonathan Reid, King’s Sister – Queen of Dissent: Marguerite of Navarre (1492-1549) and her Evangelical Network (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 274. 35 Reid, “Marguerite de Navarre and Evangelical Reform” in A Companion to Marguerite de Navarre, eds. Gary Ferguson and Mary B. McKinley (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 34. 17 Finally, Gary Ferguson’s and Mary B. McKinley’s edited volume, A Companion to

Marguerite de Navarre (2013),36 informs my dissertation with the most recent collection of essays dedicated to Marguerite’s oeuvre. In addition to Reid’s article, Isabelle Garnier’s and

Isabelle Pantin’s “Opening and Closing Reflections: The Miroir de l’âme pécheresse and the

Miroir de Jésus-Christ Crucifié” undergirds my discussion of Marguerite’s Miroir. Garnier and

Pantin consider the Miroir to be of monumental nature for three main reasons. First, Garnier and

Pantin point out that the Miroir was one of the earliest religious works written in the vernacular, which sought to offer spiritual counsel to the évangéliques. Secondly, as a long poetic meditation, the Miroir foreshadows later Christian lyric poetry and the importance given to expression in the first-person (je). Third, the Miroir was Marguerite’s first printed work in 1531, making Marguerite the first woman whose work appeared in print during her own lifetime in

France and her Miroir “the first major text written by a woman to be frequently reedited, and thus available to a broad public beyond the court circles in which works circulated in manuscript.”37 Garnier’s and Pantin’s observations and claims foreground my own approach to and selection of Marguerite’s Miroir de l’âme pécheresse as the primary source of textual analysis for this dissertation.

Vittoria Colonna

Regarding the works of Vittoria Colonna, Virginia Cox’s “Introduction” to her Lyric

Poetry by Women of the Italian Renaissance (2013),38 in particular, demonstrates the emergence of the female poet as the production of intellectual distinction and symbol of Italian culture and

36 Gary Ferguson and Mary B. McKinley, eds., A Companion to Marguerite de Navarre (Leiden: Brill, 2013). 37 Isabelle Garnier and Isabelle Pantin, “Opening and Closing Reflections: The Miroir de l’âme pécheresse and the Miroir de Jésus-Christ Crucifié,” in A Companion to Marguerite de Navarre, eds. Gary Ferguson and Mary B. McKinley (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 110-1. 38 Virginia Cox, ed., Lyric Poetry by Women of the Italian Renaissance (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2013). 18 civic pride. Cox also notes the pervasive effects of the traditions of poesia cortigiana and

Petrarchism, and points out how female poets, such as Vittoria Colonna, both imitated and altered these forms as they fashioned themselves as female writers. Cox includes a vast array of

Colonna’s poetry, including her Rime spirituali. Moreover, in “Women Writers and the Canon in

Sixteenth-Century Italy: The Case of Vittoria Colonna” (2008), Cox zooms in on Colonna as the object of literary acclaim of her day, as “she was a staple figure in anthologies and listings of notable literary figures of the period and, remarkably, was the first vernacular poet other than

Petrarch to receive the tribute of a published commentary on her work.”39 Furthermore, Cox sets

Colonna up as a model for subsequent Italian women writers, whose model would eventually trickle down “from the aristocratic circles in which it had originated down to the less exalted strata of the minor provincial nobility and the elites of the remaining city republics.”40 Colonna’s example influenced other Italian female writers from less wealthy backgrounds to take on the task of writing.

Of utmost importance for the purposes of my dissertation are Cox’s observations concerning the importance of reformist movements on the writings of Colonna. Instead of trying to pinpoint Colonna’s theological position, Cox explores how Colonna’s contacts with the spirituali and their writings “helped to shape the poetic language of her rime spirituali and their religious subject matter.”41 In a similar vein, Abigail Brundin analyzes the relationship between form and content in Colonna’s religious verse in Vittoria Colonna and the Spiritual Poetics of the Italian Reformation (2008). In particular, Brundin links the Petrarchan tradition to the influence of the Reformation in Colonna’s writing in the vernacular, suggesting that Petrarchism

39 Cox, “Women Writers and the Canon in Sixteenth-Century Italy: The Case of Vittoria Colonna” in Strong Voices, Weak History: Early Women Writers & Canons in England, France, & Italy, eds. Pamela Joseph Benson and Victoria Kirkham (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2008), 15. 40 Ibid., 19. 41 Cox, Women’s Writing in Italy, 1400-1650 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008),73. 19 was closely linked to evangelization of the reformed message in the vernacular so as to reach a larger audience: “This universalising of personal experience and understanding, which was the governing principle of Petrarch’s own corpus of poems, is of course at the heart of any act of evangelism.”42 Although Colonna’s poetry is personal, Brundin argues that Colonna is well aware that her writing demonstrates to others the nature of a new kind of spiritual illumination.

Moreover, Brundin foregrounds the relationships that Colonna maintained with figures such as

Marguerite de Navarre throughout her involvement with the Reform. Brundin discusses a manuscript that Colonna had prepared for Marguerite de Navarre between 1540 and 1541, as well as their mutual correspondence, which reveals that Colonna viewed Marguerite de Navarre as a sort of spiritual mother and mentor figure, as manifestations of an idiosyncratic female friendship.

Finally, I have consulted several articles from the most recently edited volume, A

Companion to Vittoria Colonna (2016),43 which infuse my project with fresh perspectives on

Colonna’s literary works and correspondence. Emidio Campi explores the ambiguous nature of

Colonna’s religious views in “Vittoria Colonna and Bernardino Ochino,”44 noting how

Colonna’s contemporaries who praised her normally downplayed her familiarity with heterodox works by Luther, Calvin, and her association with the spirituali.45 Despite the difficulties in reconstructing Colonna’s belief system, Campi seeks to provide a clear theological analysis of

Colonna’s religious framework (regarding Scripture, Christology, and Mariology) and her own close relationship with Bernardino Ochino (1487-1564), a Protestant preacher who later fled to

42 Abigail Brundin, Vittoria Colonna and the Spiritual Poetics of the Italian Reformation (Aldershot: Ashgate 2008), 6. 43 Abigail Brundin, Tatiana Crivelli, and Maria Serena Sapegno, eds., A Companion to Vittoria Colonna (Leiden: Brill, 2016). 44 Emidio Campi, “Vittoria Colonna and Bernardino Ochino,” in A Companion to Vittoria Colonna, eds. Abigail Brundin, Tatiana Crivelli, and Maria Serena Sapegno (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 371-398. 45 Ibid., 372. 20 Geneva for his reformist beliefs. I found Campi’s notion of Colonna’s Rime spirituali as “poetry becoming theology,” based on her interactions with Ochino before he escaped Italy, to be of significance regarding Colonna’s religious thought.

In my consideration of Colonna’s Rime spirituali as a collection, as well as her epistolary correspondence, Tatiana Crivelli’s “The Print Tradition of Vittoria Colonna’s Rime” and Adriana

Chemello’s “Vittoria Colonna’s Epistolary Works,” from A Companion to Vittoria Colonna,46 both provide an integral understanding to both the production and reception Colonna’s works.

Crivelli explores the Valgrisi Edition (1546) of Colonna’s Rime spirituali and claims that this edition, though not overtly approved by the author, still seems to imply her “tacit consent.”47

Moreover, Crivelli informs us that Valgrisi himself held his own bottega in this period, this workshop was known as a “meeting place for discussions on evangelical topics and for those who in 1559 were tried […] for alleged heretical activities.”48 Crivelli’s scholarship on the

Valgrisi collection corroborates other scholars’ work, which demonstrates Colonna’s participation in reformist circles in Italy, which we also see in her epistolary exchange of spiritual matters. Chemello attributes the production of her spiritual letters to her time in Viterbo, where Colonna was able to distance herself from the outside world and meditate through inner reflection and interaction with Scripture.49 While Crivelli observes that the majority of

Colonna’s letters were written to men, such as Michelangelo and Ochino, Chemello highlights her correspondence with women, such as Marguerite de Navarre and Veronica Gambara.

46 See Tatiana Crivelli, “The Print Tradition of Vittoria Colonna’s Rime,” 69-139, and Adriana Chemello, “Vittoria Colonna’s Epistolary Works,” 11-36, in A Companion to Vittoria Colonna, edited by Abigail Brundin, Tatiana Crivelli, and Maria Serena Sapegno (Leiden: Brill, 2016). 47 Crivelli, “The Print Tradition of Vittoria Colonna’s Rime,” 123. 48 Ibid., 124. 49 Chemello, “Vittoria Colonna’s Epistolary Works,” 26. 21 Marie Dentière

In terms of existing scholarship devoted to the latter two women authors of my dissertation, Marie Dentière in France, and Olympia Morata in Italy, the amount is significantly less than the literature surrounding the more prolific writers of my first two chapters, Marguerite de Navarre and Vittoria Colonna. At the same time, scholars who explore the religious writings of women during the Reformation cannot ignore the works, though few, of Dentière and Morata, both of whom broke ties with the Catholic Church and embraced the Protestant faith. An ex-nun and spokeswoman for the French Reform, Marie Dentière stands out in the history of the

Reformation because of her explicit, and at times militant, support for the Protestant cause.

Dentière’s Epistre tres utile (1539),50 addressed to Marguerite de Navarre, and her Preface to a

Sermon by John Calvin (1561), are particularly interesting because of the overtness with which she supports the growth of Protestantism in France. Although lately there have been more studies on Marie Dentière, Mary B. McKinley most exhaustively explores the relationship between

Marie Dentière and Marguerite de Navarre, charting out their respective paths in terms of their interests in reformation movements in France. In her “Introduction” to the Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre; and, Preface to sermon by John Calvin (2004), McKinley describes Dentière’s entry into the struggle for Reformation in Geneva as “dramatic,” but full of “authority and passion” and one that “claims a vital role for women as teachers of religious doctrine and morals.”51

McKinley also notes that Dentière’s Epistre is the first overt statement of reformed theology, written by a woman, to appear in the French language.52

50 Throughout my dissertation, I abbreviate the full title, Epistre tres utile faicte et composée par une femme Chrestienne de Tornay, Envoyée à la Royne de Navarre seur du Roy de France, Contre les Turcz, Iuifz, Infideles, Faulx chrestiens, Anabaptistes, et Lutheriens, to the Epistre tres utile, or simply, the Epistre. 51 Mary McKinley, “Introduction,” to Marie Dentière, Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre; and, Preface to sermon by John Calvin, ed. Mary B. McKinley (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004: 1-39), 1. 52 Ibid., 2. 22 McKinley’s “Introduction” to Dentière’s Epistre also provides a helpful summary of the

Reformation in Geneva, as well as Dentière’s active role in preaching on street corners, in taverns, and in convents. Dentière’s loudest campaign was directed towards the sisters of Poor

Clares’ in Geneva, where her vitriolic sermons ignited the ire of Jeanne de Jussie (1503-1561), the convent’s eventual abbess. Whereas Dentière sought to eradicate convent life, Jeanne de

Jussie fought against Dentière to preserve it. I briefly address Jeanne de Jussie’s Petite

Chronique (1611), as she directly responds to Dentière in this work, and have thus profited from

Carrie Klaus’s most recent “Introduction” to Jeanne de Jussie and The Short Chronicle (2006), from the Other Voice in Early Modern Literature series.53 Carrie Klaus argues that Jussie’s account of the Reformation in Geneva provides a counterpoint female perspective of the historical event, and one that portrays the Reformation as a threat to women and an intrusion into a sacred female community.

Moreover, in terms of Dentière’s explicit aims for equal female participation in the reformed faith, embedded in the Epistre, Stjerna, in Women and the Reformation (2009), asserts that Dentière practices a “female-centric interpretation” of spiritual hermeneutics.54 Dentière’s knowledge and interpretation of the Bible is crucial to understanding the Epistre as an overtly reformist document. Accordingly, Stjerna finds that “The Epistre revealed Marie’s familiarity with the misogyny imbedded in theology and the Church. It also revealed her Protestant reliance on Scripture.”55 Due to her bold call for women to write theology, to interpret Scripture for themselves, and to preach the gospel at least privately, Dentière received much criticism from

Jussie as well as reformers such as John Calvin. For Dentière, the central tenet of the

53 See Carrie Klaus, “Introduction,” in Jeanne de Jussie, The Short Chronicle, ed. and trans. Carrie Klaus, The Other Voice in Early Modern Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), 1-5. 54 Stjerna, Women and the Reformation, 134. 55 Ibid., 140. 23 Reformation, the “priesthood of all believers,” necessitated the inclusion of women as equal participants and co-ministers of the Gospel.

Olympia Morata

In comparison to Vittoria Colonna, fewer critical studies are available on Olympia

Morata, whom Holt N. Parker praises as “one of the most sophisticated and flexible Latin stylists of her age” as well as a Protestant, “a profound student of the Bible, who underwent a crisis of faith to emerge stronger.”56 In the “Introduction: Olympia Fulvia Morata (1526/27-55)” to The

Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic (2003),57 Parker furnishes us with the most recent background of Morata’s upbringing at the court of Ferrara, where her father was employed and involved in the reform movement, as well as her literary achievements. Ferrara was an important site for Italian reformist movements after Renée de France (1510-1575) had established a safe place for evangelical thinking at the Este Court.58 Janet Smarr’s “Olympia Morata: From

Classicist to Reformer” (2005) concentrates on the influence of the Este Court on Morata’s development in terms of her dedication to classical studies, as well as her interest in religious reform.59 Smarr additionally notes how the influence of Renée de France on Morata is significant, given Renée’s having been educated by Lefèvre, and spending a marked amount of

56 Holt N. Parker, “Introduction: Olympia Fulvia Morata (1526/27-55),” to The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic, ed. and trans. Holt N. Parker (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press (2003), 1. 57 Olympia Morata, The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic, ed. and trans. Holt N. Parker (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press (2003). 58 According to Stjerna, after Renée de France, sister of Claude, wife of François I, was married off to Ercole d’Este, duke of Ferrara in 1528, she grew into a prominent role in the house of Este in Ferrara where she was known as a protector of evangelicals, Jews, and other ‘dissidents.’ Stjerna also suggests that Marguerite should be seen as Renée’s “second (spiritual) mother, who showed the child affection she so craved, and who exposed her to the new currents in religion” (178). Renée witnessed the birth of the French reform movements with the Circle of Meaux as well as the violent dispersion of these “radicals” with the Affair of the Placards in 1534 (Stjerna, Women and the Reformation, 176-81). 59 Janet Smarr, “Olympia Morata: From Classicist to Reformer.” In Phaethon’s Children: The Este Court and its Culture in Early Modern Ferrara, eds. Dennis Looney and Deanna Shemek (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2005). 24 her life corresponding with and protecting French Protestants, such as Calvin.60 Both Smarr and

Parker discuss Morata’s friendship with Lavinia della Rovere (1521-1601), who frequented the court in Ferrara and with whom Morata shared a delight for studies and a concern for religious matters.61 This friendship would be significant in the face of mounting persecution at the court of

Ferrara as the Inquisition and Counter Reform gained momentum in Italy in the late 1540s.

As the Inquisition zoomed in on Ferrara, Morata met and later married, Andreas

Grunthler (c. 1518-1555), a German reformer who had spent time in Ferrara, and she eventually fled Italy for a safer dwelling in Germany with her husband. While in Germany, Morata composed two dialogues where she stages herself and her friend Lavinia as the two main interlocutors: the Dialogue between Lavinia della Rovere and Olympia Morata (1550) and the

Dialogue between Theophila and Philotima (1551-1552), both of which were written in Latin.62

In both dialogues, Morata stages female interlocutors who converse about matters such as the importance of divine studies over classical studies, as well as how to resist the temptation to lead a worldly life and neglect one’s faith at court. Both dialogues involve substantial deliberation concerning theological and scriptural ideas, which are then applied to the interlocutors’ contemporary circumstances. Parker sees Morata’s work as strongly “evangelistic” in that she focused on her need of a personal relationship with God, as well as on the doctrinal issue of salvation through faith alone.63 Janet Smarr also discusses Morata’s dialogues in Joining the

Conversation (2005) and suggests that they reveal her working out of the inner conflicts of humanist learning and religious devotion.64 Smarr remarks that both dialogues are female driven

60 Ibid., 326. 61 See Smarr, “Olympia Morata,” 322, and Parker, “Introduction,” 21. 62 Dialogus. Lavinia Ruverensis Ursina, et Olympia Morata colloquuntur (1550); Secundus Dialogus. Theophila & Philotina colloquuntur (1551-1552). 63 Parker, “Introduction,” 41-3. 64 Smarr, Joining the Conversation: Dialogues by Renaissance Women (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005), 73. 25 and reveal female friendship as well as female wisdom that is able to resolve the conflicts of secular and sacred knowledge.65 Moreover, Smarr contends that these spiritual conversations are undergirded by a sense of gender equalizing androgyny in that all Christians have equal souls and equal duties as followers of Christ regardless of gender.

Methodology and Theoretical Framework

In this dissertation, I use an illustrative sample of literary texts produced by Marguerite,

Colonna, Dentière, and Morata, as my data. The corpus of the textual data is confined to sixteenth-century French and Italian female writers whose writings confront controversial theological issues relating to the Protestant Reformation as well as the Counter-Reformation.

Throughout the course of my study, I conduct close readings as well as comparative literary analysis. Part of this comparative approach incorporates a consideration of literary genre and how female writers express their spirituality and theological perspectives through literary forms that were not typically used for such topics. Accordingly, then, the following question drives my textual analysis: how do women appropriate and transform literary form to convey polemical theological content? My dissertation does not concentrate on the evidence of reformist elements in these women’s writings, as the varying extent to which it was present has already been established. Rather, I elucidate the formal elements that reflect certain spiritual and theological thought in textual poetics. Moreover, I am also interested in the creation, in light of reformist influences in each woman’s writings, of female-female spiritual dialogue and community as it is staged in literature.

In analyzing the works produced by these female authors, I focus on a variety of genres, including, but not limited to, lyric poetry, poetic dialogue, and epistolary exchanges. For the present study, I limit the textual data to those works that were only written with the intent of

65 Ibid., 73-4. 26 being read, thus creating a peculiar rapport between author and reader(s). While dramatic texts aimed at oral performance are certainly intriguing, I consider how female spiritual writing stages reformed spirituality in the volatile theological era of early modern Italy and France. Therefore, in order to focus my selection, I select only writings from each female author in which reformist themes are present, and discuss how the choice of form and genre reflects the content of the text.

Foregrounding my approach to these texts is the theoretical concept of mimesis, that is, the representation of realities within, in this case, the formal confines of literature. In his seminal work, Mimesis (1953), Erich Auerbach elaborates on the mimetic approach to literature, in which the principle objective is to decipher how the form reflects the content – a literary practice that was present in early modern texts. Auerbach suggests that both during the Middle Ages and the

Renaissance a “serious realism had existed. It had been possible in literature as well as in the visual arts to represent the most everyday phenomena of reality in a serious and significant context.”66 As such, this interplay between formal literary structures and the realities represented within a text leads to a more profound and nuanced understanding of how these women manipulated and transformed for their purposes available genres and literary aspects of writing to creatively participate in the volatile theological debates of their time on their own terms.

A major theoretical approach concentrates on gender as I have focused my research on female writers, which participates in the ongoing process of revealing the manifestations of

“proto-feminist” arguments in the early modern era. In seeking to avoid any sort of anachronistic error, my research is predicated on the arguments of Jordan and Ross, who refer to Renaissance

“feminism” as “pro-woman” arguments in literary debates, or simply, “proto-feminism,” given

66 Erich Auerbach, Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1953), 555. 27 that there was no parallel political movement that resembles the feminism of present society.67

To enhance this gendered theoretical approach, Julia Kristeva’s notion of female subjectivity informs my interpretation of texts. The concept of women being the subject of communication, instead of its object, is paramount to my research. In “Women’s Time” (“Le temps des femmes”)

(1981),68 Kristeva situates the female as subject within the “sociosymbolic contract,” whose terms were dictated by patriarchal norms in Western Christianity, in particular. Kristeva explores

“the constitution and functioning of this contract […] [starting] from the very personal affect experienced when facing it as subject and as a woman.”69 In attempting to understand the constitution of such a contract, Kristeva both analyzes and participates in women’s literary attempts to subvert this contract that has demanded women’s continual sacrifices to fit into its confines.

Furthermore, Kristeva’s own language in “Women’s Time” reveals an interesting conjuncture of feminism and religion. According to Kristeva, “the women’s movement – in its present stage, less aggressive but more artful – is situated within the very framework of the religious crisis of our civilization.”70 I highlight these theoretical notions as a way of linking my own research, situated in early modern France and Italy, to contemporary conversations that involve women and religion. Both contemporary and modern discourses concerning the role of women possess an underlying religious assumption with which one must contend, whether it be the argument concerning women-pastors in Protestant Churches or women’s clothing in Islamic traditions. Although the historical context of sixteenth-century France and Italy is quite different than our present societal understandings of gender, my project demonstrates how early modern

67 See Jordan, Renaissance Feminism, 2-3, and Ross, The Birth of Feminism, 1. 68 Julia Kristeva, “Women’s Time,” trans. Alice Jardine and Harry Blake, Signs 7, no. 1 (1981): 13-35 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press). 69 Kristeva, “Women’s Time,” 24. 70 Ibid., 32. 28 women negotiated their identity and engaged in self-fashioning in the midst of religious crises in which their own sex was often the object of controversy and defamation.

In seeking to avoid the creation a “religion of feminism” during the Renaissance, in which one forms the identity of women around an essentialist notion of femininity, a tendency that Kristeva criticizes, I am interested in bringing out, as does Kristeva, “the singularity of each woman […] her multiplicities, her plural languages” as each female author negotiates her own female spiritual subjectivity through the act of writing.71 Kristeva’s coding of her own theoretical concepts and considerations with religious language, such as sacrifice, is in and of itself striking, and a source for further contemplation. Yet what is most intriguing about

Kristeva’s theoretical concepts is her converging of several perspectives, such as psychoanalysis and feminism, among others, as a means to inform and nuance her own method of literary criticism.

For this present dissertation, I find that a multifaceted theoretical approach is necessary when analyzing the works of several female authors who wrote, in various genres, about spiritual and theological matters in a time where simultaneous religious reform and persecution impacted their literary production. While Auerbach’s exposition of literary mimesis and Kristeva’s notion of female subjectivity in spiritual writings are crucial to my project, I do not explicitly reference either theorist beyond this introduction. Throughout the close readings of the texts in my project,

I bring in other theorists that were either contemporaries of my authors, such as Erasmus, or more ancient theorists who were likely available to and known by my authors, such as Cicero. At one point, in my discussion of female friendship and universal priesthood in the dialogues of

Olympia Morata, I weave in Michel Foucault’s work on the history of confession, as well as his

71 Ibid., 33. 29 elaboration of the Greco-Roman discursive notion, parrhêsia (truth-telling).72 Despite the incorporation of Foucault, a more recent critic, it is my contention that the literary analysis of early modern texts is best performed when one engages a text through the practice of close reading - the central modus operandi of this dissertation.

Chapter Outline

Each of my four content chapters is dedicated more or less to one of the four women authors of my corpus, along with the selection of their writings that is the main source of textual analysis. In Chapter One, I concentrate on Le miroir de l’âme pécheresse (1531) by Marguerite de Navarre, and introduce her spiritual literary oeuvre and correspondence as a nexus around which the other female writers in my dissertation constellate. This is not to diminish these women’s writings; however, the vast and diverse nature of the textual corpus of Marguerite de

Navarre is quite singular in comparison to other female spiritual writing during this era.

Marguerite’s Miroir, however, is the focal point of this chapter as it is her most “reformist” writing, drawing the suspicious eye of the Sorbonne for its Lutheran theology. Throughout the

Miroir, Marguerite’s language oscillates between conflicting religious beliefs in a way that renders her text dissonant, mimetically represented in the movement of a pendulum.73 This textual movement eventually reaches a state of rest, which becomes a dominant theme in my reading of the Miroir, and is also a prominent notion in the New Testament, as Christ’s words exhibit in Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you

72 See Michel Foucault, “Christianity and Confession,” from lecture series: “About the Beginning of the Hermeneutics of the Self: Two Lectures at Dartmouth,” Political Theory 21, no. 2 (1993): 198-227, and Foucault, Discourse and Truth: the Problematization of Parrhesia (taken from his six lectures given at the University of California at Berkeley, October-November, 1983), ed. Joseph Pearson, Digital Archive: Foucault.info, 1999, last modified 2006, http://foucault.info/documents/parrhesia/index.html. 73 Although the pendulum is not present in the Miroir, this imagery appears in a letter that Vittoria Colonna (1490- 1547) writes to Marguerite in 1540 in response to an earlier letter that she had received from Marguerite, which I discuss in Chapter 2. 30 rest.”74 I also consider Marguerite’s Miroir to be emblematic of a spiritual collectivity, as the language shifts from individuality (“je”) to that of collectivity (“nous”), thus signaling the formation of a female spiritual community, based on a newfound spirituality.

In Chapter Two, I analyze four sonnets, and cross-reference others, from the Rime spirituali of Vittoria Colonna, with whom Marguerite held a substantial correspondence, and who also followed Marguerite’s model of elevated spiritual writing, which often masks evangelical tendencies. The epistolary exchange between the two women serves as the transition between the two Chapters, which both highlight the nature of their cryptic relationship with religious reform movements in Italy and France, respectively. In particular, for Colonna, I consider the relationship between giving and writing in her literary expression of reformist thought in her epistolary exchanges and her Rime spirituali. We see the “renaissance of the gift,” which I consider to be a reformist bent on the notion and practice of giving, in Colonna’s correspondence with notable reform-minded figures such as Marguerite de Navarre (1492-1549),

Bernardino Ochino (1487-1564), and Michelangelo Buonarotti (1475-1564). In the epistolary exchange between Marguerite and Colonna, however, I devote special attention to the cultivation of the gift of female friendship between these two exceptional women who expressed reformist thought through their writings.

Dentière’s Epistre tres utile is the subject of my literary analysis in Chapter Three. While

Dentière’s Epistre responds to Marguerite’s inquiry concerning the dismissal of reformist preachers (Calvin and Farel) from the Church of Geneva, I analyze this text in terms of the qualities that are clearly aligned with the sermon genre. More specifically, I claim that the

Epistre should be understood a reformed sermon whose message and mode of communication both reflect and advance women’s freedom and responsibility to preach the Gospel. As

74 All biblical references are taken from the Revised Standard Version (RSV). 31 mentioned above, I include Jeanne de Jussie’s criticism of Dentière, in her Petite Chronique, as a female voice that represents the Catholic reaction of a distinct community of women, the Poor

Clares’ convent of Geneva. The main source of my textual analysis concerns Dentière’s Epistre, where I focus on the mimetic function of orality and how Dentière weaves together cultural discursive practices that not only engender true conversion, but also produce other women like herself, who will publicly declare the Gospel.

Lastly, in Chapter Four, I address Olympia Morata’s Dialogue between Theophila and

Philotima (1551-1552). While we have no evidence of an epistolary exchange between Morata and Marguerite de Navarre, Morata’s residence at the Court of Este in Ferrara, where Renée de

France’s influence was significant, presents a significant cultural and literary connection between

Marguerite and Morata. In her two dialogues, Morata’s female interlocutors demonstrate the practice of female spiritual friendship, which rests on a shared commitment to the reformist cause in Italy. Throughout my analysis of these dialogues, I suggest that the literary genre of dialogue permits Morata to write bluntly concerning the reformist cause, as it is a fictionalized literary exchange; however, more importantly, dialogue emerges as the primary way by which

Morata establishes a distinctly female practice of “Christian friendship” with her companion,

Lavinia della Rovere, which is enhanced by both women’s adherence to and defense of the nascent evangelical faith.

Originality of the Dissertation

As part of the continued efforts to amplify the voices of early modern women, my dissertation offers a fresh perspective on how female writers in sixteenth-century France and

Italy appropriated existing literary genres in order to contribute to the religious debates, which were generally driven by male-dominated discourse. I specifically consider the effects of

32 reformation movements, including Protestant and Catholic perspectives, on women’s production of spiritual literature, as well as the cultivation of spiritual female friendship and community through various genres as well as epistolary exchange.

One of the most crucial works in my research has been Smarr’s Joining the Conversation, which dissects the interplay between form and content in early women’s writing. Whereas Smarr focuses solely on the form of dialogue as it intersects with broader themes in female writing in general (i.e. social roles, education, etc.), I limit my analysis to French and Italian women’s spiritual, and, at times, theological, writings as they wrote in response to various reform movements, but also extend the parameters to include poetry and epistolary exchange, among other genres. Confining the genre of women’s spiritual writing too narrowly would not do justice to the scope of early modern women’s writing on spiritual and theological issues. For instance, it would effectively neglect the significant debate between Marie Dentière and Jeanne de Jussie - two women whose writings, albeit in less stylized or provocative manners, express theological stances in response to church reform.

The juncture between reformist thought and the production of literature from lay people, particularly women, is undoubtedly intriguing and complex. Given the goals of the Protestant

Reformation, such as the emphasis on one’s personal relationship with God and the priesthood of all believers, it would follow that, coupled with the rise of vernacular literature, more laity

(women included) would have produced much more spiritual and theological literature.

However, this simply was not the case. Even more problematic is the loss of collectivity with

Protestantism’s attack on monastic and convent life, an emblem of female spiritual community throughout the early modern era, which significantly diminished female religious communities.

In spite of this destruction of feminized spiritual space brought about in various strongholds of

33 the Protestant Reformation, for the few women writers who interacted with reformist ideas and who understood the full implications of this theology (i.e. the priesthood of all believers), which eclipsed many prominent male reformers (i.e. Calvin), I argue that the texts that follow contain expressions of spirituality that transcend confessional and national boundaries in an unprecedented manner.

34 CHAPTER TWO SACRED DISSONANCE AND DIVINE REST IN MARGUERITE DE NAVARRE’S LE MIROIR DE L’ÂME PÉCHERESSE

Ce que je dis est clair et magnifeste, Et l’indicible en mon sentiment reste; -Marguerite de Navarre, Epître 75

Introduction

The theological conflict that characterized the religious landscape of sixteenth-century

France provided fertile soil for the nuanced spiritual writings and thoughts of Marguerite,

Duchess of Alençon and Berry, and Queen of Navarre (1492-1549), most markedly in her work,

Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse (1531). In fact, the Miroir could better be understood as a prism, in light of its optical title, as it illuminates a divergent array of theological positions in sixteenth- century France. Throughout the Miroir moreover, Marguerite’s language drifts between conflicting religious beliefs in a way that creates a sacred dissonance in her soul’s meandering journey to divine rest, mimetically represented in the movement of a pendulum. While the pendulum itself is not present in the Miroir, this imagery appears in a letter that Vittoria Colonna

(1490-1547) later wrote to Marguerite in 1540 in response to an earlier letter that she had received from Marguerite.76 In this letter, which I discuss in more detail in the second chapter,

Colonna speaks of her desire to correspond with Marguerite as a means to commune with her in person. The key word in the following passage is “contrapesi,” the counterweight, or pendulum,

75 “What I write is clear and transparent; / the inexpressible remains within me” (Marguerite de Navarre, Selected Writings: a bilingual edition, eds. Rouben Charles Cholakian and Mary Skemp [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008], 48-49). These lines are taken from a letter that Marguerite presumably wrote to her mother, Louise de Savoie. This Epitre is also found in M. Aimé Champollion-Figeac’s edited collection, Poésies Du Roi François Ier, De Louise De Savoie, Duchesse D'angoulême, De Marguerite, Reine De Navarre, Et Correspondance Intime Du Roi Avec Diane De Poitiers Et Plusieurs Autres Dames De La Cour, Recueillies (Paris: Impr. royale, 1847), 60. 76 I discuss the correspondence between Marguerite de Navarre and Vittoria Colonna in further detail in Chapter 2. Marguerite’s initial letter to Colonna has been lost (Verdun-Louis Saulnier, “Marguerite de Navarre, Vittoria Colonna et quelques autres amis italiens de 1540,” Mélanges à la mémoire de Franco Simone: France et Italie dans la culture européene [Geneva: Slatkine, 1980], 282). 35 in the clock, as the basis for her decision to respond to Marguerite’s letter.

ardirò, non già di rispondere, ma di non tacere in tutto, et solo quasi per inalzare i contrapesi del suo celeste horologio, acciochè, piacendole per sua bontà di risonare, a me distingue et ordini l’hore di questa mia confuse vita.77

Through her words in response to Marguerite, Colonna raises (“inalzare”) a counterweight to balance the lofty thoughts of Marguerite and to provide temporal stability at a most tumultuous time of her life. Colonna, aware of the intense spiritual anguish that Marguerite must be enduring, views her epistolary correspondence and shared affinity for writing with Marguerite as a means to allay the anxiety and tension that characterized each women’s spiritual instability.

I employ the image of the pendulum as a metaphor to grasp how Marguerite’s shifting religious perspectives shape the dissonant text of the Miroir while simultaneously nuancing

Marguerite’s theological vision. This movement eventually reaches a state of equilibrium, or rest

– a central notion not only in the Miroir but also in the New Testament itself. In Matthew 11:28,

Christ invites anyone who is troubled to himself (“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest”);78 by coming to him, he will provide rest for the weary soul. This biblical idea of rest halts Marguerite’s anxious movement between opposing forces and often manifests itself in reformist concepts such as the centrality of Christ’s incarnation and sacrifice, the presence of faith and grace, as well as the standard of Scripture, which serve as bridges between contradictory religious ideas. Furthermore, given her predilection for reformist beliefs, the constant oscillation between opposing forces in the Miroir helps Marguerite mask her evangelical leanings, especially in the overarching confrontation between Marguerite and God.

77 Vittoria Colonna, Carteggio di Vittoria Colonna: Marchesa di Pescara, eds. Ermanno Ferrero and Guiseppe Muller, Turin: Ermanno Loescher (1889), 185: “I shall dare not so much to reply, as to refrain from keeping silent in all things, and only to lift up, as it were, the counter-weights of Your Majesty’s celestial clock, so that through the virtue of its chime, it may mark the time and bring order to the hours of this confused life of mine” (Barry Collett, A Long and Troubled Pilgrimage: the Correspondence of Marguerite d’Angoulême and Vittoria Colonna, 1540-1545, Studies in Reformed Theology and History [Princeton, NJ: Princeton Theological Seminary, 2000], 111). 78 All biblical references are taken from the Revised Standard Version (RSV). 36 At the same time, Marguerite incorporates positions that can be considered both Catholic and

Protestant, which offer intriguing glimpses into her “blended” theology. Finally, towards the end of the poem, the shift from a language of individuality (“je”) to that of collectivity (“nous”) signals the presence of a female spiritual community, based on a newfound spirituality.

To render the personage of Marguerite de Navarre, especially in terms of her spirituality, in the most accurate manner proves to be a difficult task to accomplish when what was so compelling about her evaded both historical record as well as her own literary works. To restate this sentiment in Marguerite’s words, as the exergue demonstrates: that which language failed to express stayed hidden within her. Marguerite remains a figure that escapes any simplified description or definition, especially considering her particular historical moment – an era imbued with reform on all levels, on the one hand, but with an equal amount of backlash and reactionary impulses, on the other hand. Due to her support of ecclesiastical reform, her dabbling in Lutheran doctrine, and her protection, patronage, and support of known evangelicals, Marguerite de

Navarre received significant criticism from the Sorbonne, whose Faculty of Theology remained a vanguard of Catholic dogma in its desire to erase any semblance of Protestantism in France.

Although many scholars hesitate to align Marguerite with Roman Catholicism or the

Protestantism of Martin Luther in Germany, her involvement in and support for associated reform movements within France have been well documented.79 It is dually helpful to note that the French reform movement, led by the évangéliques, was related to, but not synonymous with

79 For example, rather than placing her strictly within the confession of Roman Catholicism or Protestantism, Robert Cottrell, in the Grammar of Silence: a reading of Marguerite de Navarre’s poetry (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1986), views Marguerite’s spiritual poetry through the lens of an “Augustinian- Dionysian” tradition whose main objective is transcendence (ix). Likewise, Gary Ferguson, in Mirroring Belief: Marguerite de Navarre’s Devotional Poetry (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1992), argues that Marguerite de Navarre was Augustinian, as was typical for the Western Church whose soteriological thought was based on Augustine’s theology (10). 37 German Protestantism.80 For Jonathan Reid, Marguerite’s ecclesiastical commitment is no doubt ambiguous; nevertheless, Reid argues that evidence points to her involvement in campaigning on behalf of the évangéliques: “The letters, books, and deeds of Marguerite and her collaborators reveal they were waging a coordinated campaign to advance the renewal of the faith and the

Church on several fronts.”81 Moreover, Pierre Jourda affirms Marguerite’s Protestant leanings and even goes so far as to say that Marguerite refused to shy away from her support of the

évangéliques despite attacks from the Sorbonne.82 Another case in point of theological criticism directed towards the Queen is a satirical play that was put on by students at the Collège de

Navarre portraying “Marguerite as controlled by a demon and attacking the faithful.”83 This of course was spawned, most likely, by the publication of Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse in 1531.

Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse, with its 1,435 verses of theological and spiritual

80 Arlette Jouanna’s La France du XVIe siècle: 1483-1598 (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1996), provides an excellent overview of terms designating religious reform movements in France. Jouanna claims that historians have used the adjective “reformed” to designate all impacts flowing from Calvin whereas the term “Huguenot” refers to the political dimension of the French Reform (used after 1560). “Protestants” were followers of Luther, who protested against the Roman Catholic Church and later separated from it (297). As for the term “évangélisme, proposed in 1914 by P. Imbart de La Tour, Jouanna explains that it was adopted by historians “pour nommer le courant religieux unissant des chrétiens d’avant le durcissement des choix confessionnels, ceux qui cherchent directement dans l’Écriture la source de leur foi, pensent que la vie spirituelle est intérieure et personnelle, se détournent de pratiques comme le culte des saints ou le recours aux indulgences, mais ne veulent pas rompre avec l’Église traditionnelle. En somme, les évangéliques croient qu’on peut concilier le message de Lefèvre d’Étaples et d’Érasme et celui de Luther 1525-1534” (297-8). 81 Jonathan A. Reid, “Marguerite de Navarre and Evangelical Reform,” in A Companion to Marguerite de Navarre, eds. Gary Ferguson and Mary B. McKinley (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 34. Consider also the richly illuminated manuscript prepared for Marguerite ca. 1530, L’Initiatoire instruction en la religion Chrestienne pour les enffans, an overtly Protestant French catechism and confession that was written under Marguerite’s protection. Myra Orth suggests that, “the Initiatoire instruction presents a clear statement of Marguerite’s beliefs and those of her entourage, and offers evidence of exactly the directions of her patronage in the Reform at that moment” (“Radical Beauty: Marguerite de Navarre’s Illuminated Protestant Catechism and Confession,” The Sixteenth Century Journal 24, no. 2 [1993]: 396). 82 Pierre Jourda, Marguerite d’Angoulême: Duchesse d’Alençon, Reine de Navarre (1492-1549): Étude bibliotraphique et littéraire (Paris: Libraire Ancienne Honoré Champion, 1930), 173-174. 83 Barbara Stephenson, The Power and Patronage of Marguerite de Navarre (Burlington: Ashgate, 2004), 7. Stephenson also claims that, as a woman in a staunchly Catholic country, Marguerite became the target for much criticism: “Many people, especially in Paris, believed that Marguerite’s well-known sympathy for evangelicism was a sympathy for all new religious ideas, and so they blamed her for creating a climate that led to heresy” (152). 38 reflection, falls in the middle of Marguerite de Navarre’s literary career.84 Le Miroir was the first work by any French woman to appear in print during her own lifetime and was later translated into English by a young Queen Elizabeth I.85 Isabelle Garnier and Isabelle Pantin also attribute the monumental nature of Marguerite’s Miroir to its being one of the earliest religious works written in the vernacular for the spiritual nourishment of évangéliques in France, the prominence it accords to first-person expression (je) in Christian lyric poetry, and its being Marguerite’s first printed and published works, which would be reedited and made available to a broad public beyond court circles.86

My approach to the Miroir is based on the movement of the text, which generates the energy of my analysis. The wavering movement of Marguerite’s language reflects a sense of anxious contemplation and careful exploration of theological notions within the discourse of doctrinal polarization that so characterized the growing gulf between Catholicism and reformist movements in France. To begin, I provide a brief biography of Marguerite’s life, as well as a background for the writing and publication of the Miroir. The first stage of my analysis locates spiritual and theological dissonances in the Miroir. Next, I consider how Marguerite expresses the biblical notion of rest to reconcile the disparities of opposing theological thoughts. In the last part of my chapter Marguerite’s treatment of the Virgin Mary provides a bridge between the first two facets of my analysis, sacred dissonance and reformed rest, also, bringing to light the transcendent female spiritual community that emerges from the text of the Miroir.

84 I will be using Renja Salminen’s critical edition of Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse (Helsinki: Soumalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1979). For English translations, see Rouben Cholakian and Mary Skemp, Selected Writings: a bilingual edition, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008). According to Salminen, there were some thirteen editions of the Miroir available in sixteenth-century France; however, not one manuscript was conserved (5). 85 Elizabeth worked from a copy obtained from France by her mother, Anne Boleyn; Queen Elizabeth would go on to defend the Protestant cause in England. See Gary Ferguson and Mary McKinley, “Introduction,” in A Companion to Marguerite de Navarre, 7. 86 Isabelle Garnier and Isabelle Pantin, “Opening and Closing Reflections: The Miroir de l’âme pécheresse and the Miroir de Jésus-Christ Crucifié,” in A Companion to Marguerite de Navarre, 110-1. 39 Biographical Sketch: Marguerite de Navarre

Born to Charles, Count of Angoulême, and Louise de Savoie,87 Marguerite received the finest humanist education available in France along side her younger brother François, born two years after her, in 1494, and heir to the throne. Marguerite’s first marriage to Charles, duc d’Alençon,88 in 1509, took her away from the active life of the French court. Although the more provincial Argentan was difficult for Marguerite, this isolation marked the beginning of her interest in reformed spirituality as she began to meet figures of the French evangelical movement, such as Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples (1455-1536) in 1521.89 Shortly after the death of her first husband in 1525, the same year that François I was captured at the Battle of Pavia,90

Marguerite was married to a young Henri d’Albret, who had escaped the Battle of Pavia, warning the French of the king’s predicament.91 The only surviving child from Marguerite and

Henri’s union was Jeanne d’Albret, born in 1528, who eventually became a prominent leader of the French Huguenots. In addition to the death of Henri and Marguerite’s first son, Jean, in 1524,

François I’s daughter, eight-year old Charlotte, died of measles in the arms of her aunt,

Marguerite.92 The 1530s wrought even more havoc to Marguerite on a personal front, as her mother, Louise, passed away in 1531. In the midst of these personal tragedies, Marguerite’s Le miroir de l’âme pécheresse, first published in 1531, brought its own share of hardship to

87 See Ferguson and McKinley, “Introduction” to A Companion to Marguerite de Navarre, for more information on the spiritual heritage of Marguerite’s family; Jourda, Marguerite d’Angoulême, provides further insight concerning the intellectual heritage of Marguerite’s family. 88 According to Jourda, Charles was just a soldier: “Sans culture, sans idéal, il n’a même pas les dehors brillants de ses contemporains, rudes soldats et batailleurs, mais hommes de cour et beaux diseurs” (Marguerite d’Angoulême, 33-34). 89 Stephenson, Power and Patronage, 4. 90 The Battle of Pavia was one of the last major battles of the Italian campaign of 1524-1525, which was essentially the culmination of a war of hegemony over certain territories in the Italian states waged by the Imperial-Spanish army fighting under Charles V (1500-1558), the Holy Roman Emperor at the time, against France. See Angus Konstam, Pavia 1525: The Climax of the Italian Wars (Oxford: Osprey Publishing, 1996). 91 Stephenson, Power and Patronage, 5. 92 Jourda, Marguerite d’Angoulême, 93. Marguerite invokes Charlotte’s soul, in the form of a prosopopoeia, in her Dialogue en forme de vision nocturne (1533). 40 Marguerite as the Sorbonne condemned it due to its apparent reformist doctrine.93

Not only was Marguerite’s personal life saturated with tragedy, her life as a public and royal figure was equally demanding. To be sure, Marguerite had ample opportunity to apply her humanist education in several diplomatic crises among key players in French politics as France was embroiled in conflicts both domestically and abroad.94 As duchess of Berry and Alençon, and later as queen of Navarre, Marguerite actively participated in the political world, as well as in the expansion of clientage networks of France in the 1510s through the 1540s.95 Marguerite exercised a considerable amount of political power, which she wielded for her interests, whether as representative for her brother in political ventures, or for her own aspirations of religious reform.

Moreover, Marguerite’s occupying powerful positions granted her a sort of androgyny for a woman of her time in that she often performed tasks that would have been considered more masculine in nature. The renowned Renaissance poet, Clément Marot (1496-1544), went so far as to assert that Marguerite possessed “un corps féminin, coeur d’homme, tête d’ange”96; and, given her powerful status, Marguerite was made a “duke-peer” when given the duchy of Berry in

93 Much of the Sorbonne’s condemnation of this work was related to the amount of scriptural annotations in the margins. Cynthia Skenazi notes that the Faculty of Theology of the Sorbonne in Paris kept a careful watch over adaptations of the Bible into the vernacular: “L’hostilité de la Sorbonne à l’égard de la reine semble confirmer l’hypothèse de la prudence. La sympathie de Marguerite pour des idées religieuses opposées à l’orthodoxie de l’Eglise romaine déchaîne la haine de la Sorbonne” (“Les Annotations en marge du Miroir de l’âme pécheresse,” Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance 55, no. 2 [1993]: 264). In 1533, the Sorbonne condemned the anonymous edition of the Miroir, and François had to intervene. Further still, the printer, Simon Du Bois, was suspected of heresy and disappeared mysteriously around 1535 (265). 94 In Marguerite’s lifetime, four powerful rulers engaged in power struggles for European hegemony: Henry VIII of England (1509-1547), Francis I (1515-1547), the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (1519-1556), and various popes. (Rouben Cholakian, “Introduction,” to Marguerite de Navarre, Selected Writings, 6). 95 See Stephenson, The Power and Patronage, 4-11; 149-176. 96 “A female body, the heart of a man, and the mind of an angel.” This citation is taken from one of Clémont Marot’s (1496-1544) lais in his L’adolescence clementine (1532); Stephenson opens Power and Patronage with this description of Marguerite. Though mostly known for his poetry in Francis I’s court, Marot was also considered as inspired by Protestant and Reformist thinking in his translating the Psalms into the vernacular (Ferguson, Mirroring Belief, 181). 41 1517.97 Kirsi Stjerna also notes how Marguerite’s gender did not pose too significant of an obstacle for her as she was once recognized as “prince capétien” and became an “honorary male.”98 These kinds of masculine titles and attributes conferred upon Marguerite by others reveal the presence of both masculine and feminine qualities, as they were understood and performed in Early Modern France. Marguerite was able to move fluidly between her roles as a woman (as a wife and a mother), and her political positions of queen and duchess in the French kingdom. Marguerite’s functioning as a royal noble endowed her with considerable influence over several aspects of French politics. In addition to negotiating the release of her brother,

François I, when he was captured at the Battle of Pavia in 1525, Marguerite held several patronage roles, which provided an intellectual community of those whom she supported and protected.

At the same time, in a field that was traditionally the exclusive territory of male theologians, Marguerite began to insert herself as a writer, thinker, and as a female who sought to partake in the religious debates that shaped her era. During the 1520s, Marguerite began establishing connections with noted French humanists who were part of the French reform movement, led by Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples and the Bishop of Meaux, Guillaume Briçonnet

(1472-1534). Under Briçonnet’s leadership in Meaux, Lefèvre headed a team of translators who would produce a French version of the New Testament in 1523, and a French version of the Old

Testament in 1530.99 The desire to have vernacular translations of the Bible was a cornerstone element in Lutheran doctrine,100 as was the humanist push to return to the sources (ad fontes).

97 Stephenson, Power and Patronage, 3. 98 Kirsi Stjerna, Women and the Reformation (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2009), 151-152. 99 Cholakian, “Introduction,” 5. 100 At his speech at the Imperial Diet of Worms in 1521 we find Luther’s infamous lines that placed the authority of Scripture over Roman Catholic dogma: “Unless I am convinced by scripture and plain reason – I do not accept the authority of popes and councils, for they have contradicted each other – my conscience is captive to the Word of 42 For reformers, the return to the original Biblical languages of Hebrew and Greek produced more accurate translations of the Bible into the vernacular, granting scriptural access to a wider audience while underlining the importance of an unmediated personal relationship with God.

Although Marguerite did not officially leave the Roman Catholic Church, her participation and support of the earliest attempts to correct ecclesiastical abuses, especially as an influential Christian woman, were significant in light of the changes that were taking place in the religious world of the sixteenth century. It is with reform-minded individuals such as Marguerite that one can see how many of the beliefs between the two movements, the French évangéliques

(which had existed before the Protestant Reformation in Northern Europe in 1517) and the

Protestant Reformation, were similar. According to Reid, most French evangelicals ultimately

“aimed to establish right religion by transcending the confessional war waged by Protestants and

101 Catholics, which was leading Western Europe towards permanent schism.” Instead of dividing the church between Catholic and Protestant confession, French reformers sought to restore the church “performatively,” by practicing the pure and simple message of the Gospel.

Furthermore, Reid explains how the suppressive acts of the Catholic Church severely inhibited the French evangelical movement, and although the majority of French reformers had no desire to break from the Catholic Church, but rather to see purification from within the Church, these individuals were still considered sympathetic to the “heresy” of Protestantism, if not themselves guilty of siding with Luther.102

In the earlier years of her ties with the French reform movement, Marguerite reasoned with her brother, François, on the platform of religious tolerance. Reid suggests that Marguerite

God” (Ron Christenson, ed., Political Trials in History: From Antiquity to Present, (New Jersey: Transaction Publishers [1991], 266). 101 Reid, “Marguerite de Navarre and Evangelical Reform,” 31. 102 Reid, King’s Sister – Queen of Dissent: Marguerite of Navarre (1492-1549) and her Evangelical Network (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 310. 43 went a step further: “The letters, books, and deeds of Marguerite and her collaborators reveal they were waging a coordinated campaign to advance the renewal of the faith and the Church on several fronts.”103 Marguerite and her cohort were attempting to spread the gospel via preaching and the publishing books, 104 to protect those under persecution, to see that Evangelicals be put in positions of authority, and to collaborate with Evangelicals abroad in order to advance a peace from a political standpoint.105 Along these efforts, Marguerite and her network of evangelicals established the French evangelical press in 1525, which Reid explains as being the product of the

“Navarrian Network.”106 Marguerite’s efforts were not in vain; for the most part, François adopted a decidedly more tolerant stance towards the reformist veins of French society, as they were not perceived as viable threats.

Yet, as the religious atmosphere became more heated throughout the 1530s, François’ position altered dramatically due to rising pressures that came to a fore in 1534 with l’affaire des placards, in which reformers placed posters satirizing the Mass throughout Paris and other cities, as well as on the King’s bedroom door.107 Marguerite received the brunt of the blame for this incident. In fact, she actually left the court during the times when those accused of heresy were

103 Reid, “Marguerite de Navarre and Evangelical Reform,” 34. 104 According to Isabelle Garnier-Mathez, the heart of the French évangélique movement was the Gospel (l’Évangile): “Ce que mettent en avant les Evangéliques avant toute chose, c’est un nouveau rapport aux textes sacrés, et prioritairementm un “retour” à l’Evangile entendu au sens large de “Nouveau Testament”, voire de l’ensemble de l’Ecriture” (L’Épithète et la connivance: Ecriture concertée chez les Evangéliques français (1523- 154) [Geneva: Droz, 2005], 36). 105 Reid goes on to argue that Marguerite used her brother’s captivity as an opportunity to attempt to convert him, using his imprisonment was a metaphor for his spiritual imprisonment from God. However, “Marguerite failed to win François over to her vision of him as the restorer of Christendom,” and only succeeded in convincing him to “suspend heresy proceedings against the Meaux group” (“Marguerite de Navarre and Evangelical Reform,” 38-9). 106 Reid, King’s Sister, 275. Distributing the teachings of Christ in the vernacular was imperative for French evangelicals. Reid continues, “Although French evangelicals balked at challenging church authorities in public debates, they all agreed with their mentors in Germania that, as there, vernacular works were desperately needed to advance the cause in the realm […] just after the flood of Reformation pamphlets in Germany had reached its high- water mark, did evangelical books written in French appear in significant numbers, including the first translations of Luther’s and other reformers’ works into French” (274). 107 Carol Thysell, The Pleasure of Discernment: Marguerite de Navarre as Theologian (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 8. 44 being burned at the stake and lynched in public, by order of her brother. For her troubles with the

Sorbonne and the Parlement, Stephenson argues that, “l’affaire des placards seems to have been the increased regard with which she was viewed by reformers both inside and out of France.”108

Philip Melanchthon and Martin Bucer were two such reformers outside of France, yet, the best- known correspondent of the reformers was Jean Calvin – there are only two surviving letters, and both demonstrate Marguerite’s continued epistolary exchange with the reformer whom she had sheltered from the attacks of the Sorbonne.109 As a result of l’affaire des placards, several

“heretics” were killed,110 as was the case in Cabrières and Mérindole, when some 3,000 people

111 were massacred in 1545. During this affaire des placards, Protestants such as Jean Calvin and

Clémont Marot fled France for more religiously tolerant environments.112 It is within this unstable religious environment that Marguerite de Navarre wrote her Miroir de l’âme pécheresse. Relating the timing of Marguerite’s Miroir, Jourda put it quite simply: “L’orage était proche. Elle l’ignorait.”113 The storm of the religious debates and wars was soon approaching, yet Marguerite ignored its immanent arrival when she chose to write the Miroir.

Setting the Stage for Marguerite’s ‘Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse’

Marguerite’s long poem fits into a medieval tradition of speculum literature, with influences such as Vincent de Beauvais’s Speculum and his Miroir historial, as well as

108 Stephenson, Power and Patronage, 177. 109 Ibid., 178. 110 Ferguson and McKinley, “Introduction,” 10. 111 The Waldensian sect, the target of these massacres, was a marginalized religious group that strongly advocated the importance of Bible reading. See Patricia F. Cholakian and Rouben C. Cholakian, Marguerite de Navarre: Mother of the Renaissance, (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006), 264. 112 Marguerite negotiated Calvin’s safe passage to Geneva, Switzerland. In their exchanges, Calvin demanded that Marguerite take a more powerful stance on the plight of Protestants in France, and also criticized the Queen for not exposing herself as fully Protestant. For Stjerna, Calvin failed to see her serving as a bridge, often at the risk of her own life, between Catholics and Protestants (Women and the Reformation, 153). 113 Jourda, Marguerite d’Angoulême, 173. 45 Marguerite de Porete’s Miroir des âmes simples.114 Likewise, in Scripture, there are several references to specula - the most famous being Paul’s “Now we are seeing a dim reflection in a mirror” (1 Corinthians 13:12). Augustine meditated on the exposing nature of humanity via the speculum Scripturae. Robert Cottrell also discusses the dual function of the mirror of Scripture: on the one hand, in the anthropomorphic function, one is faced with “his own deformity and sinfulness by making him conscious of the distance that separates him from what God would have him be.”115 On the other hand, the mirror of Scripture in its divine function, as a reflection of God’s character, allows Christians to understand God in a direct manner, despite their sinful state. Like Cottrell, I find both of these functions at work in Marguerite’s Miroir as she depicts her own sinful state as well as the divine person of God that so captivates her soul, however sinful it may be.

Yet Marguerite’s Miroir is far more than a typical mirror poem that fosters private contemplation and meditation. For Paula Sommers, Le Miroir “represents a discrete yet dangerous combination of the devotional posture expected of the feminine writer and the theological elements that were still regarded as exclusively masculine concerns.”116 While one could easily categorize Marguerite’s Miroir as a devotional piece, this would be a denial of its theological contents that sparked the ire of the Faculty of Theology in Paris. In a similar vein,

Garnier and Pantin suggest that the 1531 publication of the Miroir was a “militant act” because it

114 Cholakian, “Introduction” to Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse / The Mirror of the Sinful Soul, in Selected Writings, 73-74. One of the most prominent compilers of the Middle Ages was Vincent Beauvais (c. 1190- c. 1264), author of the Speculum maius, which can be understood as a type of pre-encyclopedia that served as a compendium of knowledge for the readership of the Middle Ages. Beauvais viewed his work as a mirror of the universe in which the visible order of the world reflected that which was invisible. Marguerite Porete’s Le Miroir des simples âmes anéanties (early 1300s), written in Old French, is a mystical work in which the author, a Beguine nun from Hainaut, expresses her understandings of the doctrine and practice of “pur amour.” Cynthia Skenazi informs us that while Marguerite was most likely ignorant of Porete’s name, she knew of Le Miroir des âmes simples et anéanties; “Interestingly, Porete’s expression ‘Gentil Loing Près,’ to name Jesus, also appears in [Marguerite’s] Les Prisons” (Cynthia Skenazi, “Les Prisons’ Poetics of Conversion,” in A Companion to Marguerite de Navarre, 228). 115 Cottrell, The Grammar of Silence, 96. 116 Sommers, Paula, “The Mirror and its Reflections: Marguerite de Navarre’s Biblical Feminism,” Tulsa Studies in Women’s Literature 5, no. 1 (1996): 30. 46 marked “a break with established religious ideology, less in terms of its title […] than by the circumstances surrounding its publication.”117 Since the Sorbonne attempted to censor

Marguerite’s Miroir due to the presence of evangelical thought, which stressed personal access to Scripture and other reformist notions, this work no doubt contains a marked degree of theological substance, which merits attention.

Despite her loyalty to the Church of Rome, Marguerite’s inclusion of reformist theological discourse in Le Miroir caught the attention of the Sorbonne, whose Faculty of

Theology perceived the presence, or mere semblance, of Lutheran doctrine as a threat to Catholic dogma in France. I argue that Marguerite was well aware of the implications of her choice to include reformist ideas in her spiritual writings and purposefully conveyed subversive theological notions within her work. Along these lines, Kirsi Stjerna argues that Marguerite

“intentionally did not write primarily for school theologians, but […] wished to remain cryptic in her intent. She chose to write as a layperson, in forms that appealed to her personally and with a potentially large audience.”118 Stjerna brings up an interesting paradox in Marguerite’s approach: while seeking to make her work more palatable to the laity, her work is simultaneously cryptic in theological content. Thus, Marguerite’s tactic in writing the Miroir demonstrates her guileful approach to participating in theology as a female writer of her era.

In terms of the structure and approach of the Miroir, some scholars impose a sort of order to this text. For example, Cottrell assigns three divisions to the text. The first part makes up about one fourth of the text and concludes where Marguerite’s words lose their referential meaning, acting as signs that point to a higher meaning. Part two is made up of four discrete narratives in which Marguerite portrays herself as the daughter, mother, sister, and wife of

117 Garnier and Pantin, “Opening and Closing Reflections,” 118. 118 Stjerna, Women and the Reformation, 157. 47 Christ. Cottrell considers the final part of the poem as a long digression that frustrates the reader as Marguerite describes the ecstatic state of unio, where there is an endless “va-et-vient” between

God and Marguerite.119 Cottrell argues that Marguerite eventually loses the anxious tone towards the end of the Miroir where more biblical citations appear in the margins: “Marguerite’s text becomes a clear, polished mirror that reflects God’s text. The voice we hear in the poem is no longer that of the distraught Marguerite but that of God speaking to man through Scripture.”120

While the presence of God’s Word certainly alleviates some of Marguerite’s spiritual and linguistic tension, I argue that, rather than a progression, we find Marguerite fluctuating between a state of separation and union from God from the beginning to the end of the Miroir.

In her reading of the poem, Paula Sommers considers the Miroir to be Marguerite’s first

“ladder-poem” in which spiritual progress is presented in terms of “descent as well as ascent.”121

For Sommers, the image of the ladder is the ultimate topos in Marguerite’s spiritual poetry – an image that reveals the tertiary progression of purgatio, illuminatio, and perfectio in Christian mystic thought.122 Sommers draws her definition of the three stages of spiritual ascension from

Briçonnet’s correspondence with Marguerite. Purgatio, the initial stage, implies “purification, repentence, and reform”; illuminatio incorporates “spiritual insight,” and perfectio, which involves the “contemplation of beauty and mercy of God” as the soul is consumed by love for its

“Celestial Spouse.”123 From this perspective, the first part of the Miroir is set in the purgatio stage, whereas illuminatio occupies the center of the poem, as Marguerite zooms in on death of

Christ; finally, perfectio defines the latter part of the poem as unio is achieved.

119 See Cottrell, Grammar of Silence, 111-118. Ultimately, for Cottrell, “the reader of the Miroir is invited to see in the poem the whole that was represented graphically on the first page of the text by that emblem of perfection and completeness, the letter O” (118). 120 Cottrell, Grammar of Silence, 104. 121 Paula Sommers, Celestial Ladders: Readings in Marguerite de Navarre’s Poetry of Spiritual Ascent (Geneva: Droz, 1989), 65. 122 Ibid., 49-66. 123 Ibid., 12-13. 48 However, in my reading of the Miroir, I find that a strictly vertical nature of the ladder structure is problematic. The ladder itself is an apparatus that conveys eventual ascent, whereas in the Miroir, the movement is not so much linear or vertical, but is rather an unending motion, best portrayed by the metaphor of the pendulum, which ultimately seeks equilibrium.

Furthermore, the ladder is inherently an object of human innovation and also implies the ability to climb – signaling a marked amount of agency on the part of the climber. Given the reformist bent in her spiritual writings, drenched in the paralysis of human depravity, Marguerite denies all capability to create, ascend, and to achieve anything in and of herself. Pierre Jourda rightly cautions that one should not assign any organizing schema to Marguerite’s Miroir because the poem contains several guiding ideas, which animate its composition libre.124 Building upon

Jourda’s claim of a more fluid textual composition, I argue that Marguerite’s Le Miroir constantly moves between two ends of various spectra. This type of writing allows Marguerite to find a poetic via media, which mirrors her longing for spiritual rest, in the midst of the explosive atmosphere of binary religious discourse of sixteenth-century France.

Sacred Dissonance: Identifying the Opposing Forces

Opposing forces present Marguerite with great spiritual and theological anguish, creating a sacred dissonance throughout the poetic meditation of the Miroir. This discordant tendency has led some scholars, such as Cottrell and Gary Ferguson, to view Marguerite as demonstrating anxiety and a lack of resolution, in all of her spiritual writing. In particular, Cottrell discusses the anxious tone with which Marguerite writes that mostly center upon, in her spiritual poetry, “the fall of mankind through Adam’s disobedience, and the redemption of mankind through Christ’s

124 “On voit le caractère diffus de ce poème dont il est impossible de tracer un schéma : ce n’est pas une mais plusieurs idées directrices qui l’animent : il serait difficile d’en indiquer le plan. La composition est en libre, tellement libre que le fil directeur reste introuvable” (Pierre Jourda, Marguerite d’Angoulême, 380). 49 suffering on the cross.”125 Accordingly, Ferguson suggests that in the Miroir, Marguerite seems to live in the anxious tension of not being able to fulfill, in her own strength, the demands of a holy life: “The prerequisite of spiritual confidence is now the possession of faith and charity that unite the soul to God, but this is itself a gift from God, and once more the soul imposes on itself a condition it is unable to fulfill.”126 Marguerite is shattered with disappointment in her inability to meet the standards of a holy God. Thus, the primary source of this distressed state of anxious dissonance is found in the main mirror between her holy God and her own sinful soul.

The dichotomy between God’s perfection and Marguerite’s soul presents itself in the first lines of the poems where we find the two first lines, strung together through the interrogative signifiers, “où,” and the question mark itself, suspended in the pit of Marguerite’s sinful soul:

“Où est l’enfer remply entierement / de tout malheur, travail, peine, et tourment?” (167, vv. 1-

2).127 Marguerite is lost within the darkness of her sin; and this spatial disorientation from the onset underscores the depraved nature of Marguerite’s soul. Moreover, Cottrell connects the decorated letter O, from the first word, “Où,” to Geoffroy Tory’s 1529 Champ fleuri, in which he describes the shape of all capital letters of the alphabet, relating them to physiognomy. From

Tory’s patterns, Jean de Tournes, the publisher of the 1547 edition of Marguerite’s Marguerites, used the capital letter O, which represents perfection, or God himself, to begin the Miroir.128

This circularity indeed bears weight on the non-linear characteristics of Marguerite’s Miroir; but

125 Cottrell, Grammar of Silence, 9. 126 Ferguson, Mirroring Belief, 56. 127 “Where is that hell fraught with misery, / suffering, pain, and torment?” (77). All quotes are taken from Marguerite’s Le Miroir De L’âme Pécheresse, eds. Renja Salminen and Elizabeth (Helsinki: Soumalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1979). All English translations are taken from Marguerite de Navarre, Selected Writings: A Bilingual Edition, eds. Rouben Cholakian and Mary Skemp (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008), and will be provided in the footnote. Page and verse numbers are indicated in rounded brackets within the text; pages numbers from the English translation will be placed in the corresponding footnotes. 128 Cottrell, Grammar of Silence, 101-102. Cottrell goes on to explain that the letter O is also related to the orbs doctrinae Christianae, or “the belief that Scripture itself describes a circle and provides and exegesis of itself. It turns back on itself and invites the reader to read it in such a way that its obscurities, ambiguities, and contradictions are all resolved into one clear, single, and unequivocal meaning, or sensus” (102). 50 beyond the circular imagery, which often implies some sort of resolution, though repetitive, I argue that this text reflects God, the sinful soul, and the mirror of Scripture in a perpetual movement that never ends nor finds resolve.

The beginning of the poem demonstrates utter obscurity as Marguerite consistently attempts to find her bearings in the profound abyss of her sinful state through a series of repetitive questions. For example, there is a striking persistence of Marguerite’s interrogation in the following lines: “Est il de mal nul si profound abisme / Qui suffisant fust pour punir la disme

/ De mes pechez? qui sont en si grand nombre” (167, vv. 5-7).129 The abyss (“abisme”) of sin illustrates the unending depths of Marguerite’s depravity, and adds to the spatial dislocation that plagues in the first lines. The enjambement and rejet in “De mes pechez” reinforce a sense of isolation that alienates her from God, as thoughts are left incomplete. The verses of this poem are literally held in suspension as the anxious tone disorients the reader, who is grasping for some sort of resolution and direction. These verses demonstrate a lack of connected thought and the choppy nature of the language underscores a sense of separation, which highlights the division between Marguerite and God. This search of hell and anticipated punishment, that would only suffice to punish a mere tenth (“disme”) of her sins, indicates the vastness of Marguerite’s sinful soul. This type of language renders the “si profond abisme” all the more obscure as the reader is left with an unanswered question.

The pit of human depravity in which we find Marguerite is a prison that is characterized by absolute emptiness, suffering, and death - themes that embody reformist concepts, which tend to focus on the hopeless nature of humanity without divine intervention. The emphasis on the total depravity of the human soul no doubt takes its cue from reformers, such as Luther and

129 “Is there an abyss torturous and cruel enough / to punish one tenth of my sins? / So great in number are they” (77). 51 Calvin.130 However, for Marguerite’s spirituality, her spiritual guide, Briçonnet, played a key role in shaping her theology.131 Regarding the absolute sinfulness of the human soul apart from

God, Briçonnet writes in a letter to Marguerite in 1521:

L’ame qui est tellement aneantie et nichilifiée qu’elle se trouve rien est moult susceptible de ceste lumiere et pourroit l’ame estre sy fervente en charité et amour qu’elle seroit plus promptement […] embrasée de ceste doulce lumiere.132

Briçonnet speaks of the absolute annihilation and void of the soul. This darkness, for Briçonnet, prepares the way for the light of God to enter and make the heart full of charity and love. In a subsequent letter, Briçonnet describes human nature as “tout peché.”133 Thus, as we see in the beginning of the Miroir, Marguerite saturates the first thirty lines with language that orients the reader towards the depraved contours of her sinful soul, a mirror for humanity apart from God.

In the opening of the poem, Marguerite catalogs the inability of her body and soul to ascend to God by their own devices. To reinforce this notion of impotence, we see the Queen of

Navarre’s soul overcome with an utter lack of power: “Et qui pis est, je n’ay pas la puissance /

D’avoir d’ung seul, au vray, la congnoissance”; “En moy ne fist le pouoir du remede, / Force ie

130 In his Preface to the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans, Luther states: “Sin, in the Scripture, means not only the outward works of the body but also all the activities that move men to do these works, namely, the inmost heart, with all its powers” (Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, Third Edition, ed. William R. Russell [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012], 78). Luther perceives sin in terms of what is both inward (heart) and outward (behavior). Although there are nuances in the Calvinist notion of total depravity in relation to Lutheran doctrine, one finds the same emphasis on the degenerate heart of humanity (i.e. Original sin), in the Institutes of the Christian Religion. In Book Two, Calvin explains: “Original sin […] may be defined a hereditary corruption and depravity of our nature, extending to all the parts of the soul” (Calvin, Institutes, trans. Henry Beveridge [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989], 217). Marguerite certainly holds this distinctly reformed notion in her Miroir, which begins in the locus of her soul, completely tainted by sin. In any case, any reformist thought was always filtered through Marguerite’s correspondence with Guillaume Briçonnet. 131 Marguerite referred to Briçonnet as spiritual shepherd (“grand berger”), likening herself to a lost sheep wandering through the pasture in a letter to Briçonnet, “Ainsy que la brebis en païs estrange errant, ignorant sa pasture par mescognoissance des nouveaulx pasteurs, lieve naturellement la teste pour prandre l’air qui vient du lieu ou le grand berge, par ses bons ministers, luy a acoustumé donner doulce nourriture […]” (Guillaume Briçonnet and Marguerite de Navarre,. Correspondance, 1521-1524, eds. Christine Martineau, Michel Veissière, and Henry Heller [Geneva: Droz, 1975], 37). 132 Briçonnet, Correspondance 1, no. 6, 35. August 1521; “The soul that has so completely annihilated and emptied itself that it discovers that nothing within itself is at all susceptible to this light and, as such, it could be a soul that is so fervent in perfect goodness and love that it would be more ready to be embraced by this sweet light” (my own translation). 133 Briçonnet, Correspondence 1, no. 9, 40. 24 October 1521; “Completely sinful.” 52 n’ay pour bien crier à l’aide” (129-30, vv. 11-12; 167-168, vv. 29-30).134 Marguerite goes on to describe this powerlessness in a list of the sensorial dysfunctions of her body:

Si ie cuyde regarder pour le mieulx, Une branche me vient fermer les yeulx. En ma bouche tombe, quand veulx parler, Le fruict par trop amer à avaller. Si pour ouyr mon esperit s’esueille, Force feuilles entrent en mon oreille: Aussi mon néz est tout bousché de fleurs. Voyla comment en peine, criz, et pleurs En terre gist sans clairté ne lumiere Ma paoure ame, esclaue, et prisonniere, Les piedz liéz par sa concupiscence, Et les deux bras par son accoustumance […]. (167-168, vv. 17-28)135

In this passage, the textual dynamics are in a state of paralysis as they fixate on the emptiness of

Marguerite’s sinful soul – an internal landscape characterized by a complete loss of the senses.

Marguerite bemoans her blindness while a branch covers her eyes, then decries her muteness as a fruit too bitter to swallow fills her mouth; her deafness is amplified as countless leaves block her ears, and her inability to smell is intensified by the obstruction of flowers; her whole body, her feet and arms, are bound by sinful desires. Marguerite’s nature, a term that describes her very essence as well as the innate qualities of the earth, inhibits her from life as the terrain of her soul, constantly mortifies her very being. If the Garden of Eden is one end of the oscillatory spectrum, what we see here is an anti-Eden of sorts, an inner hell, which lays claim to the territory of

Marguerite’s soul.

On the other end of Marguerite’s âme pécheresse is a holy God, whose divine essence

134 “Worse still, I am too incompetent / to deal with the least of them” and “I am bereft of either power or remedy. I do not even have the strength to cry out” (77, 79). 135 “The moment I think I see better, / a branch comes and covers my eyes. / And when I try to speak, a fruit / too bitter to swallow fills my mouth. / If I am prone to listen, / countless leaves block my ears. / My nose is obstructed by flowers. / And so it is that in pain, shrieking, and weeping, / my unfortunate soul inhabits this world / of darkness and obscurity, a slave and a prisoner. / My feet bound by longings, / my arms by cravings, […]” (77, 79). 53 cannot tolerate the presence of pure wretchedness that characterizes the human heart.

Throughout the poem, Marguerite evokes her unworthiness before God as we find in this instance: “Las, I’ay peché au ciel, et devant vous: / Digne ne suis (ie le dy devant tous) / me dire enfant” (180, vv. 393-395).136 Though her soul, marred by sin, lacks any power, Marguerite constantly describes God as an active being who initiates movements that evoke goodness and kindness towards undeserving humans, such as Marguerite. To emphasize God’s omnipotence,

Marguerite writes, towards the end of the poem: “Enfer est donc par luy du tout destruict, / Peché vaincu, qui tant a eu de bruyt” (208, vv. 1253-1254).137 God’s divine power to destroy sin stands in opposition to Marguerite’s inability to defy the corruption within her soul.

Marguerite’s bifurcated meditation on God and her soul causes her to consider the all- consuming nature of the divine, which accentuates her abject nothingness – thus defining a spiritual pendulum of Tout/Rien. Henry Heller, who has explored Marguerite’s theological influences, namely Briçonnet’s significant impact on the Queen’s spirituality, views

Marguerite’s opposition of the Tout/Rien as the most significant borrowing from Briçonnet:

On the one hand, it was used as a shorthand expression referring to the dual nature of God as a being who is completely immanent in the world, literally, ‘everything,’ and yet wholly transcendent or ‘nothing’ […] On the other hand, Le Tout/ Le Rien also is used to refer to man’s condition. When united to God man feels himself at one with ‘everything,’ when separated from Him he feels as if he had no existence and so is ‘nothing’ or non- being.138

Marguerite’s dividing God’s presence in the world (immanence) and his simultaneous transcendence is a division can also be projected onto Marguerite’s own perception of her Self vis-à-vis God. Without God, Marguerite’s nothingness is amplified; whereas when she is united with him, she shares in his omnipresence – in his totality of being. In the text, the language of

136 “Alas, I have sinned against you and heaven. / I confess before all that I am not worthy / to be called your child” (97). 137 “He has completely vanquished hell / and conquered sin, which had enjoyed so much favor” (139). 138 Henry Heller, Reform and Reformers at Meaux, 1518-1525 (Ithaca: Cornell University, dissertation, 1969), 432. 54 tout/rien appears towards the beginning of the poem: “ Si ie doy riens, il paîra tout pour moy” (v.

411).139 Marguerite communicates her indebtedness in negative terms (riens), yet, after the caesura, God’s willingness to pay all (tout) of her debts, complements the first part of the line.

The image returns later in the poem, where Marguerite sets her nothingness (rien) against God’s ability (tout) to revive her soul: “tout mon impossible / est tresfacile à vous: tant que mon rien /

Convertisséz en quelque oeuvre de bien” (205, vv. 1138-1140).140 Marguerite describes her powerlessness in totalizing terms: “tout mon impossible.” When she applies “tout” to herself,

Marguerite emphasizes her complete nothingness: “Moy, moins que riens / toute nichilité” (v.

494).141 On the contrary, God envelops everything: God is everything, ontologically speaking.

He also possesses divine agency: God is omnipotent, and he acts on behalf of Marguerite, which reveals the creative and restorative power of a divine being who is able to fashion, ex nihilo, a good creation.

Moreover, the Tout/Rien concept corresponds with visual language: what is visible (tout) versus that which is invisible (rien). In the following passage, the gulf between God and

Marguerite widens in the following passage, where Marguerite contemplates the image that she beholds in the mirror:

Las qu’est cecy: iettant en hault ma veuë, Ie voy en vous bonté si incongneuë, Grace et amour si incomprehensible, Que la veuë m’en demeure invisible: Et par force faict mon regard cesser. Qui me constrainct en bas les yeulx baisser. A l’heure voy en ce regard terrestre, Ce que ie suis, et que i'ay voulu estre. (195, vv. 853-860)142

139 “If I am in debt, he will pay” (97). 140 “all that which is impossible for me / is very easy for you: given my nothingness / You still convert [it] into a measure of good work” [My own translation]. 141 “me, who am less than nothing, a total nonentity” (101). 142 “And what do I see? / Raising my eyes on high, / I perceive in you unheard-of kindness, / grace and love so incomprehensible / that I am blinded, made to turn away, / to turn my sight downward. / And thus looking, I see what I am / and what I wanted to be” (119). 55

Given that the principal metaphor of the poem is the mirror, this passage demands attention, as

Marguerite uses a wealth of imagery concerning sight (“veuë,” “voy,” “invisible,” “regard,”

“yeulx”). In fact, Marguerite draws her reader into the vision that persistently fills her mind – one that swings between her perceptions of God, who is full of incomprehensible goodness and causes her line of sight to ascend (“en hault ma veuë”), but is contrasted with her understanding of herself, which results in a lowered gaze (“les yeulx baisser”), wrought with humility and shame (rien). Even within this visual passage, Marguerite includes an optical opposition between looking high to God, which she contrasts with a lowered line of sight.

What exactly does Marguerite’s vision entail? The language that Marguerite employs to describe her perception mirrors the action of the pendulum, swinging between her depraved qualities and God’s holy attributes:

Helas ie y voy de mes maulx la laideur, L’obscurité, l’extreme profondeur, Ma mort, mon rien, et ma nichilité: Qui rend mon oeil clos par humilité. Le bien de vous, qui est tant admirable: Le mal de moy, trop inconsiderable. Vostre haulteur, vostre essence trespure: Ma tresfrafile, et mortelle nature. Voz dons, voz biens, vostre beatitude: Ma malice, et grande ingratitude. (195-196, vv. 861-870)143

From one vantage point, Marguerite is inundated with her darkness, her nothingness (rien), and her profound emptiness. The vision of her dire state renders her blind, yet, in her obscurity, she is still able to see God’s goodness. In lines 865 and 866, the rime féminine at the end of each line encapsulates Marguerite’s vision of herself vis-à-vis God: “Le bien de vous, qui est tant

143 “I see the unsightliness of my misconduct, / darkness and a great abyss, / my death, my emptiness, my meaninglessness. / I shut my eyes in humility. / I see your inestimable kindness, / my own too-great mischief, / your worth, your purity, / my fragile and mortal nature, / your qualities, riches, and beatitude, / my own wickedness and terrible ingratitude” (119, 121). 56 admirable: / Le mal de moy, trop inconsiderable.” The complete benevolence of God (“vous”), which is worthy of high esteem (“admirable”), is diametrically opposed to the malevolence of

Marguerite (“moy”), whose malice is inconceivable (“inconsiderable”). In the constrained space of two lines, Marguerite exposes the deep fissure between God and herself. We find other contrasts between God’s nature and that of Marguerite in this passage, such as God’s worth, purity, riches, and beatitude, as opposed to Marguerite’s wickedness and ingratitude, an opposition that is reinforced by a similar rime féminine in lines 869 and 870: “Voz dons, voz biens, vostre beatitude: / Ma malice, et grande ingratitude.” In the last six lines, Marguerite insistently and frequently alternates between elevated descriptions of God and base perceptions of her self – creating a dizzying mouvement pendulaire in the reader’s experience of the text.

The disparity between God and Marguerite parallels a dichotomy between separation and unity of God and Marguerite. Throughout the text, Marguerite is caught between a sense of isolation from and a state of proximity to God. In the beginning of the poem we find Marguerite in a state of paralysis and distance from God, as she cannot escape the prison of her sinful soul.

In keeping with the Garden of Eden metaphor, like Adam and Eve who hid from God out of shame of their sin, Marguerite writes: “En moy ie sens la force de peché, / Dont moindre n’est mon mal d’estre cache: / Et plus dehors se cele et dissimule, / Plus dens le cueur s’assemble et accumule” (168-169, vv. 55-58).144 Within the anti-Eden of her soul, Marguerite acknowledges the severance that her sin has caused in her relationship with God, a breaking away that causes her to conceal herself. Like Adam and Eve, Marguerite finds her will convoluted and even rebellious towards the divine presence, and thus full of shame and guilt, which consequently leads Marguerite to hide, as is evidenced by the repetition of verbs, such as “caché,” “se celer,”

144 “I feel within me sinful inclinations, / not the least of which is my tendency to deceive. / The more I conceal and hide, / the more my sins gather and grow in my heart” (79). 57 and “dissimuler,” that evoke covertness. This type of language not only stresses distance between Marguerite and God, but also reveals a self-imposed detachment from the divine due to shame. This act of concealment produces an accumulation of sin in Marguerite’s heart, which only digs deeper fissures in her attempts to approach God.

On the one hand, Marguerite expresses her deliberate hiddenness from God; on the other hand, we find throughout the text moments of extreme union with God, as Marguerite often employs familial language to describe her newfound closeness with the divine. Towards the middle of the poem, Marguerite expresses an intense intimacy with God: “Vostre ie suis, et vous vous dictes mien. / Vostre ie suis, et vostre doublement: / Et veulx ester vostre eternellement. /

Plus ie ne crains D’aaron la grand’ follie: / Nul ne sera, qui de vous me deslie” (185, vv. 560-

564).145 There is a profound exchange and sharing of identity, similar to the relationship enjoyed by the persons of the Trinity (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) that occurs between God and

Marguerite. In particular, the structure of line 560 exhibits that the frail author, stricken by guilt and sin, belongs to God, and, in the same breath, God declares Himself as belonging to

Marguerite. This belonging is reinforced through the repetition of the phrase, “vostre ie suis,” which highlights the deep and eternal intimacy between the author and her holy God and also evokes a sort of divine matrimony with God as the divine spouse and Marguerite as his bride.146

However, shortly following this passage that celebrates the possibility of union with God,

Marguerite bemoans her severed relationship with the divine. This distance from God that is caused by Marguerite’s sin pervades the text in a way that defies any sort of linear progression, as is common in the mystical ascension paradigm in medieval devotional works. Rather, the

145 “I am yours and you say you are mine. / I am yours, doubly yours, / and wish to be yours forever. / I am no longer afraid of Aaron’s sin / and no one can separate me from you” (105). 146 Spousal imagery used to describe the relationship between the soul and God is rooted in Scripture. For example, “For your Maker is your husband; the LORD of hosts, is his name” (Isaiah 54:5). The Church is also referred to as the “Bride of Christ” in the New Testament (see Ephesians 5:21-33; 2 Corinthians 11:2-3; Revelation 19:7, 21:9). 58 textual movement of the Miroir is characterized by the unending oscillation between opposite poles of ontological, spiritual, and theological binaries. Scholars such as Sommers and Cottrell, while acknowledging the complexity and opaqueness of the Miroir, have argued for a certain degree of progression. Sommers considers the Miroir to be Marguerite’s first “ladder-poem” in which spiritual progress is presented in terms of “descent as well as ascent.”147 Marguerite’s

Miroir no doubt denies any sort of consistent upward ascent; and, adopting Sommers’ imagery,

Marguerite’s sinful soul exists in a perpetual state of climbing and falling down this celestial ladder.

Yet, I find the strictly vertical nature of the ladder problematic. The ladder itself is an apparatus that conveys eventual ascent, as it is used in order to arrive at a higher place. In my reading of the Miroir, the movement is not so much linear or vertical; but is rather an unending motion of to and fro. Furthermore, the ladder is inherently an object of human innovation and also implies the ability to climb – signaling a marked amount of agency on the part of the climber. Given the reformist bent in her spiritual writings, Marguerite is paralyzed by the depravity of her soul, denying her the capability to create, ascend, and to achieve anything in and of herself. While the presence of God’s Word certainly alleviates some of Marguerite’s linguistic tension, I contend that from the beginning to the end of the Miroir, we find Marguerite fluctuating between a state of separation and union from God.

Even after expressing union with God, Marguerite reminds herself and her reader of her abandonment of God. After a substantial celebration of her renewed relating to God as mother, daughter, sister, and wife (“Vous me nommez amye, esponse, et belle”[178, v. 341]),148

147 Sommers, Celestial Ladders, 65. 148 “You call me friend, wife, and beautiful one” (93). This is an example of one of the several lines throughout the first part of the poem (vv. 172-614), where the main thrust of Marguerite’s relating to God is based in her newfound intimacy, which is expressed in amorous and filial terms. 59 Marguerite drifts back into an unending litany of self-deprecation with the repetition of her abandonment of God (“laissé vous ay”)149:

Laissé vous ay, oublyé, ouy. Laissé vous ay, pour suyvre mon plaisir: Laissé vous ay, pour ung maulvais choisir, Laissé vous ay source de tout mon bien, Laissé vous ay: en rompant le lien De vraye amour, et loyaulté promise: Laissé vous ay. Mais ou me suis ie mise? Au lieu, ou n’a que malediction. Laissé vous ay l’amy sans fiction. (188, vv. 642-650)150

Marguerite has left and forgotten God, an idea that Marguerite stresses with the use of the past tense, yet it seems that the past bleeds into the present incessantly, and she constantly relives, in the present, her former rebellion to God, who is the source of all of her goodness (“source de tout mon bien”).

Marguerite describes her state of detachment from God as a ruptured line (“rompant le lien”). The “lien” is separated from “de” of the next line and literally leaves the reader severed in a line of thought; for Marguerite, this is the broken link between herself and true love - her divine spouse. The consequences of her abandonment of God through her sin are no doubt grave and result in an irreparable breach in her connection to God. In the last couplet of this passage,

Marguerite admits that she is not merely wandering away from God, but that she is headed towards the opposite end of the spectrum (“au lieu”) - the anti-Eden within her soul, which is full of wickedness, contrasted with the sacred bosom of her true friend (“l’amy sans fiction”). There is no middle ground for Marguerite: she is either found with God wholeheartedly or lost in the pit of her own misery.

149 In English: “I have left you.” 150 “I abandoned you and forgot you, fled from you, / abandoned you to fulfill my own desires, / abandoned you for bad choices, / abandoned you, the source of all my happiness, / abandoned you by cutting the ties / of true love and promised loyalty. / Abandoned, but to go where? / There where there is nothing but wickedness. / I abandoned you, the true friend” (109). 60 Conversely, Marguerite expresses ecstasy in her joyful intimacy with God later in the poem. She, again, celebrates her union with God:

O mon Saulveur, par foy ie suis plantée, Rom. 11 Et par amour en vous ioincte et entée, Quelle union, quelle bienheureté, Puis que par Foy i’ay de vous seureté. Nommer par vous puis par amour hardiment, Filz/ Pere/ Espoux/ et Frere entierement, Iehan. 1 Pere/ Frere/ Filz/ Mary: O quelz dons, De me donner le bien de tous ces noms. (198, vv. 927-934)151

Marguerite demonstrates a powerful fusion with the divine in which she envisions herself rooted,

“plantée,” in God by faith and love. Indeed, this union lends itself to a joyful bliss as Marguerite lauds the privilege of calling God son, father, husband, and brother, as is reinforced by the repetition of these familial titles in lines 932 and 933; beyond this passage, Marguerite continues to delineate the distinctiveness of each benefit that is endowed with each name.152

There is also a strong link, phonetically and symbolically, between the words “nom” /

“don,” and their variations. The literary act of naming (“nommer”), the ultimate linguistic gift, which harkens back to the Garden of Eden where Adam is given the privilege to name the beasts of the earth (and is, in this sense, co-creator with God),153 is only made possible through the gift of God. The ability to name brings Marguerite into a heightened sense of intimacy with God as she steadily covers the distance, through language, that separates her from God. The repetitive nature of this passage epitomizes the linguistic climax of symbiosis, in that through the act of

151 “O savior, I am suffused with faith, / by love joined to and fixed in you. / Ah what a coming together, what bliss, / how I feel secure in your faith! / In love I can boldly call you / son, father, spouse, and brother. / Father, brother, son, and husband, / what a joy to be able to dedicate these titles to you” (123). 152 This familial naming/appropriating of God continues in vv. 935-942: “O mon Pere, quelle paternité, / O mon Frere, quelle fraternité, / O mon Enfant, quelle dilection, / O mon Espoux, quelle conionction. / Pere envers moy plein de mansuetude, / Frere ayant prins nostre similitude, / Filz engendré par Foy et Charité, / Mary aymant en toute extremité” (198); “As a father, such paternity; / As a brother, such fraternity; / As a child, such pleasure; / As a spouse, such a marriage; / A father overflowing with kindness toward me; / A brother taking on our human likeness; / A son engendered by love and faith; / A husband, loving in the extreme” (123). 153 See the full account in Genesis 2. 61 naming God, Marguerite not only joins herself to him, but she appropriates the divine and absorbs God into her essence – a capability that is only conceivable through divine intervention.

Beyond the union/separation spectrum, Marguerite’s Miroir is also fueled by the oscillation between life and death. At times, in the poem, Marguerite expresses a death wish or escape from the misery that so imprisons her soul: “Qui me constrainct par ennuy importable, /

De ce fascheux corps de mort miserable / Desirer veoir la fin, tant desiree / Par la vie rompue et dessiree” (169, vv. 61-64).154 In the poem, death is expressed in terms of ecstasy and union with the divine. This conception of death takes its cue from Briçonnet, as he employed similar language describing the spiritual values of death and life in his correspondence with Marguerite.

Explaining the ramifications of Christ’s death, Briçonnet writes: “Telle mort est vie, en laquelle plus on vit, plus de jour en jour, on meurt et plus on desire mourir, non au monde seullement, ses plaisirs, concupiscences, et à soy mesmes, mais en son esperit, qui est la grande et excellente mort vivifiante.”155 Death is the door to the celestial realm, where one no longer encounters sorrow, pain, and mortality and one is brought to life, in a spiritual sense, through the process of dying.

In the following passage, Marguerite vacillates seamlessly between spiritual states in life and death.

Amour amour, vous avéz faict l’accord: Faisant unir à la vie la mort. Mais l’union a mort vivifiée, Vie sans fin a faict nostre mort vive. Mort a donné à vie mort neïfue. Par ceste mort moy morte reçoy vie:

154 “And so this unbearable distress drives me / to desire for this miserable and mortal flesh / a long-for end / to a broken and shattered life” (79). 155 Briçonnet, Correspondence 1, no. 32, 161. 17 February 1522; “Such death is life, in which we live more fully, and even more, day by day, we die and grow in our desire to die, not only as unto the world with its pleasures and lusts, and to ourselves, but also in our spirit, which is the most excellent and supreme form of this life-giving death” (my own translation). 62 Et au vivant par la mort suis ravie. En vous ie vy: quant à moy ie suis morte. Mort ne m’est plus que d’une prison porte. (196, vv. 881-890)156

Within the space of each line the reader is confronted with the extremes of life and death as some form of both “vie” and “mort” is present, coupled together (this is the case in almost every line of this passage). This passage is equally poignant due to its phonetic devices. The similar phonemes that are embedded within the words “mort” and “amour,” are repeated at least fourteen times in this passage and create a litany. Moreover, the repetition of the consonant sounds “f” and “v,” whose presence in almost every line produces a rich euphony, evokes the oral and aural qualities of a prayer. This incantatory structure thus creates a sensorial amalgam

(in terms of the visual, audible, and spoken text) that transcends human grammar and thus stages a moment of divine ecstasy. This sensorial pendulum movement between death and life is also interwoven with the mouvement pendulaire between union and separation. The repetition of

“union,” “vie,” and “mort” in such a condensed passage renders the convergence of these acts all the more compelling. In the first line of this passage, Marguerite stresses ecstatic union as she begins a new thought with “Amour, amour,” her appellation to God, which parallels, through assonance, the final word of the following line, “mort.” Likewise, the paradoxical notion of life springing from death dovetails the continual pendulum that swings between “vie” and “mort.”

Finally, the Miroir de l’âme pécheresse contrasts and fluctuates between transcendence

(the divine essence of God that exists beyond the physical world) and immanence (the presence of God in the material world). What is most compelling in Marguerite’s desire for transcendence

- to escape her earthly prison and be united with God - is her consciousness of the futility of

156 “Love, love, you have brought about this union, / joining death to life. / A union vivified by death, / deified life dying from love, / life eternal has brought life to death. / Death has given life to innocent death. / Through this death, I dead find life. / And while alive, through death, I am made to live. / I live in you while I am dead. / Death to me is no more than a prison door” (121). 63 language, even though this awareness, ironically, pervades this rather verbose poem. Marguerite contemplates the limits of language yet still employs it as a means to grapple with the inexpressible thoughts within her heart as she writes. As Cottrell suggests, Marguerite de

Navarre’s poems “confront with relentless persistence the problem of finding a language capable of signifying ‘Divine Silence,’ the generator of all discourse.”157 Marguerite’s unending attempts to convey that which is inexpressible is indeed a paradoxical task because she uses human means of communication, which are innately flawed according to her theological framework, to express that which is holy and sacred. Marguerite contemplates this paradox in the following passage, situated towards the end of the Miroir:

Le cueur sent bien que trop il a receu: Mais tel desir en ce trop a conceu, Qu’il desire tousiours à recepvoir Ce qu’il ne poeut, ny n’est digne d’avoir. Indicible congnoist estre son bien, Et veult le plus, ou il ne congnoist rien. Sentir ne poeut quel est son bien vrayement, Et si ne poeut penser son sentiment. Le dire donc n’est pas en sa puissance, Puis que du feu n’a la congnoissance. (212, vv. 1349-1358)158

Marguerite readily admits that what her heart desires, that is, the incomprehensible that transcends human reality, it can neither achieve nor merit. In the same vein, Marguerite cannot fully communicate that which resides within her and so she resolves to be silent. Her heart does not have the power to say that which is unspeakable. At this critical moment, we find Marguerite teetering between immanence and transcendence.

To be sure, Marguerite’s heart pines for the “indicible,” a word that she also uses in one

157 Cottrell, Grammar of Silence, ix. 158 “The heart realizes that it has gathered in too much, / but has developed such a powerful desire, / that it wishes for more / than it can either absorb or that it merits. / Appreciating its ineffable pleasure, / it longs for more of what it does not understand. / It cannot comprehend its true happiness / and thus cannot express its feeling. / It is incapable of putting it into words, / inasmuch as it has no understanding of this ardor ” (145). 64 of her verse letters, written to her mother, Louise of Savoy, in 1530: “Ce que je dis est clair et magnifeste / Et l’indicible en mon sentiment reste; / Le plus que escriptz, soit en rime ou en prose, / N’est pas le moins de l’heur où je repose.”159 In these lines, Marguerite reflects on writing as a means to conceal what remains within her; at best, her writing can only dimly represent her heart’s true contentment. Marguerite writes as a means to uncover and decipher that which she does not comprehend within her, as well as the hidden divine truths that are only accessible through ecstatic union with the divine (transcendence). On the one hand, Marguerite’s exploration of such divine truths in the Miroir serves as an act of immanence because she employs the human expression of language in a way to understand the divine; on the other hand, her silence (that which is “indicible”) is a manifestation of transcendence, a reflection of God’s holiness that human language cannot penetrate or express.

The end of the Miroir exhibits the desire for divine silence (transcendence):

L’impossible me fera donques taire; Quar il n’est sainct si parfaict, ou austere S’il veult parler de l’amour du treshault, De sa bonté, doulceur, de ce qu’il vault, De ses graces, et de ce qu’à luy seul touché, Qu’il ne ferme (baissant les yeulx) la bouche. (212, vv. 1367-1372)160

Marguerite is silenced by that which she cannot explain and goes so far to claim that there is nobody who is perfect enough to even begin to describe God, who is the embodiment of love, goodness, sweetness, and grace. If Marguerite attempts to speak of God, they will not only be forced to remain silent (“Qu’il ne ferme[…] la bouche”), but also to lower her gaze (“baissant les yeulx”) in a position of complete humility. Marguerite adopts this stance of silence, in the end, as

159 Marguerite wrote this letter to her mother while in Blois in the summer of 1530 before her departure to the south of France to meet her grandchildren who had returned from spending four years as hostages in Spain. Marguerite could not make this voyage because she was pregnant at the time (Cholakian and Skemp, Selected writings, 43). 160 “Thus the impossible will keep me silent. / For there is no one so perfect or so severe, / who if he wishes to talk about the love of the most high, / of his goodness, sweetness, whatever he wishes, / his grace, whatever touches him, / does not (lowering his eyes) become silent” (145). 65 a proclamation of her inability to speak of God’s unadulterated holiness. In this way, Marguerite expresses apophatic theology, wherein one describes God by what he is not (via negativa), as

God’s essence cannot be captured in positive terms.161 The assumption with this approach is that

God eclipses any attempt of totalizing definition or categorization.

The disparity between speaking and silence not only informs the dichotomy between immanence and transcendence but also figures into the overall movement of the text of the

Miroir, whose overarching opposition is constituted by the confrontation between Marguerite, her sinful soul, and God, a divine being. Marguerite constantly grapples with her dreadful reflection that she envisions in the mirror, as she simultaneously perceives God, in all of his goodness and perfection. This binary encounter produces the other polarizing notions that generate the movement of the text, such as power/inability, the concept of Tout/Rien, union/separation, life/death, immanence/transcendence, and silence/speaking. Marguerite’s poem constantly shifts between the opposite ends of this series of interconnected spectra and does not progress in any linear manner towards the divine: instead, the Miroir can best be understood as the textualization of a wavering spirituality, caught between paradoxical theological ideas.

Rest and Reform

In the midst of her anxious vacillation between her sinful soul and God, Marguerite craves peace and reconciliation with God, which culminates in an image of rest. The notion of rest as textualized by Marguerite is biblical and Christological in nature. In the poem, Christ represents perfect equilibrium, especially through the Incarnation, in his taking on human flesh,

161 See Cathleen Eva Corrie, “‘Sy excellente pasture’: Guillaume Briçonnet’s mysticism and the Pseudo-Dionysius,” Renaissance Studies, 20, no.1 (2006): 35-50. Corrie explores the language of “negative theology” in Briçonnet’s writings. Olivier Millet also addresses Marguerite’s “negative theology” in regards to her plays and points out that this particular hermeneutic “distances Marguerite both from scholastic theology and form the biblicism of the Protestant Reformation” (“Staging the Spiritual: The Biblical and Non-Biblical Plays,” in A Companion to Marguerite de Navarre, 305). 66 while maintaining his deity. Christ becomes flesh so as to reconcile the ruptured relationship between man and God, acting as source of rest and peace between bridge between Marguerite’s sinful soul and a holy God. Christ’s invitation to divine rest emerges as a central moment in the text of the Miroir:

Mais quand ce doulx et gratieux prier Ne me servoit, vous preniéz à crier, “Venéz à moy vous tous, qui par labeur Matth. 11 Estes lasses et chargéz de douleur: Ie suis celluy, qui vous recepueray, Et de mon pain refectionneray.” (191, vv. 719-724)162

This passage is one of the few moments where Marguerite directly quotes from the Bible, instead of paraphrasing certain ideas in her verses, and verbatim includes the scriptural annotation cited in the margin. In Matthew 11:28, Jesus extends an invitation to anyone who is weary and carrying burdens, to simply come before him and find rest: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Cholakian’s edition uses the verb “venir” instead of

“prendre” (“vous veniez crier”), a choice that highlights the reformist notion that it is God, and in this case, Jesus Christ, who pursues and invites souls into his presence to find ultimate peace, and thus serves as a bridge between God and humanity.

Beyond her elevation of Christ as a point of ultimate rest, providing spiritual respite for those suffering from grief and pain, Marguerite also embeds in the poem what I would call reformist “resting positions” of Sola Scriptura, Solus Christus, and Sola Gratia/Fide. These concepts are shorthand for the main tenants of many reformist movements in Europe in the sixteenth-century. Sola Scriptura emphasizes the sole authority of God’s Word in its original language, which is then to be translated into the vernacular so that laypeople may better

162 “But when this so sweet and grace-inspired prayer / was of no avail, it was you who sought me out: / come to me all you who are weary / and heavy-laden with grief; / it is I who will comfort / and restore you with my bread” (113). 67 comprehend it. Solus Christus centers upon the belief that it is only through Christ’s death and resurrection that one may gain personal access to God. Sola Gratia and Sola Fide are closely related and stress that it is only through God’s grace, as opposed to human works, that one may inherit eternal salvation. God’s gift of faith (fide) to humans grants them the ability to believe and receive this saving grace. French reformers held these beliefs, although they articulated them in more discrete ways, which will be explored in the following discussion.

To begin, the centrality of Scripture in the Miroir is striking as citations of its verses are visualized in the margins of the text. For example, one could consider the following mise-en- page of Marguerite’s Miroir:

Que, quant à moy, ie suis trop moins que riens: Avant la vie boue, et apres fiens: Iob. 10 Ung corps remply de toute promptitude et 30 A mal faire, sans vouloir aultre estude: Gene. 8 Subiect à mal, ennuy, douleur, et peine, Vie briefve, et la fine incertaine: Iob. 14 Qui soubz peché par Adam est vendu, Ro. 5.7 Et de la loy iugé d’estre pendu. 1. Cor. 15 (168, vv. 45-52)163

The pages of the Miroir are replete with reminders that the Word of God speaks. For Cynthia

Skenazi, Scripture serves as the primary mirror in Marguerite’s Miroir, as it is simultaneously the source, the ultimate referent, and the point of departure;164 this is demonstrated throughout the Miroir, as annotations from scripture fill the void of the margins and thus provide a via media to Marguerite’s conundrum of language, which is demonstrated in her struggle to express the

‘indicible.’ In fact, the incipit of the poem further highlights the reformist notion of Sola

Scriptura reflecting the first line of Psalm 50: “Seigneur DIEU crée en moy cueur net” (167,

163 “As for me, I am less than nothing, / before life, dirt, and after, dung, / a body all too quick to do harm / with no further ado, / a slave to evil, pain, suffering and distress, / a brief existence, an uncertain end / which, through Adam’s sin has been forfeited / and by the law sentenced to be hanged” (79). 164 “L’Ecriture est simultanément la source de l’œuvre de Marguerite, son référent ultime et son point d’aboutissement” (Skenazi, “Les Annotations en marges du Miroir,” 257). 68 Incipit).165 Marguerite acknowledges the primacy of the Bible in the Miroir by including this scriptural incipit. Moreover, this quintessential penitential psalm orients the reader both toward the depraved state of Marguerite’s soul and toward God, the creator of pure hearts, thus paralleling the reformist idea of Sola Gratia. From the onset of her poem with the use of

Scripture, Marguerite acknowledges that she is not capable of creating goodness; rather, only

God can create, ex nihilo, a pure heart.

Marguerite had studied the Bible from a young age and one can see, throughout the

Miroir, a steady reliance on the Scripture. As Salminen informs us, Marguerite did not consult her copy of the Bible as she wrote the text of the Miroir; rather, she cited the Scripture based on her own reflections and memory, which combined both the Latin Vulgate as well as Lefèvre d’Étaples’ French translations of the Old and New Testaments.166 Joseph Allaire notes that

Marguerite received a personal copy of the Nouveau Testament en François by Lefèvre d’Étaples, and she owned the first edition in four volumes of the Ancien Testament translated into French under Lefèvre d’Étaples’ direction between 1524 and 1530.167 Allaire goes on to argue that Marguerite preferred d’Étaples’ French translation of the Bible to that of the Latin

Vulgate by comparing the biblical citations from the Miroir.168 Salminen, however, contends that

Marguerite used a blend of both versions, but that the Latin text is what most readily came to her

165 “A clean heart create for me, God” (77). 166 “En composant le Miroir Marguerite […] cite l’Ecriture à l’appui de ses propres réfléxions pour mener son lecteur aux origines memes de la parole divine; […] elle écrivait au courant de la plume, s’appuyant sur sa mémoire, sans consulter la formule exacte d’aucun texte particulier” (Salminen, “Introduction,” 31). 167 According to Allaire, “Nous avons vu que Briçonnet envoya un exemplaire du Nouveau Testament en François de Lefèvre dès sa parution. Nous savons, également, qu’elle avait entre les mains la première edition en quatre volumes de l’Ancien Testament traduit en français sous la direction de Lefèvre d’Étaples entre 1524 et 1530; car il y a à la Bibliothèque de Turin l’exemplaire personnel de Marguerite, cet exemplaire portant dans la couverture: ‘Ce livre est à Madame Marguerit de France.’ En fait, c’est le seul exemplaire complet de cette édition rarissime” (Joseph Allaire, “Introduction” to Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse [München: W. Fink, 1972], 18-19). 168 Joseph Allaire, Le Miroir, 22. Allaire points out that the Miroir contained approximately sixty-five percent exact quotations from the Nouveau Testament en François and provides a helpful chart that breaks down the comparison of these texts. 69 mind.169 No matter what text she remembered or cited, Marguerite’s approach to spirituality was grounded in a philological encounter with Scripture, reflecting a humanist attitude towards

Scripture.

From the reformist position of Sola Scriptura, Marguerite performs a personal interpretation of God’s Word without the medium of priestly interference. In the Miroir, we find an immensely intimate encounter with God through his “Parole sacrée.” In the middle of the poem, Marguerite contemplates her unique incorporation of Scripture into her text:

Las tous ces motz ne voulois escouter, Mais encores ie venois à doubter, Si c’estoit vous: ou si par adventure Ce n’estoit riens, qu’une simple escripture. Car iusques la, i’estoie bien si folle Que sans amour lisoie vostre parolle. (191, vv. 725-730)170

In this intensely personal moment, Marguerite examines her individual understanding of the

Bible. Consider the amount of words that evoke Marguerite’s awareness of the effects and experience of her expression: “motz,” “escouter,” “escripture,” “lisoie,” and “parolle.” In a moment of confession, Marguerite examines her interaction with Scripture and admits that she did not want to listen to certain words found in Scripture. Marguerite’s acknowledgement follows directly after the passage that highlights Jesus’ invitation to rest, which is signaled by a more affective way of reading Scripture with feeling and love, contrary to her former approach

(“sans amour”). The disposition of Marguerite’s heart is altered as she steadily finds equilibrium and peace in the purity of God’s Word, which speaks in spite of, and through her inept communication of divine truths.

A crucial question for the poem, however, is how a sinful soul such as Marguerite’s is

169 Salminen, “Introduction,” 40. 170 “Alas, I did not heed these words; / worse still, hearing them, I questioned / whether they were yours. / Perhaps it was meaningless scripture, / for up to that point, I was so silly / that I read without feeling” (113). 70 allowed to come into the presence of a sinless being, to even accept Christ’s invitation to rest?

How can there be any resolution considering the stark dissonance between God and Marguerite?

It is here that Marguerite operates with reformist doctrine of Sola Gratia, salvation by grace, which emphasizes God’s initiation in salvation despite man’s depraved nature, as opposed to a person’s earning salvation through good works. Regarding theological terms such as grace, it is essential to recall that Briçonnet served as the filter through which Marguerite received most of her theological ideas. Beyond Briçonnet’s influence, however, Marguerite’s approach to theology was one that engrafted several ideas. 171 Heller contends that Marguerite’s theological framework was one that absorbed each fresh influence, whether Fabrism, Lutheranism,

Calvinism, and Libertinism “into an already mature spirituality.”172 This absorbing tendency on

Marguerite’s behalf is demonstrated in her inclusion of, and act of working through theologically opposed ideas in the Miroir, such as (the futility of) earning salvation through works versus receiving salvation through God’s grace.

After a long litany of unanswered questions at the beginning of the poem, coupled with the morose conditions of an inner hell of Marguerite’s sinful soul, grace suddenly appears in the mirror, intervening so as to rescue Marguerite. Marguerite’s deep awareness of her sin prepares her for God’s grace to enter as a light, a pattern which follows Briçonnet’s portrayal of a soul that is been completely “aneantie et nichilifiée,” marked by absolute darkness, nothingness, and

171 Reid informs us that, although Briçonnet was not a systematic theologian, he nonetheless presented la doctrine évangélique in his letters, which covered crucial topics in reformed circles such as “Christ as sole mediator, grace, faith, justification, merits, Mosaic vs. evangelical law, as well as Christians’ servitude to sin and freedom under the gospel” (King’s Sister, 206.) Marguerite was no doubt impacted by the reformist notion of grace, in particular. For Ferguson, who sees Marguerite as heavily influenced by Augustine’s thought, as filtered through her correspondence with Briçonnet, most clearly demonstrates her understanding of the three operations of grace in her Dialogue en forme de vision nocturne (composed between 1524 and 1533): 1) that it is prevenient (unmerited and unexpected) and is offered to all; 2) Subsequent illumination gives way to 3) perfection (29-30). 172 Heller, Reform and Reformers at Meaux, 425. 71 emptiness, so as to receive the life and light of God.173 When all hope seems to have failed, it is grace that steps in to pull Marguerite out of the “si profond abisme” of her sinful soul:

Mais sa grace, que ne puis meriter, Qui poeut de mort chascun resusciter, Par sa clairté ma tenebre illumine: Iehan. 1 Et sa vertu, qui ma faulte examine, Rompant du tout le voile d’ignorance, Me donne au vray bien Claire intelligence Que c’est de moy, et qui en moy demeure, Et ou ie suis, et pour quoy ie labeure: Qui est celluy, lequel i’ay offense, Auquel si peu de server i'ay pensé. (168, vv. 33-42)174

The first word of this passage, “mais,” implies an interruption to the repetition of obscure questions. This conjunction signals divine intervention through God’s grace. The role of grace in

Marguerite’s soul is active in that it releases her from death’s grip and provides light into the darkness of her soul (“Par sa clairté ma tenebre illumine / Et sa vertu, qui ma faulte examine”).

The phrases, “ma tenebre illumine” and “ma faulte examine,” confer active and vivifying elements to the phenomenon of grace as it illuminates and examines the heart - an act that also reconciles the opposing forces of darkness (sin) and light (God), and provides rest to the anguished soul of Marguerite. The rime suffisante between “demeure” and “labeure” reinforces this idea of undeserved rest, as God abides, stays with, and rests within Marguerite through her reception of underserved grace. The gift of God’s presence abiding within her is not achieved by any attempt (“labeur”) by Marguerite to escape the prison of her tormented soul; rather, it is God

173 Briçonnet, Correspondence 1, no. 6, 35: “L’ame qui est tellement aneantie et nichilifiée qu’elle se trouve rien est moult susceptible de ceste lumiere.” This thought also echoes Luther’s formula, taken from the Heidelberg Disputation (1518), that is, “that human beings must utterly despair of their own abilities before they are prepared to receive the grace of Christ” (Martin Luther, Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, Third Edition, ed. William R. Russell [Minneapolis: Fortress Press [2012], 15). 174 “But grace, which I do not merit, / and which can raise us all from the clutches of death, / by its bright light illuminates my darkness, / and by its great goodness looks upon my flaws. / Lifting the veil of ignorance, / it gives me the clear and proper vision / to see who and what I am, / where I am and why I strive, / who is the one I have injured, / whom I have hardly thought to serve” (79). 72 who acts to bring “Claire intelligence” to Marguerite’s vision of herself, which in turn allows

Marguerite to perceive light in the midst of darkness and enter into the divine rest to which

Christ as called her.

Accordingly, it is only after the realization that God alone can deliver her by his grace that Marguerite begins to enter into moments of adoration and union with Christ:

Las ce ne poeut ester ung home mortel, Car leur pouoir, et sçavoir n’est pas tel: Mais ce sera la seule bonne grace Du tout puissant, qui iamais ne se lasse Par IESUS CHRIST, duquel il se recorde, Rom. 5 Nous prevenir par sa misericorde. (169, vv. 67-72)175

Grace allows Marguerite to commune with God, through the intercession of Jesus and the work of grace. This grace, Marguerite reminds us, is not a human achievement, but is rather brought about through Christ’s interceding on behalf of mankind. Briçonnet magnifies this understanding of grace: “Car par grace sommes justifiéz, par foy et par grace de Dieu saulvéz, et non par noz oeuvres.”176 Marguerite’s Miroir reflects this reformist belief in God’s initiatory gift of grace, as opposed to human works, in salvation. The moments of intense spiritual intimacy with God, often expressed in familial terms in the poem, can only exist because of the presence of grace, which is the gift of God that enables depraved souls to receive salvation. This belief was subversive for the theological climate surrounding Marguerite’s Miroir as it defied a works- oriented salvation associated with Roman Catholic dogma. Most importantly, this radical view of

175 “For sure, no mortal being, /for human power and wisdom are not up to it [deliverance of the soul]. / It can come only from the infinite grace / of the Almighty, who never tires, /through the intercession of Jesus Christ, / who saves us by his mercy” (81). 176 Briçonnet, Correspondence 2, no. 116, 243. 31 August 1524. Reid’s translation is helpful: “[For] we are justified by grace, saved by faith and the grace of God, and not by our works” (King’s Sister, 206). Reid’s continued explanation of Briçonnet’s conception of grace is useful: “Briçonnet attacks the dominate late-medieval view that by doing their very best (facere quod in se est) in a state of sin, humans could attract God’s initial grace (gratia gratis data), enabling them to do meritorious deeds. Nor does he accept that, having offset their sins, a further infusion of grace (gratia gratum faciens) allows them to do deeds fully worth of God’s acceptance and thereby earn their salvation” (207). Although Briçonnet’s was not identifical to Luther’s, it still was reformist in that it underscored God’s initiation and gift of grace as opposed to human’s earning of salvation through good works. 73 grace functions as a source of rest for Marguerite’s soul, weary from the unending fluctuations between death/life, darkness/light, and separation/union with God.

Lastly, the grace that dominates Marguerite’s discourse is inextricably linked to faith

(Sola Fide), which also comes as a gift from God, and enables Marguerite to receive grace. Both grace and faith are gifts from God, which only he has the power to impart to humanity. Grace and faith are interwoven theological concepts, which is most clearly demonstrated in the

Speculum scripturae in Ephesians 2:8-9: “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God- not because of works, lest any man should boast.” Both grace and faith serve as points of equilibrium in the various disparities in

Marguerite’s Miroir: Marguerite must receive God’s gift of grace, which is made possible through God’s gift of faith to receive it. Instead of working to achieve God’s grace, which results in an endless and futile fatigue, one enters into divine rest through receiving God’s faith as well as his grace. For French reformers, Reid explains how “Faith was belief in the gospel promise of forgiveness […] The sacraments, suitably rehabilitated, were occasions for the administration of

God’s grace through which faith was given and strengthened.”177 From the beginning of

Marguerite’s poem, we find the presence of faith (fide):178

Elle paovre, ignorante, impotente, Se sent en vous riche, saige, et puissante, Philip. 4 Pour luy avoir au cueur escript le rolle 2. Cor. 3 De vostre Esprit et sacrée parolle, et Ro. 16 En luy donnant Foy pour la recepvoir Ephe. 2 Qui luy a faict vostre filz concepvoir:

177 Reid, King’s Sister, 67. For Reid, the preaching of Aimé Meigret, in particular, proves that the reformers in France held similar beliefs, regarding grace and faith, as the German reformers. In his sermon in Grenoble, Meigret expounded upon the evangelical doctrine of justification by faith in Christ through grace: “Meigret’s exposition stresses Lutheran themes: the law is a pedagogue; Christians are free from the law under the gospel and thereby, through faith, better able to fulfill it; salvation by faith apart from works consoles whereas the church’s doctrine of the law damns consciences” (King’s Sister, 297). 178 That God initiates the operation of grace in salvation, granting forgiveness to undeserving men and women, and provides the faith necessary for those undeserving humans to receive the grace, was a doctrine held by reformers such as Luther, who believed that one is justified through faith alone. 74 En le croiant home, DIEU, et saulveur, De tout peché le vray restaurateur. (173, vv. 179-186)179 Rom. 5

In this passage, Marguerite declares God’s initiative in le don de foy in authorial terms, using words such as “rolle,” “escript” and “sacree parolle,” thus designating God as the supreme author of sacred truths, which also ties into the idea of Marguerite’s use of Scripture (Sola Scriptura) to fill the void left in the disparity between speaking and silence. Unlike the frailty of human language that so often fails to express that which is divine for Marguerite, the divine Logos, written in her heart, implants life, wisdom, and power into her sinful soul; and she purposefully employs the verb “donner,” to highlight that the gift of faith is from God.

Continuing along this line of thought, faith serves an integral role in Marguerite’s theological framework whereby God initiates the act of giving faith as opposed to humans achieving it on their own accord. Stabilizing the oscillating movement in Marguerite’s soul, this newfound spiritual rest, is best conveyed by her expression, “vive foy,” which appears only once in the first edition of the Miroir: “Quar aussi tost qu’avez veu abbaissée / Ma volonté soubz vostre obeissance, / Avéz usé de vostre grand clemence, / Mettant en moy une si vive Foy” (193, vv. 794-796).180 Marguerite emphasizes God placing this living faith within her, “Mettant en moy une si vive foy,” a simultaneously passive and active phenomenon - passive in the sense that it is a gift that it is received, active in the sense that it is living faith, as Marguerite actively engages in the implications of faith in the inner workings of her soul, as well as through her writing.181

179 “My soul, poor, ignorant, impotent, / feels rich, wise, and powerful in you, / by dint of your having written on her heart / the message of your spirit and your sacred word, / providing her with the faith to receive that spirit / which made her conceive your son: / believing him to be man, God, savior, / redeemer of all sins” (85). 180 “For as soon as you saw my will / bent under the yoke of obedience to you, / you used your overwhelming clemency / to instill in me a faith so strong” (117). 181 The notion of vive foy is intriguing due to its position between Catholicism and Protestantism. Gary Ferguson posits that Marguerite was influenced by the moderate evangelical Jean Bouchet’s (1476-1557) use of the term “foy 75 It is important to recall that while “vive foy” dominates Marguerite’s earlier Dialogue en forme de vision nocturne (1524), it also appears in the Prologue of the 1533 version of her

Miroir, which is the first long work in the Marguerites de la Marguerite des Princesses, the earliest collective edition of Marguerite’s works, printed in Lyon by Jean de Tournes in 1547.182

In this prologue, one finds a microcosm of Marguerite’s spiritual hermeneutics that reveals a tendency towards reformist doctrine, which emphasizes the power of God in the gift of faith and salvation to humanity. Indeed the actual expression, “don de Foy,” appears towards the beginning of the Prologue where Marguerite expresses her desire for her readers to understand and experience the effects of God’s gift on the heart of humanity. In the last line, however,

Marguerite exhorts her “Lecteurs de bonne conscience” to “priez DIEU plein de bonté naïve, /

Qu’en vostre coeur il plante la Foy vive.”183 Marguerite fuses the passive and active elements of faith in this invocation for her readers. On the one hand, she acknowledges that it is God who plants this “vive foy”; on the other hand, she demands that her readers actively pray to receive this gift of living faith.

“Vive foy” is an interesting concept as it also acts as an equilibrating force between

Catholic notions of good works and the evangelical insistence on faith (as necessary for salvation) as gifts from God. In her extensive analysis of subversive language used by the French

évangéliques, Isabelle Garnier-Mathez argues that the term, “vive foy” should be understood as

formée” and “vraye et vive foy,” to describe the faith by which man is both justified and sanctified: “Living faith, formed faith, is seen through the effects it produces” (Mirroring Belief, 150). This was a “Catholic” concept that would be reformed with Calvin’s notion of “foi-confiance,” which makes a distinction between implicit and explicit faith, underlining the difference between justification (the moment of salvation) and sanctification (the process of becoming holy), and “affirms that the elect will perform good works, but only as a result of faith by which God works in them” (Mirroring Belief, 56). Though these distinctions are clear in theological discourse, Marguerite’s writings tend to blur the boundary between these two terms, which ultimately find their source in Scripture, in particular, the New Testament book of James (James 2:14-26). 182 Ferguson and McKinley, “Introduction,” 15. 183 “pray to God, who is full of pure goodness, / that “Living Faith” is planted in your heart” (Marguerite de Navarre, Marguerite de la Marguerite des Princesses: Tresillustre Royne de Navarre [East Ardsley: S.R. Publishers, 1970], 14). 76 an act of collusion amongst authors of the évangéliques in France. Even the order of the two words, which would normally be reversed, “foy vive,” and would be more palatable in terms of pronunciation, presents a certain friction that signals the theological intention of the expression, which was to highlight the dependence of foy, a monosyllabic word whose iteration is brief, on action, vive, which announces and must precede faith.184 Garnier-Mathez also argues that the absence of this term in the principal bilingual dictionaries of the sixteenth century points to the

French reformers’ circumspect usage of the term, and could also explain its near absence from later editions of the Miroir.185 To be certain, Marguerite’s employment of the term is purposeful and can lend itself to a variety of references and images. Building on Garnier-Mathez’s study, I argue that, in the Miroir, Marguerite innovatively blends more reformist notions with traditionally Catholic ideas of ‘working out one’s salvation.’ As such, in the context of the poem,

Marguerite’s conception of “vive foy” constitutes a spiritual resting point between two disparate positions: salvation by faith alone versus salvation by works.

In essence, Le Miroir’s poetic staging of “vive foy” presents Marguerite and her readers with the perfect balance of faith and works, which respectively elucidates the Protestant and

Catholic tendencies in terms of soteriology (one’s salvific status) as well as sanctification (one’s continual process of imitating Christ). In addition to faith, the divine gift of grace, furnishes

Marguerite with another resting space for her tormented soul. Grace as “vive foy” arrests the constant tension that so marks the mirror of Marguerite’s sinful soul and her Holy God, paving the way for reconciliation between guilt and forgiveness.

184 “un effet de marquage sonore est décelable dans le syntagme ainsi construit. L’amplification phonique issue de la presence de vive près du monosyllabique foy pourvoit une notion fondamentale sur le plan théologique d’une forme remarquable à l’oreille. Foy est un mot bref qui ne ‘sonne’ pas par lui-même: on peut considerer […] l’épithète vive comme la ‘trompette evangelicque’ de la foi” (Isabelle Garnier-Mathez, L’Épithète et la connivance, 169). 185 Ibid., 163. See also Garnier and Patin, “Opening and Closing Reflections,” 154-7, for their analysis of the usage and presence of vive foy in early editions of the Miroir. 77 Mary as the Embodiment of ‘Vive Foy’

In Marguerite’s portrayal of the Virgin Mary in the Miroir theological contrarieties converge with a distinctly feminine spirituality as Marguerite invites her readers to follow in the steps of Mary’s example of vive foy. Faith, in this vein, reconciles a strictly Roman Catholic deification of the Virgin Mary with a more evangelical, toned-down understanding of the Mother of Christ. Marguerite discusses faith in relation to the Virgin Mary as an explicitly feminized example to emulate. While Mariology was an important facet of Roman Catholic ideology,

Marguerite is careful to differentiate the idolization and worship of Mary from following in her footsteps of faith, as a spiritual mother. This nuanced distinction reveals an important instance of an even deeper fissure of Marguerite’s theological framework, which often fluctuates between

Roman Catholic dogma and proto-Protestant/evangelical thought. When introducing the person of Mary in the following passage, Marguerite seems to follow the standard deifying formula:

Mere et Vierge estes parfaictement, Avant, apres, et en l’enfantement. En vostre sainct ventre l’avéz porté, Nourry, servy, allaicté, conforté […] Brief, vous avez de Dieu trouvé la grace, Luc. 1 Que l’ennemy par malice et fallace Avoit du tout faict perdre en verité Au paouvre Adam, et sa posterité. (176, vv. 285-294)186

In demonstrating reverence towards Mary and acknowledging her role in the bearing and rearing of Christ, Marguerite fits into a Catholic tradition of deifying Mary. However, Marguerite at the same time reinforces reformist leanings: “Brief, vous avez de Dieu trouvé la grace.”

Marguerite’s language asserts that Mary has found grace, from God, not on her own merit.

This ambiguous worship of Mary continues:

186 “You are altogether mother and virgin, / before, after, and in childbirth. / You bore God’s son in your holy person, / fed, cared for, nursed, and comforted him. […] In short, you earned God’s grace / which the malicious and deceptive enemy / stole from unhappy Adam / and his posterity” (91). 78 De vous cuider mieulx louer, c’est blaspheme, Car vous louant, on le loue luy mesme. Foy avez eu si très fereme et constant, Que par grace elle a esté pusisante De vous faire du tout deifier. Parquoy ne veulx cuyder edifier Louenge à vous plus grande que l’honneur Que vous a faict le souverain seigneur, Car vous estes sa mere corporelle, Et sa mere par foy spirituelle; Mais en suyvant vostre foy humblement Mere je suis spirituellement. (177, vv. 309-318)187

In this passage, Marguerite overtly criticizes the deification of the Virgin Mary, as did several

French reformers in her poetic circle. In his discussion of the “Sons of Apollo,”188 a term referring to French reformist poets such as Clément Marot, Reid outlines some key reformist elements of their oeuvre, especially in light of faith and the role of Mary: “faith alone saves (not works), the saints and Mary are exemplars (not intercessors), confession of sin is to be directed to God (not the priest), the gospel of Christ in the Scriptures is the only source of true doctrine.”189 Marguerite certainly upholds the exemplarity of Mary but her approach is still more nuanced and seeks to refine and restore a proper vision and reverence for the Mother of God. In this passage, it is as if Marguerite herself were correcting the false teachings of the church by providing a via media between two opposite ends of the Marian spectrum (with exaggerated adulation on the one end and a near degrading humanization of the mother of God on the other end), which provides a source of equilibrium and rest in a volatile and contentious religious moment.

187 “It would be blasphemous to presume to praise you more / since to praise you is to praise him [Jesus]. / Your faith is so unshakable and true / that by grace it was compelling enough / in the eyes of all to deify you. / Therefore I do not wish to offer you / more admiration than the honor bestowed / upon you by our sovereign Lord, / for you are his corporal mother / and his mother in faith and spirit. / Humbly following your example in faith, however, / I become a spiritual mother” (93). 188 It is significant that Marguerite de Navarre is the only female poet of this group. For a table outlining the literary oeuvre of the “Sons of Apollo,” see Reid, King’s Sister, 451-457. 189 Reid, King’s Sister, 482. 79 Marguerite’s treatment of the Virgin Mary further reflects her earlier disavowal of poor doctrines upon which her soul had too often fed: “Ma promesse souvent vous ay rompue: / Car trop estoit ma paovre ame rompue: / De maulvais pain et damnable doctrine, / En deprisant secours et medicine” (171, vv. 131-134).190 It is highly probable that the cult of Mary, which was prevalent in the Middle Ages, but started to decline during the Renaissance, is one of the objects of Marguerite’s doctrinal condemnation (“damnable doctrine”).191 Yet, Marguerite does not dismiss the importance of Mary altogether, for the Mother of Christ’s example of faith made an indelible impression on Marguerite as a life of supreme fidelity to Christ. It is a distinctly maternal example – one that adds a feminine contour to her spiritual writing as she transforms reverence of Mary into a living example of faith, or “vive foy,” as she seeks to follow in her spiritual mother’s footsteps.

Female Spiritual Community in the Miroir

Since Marguerite consciously includes her reader at certain moments through the use of the first person plural, “nous,” we must finally understand the implications of her work as an exemplary piece for others (namely her female readership) to follow. Indeed, we can also conceive of the Miroir as a product of a long tradition of female spiritual writing. More specifically, I argue that the Miroir participates in the longstanding “Querelle des Femmes” and therefore functions as a catalyst for a measure of change in the societal perception of women in sixteenth-century France.192 It is important to note, as does Emile Telle, that this “querelle” in no

190 “I have not kept my vows, / for my miserable soul has too often / fed upon harmful bread and bad doctrines, / disdaining help and medicine” (83). 191 See Beth Kreitzer, Reforming Mary: Changing Images of the Virgin Mary in Lutheran Sermons of the Sixteenth Century (Oxford : Oxford University Press, 2004). 192 Most scholars understand the “Querelle des femmes” as the longstanding debate concerning the wide range of women’s roles (societal, familial, religious, etc.). For Joan Kelly, the “querelle” began as early as the fifteenth century: “It emerged as the voice of literate women who felt themselves and all women maligned and newly oppressed by that culture, but who were empowered by it at the same time to speak out in their defense” (Kelly, “Early Feminist Theory and the ‘Querelle des Femmes’, 1400-1789,” Signs 8, no. 1 [1982]: 4-28). A major impetus 80 way resembles contemporary feminism; rather, this controversy dealt mainly with debates surrounding the celibate life versus marriage, as well as the confrontation between natural

(rational) philosophy and Christian philosophy.193 While Marguerite did not call for an explicit social upheaval by making demands for women’s equal standing with men, the very nature of her poetry on theological subjects posits her as a gendered exception whose spiritual writings serve as a defense of women as capable of participating in the traditionally male-dominated realm of religious discourse.

Marguerite inherited a tradition of female writing from authors such as Marguerite Porete

(1250-1310), who was burned at the stake for her “heretical” views in her Miroir des âmes simples et anéanties (c. 1300),194 and Christine de Pizan (1364-1430), 195 whose most famous work, The Book of the City of Ladies (1405), catalogued the examples set forth by historical, literary, and mythical female figures as a defense and praise of women’s contributions to society.

Some scholars have made parallels among these three women, Marguerite Porete, Christine de

Pizan, and Marguerite de Navarre. While Sommers considers Marguerite de Navarre as a reader

for this debate was the publication of the Roman de la Rose (1269-1278) by Guillaume de Lorris, with later additions by Jean de Meun. Christine de Pizan and Jean Gerson criticized the work due to its immoral claims about women. For more information, see Joan Kelly, “Early Feminist Theory and the ‘Querelle des Femmes’” (10-13). 193 According to Telle, “Il y en a bien une [querelle] au nom de l’amour de Dieu et du mépris des choses de ce monde, au nom du célibat contre le marriage, au nom de ce corps social solidement constitué, la ‘clergie,’ au nom d’une philosophie naturaliste et rationaliste s’opposant à la philosophie chrétienne, mais ce n’est qu’avec l’épanouissement des idées nouvelles, l’influence prépondérante des femmes dans la société, la laïcisation de la pensée, c’est-à-dire avec la Renaissance et la Réforme qu’apparaîtra une Querelle au nom de la Femme, telle que l’annonçais Christine [de Pizan]” (Emile Telle, L’oeuvre de Marguerite d’Angoulême, Reine de Navarre, et la Querelle des Femmes, Geneva: Slatkine Reprints [1969], 39). 194 For more information concerning Porete’s Miroir des âmes simples, see Joanne Maguire Robinson, Nobility and Annihilation in Marguerite Porete’s Mirror of Simple Souls (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2001). Robinson claims that Marguerite Porete was condemned for her Miroir des âmes simples due to the doctrine of annihilation, which centers on the soul’s ability to “divest itself of the created state of willing, knowing, and having in order to realize the pre-creational state of non-willing, non-knowing, and non-having” (xi). Marguerite de Navarre may have been influenced by Porete’s doctrine of annihilation, especially with its aim of union with God. 195 For more information about Christine de Pizan, see Charity Cannon Willard’s Christine de Pizan: Her Life and Works (New York: Persea Books, 1984). See also Lori J. Walters’ “‘Magnifying the Lord’: Prophetic Voice in La Cité des Dames,” Cahiers de recherché médiévales et humanistes 13 (2006), La Noblesse en question (XIIIe-XVe s.: 239-253). Walters insists on the importance that must be given to Christine’s voice as “prophetic” as she aligns her causes (i.e. defending women and promoting a ‘Christian’ France) to that of sacred scripture and Augustine. 81 of Christine de Pizan,196 Jane Chance explores the incorporation of women into traditionally male-oriented arenas (i.e. philosophy and theology) during the Middle Ages and stipulates that the appropriation of spirituality by Marguerite and Christine de Pizan is, in essence, and in both of their cases, a political act.197 Stjerna considers Christine de Pizan and Marguerite Porete as

“foremothers” to female spiritual writing during the Reformation in France.198 While Marguerite de Navarre was not as explicit as Christine de Pizan regarding the promotion of women in society, her contribution to theological discourse as a female in the Miroir (and other spiritual works), her giving agency to the female voice throughout her literary corpus, as well as her correspondences with prominent women, such as Vittoria Colonna in Italy and Marie Dentière in

France,199 who were interested in reform on various levels, demonstrate that Marguerite generated a marked level of female solidarity.

From this perspective, Marguerite’s Miroir can be understood as a catalyst for her readers to emulate her example. As part of the mirror genre, Marguerite’s work should be considered as inspired by les miroirs aux princes, which served as guides to becoming effective rulers of earthly kingdoms based on the model of the heavenly kingdom. According to Sabine Melchior-

Bonnet, the mirror “served to qualify the very ancient moral genre wherein clerics would set forth the ideal, admirable model of the perfect Christian prince, in which young people could

196 See Paula Sommers, “Marguerite de Navarre as Reader of Christine de Pizan,” The Reception of Christine de Pizan from the Fifteenth Through the Nineteenth Centuries: Visitors to the City (Lewiston, NY: Mellen, 1991), 71- 82. In this article, Sommers compares Marguerite’s Heptaméron with Christine de Pizan’s Le Livre de la Cité des Dames as two works in which women challenge misogynist prejudice and argue that the morality of men and women as equal. 197 Jane Chance, “Speaking In Propria Persona: Authorizing The Subject As A Political Act In Late Medieval Feminine Spirituality,” New Trends in Feminine Spirituality: The Holy Women of Liège and Their Impact, Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols (1999): 269-294. Jane also incorporates the English Christian mystic, Margery Kempe, into her comparative study. 198 Stjerna, Women and the Reformation, 12. 199 I will discuss in more detail Marguerite’s correspondence with Vittoria Colonna in Chapter 2, and with Marie Dentière in Chapter 3. 82 discover as in a mirror the countenance that ought to be theirs.”200 The mirror genre was used as the ultimate example for authorities to follow. In the case of Marguerite’s Miroir, Skenazi argues that its spirituality is inseparable from the interest of transmitting a religious message, which reveals a didactic purpose on the author’s behalf.201 While the majority of the Miroir revolves around the rapport between Marguerite’s own soul (“je”) in relation to God (“vous”), towards the end of her poem the language shifts from first-person singular (“je”) to first-person plural

(“nous”) as Marguerite adopts an instructive tone. For example, in the following passage,

Marguerite admonishes her readers to share in Christ’s passion and death:

Depuis qu’il pleut au doulx agneau souffrir Dessus la croix, et pour nous la s’offrir, Esaie. 53 Sa grande amour a allumé ung feu En nostre cueur si vehement, que ieu Tout bon Chrestien doibt la mort estimer: Et l’ung l’autre à mourir animer. (201, vv. 1035-1040)202

In this passage Marguerite exhorts her readers to desire death so as to imitate Christ in his sufferings. Note that the verb, “animer,” is linked to the soul, animus, and in the context of the collective, Marguerite urges her readers to enliven one another’s souls towards the doorway of death, through which Christians pass to enter into union with God. Marguerite continues to align herself with her readers, using the first-person plural, as we approach the close of the text:

O tresgrand Don de foy, dont tel bien vient, Que posseder faict ce que l’on ne tient! Foy donne espoir par seure verité Qui engender perfecte charité.

200 Sabine Melchior-Bonnet, Jean Delumeau, and Katharine H. Jewett, The Mirror: a History (New York: Routledge, 2001), 114. 201 Skenazi, “Les Annotations en marges du Miroir,” 256. Referring to the end of the Prologue of the Miroir in the collection, Marguerites (1547) Skenazi also states: “Pour le lecteur, la manière dont l’âme pécheresse interprète les textes sacrés n’est donc pas la « bonne » manière de comprendre ces textes; elle désigne au contraire une démarche qui consiste à faire du contact intime et affectif avec l’Ecriture le centre de la « Foy vive » que la fin du prologue souhaite à chacun” (257). 202 “But since the gentle lamb of God chose to suffer upon the cross / and to offer himself up as a sacrifice for us, / his great love placed so consuming a fire in our hearts / that every Christian must look upon death / as little more than a trifle and inspire each other to seek it” (129). 83 Et charité est Dieu, comme sçavons. 1. Jehan. 4 Si en nous est, Dieu ainsi nous avons. Il est en nous, et trestous en luy sommes. Tous sont en luy, et luy en tous les hommes. Si nous l’avons par foy, tel est l’avoir, Que le dire n’est en nostre povoir. (214, vv. 1413-1422)203

The gift of faith, in this passage, serves as a means by which Christians are joined to God, who is love, or “perfecte charité.” Through “charité,” the perfect love that is God, Marguerite asserts that all Christians are joined to God and bound together in a collective body.

This newfound spiritual community is based on an equality of souls that are saved by faith and who are able to enjoy the presence of God’s love together. For Marguerite, the community of believers become mirrors that reflect one another in light of God’s love: “Et charité est Dieu, comme sçavons. / Si en nous est, Dieu ainsi nous avons. / Il est en nous, et trestous en luy sommes. / Tous sont en luy, et luy en tous les hommes” (214, vv. 1417-1420).

The rime riche of the first-person plural verbs “sçavons/avons” binds Marguerite’s readers together and unites them in the knowledge of love, which is the essence of God (as the scriptural annotation conveys, from 1 John 4).204 The theme of possessing God and belonging to one another is important as we reflect upon Marguerite’s vision of a spiritual community that seeks to possess charité through faith, not relying on their own strength.

In terms of a more female community conceived in Marguerite’s Miroir, some have argued that the inclusion of scriptural annotations encourages readers, especially women, to go directly to the Bible as their source of inspiration and authority. For Skenazi, the multiplication

203 “O mighty gift of faith, from which such good comes, / that we possess what we do not have. / Faith gives hope of certain truth, / which in turn engenders perfect love. / And, as we know, God is love. / And if that love abides in us, then so too does God. / He lives in us, and we in him; / we are all in him and he is in us. / And if we possess him through faith, / such possession is not within our power to define” (147). 204 1 John 4:7-8: “ Beloved, let us love one another; for love is of God, and he who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God; for God is love.” 84 of scriptural annotations in the margins from the 1531 version to that of the 1533 Miroir reinforces the role of the reader, who must interpret “l’espace blanc” vis-à-vis the Bible.205 In fact, Luther and other reformers pushed for such a Scripture-oriented education of women.

Evelyne Berriot-Salvadore argues that, for the reformers, the instruction of women cannot present a moral dilemma because knowledge does not lead to evil, but to the truth of the Gospel,

206 the divine message. In this vein, the female readership’s appropriation of the Bible is striking in Marguerite’s Miroir. According to Sommers:

Marguerite endows her narrator with a clear awareness of feminine identity. This awareness is demonstrated by her consistent choice of Biblical passages that focus […] on women and by her willingness to descend from the symbolic to the literal level, or from the joys of mystical marriage to the hard-heartedness that can disrupt human marriage.207

There are, to be sure, several instances where Marguerite identifies, individually, with female figures in her relationship with Christ. For example, when considering how her sin should alienate her from God, Marguerite remarks: “Mais mon ame traictéz (si dire l’ouse) / comme mere, fille, soeur, et espouse” (172, vv. 171-172).208 In the beginning of the poem, Marguerite delineates, in more detail, the bliss of identifying with each female role in relation to Christ, as mother, daughter, sister, and wife. By relating to Christ in distinctly feminine terms, Marguerite allows her female readers to access Jesus more directly as they are able to individually identify with each of the familial relations that are mentioned. In her individual identification with these

Biblical women, Marguerite creates a figurative spiritual community of women, with whom

205 According to Skenazi, “Car par rapport aux citations textuelles de 1531, les relations possibles entre les marges et les vers se multiplient […] L’espace blanc entre les vers et les indications marginales se situe au croisement d’une prolifération de sens possibles ; il est pour le public un nœud de rencontres dans le lisible et au-delà du lisible, et encourage par conséquent le retour à la Bible” (“Les Annotations en marge du Miroir,” 265). 206 Berriot-Salvadore states that: “ L’effort de catéchisation conduit surtout l’Eglise protestante à encourager les femmes dans l’apprentissage de la lecture ; la littérature populaire calviniste essaie de promouvoir l’image d’une femme dont la raisonnable sagesse s’appuie sur la connaissance directe des Ecritures ” (Les Femmes dans la société française de la Renaissance, Geneva: Droz [1990], 67). 207 Sommers, “The Mirror and its Reflections,” 32. 208 “But, if I may say so, you treat my soul / like that of a mother, daughter, sister, and wife” (85). 85 females from varying backgrounds can relate.

Furthermore, Marguerite evokes women from the Biblical accounts, such as the Virgin

Mary, whom she considers a spiritual mother and a role model of faith, as I have discussed earlier. Marguerite identifies with Mary as the mother of Christ in a striking manner towards the beginning of the Miroir when she asks: “Mais, Monseigneur, si vous estes mon Pere, / Puis’ie penser que ie suis vostre Mere?” (175, vv. 261-262).209 Marguerite is dumbfounded by this image as she recalls Christ’s own words from Matthew 12:50 (the scriptural annotation is provided in the margin): “For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother, and sister, and mother.”210 In this passage, Matthew highlights how Jesus was creating a new family, based on a shared spiritual allegiance, as opposed to biological ties. Using Christ’s own words that confound traditional understandings of familial ties, Marguerite highlights the enigmatic nature of being the mother of Christ. By extension, she invites her female readers to contemplate this divine mystery as they consider their earthly maternal roles as subservient to their spiritual family.

In addition to Mary, Marguerite identifies with two other specific female characters from the Bible. The first is a reference to “the outsider,” that is Moses’ wife Zipporah211 who was not

Jewish, but from the Midian tribe: “Pourquoy aûous espouse l’estrangiere?” (184, v. 516).212 Due to her guilt over her sin, which she sees as infidelity to God, her true spouse, Marguerite identifies with Zipporah as she refers to herself as “l’estrangiere.” Later in the poem, Marguerite mentions the Sunamite (or Shunammite) woman (v. 736), a rich woman whose brief story is

209 “But, Lord, if you are my father, / may I think of myself as your mother, / give birth to you, you by whom I am created?” (89). 210 The Gospel of Matthew recounts Jesus speaking to people while his mother and brothers stood outside and had asked an individual if they could speak with him. When this individual asked Jesus to step away and attend to his mother and brothers, Jesus used this as an opportunity to explain how, if any person does God’s will, then they are considered his family. 211 Exodus 2:16-21. 212 “Why did you marry the outsider?” (103). 86 included in the Old Testament book of 2 Kings. After having left her land, the Sunamite woman had returned and lost everything due to her dismissal of wise counsel regarding her wealth. Upon her return, the prophet Elisha restored her wealth and property to her.213 Marguerite connects even more strongly to this particular woman as both the Sunamite woman and the Queen of

Navarre, duchess of Alençon and Berry, possessed a great deal of wealth, land, and power. Yet more importantly, Marguerite relates to the Sunamite woman in her disobedience to God, whose divine wisdom her sinful soul does not willfully follow. However, like the prodigal son and this

Sunamite woman, Marguerite repents, is restored and is thus reunited with God through the mortification of her fleshly desires. In the same way, Marguerite invites her readers to return to

God as their heavenly father, and to partake in a community that is not bound by blood, but rather by the spirit of God. Marguerite challenges the traditional understanding of familial bonds based on biological lineage and envisions, and instead envisions a new spiritual community, which unites women, once disenfranchised members of the Christian kingdom, with men, who, by virtue of their shared sinful humanity, also receive the benefits of Christ’s redemptive work on the cross.

Conclusion

Throughout Marguerite’s Miroir, textual dynamics reflect the oscillating movements between disparate ends of an incessant pendulum - an image that aptly encapsulates spiritual and theological teetering between extremes, such as the main disparity between Marguerite’s sinful soul and a holy God, as well as the oppositions of separation/union with God, Tout/Rien, immanence/transcendence, and death/life. However, in the midst of this constant swaying between extremes, the text suggests resting points imitating the ‘rest’ Jesus embodies in Matthew

11:28. Furthermore, reformist notions such as Sola Scriptura, Solus Christus, Sola Gratia, and

213 2 Kings 8:1-6. 87 Sola Fide are associated with moments of resting equilibrium in the poem. In fluctuating between contrasting forces, Marguerite guilefully masks her dabbling in reformist thought at a theologically volatile moment in French history where the Roman Catholic authorities were beset with ‘heretical’ movements in the wake of the Northern European Protestant Reformation.

Rather than a cryptic approach to expressing reformist beliefs, Marguerite reveals a nuanced and complex blend of both Catholic and Protestant theologies, which highlights her participation in French reformist circles. In the Miroir, we see this especially in her inclusion and adaptation of their notion of vive foy as well as her verses dedicated to Mary, as both present an intriguing convergence of opposing ends of the theological spectrum at this era. Marked by ardent moments of intimacy, the Miroir glorifies the ecstatic union between God and the repentant soul. Accordingly, this theme of possessing God and belonging to one another emerges as a crucial point of consideration as we reflect upon Marguerite’s vision of a spiritual community, which seeks to possess charité through faith, not relying on their own strength. As such, this reformed body of Christ epitomizes the final source of rest for Marguerite and further assuages the erratic tension between Marguerite’s sinful soul and God, through the spiritual solidarity found in belonging to others, and ultimately, to God through “vive foy.”

88 CHAPTER THREE REFORMING THE GIFT IN VITTORIA COLONNA’S CARTEGGIO and Rime SPIRITUALI

Me riformò la man che formò il Cielo, e sì pietoso al mio priego s’offerse ch’ancor lieto ne trema ardendo il core. -Vittoria Colonna214

Introduction

In the same Battle of Pavia (1525) that took the life of Marguerite de Navarre’s first husband, Charles IV of Alençon (1489-1525), and which resulted in the year-long captivity of her brother, King Francis I, a certain Fernando Francesco d’Avalos also eventually met his fate.

Fernando’s heroic death would later ignite the poetic voice and launch the literary career of his beloved wife, Vittoria Colonna (1490-1547), arguably the most accomplished female writer of the Italian Renaissance.215 Known mostly for her appropriation of the Petrarchan form, Colonna evokes the attention of those scholars interested in the development of the female literary voice in the Early Modern era. For Virginia Cox, Colonna was the female object of literary acclaim in sixteenth-century Italy: “In her person, a powerful literary voice coincided with a decorously feminine authorial ethos, the latter serving to domesticate the former and to banish the anxieties it might potentially generate.”216 Part of Colonna’s skill lay in this ability to assert herself into

214 Vittoria Colonna, Lyric Poetry by Women of the Italian Renaissance, ed. Virginia Cox (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2013), 146; “The hand that heaven formed re-formed me / and so pityingly offered itself to my prayer / that my heart still blithely trembles burning, in its wake.” For the exergue, I have selected the last tercet from one of her earlier amorous sonnets (not published until 1840) dedicated to her deceased husband, who seems to be reaching out to Colonna in a dream. The words “reform” and “form” seem to indicate early signs of Colonna’s transition from secular to sacred poetry through the shift from her deceased husband’s hand (“la man”) to the hand of God, which will profoundly renew and reform the poetess’s soul. 215 For the rest of the chapter, I will mostly refer to Vittoria Colonna simply by her family name, “Colonna.” 216 Virginia Cox, Women’s Writing in Italy, 1400-1650 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 19. 89 traditionally masculine domains without threatening to overhaul the system. This can certainly be said of her entrance into the literary landscape.

Beyond her successful reworking of the Petrarchan sonnet, however, Colonna’s participation in ecclesiastical reform movements in Italy is a compelling example of the poetess’s ability to fashion herself in a guileful manner through her poetry without stirring up overwhelming controversy. Indeed, Vittoria Colonna avoids a decisive break from the Catholic

Church, a circumvention that nuances her writings and makes it impossible to peg her to any one confessional stance (Protestant or Catholic), even if it has been established that Colonna found many reformist notions to be a purer representation of Christianity.217

In this chapter, I will focus on the notion of ‘the gift’ as the primary manifestation of

Colonna’s literary expression of reformist thought in her epistolary exchanges as well as her

Rime spirituali. What role does the notion and practice of giving play in cultural and interpersonal exchange, and what is its connection to religious understanding and literary form?

Giving as a societal practice has long been conceived as a system of reciprocity that marks one’s social status within various networks, ranging from nobility to the clergy, as well as patron-client relationships. Natalie Zemon Davis investigates Marcel Mauss’s theory on the “gift economy” in sixteenth-century Europe and considers two fundamental motivations for giving gifts: 1) the belief that human gifts are considered divine because “everything we have is a gift of God, and what comes in as a gift has some claim to go out as a gift”; and, 2) that humans are linked

217 To name a few of the more recent studies on Colonna’s reformist involvement: Abigail Brundin’s Vittoria Colonna and the Spiritual Poetics of the Italian Reformation (Aldershot: Ashgate 2008) is a foundational resource for my research. Brundin explores the relationship between Colonna and the Italian Reformation, with particular focus on the Petrarchan tradition vis-à-vis the Reformation in Colonna’s vernacular spiritual poetry. Emidio Campi’s “Vittoria Colonna and Bernardino Ochino,” in A Companion to Vittoria Colonna, 371-398, eds. Abigail Brundin, Tatiana Crivelli, and Maria Serena Sapegno, Leiden: Brill (2016), discusses Colonna’s involvement in reformist circles and provides a clear theological analysis of Colonna’s views on scripture, Christology, and Mariology. Virginia Cox has also noted the reformist nature of Colonna’s spiritual oeuvre in the introduction to Lyric Poetry by Women of the Italian Renaissance (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2013), 7-10. 90 together through reciprocity, which “was created by gifts and benefits, as it was also by production and trade.”218 Additionally, Davis explores how Early Modern thought revamped this system, especially in religious practices.219 During the tempestuous reform movements of the sixteenth century, reciprocity becomes a source of contention as

The pressures of obligation, weighing down gift relations in so many areas, found anguished expression in Protestant criticism of Catholic paths to salvation. In a profound sense, the religious reformations of the sixteenth century were a quarrel about gifts, that is, about whether humans can reciprocate to God, about whether humans can put God under obligation, and about what this means for what people should give to each other.220

The weight of perpetual reciprocal obligation was especially pronounced in the earning of one’s salvation. Can one truly perform good works to merit God’s salvific favor? This was the heart of reform movements (proto-Protestant and Protestant alike) that was most clearly expressed in the belief of justification by faith (Sola Fide) – that one receives the gift of faith from God, the most gracious donor. This reframing of gift-relations also had implications for human relationships, as can be seen in the mutual exchange of artwork, letter-writing, and other networks that, especially within reformist circles where reform-minded individuals started to give and receive more freely, so as to mimic God’s imparting salvation on humanity as a freely-given gift.221 On several levels then, there was a “renaissance of the gift” when the system of obligation and reciprocity, particularly within the Roman Catholic Church, imploded on itself (as many of these practices became symptoms of ecclesiastical abuse).

218 Natalie Zemon Davis, The Gift in Sixteenth-Century France, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press (2000) 11-12. 219 Davis discusses Catholic “reciprocity” in light of various practices of the Catholic Church, including simony (the exchange of sacred relics between priests) as well as the Mass, which, for Protestants, “seemed simply an effort to put up ransom to God, to oblige the Lord by a gift” (109). 220 Ibid., 100. 221 Davis argues that John Calvin denounced reciprocity as understood in Catholic system: “The whole Catholic apparatus of gift and obligation he tried to dismantle, recasting reciprocal relations in terms of gratuitousness wherever he could […] Calvin’s God is an absolutely free donor, constrained by no customary law dictating division of patrimony and unconcerned about ‘meritorous’ children” (114-5). 91 For Colonna, this reformist understanding of the gift becomes a lens through which we can better conceive her spiritual poetic oeuvre in the context of both aesthetic forms and practice, and reformist thought. Emidio Campi, who views Colonna’s rime as “poetry becoming theology,”222 argues that her rime spirituali are a direct result of her interaction with Italian reformers, and has also noted the link between the language of the gift in the Rime spirituali and

Sola Fide: “Faith alone justifies us, not because it is a superior human work, but because it is exclusively oriented to God’s mercy in Christ and claims nothing for itself.”223 God freely bestows the gift of faith, which in turn allows humans to believe and receive Christ, resulting in their salvation. My chapter advances Campi’s observations as I claim that Colonna’s reforming of the gift is the predominant manifestation of her reformist thought in her Rime spirituali. Her reception of the following four theological elements reflects her notion of the gift as a reformist paradigm: 1) the sacred vision of Christ Crucified; 2) justification by faith alone from God; 3) uninhibited communion with God; 4) and a transcendent female spiritual community. Colonna’s poetry embodies a reformed understanding of the gift through her Rime spirituali, as this “donna illustre” freely gives the “dono” of her spiritual revelation to her reader.

I also contend that in her Rime spirituali, Colonna’s working within the Petrarchan poetic framework, which lends itself to explore tensions and contrasts in poetic form alongside thought, allowing the poetess to convey reformist (polemical) theological ideas within a broadly accepted, yet all at once coded, form of language. The Petrarchan form is flexible and can be understood as a platform of literary experimentation, covering a vast array of themes. Robert Durling suggests that Petrarch himself “was less an inventor of new forms than an untiring explorer of the

222 Emidio Campi, “Vittoria Colonna and Bernardino Ochino,” in A Companion to Vittoria Colonna, eds. Abigail Brundin, Tatiana Crivelli, and Maria Serena Sapegno (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 375. 223 Ibid., 388. 92 possibilities of existing forms.”224 Although the sonnet usually presents a situation, image, or problem in the octave, followed by some sort of application or resolution in the sestet, the range of possibilities within this form is varied and malleable.225 For Colonna, the Petrarchan sonnet suited her literary imagination and couched her religious explorations in an innocuous and widely-accepted poetic convention.226 Abigail Brundin argues that both the individual sonnet, along with the canzoniere, the unified corpus of sonnets into a coherent collection, provide a framework for Colonna’s experimentation with and expression of reformist content:

The very fact that the case of Vittoria Colonna herself presents the example of an aristocrat and a woman who, despite the constraints of status and sex, appears able to move into entirely new literary territory in her own Petrarchan endeavors, amply illustrates the surprising freedoms that such a context seems to offer.227

It is indeed significant that Colonna, in this sense, freely and willingly constrains her voice within the Petrarchan form - a confined literary space of the fourteen-line sonnet - in order to convey ideas that were menacing to Catholic dogma in sixteenth-century Italy.

In addition to her sonnets, Colonna’s correspondence with notable reform-minded figures such as Marguerite de Navarre (1492-1549), Bernardino Ochino (1487-1564), and

Michelangelo Buonarotti (1475-1564) demonstrates a heightened expression of spiritual intimacy within the volatile background of reform. These epistolary exchanges inform Colonna’s rich nexus of theology, art, and literature, as it is at the center of this chapter. Most importantly, we find, in the epistolary exchange between Marguerite and Colonna, the cultivation and reception of the gift of female friendship between two women separated by terrestrial borders,

224 Robert Durling, “Introduction,” in Petrarca, Francesco, Petrarch’s Lyric Poems: The Rime sparse and Other Lyrics, transl. and ed. Robert M. Durling (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1976), 11. 225 Ibid., 12. 226 See Ann Rosalind Jones, “Female Petrarchists” in The Cambridge Companion to Petrarch, eds. Albert Russell Ascoli and Unn Falkeid (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 201-9. Jones discusses how Colonna distinguishes her oeuvre from Petrarch, particularly in her Rime spirituali, where “she completes the turn to God that Petrarch began to dramatize toward the end of the RVF [Rerum Vulgarium Fragmenta (Canzoniere)]” (203). 227 Brundin, Vittoria Colonna, 5. 93 yet united on the basis of their common spiritual explorations of reformist theology.228

Therefore, in my analysis of the Rime spirituali, I will first discuss Colonna’s correspondence with Marguerite de Navarre as both women were known for their own literary prestige, as well as their involvement in reformist and poetic movements. Moreover, these two powerful women also demonstrate a mutual affection for one another and thus embody an exemplary instance of female spiritual friendship during this era.

Colonna’s exchanges with Bernardino Ochino and Reginald Pole (1500-1558) provide a lens through which to view certain crucial theological aspects of Colonna’s spiritual poetry and will be incorporated into the analysis of her sonnets.229 Finally, Michelangelo’s and Colonna’s literary, artistic, and spiritual friendship is significant as we consider the dynamic between aesthetics, theology, and friendship, and will also undergird the discussion of the sacred vision of

Christ Crucified, specifically, in the sonnets that I have selected.230 In her correspondence with

Michelangelo especially, the language of the gift is a recurrent theme as their exchanges largely discuss mutual giving of works of art and literature designed specifically for another. For both

Colonna and Michelangelo, this exchange of gifts in the form of poetry, letters, artwork, and the like, all serve as a reflection of humanity’s reception of God’s free gift of grace.231

228 From henceforth I will mainly refer to Marguerite de Navarre as “Marguerite.” My choice of this shorthand for the Queen of Navarre is due to space restrictions as well as the fact that her aristocratic denomination (de Navarre) is not officially a part of her name. 229 While I do not include her correspondence with Pole in my chapter, it is still important to remember that she was in contact with such a prominent figure of the spirituali in Italy. 230 Maria Forcellino informs us that while Michelangelo was creating his masterpieces, he was in contact with Colonna as well as her group of friends, known as the spirituali: “Mentre creava negli anni Quaranta i suoi capolavori, Michelangelo fu in rapporti di grande amicizia con la poetessa e nobildonna Vittoria Colonna (1492- 1547) e i suoi amici, un gruppo di alti prelati e cardinali designati già dai contemporanei come gli ‘spirituali’ del cardinal inglese Reginald Pole (1500-1558)” (Michelangelo, Vittoria Colonna e gli “spirituali”: Religiosità e vita artistica a Roma negli anni Quaranta, Rome: Viella s.r.l., [2009]: 13-14). 231 For Alexander Nagel, Michelangelo’s drawings for Colonna serve as a window into their shared theological modus operandi and vision, which evoke a more “interiorized notion of faith and elevate the intense relationship between ‘divine grace’ and the ‘believer’s conscience” (“Gifts for Michelangelo and Vittoria Colonna,” The Art Bulletin 79, no.4 (1997): 649, doi:10.2307/3046280). This connection engenders a reformed understanding of one’s personal relationship with Christ, through God’s gift of faith. Both Una Roman d’Elia and Forcellino continue 94 In light of this understanding of the ‘gift,’ along with its theological and aesthetic implications, I explore how Colonna’s Rime spirituali as well as her correspondence with reform-minded individuals in her Carteggio announce Colonna’s reception of the spiritual vision of Christ Crucified, salvation through faith alone, an intimate relationship with God, and a newly formed female spiritual community, within Petrarchism and epistolary rhetoric. With regards to this latter epistolary component, I first address the correspondence between Colonna and

Marguerite de Navarre. Following this, in order to approach the corpus of Colonna’s Rime spirituali, I will perform a close-reading of four selected sonnets that best exhibit the notion of the gift vis-à-vis the vision of Christ on the Cross, sola fide, uninhibited communion with the divine, and the creation of a reformed female spiritual community. I will incorporate Colonna’s correspondence with Michelangelo and Ochino, and cross-reference other sonnets in the collection that exhibit this act of giving and receiving, as a sort of aesthetic and theological salvation, in the fullest sense.

Brief Biographical Sketch: Vittoria Colonna

Born into Italian nobility, Vittoria Colonna enjoyed the privileges that accompanied her powerful family’s social position. Her father, Fabrizio Colonna, was a great military leader while her mother, Agnese da Montefeltro, daughter of the Duke of Urbino, was known for her air of sophistication within Italian noble society.232 The history of the Colonna family is noteworthy as they were known to have important, though at times troublesome, ties to the papacy in the

Nagel’s discussion of Michelangelo’s drawings for Colonna in their respective articles, “Drawing Christ’s Blood: Michelangelo, Vittoria Colonna, and the Aesthetics of Reform,” Renaissance Quarterly 59, no.1 (2006): 90-129, doi:10.1353/ren.2008.0151 and “Vittoria Colonna and Michelangelo” in A Companion to Vittoria Colonna. See Brundin, Vittoria Colonna, pp. 73-79, for a brief discussion of all the drawings by Michelangelo for Colonna, which include the Crucifixion, Pietà, and Samaritan Woman. 232 See Abigail Brundin, Tatiana Crivelli, and Maria Serena Sapegno, “Introduction” to A Companion to Vittoria Colonna, 3-4. 95 Cinquecento.233 At a young age, Colonna was betrothed to Fernando Francesco d’Avalos, the marquis of Pescara, who became a prominent military leader. However, after the Battle of Pavia in 1525, Francesco d’Avalos sustained injuries and died later in the same year, leaving Colonna, marchioness of Pescara, a widow at age thirty-three.234 Fernando’s death certainly ushered in a new dimension in Colonna’s poetry as she slowly transitioned from honoring her late husband’s heroism to steadily shifting her literary focus to more celestial matters. Irma Jaff adds that after her husband’s death, Colonna “led a life of almost monastic simplicity, writing, reading, and lending her aid to charitable endeavors.”235 Colonna never remarried and instead spent the rest of her years visiting various convents and making voyages to locales such as Ischia, Ferrara, and

Orvieto.236 Colonna eventually returned to Rome, where she died in 1547.237

In the religious climate of Cinquecento Italy, the desire for reform within the church was more nuanced and had existed well before the Reformation in Northern Europe. According to

Barry Collett, “the ecclesiastical hierarchy in […] Italy was being assailed by questions that struck at the very tenets of the faith.”238 Evidently, the reaction to Luther was more complicated in Italy (and France) than in Germany for several reasons, particularly due to the overarching presence of the papacy that characterized and unified Italian (religious) society. In terms of the

233 See E. Martin-Chabot, P. De Fourseio, P. Tesson and Adam, “Contribution à l’histoire de la famille Colonna: de Rome dans ses rapports avec la France,” Annuaire-Bulletin De La Société De L'histoire De France 57, no. 2 (1920): 137-90. In earlier centuries, certain members of the ancient Colonna family were deemed schismatic, especially during the papal wars when prominent Colonna men sought refuge in France. In her lifetime at least, the Colonna family enjoyed favor with the pope. 234 Joseph Gibaldi, “Child, Woman, and Poet: Vittoria Colonna,” in Women Writers of the Renaissance and Reformation, ed. Katharina M. Wilson (Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1987), 22-23. 235 Irma Jaff, Shining Eyes, Cruel Fortune: The Lives and Loves of Italian Renaissance Women Poets (New York: Fordham University Press, 2002), 46. 236 According to Abigail Brundin, “That her desire for a contemplative life within the walls of a convent was thwarted by the more temporal ambitions for her brother and the pope, who no doubt hoped to remarry her and thus forge new political alliances, also served to increase the pathos of her image” (Vittoria Colonna, 23). 237 Brundin, Vittoria Colonna, 36. 238 Barry Collett, A Long and Troubled Pilgrimage: the Correspondence of Marguerite d’Angoulême and Vittoria Colonna, 1540-1545. Studies in Reformed Theology and History, new series, no. 6, Princeton, NJ: Princeton Theological Seminary (2000), x. 96 insidious nature of the papacy in Italian society, Salvatore Caponetto reminds us that a unified

Italy “was then only an abstraction in the poetic tradition from Dante to Machiavelli […] All that bound them together was the Church of Rome, with its myriad monastic orders.”239 However, despite the severe organization and dominance of papal control in the region, Italian reform- minded leaders started to question the dogma and critique the abuses of the Roman Catholic

Church well before and quite independently of the Protestant Reformation in Germany.

Initially, Lorenzo Valla (1407-1457) had a significant impact on the expression of reform movements in the Italian states by revitalizing theology through a classical humanist approach and studying the early Church Fathers and biblical texts more closely. However, Juan de Valdés

(1509-1541), a Spanish reformer, who was living in Naples in the 1530s, had gained a significant number of followers who would eventually be known as the spirituali.240 Valdés’s concept of the

“beneficio di Cristo” reflected Protestant theology in its emphasis on justification by faith (sola fide). In this sense, faith is understood as a freely given gift through which a Christian benefits from Christ’s suffering on the cross.241 Rinaldina Russell views this benefit as a way for the believer to become united with Christ: “the incorporation of the faithful into Christ is only possible for the one who believes in the general remission of sins, and that on the cross God has satisfied this payment, unconditionally, for all human beings.”242 Those who understood and believed in the benefit of Christ thus had the potential to be incorporated into Christ. In light of

239 Salvatore Caponetto, The Protestant Reformation in Sixteenth-Century Italy, trans. Anne C. Tedeschi and John Tedeschi (Kirksville: Thomas Jefferson University Press, 1999), xviii. 240 For more information on the origins and evolution of Valdésian theology, see Dermot Fenlon, Heresy and Obedience in Tridentine Italy: Cardinal Pole and the Counter Reformation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 5. See Virginia Cox, Women’s Writing in Italy, 1400-1650 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 72. 241 This concept is based on the work by Benedetto da Mantova, Il Beneficio di Cristo: con le versioni del secolo XVI, documenti e testimonianze, edited by Salvatore Caponetto, Florence: G.C. Sansoni S.p.A., 1972. 242 Rinaldina Russell, “L’ultima meditazione di Vittoria Colonna e l’Ecclesia Viterbiensis,” La parola del testo: semestrale di filologia e letteratura italiana e comparata dal medioevo al rinascimento 4 (2000): “l’incorporazione del fedele in Cristo è possibile solo per chi crede nel condono generale dei peccati, e che sulla croce Dio ha soddisfatto per gli esseri umani incondizionatamente” (156). 97 this basic notion of Valdésian spirituality, Caponetto suggests, “The aim of Valdés was to lead towards knowledge of the central doctrines of the Christian faith based on Scripture and to the consequent knowledge of the book of one’s own soul.”243 Valdésian spirituality, like Lutheran theology, was thus firmly rooted in a deep understanding of and participation in Christ’s crucifixion, which leads to justification by faith and is further expressed in one’s personal encounter with Scripture. 244

The Valdésian approach was the basis for the spirituali, who, after Valdés’ death, congregated around the powerful English cardinal Reginald Pole in Viterbo. Pole and the spirituali held ideas on church renewal that were closely linked to Reformist thought - more specifically, the primacy of Scripture, Luther’s views on sin, grace, justification, and the response of faith. Dermot Fenlon views the theology of Pole, who, by 1546, had come to believe in a concept of justification that mirrored Luther’s sola fide, as nearly indistinguishable from

Lutheranism.245 Furthermore, several preachers who identified as spirituali, such as Bernardino

Ochino, a Protestant preacher whose Lenten sermons of 1542 demonstrated his belief in Luther’s doctrine on justification by faith alone, were eventually forced to flee Italy because of their

Protestant leanings.246 After the departures of figures such as Ochino, the spirituali in Italy were eventually categorized as threats to Catholic hegemony.

For her part, Colonna spent a significant amount of time in Viterbo where she developed close ties, through personal interaction as well as epistolary correspondence, with prominent

243 Caponetto, The Protestant Reformation, 66. 244 According to Caponetto, “Today we are in a position to state with certainty that the Valdesian teaching was one of the decisive channels, though a less obvious one since he avoided any sort of anti-Roman polemic, for the diffusion of the central doctrine in Lutheran theology: justification by faith alone […] ‘the benefit of Christ’” (The Protestant Reformation, 64). 245 Fenlon, Heresy and Obedience, 35. 246 Caponetto, The Protestant Reformation, 101. 98 members of the spirituali, particularly in the pre-Tridentine years (1530s-1545).247 With this context of volatile church reform, I argue that Colonna’s involvement with the spirituali in Italy is significant as it indicates her own interest in, if not adherence to, beliefs deemed heretical and heterodox by the Catholic Church. From a historical perspective, Colonna’s adoption of reformist thought is in and of itself is noteworthy, as many people whose beliefs were considered heretical went before the Roman Catholic Inquisition, were exiled, or were persecuted by the

Church.

Colonna’s connection to the spirituali also highlights the link between gender and religion: not only did Colonna participate in a male-dominated literary arena with her rime amorose, with the added affirmation and laud from her male contemporaries who considered

Colonna’s poetry to be of the same quality as their own writing, her rime spirituali also reveal her taking a subtle, yet active role in the religious debates of her era, whose interlocutors were mostly men, as well. According to Sara Adler, Colonna inherited the religious tradition of women being inspired by models of their own gender,248 which affirmed the value of female identity in Christianity. In the case of Colonna, Adler considers the historical moment in which she wrote, which, during the first part of the sixteenth century, as religious reform started to spread throughout Italian territories, offered new opportunities for women to be active in society.

However, this widening gap for female involvement in various religious and civic capacities soon began to close as

247 Regarding her spiritual letters, Adriana Chemello attributes the rich production of these correspondences to her time in Viterbo, where “Colonna’s ties with the outside world became at once looser and ever more refined. Reading and meditating on scriptural texts, she focused her mind on inner reflection and distanced herself from the praise and eulogies of the mundane world” (“Vittoria Colonna’s Epistolary Works,” in A Companion to Vittoria Colonna, 26). 248 Sara Adler discusses Saint Catherine of Siena (1347-1380) as one such example in Italy, who wrote copiously of Mary, as well as other female saints. She also includes Christine de Pizan (1365-after 1429), whose Book of the City of Ladies (1405) employs female guides to construct a figurative city of exemplary women. See Adler, “Strong Mothers, Strong Daughters: The Representation of Female Identity in Vittoria Colonna’s Rime and Carteggio,” Italica 77, no. 3 (2000): 319-20, doi:10.2307/480301. 99 the reform movement exhausted itself and as the patriarchal Church re-established itself in Italy. With this return came an increased sense of the Church as embodying male authority and, therefore, there were greater restrictions on female religious activity and authority.249

In Adler’s view, once the theological controversies of the sixteenth century intensified, women’s spirituality became more restricted. In this way, the dissemination of heterodox belief as a threat to the dogma of the Catholic Church is tied to the perception of women’s involvement in theological discussion and expression as a menace to male authority within the Church. There can be no doubt that Colonna’s spiritual poetry was shaped by a growing desire to explore reformed theology and spirituality, which seeks to correct the abundant abuses of the Catholic

Church. In the midst of this atmosphere of reform, those fearful and threatened by change reacted and suppressed those hopeful of progress; and, as a result, the burgeoning of female spiritual writing that contained any hints of reformed thought, was a casualty of the Catholic

Church’s reactionary impulse. At the same time, in this pivotal moment, Colonna’s spiritual writing evolves as a highly self-aware and inventive approach to the expression of reformist doctrine in the face of a suspicious and paranoid religious regime. I contend that Colonna’s exposition of the gift of God’s grace in her Carteggio and her Rime spirituali is the principal way in which she embodies the reformed understanding of salvation and its implications on the artistic and literary exchanges with those around her.

Colonna’s Carteggio and her Correspondence with Marguerite de Navarre

Throughout her life, Colonna remained in constant communication with family members, powerful Italian nobles, as well as royal figures outside of Italy. We are fortunate to have her

Carteggio - the collection of her many correspondences with a vast array of prominent members

249 Adler, “Strong Mothers,” 323. 100 of Colonna’s society, and those beyond Italian territory.250 For the present study, however, a closer look at her correspondence with Marguerite de Navarre is especially noteworthy due to the intersection of female spiritual friendship and intimacy with both women’s shared interest in and literary expression of reformed spirituality and theology, which are embedded in these exchanges.251 In light of the reformed understanding of gift-relations, we can further consider this correspondence in terms of each woman’s reception of a newfound female spiritual community through the mutual receiving of the other’s letters and words - especially the gift of a manuscript (ms. Ashburnham 1153) containing a selection of her poetry, that Colonna prepared for Marguerite.252 Yet, while the gift manuscript includes a vast array of Colonna’s rime, from amorous to sacred verse, as well as other poets’ works, it is in the content of the surviving letters, written in Italian, where we find the most remarkable spiritual connection between Marguerite and Colonna, which is also undergirded by a shared vision of ecclesiastical renewal in the midst of religious persecution.253 As Collett puts it, the five surviving letters of Colonna’s and

Marguerite’s correspondence are written “in an allusive style, and with an abundance of biblical

250 Quotes from her correspondence are from Vittoria Colonna, Carteggio di Vittoria Colonna: Marchesa di Pescara, edited by Ermanno Ferrero and Guiseppe Muller (Turin: Ermanno Loescher, 1889). Whenever possible, I have borrowed my English translations of the correspondence between Colonna and Marguerite from Collett, A Long and Troubled Pilgrimage. All other translations from the Carteggio are my own. 251 Verdun-Louis Saulnier describes the correspondence between Colonna and Marguerite as “précieux” and “exemplaire,” and also notes their “vies parralèles,” as both women were born in 1492 and died 2 years apart from one another (Colonna died in 1547, Marguerite, in 1549). See Verdun-Louis Saulnier, “Marguerite de Navarre, Vittoria Colonna et quelques autres amis italiens de 1540,” in Mélanges à la mémoire de Franco Simone: France et Italie dans la culture européene I, Moyen Age et Renaissance, Geneva: Slatkine (1980): 281-282. 252 Brundin describes ms. ASHB 1153 in detail in Vittoria Colonna, pp. 107-122. Brundin notes that, although there is a mix of sacred and profane poems in the collection, “All the sonnets in the manuscript could well be described as ‘religiosi e santi,’ given the context in which they are to be read” (107). Brundin goes on to say, regarding Colonna’s involvement or lack thereof: “Whether or not the poet was directly involved in the act of assembling and dispatching the manuscript is perhaps less important than the assertion that the poet approved of the gift and was involved in the selection of material for inclusion” (108). I consulted Colonna’s unadorned manuscript, ms. Ashburnham 1153 for Marguerite de Navarre, in microform, at the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana in Florence. 253 According to Collett, the correspondence between Marguerite and Vittoria Colonna “reveals a large measure of empathy and mutual respect, combined with a common imaginative sensitivity to religion, and to art, as expressive realities beyond this world. They were a part of a reform-minded group that included artisans, monastics, and even members of the ecclesiastical hierarchy which expressed strong criticism of the church as an institution and desired its renewal” (A Long and Troubled Pilgrimage, ix). Collett provides the original Italian texts of the letters in Appendix D of A Long and Troubled Pilgrimage, 125-131. 101 allusions, both of which require detailed textual analysis and sensitive exegesis,” and can be seen as evidence for these women’s “detailed and sophisticated knowledge of the Bible, which they were able to interpret theologically.254

Before we approach this correspondence, it must be observed that in the early modern period, one’s correspondence was representative of one’s social status as well as one’s skill in the tradition of epistolary rhetoric.255 Katherine Kong views the practice of exchanging letters from the perspective of the medieval ars dictaminis, “the highly rule-bound medieval discipline of letter writing,” which “structured the expression of these relationships by prescribing epistolary elements that reflected the respective social status of correspondents.”256 While we could easily perceive the exchanges between Marguerite and Colonna as demonstrations of their respective mastery of the ars dictaminis, there are more substantial communications embedded in their correspondence. Kong adds that despite the existence of established epistolary convention, letter writers “actively navigated letter-writing rules to convey complicated and even coded personal and public messages, and to express contradictory and sometimes illicit relationships.”257 While there was nothing illicit about Colonna’s and Marguerite’s relationship, as nobles from various European territories frequently communicated to each other for a myriad of reasons, I view their exchanges as substantive in that both women expressed interest in ecclesiastical renewal to one another while being caught in the crossfires of religious reform.

254 Collett, A Long and Troubled Pilgrimage, xii. 255 According to Meredith Ray, the carteggio became “a flourishing genre in Italy” and is itself “a work of literary construction, one in which ostensibly personal correspondence is used to produce a carefully crafted epistolary self- representation.” (Writing Gender in Women’s Letter Collections of the Italian Renaissance [Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009], 4). As such, gender becomes an intriguing lens through which to view the letter book as “female epistolary collections represent a “studied performance of pervasive ideas about gender as well as genre, a form of self-fashioning that variously reflected, manipulated, and subverted cultural and literary conventions regarding femininity and masculinity” (4). 256 Katherine Kong, Lettering the Self in Medieval and Early Modern France (Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 2010), 2. 257 Kong, Lettering the Self, 2. 102 We begin with a letter (February 15, 1540) that Colonna wrote to Marguerite, in response to a letter that she had received from the Queen of Navarre, with the following salutation and opening lines: “Sereniss. Regina. Le alte et religiose parole della humanissima lettera di V.

Maestà mi dovriano insegnare quel sacro silentio.”258 The contents of the initial letter must have discussed, with elegance, celestial matters, which, Marguerite often struggled to express in her own writing.259 However, instead of imitating Marguerite’s silence, Colonna speaks of her desire not only to correspond with Marguerite via epistolary exchange, but to also commune with her in person:

ardirò, non già di rispondere, ma di non tacere in tutto, et solo quasi per inalzare i contrapesi del suo celeste horologio, acciochè, piacendole per sua bontà di risonare, a me distingue et ordini l’hore di questa mia confusa vita, fin tanto che Dio mi concederà di udire V.M. ragionare dell’altra con la sua voce viva, come si degna darmi speranza.260

The last words of this passage foreshadow Marguerite’s and Colonna’s meeting one another, in person; yet, in the mean time, Colonna views her correspondence with Marguerite as a placeholder to fill the space of the physical distance that characterized Colonna’s and

Marguerite’s epistolary exchange. Moreover, Colonna employs an intriguing image, the counter- weight in the clock, as the basis for her decision to respond to Marguerite’s letter.261 Colonna’s response to Marguerite does not attempt to answer, but rather to follow Marguerite’s example of silence (“tacere in tutto”) on celestial matters. Colonna views her own words as a balance for the

258 185; “Most distinguished Queen, The lofty and pious words of Your Majesty’s most kind letter should have led me to that reverent silence” (111). The initial letter from Marguerite to Colonna has apparently been lost (see Saulnier, “Marguerite de Navarre, Vittoria Colonna,” 282). 259 For Robert Cottrell, Marguerite’s spiritual poetry tends to dissolve in “divine silence” as she attempts to speak of divine matters with human language, striving to “fashion a language that is somehow the equivalent of silence” (Robert Cottrell, Grammar of Silence: a reading of Marguerite de Navarre’s poetry, Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press [1986], 10). 260 185; “I shall dare not so much to reply, as to refrain from keeping silent in all things, and only to lift up, as it were, the counter-weights of Your Majesty’s celestial clock, so that through the virtue of its chime, it may mark the time and bring order to the hours of this confused life of mine, until God grant me that I may hear Your Majesty speak of that other life, in person, as I am led to hope” (111). 261 See above, Chapter 1, for the imagery of the pendulum, or counter-weight in clocks, as central for Marguerite’s Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse. 103 lofty thoughts of Marguerite and as way of providing temporal stability at a most tumultuous time of her life. Colonna’s imagery announces solidarity between the two women who both seek to honor the other in their mutual pursuit of expressing the divine. Furthermore, Colonna’s metaphor is also infused with the visual heritage of the clock - a common medieval trope that was often equated with wisdom and depicted in illuminated manuscripts of “Books of Hours,” with wisdom often personified as “Lady Wisdom” or “Sapientia.”262 Thus, by using this image,

Colonna elevates her interlocutor Marguerite de Navarre to a near divine status as the embodiment of female wisdom.

Beyond her elevation of Marguerite de Navarre, we must consider the poetic and literary salience that coats Colonna’s letter with meaning. We certainly find a profound longing on the part of Colonna to be in Marguerite’s presence so as to fulfill her hope (“speranza”) and satisfy her “intenso desiderio.” Yet, the translation, “in person,” that describes this “réunion" misses what Colonna’s language stages in the following sentence: “fin tanto che Dio mi concerderà di udire V.M. ragionare dell’altra con la sua voce viva, come se degna darmi speranza.” The sensorial language (“udire,” “ragionare,” “voce”) invokes a corporeal and vivacious (“viva”) communion between these two women. The consonance in the phrase, “voce viva,” evokes the often-repeated phrase, “viva fede” in Colonna’s Rime spirituali as well as Marguerite’s “vive foy” throughout her spiritual oeuvre. For both women, faith, which proceeds from God alone, is utterly living and life giving. Accordingly, the presence of the gift in this letter reveals a reformist bent to Colonna’s thinking, in that it is only God who could grant her such a union with

Marguerite (“mi concerderà di udire”), a meeting that, in turn, would give Colonna hope (“darmi speranza”). The language of gift giving ties into the reformist notion of God’s initiative as the

262 For example, in the Harley manuscript 4431, known commonly as the “Queen’s Manuscript,” which Christine de Pizan dedicated to Queen Isabeau of Bavaria, there is a miniature of the “Clock of Temperance” (folio 96v), from her Epistre Othéa. 104 sole benefactor who graciously gives himself to others; Colonna’s hope of receiving Marguerite mirrors God’s benevolent nature.

Towards the middle of this letter, Colonna reinforces her adoration for Marguerite whom she declares is an example both for her personally, as well as a model given for all other women to follow:

parendomi che gli essempii del suo proprio sesso a ciascuno sian più proportionati, et il seguir l’un l’altro più lecito; mi rivoltava alle donne grandi dell’Italia, per imparare da loro et imitarle: et benchè ne vedessi molte vertuose, non però giudicava che giustamente l’altre tutte quasi per norma se la proponesseno, in una sola fuor d’Italia s’intendeva esser congioncte le perfettioni della volontà insieme con quelle d’intelletto.263

For Colonna, Marguerite is the paragon for all women because of her perfect fusion of will and intellect. In the mode of early modern exemplarity, Colonna follows this trend and simultaneously challenges it with the emphatic statement concerning the appropriateness of women following after examples of their own sex. Looking at Colonna’s statement, it is noteworthy that Marguerite’s influence spread so profoundly beyond France’s borders, in spite of her known support for the évangéliques in France.264

Colonna’s subservience to and laud for Marguerite continues in a second letter (1540) written to the queen of Navarre in which the author places herself in the position of humble servant. Colonna writes, “Ma sopra tutte queste cose è da riverire la religione, come suprema perfettione dell’anima nostra; et maggiormente in qui gran specchi, ove i popoli possono godere

263 186; “since the examples of those of the same sex seem more appropriate and need to be followed, I turned to the distinguished women of Italy in order to learn from them and to imitate them. Although amongst their ranks I found many virtuous women, nevertheless I did not judge it appropriate for all other women to choose any of them as a model. In only one woman outside Italy were all the perfections both of will and intellect combined” (111). 264 Jules Bonnet explores Colonna’s visit to the Court at Ferrara in 1537, a moment that further unites Marguerite de Navarre’s cousin, Renée de France, with Colonna: “l’une plus portée, dans ses mystiques ravissements, à attendre la réforme de l’Église de l’action invisible et de la vertu toujours présente de son divin fondateur; l’autre, plus attentive aux voies humaines et à l’effort de tout coeur droit et sincère pour rétablir le culte en esprit, non sans gémir, par une intime expérience trop souvent renouvelée, sur les faiblesses et les inconséquences qui viennent trop souvent démentir un si noble dessein!” (“Vittoria Colonna à la Cour de Ferrare [1537-1538],” Bulletin Historique Et Littéraire [Société De L'Histoire Du Protestantisme Français] 30, no. 5 (1881): 211). 105 della utilità dell’esempio.”265 After Colonna acknowledges Marguerite’s noble rank and high intellect, she asserts that it is their shared religion that must be the main motivation behind their roles as exemplars. Unfortunately, Collett’s translation omits the use of the mirror imagery

(“gran specchi”), which links Colonna’s understanding of Marguerite on a literary level, as

Marguerite’s Miroir de l’âme pécheresse (1531) functions not only as a mirror for Marguerite’s own soul, but as a mirror to follow for all society (and all women), and which ultimately points to the Bible as the supreme speculum.

We are fortunate to have two lengthy responses by Marguerite de Navarre to Vittoria

Colonna. In terms of spiritual intimacy, Marguerite’s term of familial endearment towards

Colonna, “mia Cugina,” and later on, “bona sorella” persists throughout her two letters, which highlights a sense of belonging to the other – a result of giving and receiving one another through writing. In the 1540 letter, this tone of intimacy is strengthened as Marguerite reflects on

Colonna’s kind words written towards her, but denies any such praise, as does Colonna with her constant self-abasement. Marguerite acknowledges the distance between the two women and expresses her desire to meet Colonna in person:

se non per la speranza, che ho, che mediante le vostre buone preghiere elle mi saranno uno sprone per uscire del luoco, ove io sono, et cominciar a correre appresso di voi; perciò che avenga che voi siate così avanti che riguardando lo spacio, ch’è tra voi et me, io perda la speranza delle mie fatiche.266

265 201; “But above all these things religion is to be reverenced, since it exists as the supreme perfection of our souls, particularly among those of high rank, through whom the people may benefit from the value of their example” (113). Despite shared position as mirrors for women that Colonna and Marguerite hold, Colonna insists on her state of humility vis-à-vis Marguerite in the same letter: “non ho desiderio d’ingrandirmi […] in me non trovarebbe parte alcuna per servirsene a sì alto fine, se già la mia bassezza et indignità non fosse occasione, favorendomi di scoprir più la sua nobil cortesia” (201; “I have no desire to exalt myself […] You would never find anything in me that would serve such a lofty aim as you pursue, unless my lowly state and lack of virtue were to give me the opportunity to discover even further your noble courtesy” [113]). 266 203; “if it weren’t for the hope I feel through your good prayers which spur me to abandon the place where I am and begin to run toward you; yet in so doing, you remain so far ahead of me that seeing the distance between us, I lose hope in my struggle” (114). 106 Marguerite weaves in hope amidst the reality of despair, which, in this case, seems to be the geographical barrier that separates her from Colonna. Marguerite places herself within the confines of a specific place, her French kingdom, as a prison from which she wants to escape, in order to run towards Colonna (“cominciar a correre appresso di voi”). Marguerite considers

Colonna’s prayers as “uno sprone,” a “spur” or “stimulus,” that moves her out of the space in which she currently resides and into communion with Colonna. Prayer is in and of itself both an active and passive activity: on the one hand, one actively utters the words to God; on the other hand, by going to God, one relinquishes whatever request or concern into God’s hands, to passively receive God’s will in any given situation that arises through meditation. As such, the idea of movement in Colonna’s prayer, reinforced by kinetic language (“uno sprone,” “uscire,”

“cominciar,” “correre”), is indicative of the “viva fede” that enables both women to transgress and transcend terrestrial boundaries, which, in the reality of their circumstances, could only manifest itself in the giving and receiving of one another’s words through epistolary exchange.

Marguerite’s hope is rekindled as she remembers that their letter writing allows both women to be present, in a spiritual sense, for one another, despite their physical separation.

Marguerite remains steadfast in her hope, which comes from the gift of faith: “non voglio io perdere la fè, che dona contro speranza a speranza vittoria, de la quale Dio per vostro buon ufficio havrà la gloria, et a Voi ne donerà il merito.”267 For Marguerite, it is God’s gift of faith that bestows the highest hope - even against all other hopes, a reference to the great faith of

Abraham as celebrated by Paul in Romans 4:18) - which leads to supreme victory (“vittoria”).268

267 203; “I do not want to lose that faith which gives victory to hope against all hope, of which victory, through your good offices, God alone will have the glory and God will give you the merit for it” (114). 268 Romans 4:18: “In hope he believed against hope, that he should become the father of many nations.” Romans 4 is dedicated to the example of Abraham’s faith. 107 This “giving-faith” brings both women into spiritual communion with one another, which transcends the spatial and temporal barriers as Sola Fide unites their souls.

We can read even further into these lines in terms of spiritual intimacy between

Marguerite and Colonna: through hope, Marguerite will receive the gift of victory/Vittoria, both figuratively and literally in the person of Colonna herself. This type of communion with one another recalls the language of Paul in his letter to Christians in Rome: “so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.”269 In this way, there is a spiritual belonging to one another in community, a lively giving and receiving of the other, which becomes the foundation of Marguerite’s and Colonna’s spiritual friendship - a victory in the truest sense as territorial boundaries dissipate, and friendships and community are forged through

God’s unifying gift of faith. Towards the end of the letter, Marguerite expresses an ardent desire to serve Colonna: “io vi prego, mia Cugina, d’impiegarmi, come vostra sorella,” and to regard her as her own sister.270 The closing of this letter anticipates their ability to see one another in the world to come, the afterlife, as it is understood that these women were never able to see one another in person, “desidero et spero vedervi eternalmente.”271

The last letter, written towards the end of 1544, that Marguerite wrote to her spiritual sister was shortly after she had heard of Colonna’s severe illness. Marguerite was immensely saddened and concerned but then overjoyed to know that Colonna was still alive. In fact,

Marguerite likens her sentiment to the biblical account of Jacob’s joy after discovering that his son, Joseph, is still alive:

bastami, poichè ‘l mio figliolo Ioseph vive. Così, cugina mia, havendo io pianto la vostra morte […] ma quando ho poi veduto la lettera vostra, con la quale mi pare sentire la voce

269 Romans 12:5. All biblical references are taken from the Revised Standard Version (RSV). 270 206; “I implore you my Cousin to use me as if I were your own sister” (114). 271 206; “I wish and hope to see you forever in the world to come” (114). 108 et lo spirito vostro raggionare con meco, è forza ch’io dica: bastami, et lodato sia Dio che la mia cugina et buona amica vive.272

This particular moment of the letter is striking not only for its sensorial language, with the repetitious consonance, “sentire la voce et lo spirito vostro,” which evokes Colonna’s corporeal presence, but is also significant in terms of the biblical allusion to the story of Joseph. Marguerite imagines herself in the position of Jacob, Joseph’s father, who is full of joy, knowing that his son has not perished.273 In fact, the entire story of Joseph and his brothers is one of betrayal and wrongdoing that is met by forgiveness and grace, which corresponds to the reformed way of understanding gift-giving relations and reciprocity, as God freely gives salvation (Sola Gratia).

Although Joseph’s brothers sell him into Egyptian slavery, which results in Joseph’s eventual rise to power within Pharaoh’s court, Joseph uses his position of authority to forgive and demonstrate grace towards his brothers as they are in need of grain. Instead of taking advantage of his brothers’ dire situation, as famine had reached Canaan, Joseph abundantly provides for his brothers and his father Jacob, by giving them land, food, and prosperity in the flourishing land of

Egypt. The brothers attempted to bring their own gifts as a means to garner Joseph’s favor, however, Joseph’s response of furnishing his undeserving brothers with provisions foreshadows

God’s ultimate grace in giving his own son, Christ, betrayed by his own, and then given as a ransom to pay for the sins of all humankind. Within this biblical parallel, Marguerite views herself as a maternal figure (like Jacob, Joseph’s father) for Colonna, who weeps with joy over her daughter’s being alive, despite the sickness that she has endured. Moreover, if Colonna is

272 289-290; “This is enough for me to know that my son Joseph lives. So I, my cousin, having mourned your death […] But then, when I received your letter, where I seem to hear your voice and feel your spirit conversing with me, I was obliged to say, ‘This suffices, and praise be to God that my cousin and good friend is alive’” (115). 273 In the Genesis account, the sons of Jacob sell their youngest brother, Joseph, to Potiphar, the captain of Pharaoh’s guard. Joseph is imprisoned; however, Potiphar learns of Joseph’s abilities to interpret dreams and calls him to aid him with his bizarre visions. Joseph slowly rises to power as he gains Potiphar’s trust, eventually rises to a powerful position within Egypt, and organizes a reunion with his brothers (whom he forgives) and father. For the account, see Genesis 37-50. 109 represented as Joseph, then we can, by extension, consider Marguerite’s words as a celebration of the gift of underserved grace, which signals the reformist doctrine of Sola Gratia, that is, salvation by grace alone.

Furthermore, this letter demonstrates an unmistakable desire for ecclesiastical reform:

Marguerite mentions the fallen state of the Church and invites Colonna to act as a spiritual guide, as a mother, specifically, to influence spiritual renewal in Italy alongside the work that

Marguerite is doing in France. Saulnier argues that both women, while they remained Catholic, were at the same time open to and proponents of spiritual reform the Church.274 On account of this shared perception, both women sought refuge in one another’s words and thoughts. In the letter, Marguerite advises Colonna to act as a mother and spiritual guide for a recently appointed cardinal (Monsieur Cardinal d’Armagnac) so that he does not fall into temptation as other church leaders have: “accio che le tentationi, che assaliscono dalla mano destra, noi facciano cadere nel abisso comune degli altri pari suoi.”275 This is a bold allegation on the part of Marguerite, who fears that this newly appointed cardinal will fall into the “abyss” of temptation, which leads to the destruction of the Church (“miserabil ruina della Chiesa”).276

Instead, if ministers of the Church would simply return to the purity of Christianity, hostile reform movements would naturally subside: “le bocche di coloro, che li sprezzano et riprendono, sarebbono chiuse, ma vivendo come vivono, se gli huomini tacciono, le pietre parleranno.”277 Marguerite’s vision for church reform is not a departure from Roman

274 “[E]lles se réfugient dans la piété traditionnelle, restant toutefois très ouvertes à la voix des novateurs prace qu’ils tendent à spiritualiser l’Eglise: Marguerite, de Luther aux Libertins spirituels, comme Vittoria, devant Juan Valdès et ses amis, un Pierre Martyr (Vermigli) ou un Bernardino Ochino” (Saulnier, “Marguerite de Navarre, Vittoria Colonna,” 282). 275 291; “so that the temptations that assail him will not cause him to fall into the abyss into which his other peers have fallen” (115). 276 291; “the wretched ruin of the church” (I have provided my own translation of this particular phrase). 277 291; “the criticism of those who despise and accuse them would be silenced. But since they live as they do, if men keep silent, the stones will cry out” (116). 110 Catholicism; rather, it is a call for thorough renewal and revival. Through their shared aspiration for church renewal, Marguerite and Colonna embody a “mothering role” to the representatives of the church, thus becoming examples of women’s active leadership and female friendship in the church. Moreover, the reference to the rocks crying out is a striking image and is an almost verbatim rendering of Luke 19:40, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out,” which is Christ’s response to the Pharisees who condemn his disciples who celebrate his

“triumphal entry” into Jerusalem. Marguerite subtly alters the words of Christ and directs it to those leaders of the Church who are trying to silence reformers; if the reformers and other men within the Church do not speak out and seek to return to the simplicity of Christ in ecclesiastical affairs, then the rocks will. Indeed, Marguerite and Colonna consider themselves to be such

‘rocks’ announcing the establishment of a purified and vivified community of faith.

As is clear from these selected passages of their correspondence, Marguerite and Colonna share similar visions for ecclesiastical reform. This desire for two learned and powerful women creates a unique form of theological discourse – one which does not clearly fit within Protestant nor Catholic discourses.278 Through this common thread of church reform, Marguerite and

Colonna conduct themselves as spiritually on par with their male counterparts, viewing one another as both capable of voicing concerns and spiritual guidance for the Church, and weighing in on theological matters. They also regarded one another as spiritual sisters, bonded together in true friendship, as is clear in the closing lines of Marguerite’s last letter to Vittoria: “Et con questa confidentia pregarò quel Dio […] che vi sia sempre quello, che già vi è, cioè vita et salute, sanità et consolatione et che mi tenga sempre mai nella vostra bona amicitia. – Vostra bona

278 Brundin alludes to “the potential for the development of a new role for women, the active and assertive participation in changing the nature of Catholic religious worship”(“Vittoria Colonna and the Virgin Mary,” The Modern Language Review 96, no. 1 (2001): 71, doi: 10.2307/3735716). 111 cugina, sorella et amica Margarita.”279 It is with confidence and trust in God that Marguerite closes her letter. Marguerite reminds Colonna that God alone knows what is best and is the sole source of the infinite gifts of wisdom, true life, and salvation; this declaration is intimately tied to her own friendship with Colonna – a relationship characterized of giving oneself to the other, which ultimately mirrors God’s gracious offering of himself to humanity. Through their spiritual epistolary exchange and bonding over ecclesiastical reform, Marguerite and Colonna embody both a reformed notion of the gift, as well as the creation of a female spiritual sisterhood based on a shared vision of ecclesiastical renewal.

Colonna’s Rime spirituali

Colonna’s Rime spirituali is a literary exploration of reformed spirituality as well as an attempt to negotiate the theological chasms that characterized her socio-religious context. Both during her lifetime and posthumously Colonna’s spiritual poetry was circulated in manuscript and print form. In sixteenth-century Italy, even though many literary works appeared in print, there were significant collections of poetry circulating in manuscript form.280 Colonna’s Rime spirituali is a collection that encouraged the practice of contemplative spiritual meditation from handwritten works as a competitive opposition to widely read profane lyric in print. The manuscript tradition of Colonna’s spiritual sonnets, in the late 1530s to the beginning of the

1540s, is of great interest as a selection of her Rime spirituali was purposefully kept separate from her amorous poetry. Antonio Corsaro informs us that these collections of her spiritual sonnets were “jealously safeguarded, and addressed (through carefully selected channels) to

279 292; “With this trust I pray God […] that He may be for you what He already is, namely true life and salvation, spiritual health and consolation; and I pray that you will continue to keep me in your friendship. – Your good cousin, sister, and friend, Marguerite” (116). 280 Brundin sees Colonna’s poetic oeuvre as a striking example of a widespread dispersal of her poetry during her lifetime as well as the co-existence of print and manuscript mediums: “while ownership of a printed poetry book would have been within the means of many more people by the mid-sixteenth century, still there were individuals who chose to copy out poems in manuscript, perhaps after hearing a recitation of verses, or thanks to the loan of a printed copy for a short period” (“Vittoria Colonna in Manuscript,” in A Companion to Vittoria Colonna, 48). 112 exceptional readers, […] those best able to share the doctrinal and intellectual interests of the poet,” such as Marguerite de Navarre and Michelangelo Buonarotti.281 These collections did not reach a broad readership, however, and it is likely that Colonna’s mature “spiritual Petrarchism” was tightly controlled due to its reformist bent towards the end of her life.282

Although I make references to the private collection of Colonna’s sacred poetry for

Michelangelo (ms. Vat. Lat. 1153), I rely most heavily on Vincenzo Valgrisi’s edition of

Colonna’s Rime spirituali, published in 1546 in Venice. The Valgrisi edition is the last collection of her works published in her lifetime and can be considered as Colonna’s “testimony.”283 The collection for Michelangelo and the Valgrisi edition are closely linked, and, it is highly likely that the manuscript prepared for Michelangelo (Vat. Lat. 11539), was used as the source for

Valgrisi’s edition. Tatiana Crivelli admits, “Valgrisi’s source is not known to us, yet there is no doubt about the similarity of his edition to the manuscript dedicated by Colonna to Michelangelo

[…] where the author was directly involved in the production.”284 That Valgrisi’s source was most likely Vat. Lat. 11539 is important because many scholars, such as Claudio Scarpati, have argued that the Michelangelo manuscript is the only collection of spiritual sonnets in which

Colonna oversaw the compilation, choosing the sonnets as well as their order.285

Colonna’s direct involvement in this collection is crucial to her spiritual oeuvre as she voices her religious and reformist explorations in poetic form. The fact that the last edition of

281 Antonio Corsaro, “Manuscript Collections of Spiritual Poetry in Sixteenth-Century Italy,” in Forms of Faith in Sixteenth-Century Italy, eds. Abigail Brundin and Matthew Treherne (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2009), 34. 282 Brundin, “Vittoria Colonna in Manuscript,” 49. 283 Corsaro, “Manuscript Collections,” 42. 284 Tatiana Crivelli, “The Print Tradition of Vittoria Colonna’s Rime,” in A Companion to Vittoria Colonna, eds. Abigail Brundin, Tatiana Crivelli, and Maria Serena Sapegno (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 122. 285 See Claudio Scarpati, “Le Rime Spirituali di Vittoria Colonna nel codice Vaticano donato a Michelangelo,” Aevum 78, no. 3 (2004): 693-717. Scarpati informs us that 93 out of the 103 sonnets in ms. Lat. Vat. 11539 are found in the Valgrisi edition (693): “[ms. Lat. Vat. 11539] è l’unica raccolta di rime spirituali di Vittoria Colonna compilata sotto il controllo dell’autrice […] è testimone di una scelta di componimenti e di un ordinamento rispecchiante il progetto che la poetessa era in grado di formulare all’inizio degli anni quaranta” (“Le Rime Spirituali di Vittoria Colonna nel codice Vaticano donato a Michelangelo,” 693). 113 Colonna’s spiritual poetry was published in this particular venue is also revealing, as Valgrisi’s bottega in Venice was known for hosting reformist meetings. According to Crivelli, Valgrisi’s workshop was known as a “meeting place for discussions on evangelical topics and for those who in 1559 were tried […] for alleged heretical activities.”286 Thus it can be assumed that the readership, dissemination, and production of Colonna’s later spiritual poetry were fueled by reformist motivations. As a female poet whose oeuvre was held in the highest esteem by her contemporaries, Colonna’s last collection of spiritual poetry certainly revealed her participation in reformist circles, which were inevitably linked to the heresy of Luther.

The Gift in Colonna’s Rime spirituali

I read Colonna’s Rime spirituali as a poetic embodiment of the reformed notion of the gift, especially as it pertains to the believing soul’s reception of: 1) the vision of Christ Crucified,

2) faith resulting in one’s justification (Sola Fide), 3) an unmediated personal union with God, and 4) an invitation into a newly formed spiritual community that transcends confessional boundaries and engrafts women into the body of Christ, tied to one another through faith.

Through her poetry, Colonna stages the salvific event whereby the human soul receives God’s divine gift of faith and thus becomes incorporated into the “Body of Christ,” that is, the church.

In this sense, Colonna’s Rime spirituali becomes emblematic of a “Reformed Petrarchism,” a term coined by Brundin.287 Building upon Brundin’s line of thinking, I explore Colonna’s manipulation of the Petrarchan form as a means of celebrating and contemplating the gift through a textual analysis of specific sonnets in the Rime spirituali. The correspondences with figures such as Michelangelo and Ochino will also be helpful touch points in my analysis of

Colonna’s spiritual poetry.

286 Crivelli, “The Print Tradition,” 124. 287 Brundin, Chapter 1, “Reformed Petrarchism,” Vittoria Colonna, pp. 1-13. 114 I consider four sonnets in their entirety from Colonna’s Rime spirituali: “Poi che ‘l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne,” “Spiego per voi Signor indarno l’ale,” “Vorrei che sempre un grido alto e possente,” and “Quando in se stesso il pensier nostro riede.”288 These sonnets perform the soul’s journey to acceptance of the gifts of Christ, faith, and personal or corporate communion with God. Connected with these gifts, the following features of Petrarchan poetry in these sonnets accommodate Colonna’s “theological poetry” predicated on divine gifts: 1) a heightened degree of sensorial language (with a particular emphasis on vision); 2) the poet’s struggle to express and expose the inner contours of the self; and 3) the expression of contrary forces and oppositions (i.e. faith and works) in a confined literary space. These are formal elements of Petrarchism that both enhance and obfuscate the content of Colonna’s reformist inclinations and explorations, especially in light of the gift.

In the sonnet that introduces both Valgrisi’s edition of Colonna’s Rime spirituali and ms.

Vat. Lat. 11539 for Michelangelo, Colonna writes of her desire to be joined with Christ on the cross through the shared act of sacrificial bodily suffering in order to enter into a deeper communion with God. Replete with Eucharistic and mystical language, Colonna’s “Poi che ‘l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne,” announces Colonna’s poetic conversion. In the precarious religious moment expressed in this prefatory sonnet, I consider Colonna’s act of receiving the gift of Christ at the intersection of Christ’s passion, mystical language, reformist thought, and the female voice. In particular, sacrifice becomes a dominant theme in this poem and, when

288 In the specific discussion of these sonnets and others, I will indicate in the footnote or in brackets (when in text), their order in both the Valgrisi edition and ms. Lat. Vat. 11539, when they appear in both. For example, “V.1, L.V.1” will indicate that the sonnet is the first in both collections. For the English translations of sonnets and certain verses provided in the footnotes, I use Cox, Lyric Poetry, and Colonna, Sonnets for Michelangelo: a bilingual edition, ed. and transl. Abigail Brundin (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005). In the case of sonnets for which I could not find an English translation, I have provided my own translation. 115 understood in the Pauline sense of presenting the body as a living sacrifice to God, this act can also be conceived in terms of giving one’s life in response to God’s initial gift of salvation.289

“Poi che ’l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne.” I begin my analysis with “Poi che ’l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne” because it contains programmatic value and signals the tone of spiritual intensity and presence of reformist content, namely, the gift, for the rest of the Rime spirituali.

Poi che ’l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne l’alma di fama accesa, ed ella un angue in sen nudrio, per cui dolente or langue volta al Signor, onde il rimedio venne, i santi chiodi omai sieno mie penne, e puro inchiostro il prezioso sangue, vergata carta il sacro corpo exangue, sì ch’io scriva per me quel ch’Ei sostenne. Chiamar qui non convien Parnaso o Delo, ch’ad altra acqua s’aspira, ad altro monte si poggia, u’ piede uman per sé non sale; quel Sol ch’alluma gli elementi e ’l Cielo prego, ch’aprendo il Suo lucido fonte mi porga umor a la gran sete equale.290

Regarding the structure, the octave of this sonnet presents the situation of Colonna’s soul, past and present, whereas the sestet portrays Colonna’s personal conversion to a new spiritual poetic.

“Poi che ‘l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne” centers mainly upon Christ’s crucifixion and the

Colonna’s desire to imitate Christ through the experience of her own personal pieta that mimics sacred bodily sacrifice, a gift that Colonna yearns to freely return to God.

289 In Romans 12:1, Paul writes, “I appeal to you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” 290 V.1, L.V.1: “After my chaste love had long kept / my soul burning for fame, and nurturing a serpent / in its breast, so that it now lies ailing, / turning now to the Lord, from whom the remedy came, / let my pens now be his holy nails / and my pure ink his precious blood, / let my scriven paper be his bloodless sacred body, / so that I may write for myself what he endured. / I shall not call here on Parnassus or Delos: / it is to a different water that I aspire, and a different mountain / that I climb, where no human foot can ascend by itself. / I pray the Sun who lights the elements and the heavens that, / opening his bright fount, / he proffer me fluid equal to my great thirst” (Cox, Lyric Poetry, 192). 116 The opening three lines present a sort of inward reflection in which Colonna considers her previous motivations in writing poetry, symbolized by the serpent (v. 2), in relation to her present poetic intention. The first verb, “tenere,” of the poem highlights the inclination to literally keep to one’s self, holding on to sinful desires, while disallowing any exterior light to permeate the darkness. Colonna equates her former profane desire to write poetry, in order to obtain worldly fame, with Eve’s desire to obtain equal status with God.291 Yet, due to Colonna’s newfound spirituality, the soul, nurturing the serpent, is rendered powerless, “per cui dolente or langue” (v. 3), as the “alma” turns to the Lord, “onde il rimedio venne” (v. 4), where the word,

“volta,” prefigures the official volta of the sestet to come. The verb “venne” contrasts with

“tenne” as Colonna illustrates God as the source of perpetual giving as a steady healing stream for the weary soul.

In verses five through eight, Colonna uses the act of writing as a means to enter into sacred union with Christ. Colonna summons her pens to be the holy nails that are used to fix

Christ to the cross. This performance of writing becomes synonymous with the act of crucifying

Jesus to the cross, whereby Colonna, as the poet, imitates the actions of the Roman soldiers in the crucifixion of Christ. Colonna, in an overwhelming display of culpability, thus identifies with the ‘murderers’ of Christ - the persecuting mob.292 At the same time, Colonna seeks to join with

Christ in his suffering, thus partaking in the sacrifice of her own body, presenting it as a “living sacrifice” to God.293 Along these lines, we recall that, in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, it is recorded that Jesus tells his disciples to “deny themselves and take up their cross and follow

291 See Genesis 3:1-7 for the full story of the fall of Adam and Eve. 292 For René Girard, mimetic theory plays an important role in the passive witnesses to the death of Jesus, those who participated in the “collective violence of the crucifixion” – as seen in the mob (René Girard, Sacrifice, trans. Matthew Pattillo and David Dawson [Michigan: Michigan State University Press, 2003], 67). The mob, for Girard, “is the black hole of violent mimeticism; where mimeticism is most dense, the mob emerges” (Sacrifice, 68). 293 See Romans 12:1. 117 Him.”294 Similarly, in his letter to the Philippians, Paul desires to know Christ in His sufferings, so that he may share in his death.295 Likewise Colonna shares in this desire to be like Christ

(imitato Christi), yet, it is her pens (“mie penne”) that drive the nails into his body.296 Colonna’s pain is also symbolic of her willing sacrifice wherein she presents her body to God as a response to Christ’s bodily sacrifice, given for her.

In this initial sonnet, the poetess receives a clear vision of the crucifixion, which becomes a central theme to Colonna’s Rime spirituali and is especially apparent in the gift ms. Lat. Vat.

11539 for Michelangelo (appropriate for the artist whose pietà dominate Renaissance art).297 The visual aspect of this prefatory sonnet is significant when we consider the specific Christological drawings that Michelangelo dedicated to Colonna: Il crocifisso (ca. 1545) and the Pietà (ca.

1546). Out of the two, Michelangelo’s Pietà is especially particular as it depicts the Man of

Sorrows (imago pietatis) in a way that diverges from conventional representations, which typically highlighted Mary’s suffering over that of Christ’s death. Instead, for Michelangelo, the image of Christ is preeminent.298 Thus, Christ is the dominating image and theological focus of

Michelangelo’s drawings and sonnets for Colonna, Colonna’s spiritual sonnets, as well as their

294 Matthew 16:24 and Luke 9:23. 295 Philippians 3:10: “That I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death.” 296 The sonorous correlation between “penna” (“pen”) and “pena” (“pain”) is not lost and recalls the “pena-penna” topos used by a notable female contemporary of Colonna, Gaspara Stampa (1523-1544). For example, in Sonnet 8, Stampa writes: “S’amor con novo, insolito focile, / ov’io non potea gir, m’alzò a tal loco, / perché non può non con usato gioco / far la pena e la penna in me simile?” (vv. 5-8); See Gaspara Stampa, Selected Poems, ed. and trans. Laura Anna Stortoni and Mary Prentice Lillie (New York: Italica Press, 1994), 14: “If Love, with such a new unheard-of flint, / Lifted me up where I could never climb, / Why cannot I, in an unusual way, / Make pain and pen be equal in myself?” (15). 297 As Scarpati explains, “le rime spirituali del manoscritto Vaticano si raccolgono intorno a una dominante affermazione cristocentrica […] nella grande dialettica riformatrice dell’Europa del Cinquecento […] la ricerca si manifesta in una accentuazione del cristocentrismo […] l’assolutezza del dono divino della salvezza e il carattere primitivo e totalizzante del sacrificio di Cristo di fronte al quale ogni operazione umana si subordina” (“Le Rime spirituali di Vittoria Colonna,” 714). 298 See D’Elia’s “Drawing Christ’s Blood: Michelangelo, Vittoria Colonna, and the Aesthetics of Reform.” D’Elia notes that Michelangelo’s drawing displays Christ’s body as central and frontal, “with a minimum of overlapping forms or foreshortening to obscure it” (113). 118 epistolary exchange.299 While several scholars have noted the theological implications of

Michelangelo’s drawings as gifts for Colonna, and have made reference to their correspondence, and namely his sonnets,300 we need to shift the focus of the reformed understanding of the gift to its staging in Colonna’s Rime spirituali.

Before we do that, it will first be useful to discuss several instances that highlight the importance of the gift in Michelangelo’s and Colonna’s epistolary exchange. In one of

Michelangelo’s letters to Colonna (1539-40), written in response to Colonna’s inquiring about the completion of Il crocifisso that she had requested, Michelangelo concludes his letter with an interesting citation from Petrarch’s Canzoniere: “Mal fa chi tanta fè si tosto oblia.”301

Michelangelo infuses a familiar Petrarchan verse with the reformist concept of Sola Fide and reminds Colonna to remember her faith in her waiting to receive Il crocifisso. Brundin claims that Michelangelo sees Colonna’s impatience in this letter as a lack of faith as guilty of more

“serious intimations of a lack of faith in God’s love, which cannot be prompted to bestow gifts according to merit.”302 Theological ideas of grace and faith are embedded within this exchange;

Michelangelo hopes to complete this image of Christ’s Crucifixion as a freely given creation to the object of his love (Colonna), as God generously gives his grace upon those whom he loves.

As such, the aesthetics of the exchange of artistic gifts is heightened to a level of divinity, functioning as a mirror of God’s grace towards undeserving souls.

The language of gift giving and receiving is also featured in both Michelangelo’s sonnet,

“Per esser manco almen, Signora, indegnio,” and in the letter, written for Colonna, which

299 See Maria Forcellino, “Vittoria Colonna and Michelangelo: Drawings and Paintings,” in A Companion to Vittoria Colonna, 270-313. 300 In addition to D’Elia, see Charles De Tolnay, “Michelangelo's Pieta Composition for Vittoria Colonna,” Record of the Art Museum, Princeton University 12, no. 2 (1953): 44-62 and Alexander Nagel, “Gifts for Michelangelo and Vittoria Colonna,” (1997). 301 207; “He who so soon forgets such faith does much wrong” (I have borrowed Brundin’s translation. See Vittoria Colonna, 73). 302 Vittoria Colonna, 73. 119 appears directly under the poem. The sonnet speaks of grace as unmerited and given, “La grazia, che da voi divina piove, / Pareggi l’opra mia caduce e frale. / L’ingegnio e l’arte e la memoria cede: / C’un don celeste mai con mille pruove / Pagar può sol del suo chi è mortale.”303

Michelangelo’s mortal depiction of Christ’s death is frail in light of his beloved’s (Colonna, also, a mirror of God in this case) gift of grace. Michelangelo reiterates man’s inability to purchase grace in the letter attached to his sonnet: “Before taking possession, Signora, of the things which

Your Ladyship has several times wished to give me, I wanted […] to execute something for you by my own hand. Then I came to realize that the grace of God cannot be bought.”304

Michelangelo realizes the futile nature of his earthly skill before the weight of divinity, which, in this case, is embodied in the person of Colonna. This type of language exchanged between

Colonna and Michelangelo flows out of the vision of Christ’s death. Likewise, Colonna’s Rime spirituali becomes, in this way, a literary mirror, which not only reflects the poetess’s reception of such a divine vision but also how she freely gives this visual rendering of the Crucifixion, painted through the poetic medium, for all to see and experience.

As we return to Colonna’s Rime spirituali, we find the phrase, “con la croce,” repeated at least twenty-two times, which reinforces this vision of Christ on the Cross as well as Colonna’s desire to share in Christ’s sufferings, as her prefatory sonnet announces. For example, in the opening line of Sonnet 5, Colonna declares: “Con la croce a gran passi ir vorrei dietro, / Al

Signor per angusto erto sentiero,” 305 thus demonstrating her desire to bear her own cross in the participation of Christ’s willing sacrifice and of the violence implied in the crucifixion. The

303 Michelangelo Buonarotti, The Sonnets of Michel Angelo Buonarroti, trans. John Addington Symonds (London: Smith, Elder, 1904), 13: “That largess dropped from thee like dews from heaven / Could e’er be paid by work so frail as mine! / To nothingness my art and talent sink; / He fails who from his mortal stores hath given / A thousandfold to match one gift divine” (14). 304 Michelangelo, The Letters of Michelangelo, 4. At this moment, I am unable to locate the original version of the letter. 305 V.5, L.V. 2; “I long to stride behind my Lord bearing his cross along the steep and narrow path” (Colonna, Sonnets for Michelangelo, 57). 120 graphic nature of the crucifixion is evident throughout the rime in its language imbued with violence, such as the term “piaga” (“wound” or literally, “scourging”) in Sonnet 6: “Vengano a mille in me calde quadrella / Da l’aspre piaghe; ond’io con vero effetto / Prenda vita immortal dal suo morire” (vv. 12-14)306; and the repetition of the word “sangue,” found in several sonnets in Colonna’s descriptions of Christ’s body. The harsh nature of the pain Christ endured is reinforced by the consonance of the letters ‘p,’ ‘sc,’ ‘gh,’ and ‘f’- the mimetic qualities of these lines render Christ’s suffering all the more bitter.

Typifying this sort of visual language pertaining to Christ’s death, Sonnet 78 stages the violence of Christ’s crucifixion in the opening lines: “Veggio in croce il Signor nudo & disteso /

Coi piedi & man chiodate.”307 Colonna emphasizes this revelation, given from God, from the onset of the poem, which orients the gaze of the reader inward to an imagined reprise of the

Crucifixion. The adjective, “chiodato” (“nailed”), describes the nails that were driven into

Christ’s hands and feet, which recall the “pens” of Colonna in the prefatory sonnet, “Poi che ’l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne”: “I santi chiodi omai sieno mie penne” (v. 5). In Cox’s translation of the introductory sonnet, the English loses the syntactical ordering: “let my pens now be his holy nails”; whereas Brundin’s translation leads out with the “santi chiodi” and ends with “mie penne,” thus rendering the violence of the crucifix preeminent: “let the holy nails from now on be my quills.”308 The grammatical structure of “santi chiodi” is also intriguing, as the adjective precedes the noun, which strengthens the paradox of divine suffering, as embodied in the Crucifixion.

306 V.6; “Hot marks from the harsh wounds came / to me by the thousands, so that I with true effect / gain immortal life through his death” (see D’Elia’s translation, “Drawing Christ’s Blood,” 96). 307 V.78, L.V. 77; “I see my Lord naked and hung upon the cross” (Sonnets for Michelangelo, 117). 308 Cox, Lyric Poetry, 192; Brundin, Sonnets for Michelangelo, 57. 121 As we return to the prefatory sonnet, “Poi che ’l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne,” another image of sacred union to Christ emerges in the form of the Eucharist (Communion). The pure ink of Colonna’s pen is transformed into Christ’s blood and her paper, “vergata carta,” becomes His body (vv. 6-7).309 The body and blood of Christ evoke the imagery of Communion - that is, the communal ritual of Christ’s sacrifice in which believers drink the blood (wine) and eat the body (bread) of Christ as an act of remembrance in following after Christ’s Last Supper with his disciples before his crucifixion.310 Colonna establishes a parallel between the parchment, usually made out of goatskin or sheepskin, and the body of Christ, who was sacrificed as the

‘innocent lamb’ in order to redeem humanity.311 Christ’s innocence is reinforced throughout the corpus of the Rime spirituali, as one sees in Sonnet 47, which describes Christ’s innocent blood:

“sangue innocente pur convien che lave” (v. 7).312 Christ’s sacrifice is the ultimate gift, given to humanity; and Colonna’s response is to imitate Christ in the giving back of herself, through her poetry, to God in this moment of ecstatic union. Colonna’s spilling of her own blood, i.e. the ink on the page, unites her with Christ’s death through a poetic crucifixion as she endures the violence (“penna”) of her sacrificial offering.

The imagery of the Eucharist also points us to the repetition of the term “cibo” [food], throughout the corpus of Colonna’s work.313 Colonna’s language mimes the physical act of ingesting and incorporating, quite literally, into the self, the body of Christ. The opening of

309 In her edition, Cox notes the word “vergata” as meaning both “lined” (as in paper) and “beaten” (192. 310 This is the sacrament in which the entire body of Christians partake of the body (bread) and blood (wine) of Christ together in memory of the Last Supper - the night before Christ’s crucifixion. I emphasize the corporate nature of Communion to complement the reformist stress on one’s individual relationship with God; while this was crucial for reform-minded individuals, we see, in Colonna, a continued insistence on corporate sacraments, namely, the Eucharist. 311 See John 1:29 where John the Bapstist greets Christ with the title, “lamb of God”; cf. Hebrews 9-10 where the author gives a detailed explanation of the sacrifice of Christ. 312 “innocent blood, fitting for one who cleanses” (my translation). 313 The word, “cibo” appears at least seven times throughout Colonna’s Rime spirituali. Moreover, one finds other words related to the act of eating, such as “frutta” and “alimentare,” throughout the corpus of the rime. 122 Sonnet 18 reinforces the Eucharistic absorption of the body into the divine: “Cibo; del cui meraviglioso effetto / L’alma con l’occhio interno chiaro vede / L’alta prima cagion, & prende fede / Che sei Dio vero, & mio verace obietto / Niutrita del tuo ardor con humil petto.”314 The inner eye of the soul is able to see and behold this miraculous effect of incorporating Christ into itself. Colonna’s soul is nourished through the divine food of the body of Christ, which she ingests and receives, as a gift, into herself, which then enables her to believe, through faith, that

Christ is truly God.

Returning to the collection’s opening sonnet (see above), Colonna’s emphasis on writing for herself, that which Christ endured stresses interiority and a personal relationship with Christ

(“sì ch’io scriva per me quel ch’Ei sostenne”). This direct and personal access to God underscores both Colonna’s involvement in reformist circles as well as her Petrarchism, which stresses interiority and inner duality and conflict, such as between body and soul. Colonna desires to know and experience Christ’s pain and persecution for herself, rather than through the mediation of a priest, or any other earthly authority. At the same time, however, Brundin suggests that there is an awareness that her words will be read by others as Colonna had originally written of her desire to “write down for others,” all that Christ had endured (“Sì ch’io scriva ad altrui quell ch’ei stostenne”) in the gift ms. Lat. Vat. 11539 for Michelangelo; whereas print versions read “per me.”315 Brundin argues that in the scribal context, limited to those recipients who share her spiritual convictions, Colonna “acknowledges the act of publication in the poem. Her desire to be heard, in this case in order to share an evangelical message of spiritual

314 V.18, L.V.11; “Holy sustenance, of whose marvelous effects / the soul with its inner eye perceives / the lofty divine cause and renews its faith / that you are the true God and our soul’s one object: / nurtured by your fire, clothed with humility” (Sonnets for Michelangelo, 65). 315 Sonnets for Michelangelo, 56: “so that I may write down for others all that he suffered” (Sonnets for Michelangelo, 57); Brundin, “Vittoria Colonna in Manuscript,” 56. 123 union with Christ, clearly outweighs any qualms about the propriety of publication.”316 This insight demonstrates how Colonna promotes a universal and collective understanding of the inner dynamic she seeks to convey. Colonna seeks to give an important message to those who may read her poetry: the gift of Christ’s death is crucial and it is through Christ alone that one is saved.

As we approach the end of the opening sonnet, the volta (v. 9) opens the sestet as it signals Colonna’s own conversion from secular poetry to sacred poetry, in her aspiring to “a different water” as well as to “a different mountain.” Assonance and alliteration reinforce this sense of striving towards a celestial objective: “ch’ad altra acqua s’aspira, ad altro monte” (v.

10). This aspiration culminates in the last line of the first tercet, infused with the reformist doctrine of Sola Fide; for the mountain that Colonna yearns to climb is one “u’ piede uman per sé non sale.” Due to the depraved nature of humanity, one is not able to ascend to God through good works; instead, since humans cannot ascend on their own strength, it is implied that one receives true spiritual transcendence (salvation), through the work of grace, which comes as a gift of faith from God. Elsewhere in the Rime spirituali Colonna expresses the belief that human efforts to achieve salvation are in vain, as in Sonnet 33: “E sì cieco guadagno e van lavoro /

Esser più caro a quei che son più esperti” (vv. 5-6).317 Human attempts to achieve greatness are markers of prestige and value for “learned men” whereas God welcomes those who are lowly in spirit and run to him, and who both receive and adore Christ.

Finally, in the last tercet of the prefatory sonnet, Colonna announces her decision to write spiritual poetry, a declaration that mirrors her spiritual conversion. The progression in the sestet from the earthly to the celestial is demonstrated in the rhyme scheme (CDE CDE), where “Delo”

316 Brundin, “Vittoria Colonna in Manuscript,” 56. 317 V.33, L.V.92: “We would see that such blind wealth and vain toil / are more beloved of learned men” (Sonnets for Michelangelo, 129). 124 is contrasted with “cielo,” and the “altro monte” corresponds to the “lucido fonte” of God. Of equal importance is the imagery of water in the last tercet that evokes the biblical image of Christ as the “living water” as only Christ can satiate the poet’s aspiration “ad altra acqua” in line ten.

In Scripture, John 4 is one of the most known references to Christ as the “Living Water” as it recounts Jesus’ encounter with the woman of Samaria at the well where he tells her:

Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.318

Her last tercet, accordingly, displays Colonna’s belief that only God can satisfy her “gran sete.”

Rather than attempting to achieve salvation through her own power, Colonna steadily points to the initiative and saving power of God, which he freely offers. The verb “porgere” (to “proffer” or “give”) in the last line illuminates the notion of the gift, as only God can satisfy Colonna’s great thirst, an act that is given to the poetess, and that contrasts with the opening verb of the poem, “tenere,” which describes the human soul’s tendency to recede into one’s self. The soul apart from God is inclined to keep to one’s darkened and thirsty self, whereas God literally extends and gives himself to meet humanity’s deepest desires.

“Poi che ‘l mio casto gran amor tempo tenne” is a crucial sonnet for Colonna’s spiritual corpus as it embodies the gift of salvation in Colonna’s spiritual and poetic conversion. The fusion of mystical language, Petrarchism, and reformed thought, as set forth by the opening sonnet, announces the rest of the Rime Spirituali as Colonna seeks to give herself over, in willing sacrifice, to God, in light of his gift of satiating water, which flows from the blood of Christ’s

Crucifixion. Within this poem we find the gift of Christ himself and of faith, the union of

318 John 4:13-14. 125 Colonna with the divine on both an intimately personal level as well as a more general incorporation into the body of Christ, the Church, as is expressed in the image of the Eucharist.

“Spiego ver voi, Signor, indarno l’ale.” In Sonnet 10, “Spiego ver voi, Signor, indarno l’ale,” Colonna’s use of the terrestrial elements, wind and fire, imitates the divine movement that gives life and enables the poetess to reach transcendence. This sonnet reinforces Colonna’s desire to transcend with aerial imagery, which is contrasted with a stark inability, on her part, to ascend without the breath of God. Instead, God’s gift of Christ and living faith allow the poetess to soar.

Spiego ver voi, Signor, indarno l’ale Prima chel vostro caldo interno vento M’apre l’aria d’intorno, qualhor sento Vincer da novo ardir l’antico male, Che giunga a l’infinito opra mortale Vostro dono è: pero che in un momento La puo far degna; ch’io da me pavento Di cader col pensier, quand’ei piu sale. Bramo quel raggio, di che ’l ciel s’alluma, Che scaccia dense nebbie, & quella accesa Secreta fiamma ch’ogni giel consuma: Perche poi lieve al caldo & a la bruma Tutta al divino honor l’anima intesa Si mova al volo altero in altra piuma.319

In terms of structure, the octave both announces the poetess’s desire for spiritual transcendence and declares that only God can make such a spiritual ascent possible. The first word of the sonnet, “spiego,” taken from the verb, “spiegare,” may better be translated as “to unfold” or

319 V.10, L.V.19: “Lord, I try in vain to open my wings toward you / until your burning inner wind/ clears the air around me / so that I feel the old evil conquered by a new daring. / That a mortal being can attain the infinite / is your gift, for in an instant,* / you can make us worthy of it; by myself, I fear to / plummet when my thought aspires too high. / I yearn for that ray that illumines heaven / and clears the densest mist, and for that burning / secret flame that consumes all ice, / so that, careless of heat and cold,* / and fixed wholly on divine honor, this soul* / may soar up lightly on its noble flight on new wings” [While I rely on Cox, Lyric Poetry, 193, for this translation, I have altered syntax to reflect the original version, indicated by an asterisk*]. The first line in Lat. Vat. 11539 differs slightly: “Spiego vèr voi mia luce indarno l’ale,” placing a greater emphasis on the light of God. Also, I have left “Perche” unaccented to reflect its appearance in the Valgrisi edition. 126 “spread out.” From the onset of the poem, we encounter the image of a bird unfurling its wings sets out to fly upon the breath of God as the wind that allows this creature to soar, even conquer

(“vincer”) the ancient evils that plague the earth. In the second quatrain of the octave, Colonna insists on God’s gift (“Vostro dono”) as the primal source of this power to transcend terrestrial matters whereas, with her own mental aspirations, she is likely to fall. The sestet, charged with pneumatic and climatic language that evokes Petrarchan sonnets, continues to illustrate this yearning for ascent, but paints a more vivid picture of God’s all-consuming light and fire, which enable the soul to soar.

A closer analysis reveals the centrality of the gift and the necessity, on the part of the poetess and her readers, to receive God’s vibrant invitation to transcend the earth and unite with

Christ. Colonna’s first word, “spiego,” stages the unfolding, or spreading one’s arms (or, wings, if we keep with the avian imagery), an act that can also be understood as opening up the self to embrace and receive God, whose internal wind opens the air around the poetess, so that she can take flight. The second and third lines are lyrically rich, as Colonna contrasts God’s “caldo interno vento” that creates an opening in the air, “l’aria d’intorno,” for the soul of the poet to ascend. The assonance in the third line, “m’apra l’aria,” mirrors this panting for God’s purifying winds to blaze through and ignite Colonna’s spiritual transcendence and victory over evil

(“Vincer da novo ardir l’antico male”). This openness of the mouth to utter these words also imitates the act of receiving, as we conceive of breathing, namely inhaling, as an act of reception of God’s gift.

Moreover, the combination of “caldo” and “vento” (v. 2), and later, “quella accesa /

Secreta fiamma” (v.10-11), conjures up the image of a fire that spreads and consumes everything in its path, but also fuels the life and provides inspiration to Colonna’s spiritual poetics. Fire

127 imagery not only evokes visual and tactile senses, but is also laden with both biblical and reformist influence. In the Old Testament book of Exodus, for example, God reveals himself to

Moses as a burning bush who speaks, commanding Moses to lead the Israelites out of Egyptian captivity (Exodus 3:1-22); while in the New Testament, the author of Hebrews refers to God as a

“consuming fire,” an image that is often meant to illustrate God as a divine being that will not share glory with any other, and who envelops every aspect of one’s being.320 Additionally, the spirituali in Italy, who followed Valdésian theology as enunciated in the Beneficio di Cristo, were well acquainted with the idea of holy fire. In the fourth chapter, Benedetto da Mantova explains how Christ takes on the wrath of God for “i peccati” when he goes to “inferno,” and that, in response, those who have been given faith to believe must imitate Christ in this manner: putting sin to death in the flames of one’s cross.321 Fire, in this vein, represents a purgation and annihilation of sin.

The image of fire is also present in Petrarch’s poetry, and is used for many purposes.

Petrarch often employs the image of the flame to describe his burning desire for his beloved

Laura. This “fuoco divino” consumed Petrarch, but also fueled his poetry as we see in Sonnet

203: “Quest’arder mio di che vi cal sì poco / e i vostri onori in mie rime diffuse / ne porian infiammar fors’ ancor mille, / ch’ i’ veggio nel penser, dolce mio foco, / fredda una lingua et duo belli occhi chiusi / rimaner dopo noi pien di faville.”322 While others can see Petrarch’s burning ardor for Laura, made possible through his “rime diffuse,” the poet is frustrated by Laura’s

320 See Hebrews 12:29. 321 “Cristo dice adunque: La dote dell’anima, sposa mia cara, cioè i suoi peccati, le transgressioni della Legge, l’ira di Dio contro di lei […] lo carcere dell’inferno e tutti gli altri suoi mali sono Devenuti in poter mio e sono in mia propria facultà […] perciò voglio gettarla nel fuoco della mia croce e annichilarla” (Benedetto da Mantova, Il Beneficio di Cristo, 27). 322 Sonnet 203. Petrarca, Petrarch’s Lyric Poems: The Rime sparse and Other Lyrics [“This ardor of mine, which matters so little to you / and your praises in my well-known rhymes, / could perhaps yet inflame thousands; / for in my thought I see, O my sweet fire, / a tongue cold in death and two lovely eyes closed, / which after us will remain full of embers”]: 348-9. 128 blindness to his passion for her; Laura, his “dolce foco,” remains his constant muse and inspiration for his divine poetry. Colonna appropriates this Petrarchan image and replaces Laura with a zealous fervor for God. For Brundin, this divine fire allies Colonna with her “spiritual brotherhood” as well as “with a great tradition of writers, including Petrarch and Cicero, who claimed that poetry was born of a divinely conferred inspiration and could not be achieved through mere toil and application.”323 Receiving the gift of poetic inspiration parallels Colonna’s view of salvation, which takes its cue from Valdésian theology: that salvation is a gift from God, bestowed upon the recipient rather than as a product of human achievement. Colonna inflects

Sonnet 10 with the image of fire, charged with biblical, reformist, and Petrarchan symbolism.

God’s incendiary wind not only clears the air, extinguishing the “antico male” that plagues the earth to its core, but also transforms mere mortal work (“opra mortale”) into infinite and eternal substance (v. 5). It is in the second quatrain where we find, close to the middle of the poem, the emphatic expression, “Vostro dono è” (v. 6), which can be understood as the central lens through which we understand the movement of transcendence as a gift from God, not only in Sonnet 10, but throughout the entire Rime spirituali. According to Cox, this sonnet is an example of poetic theology in which Colonna “speaks in theological terms of how such mystical experiences are possible: they rely on divine grace, which alone can conquer the stain of original sin […] and empower a mortal being to ascend to the divine.”324 Grace is the dominant metaphor for Cox, who also considers this sonnet as demonstrative of the reformist negation of human works to achieve salvation. In my analysis, however, the gift, which encompasses grace, faith,

Christ, and communion with the divine through spiritual ascent, is a better way to conceive the

323 Brundin, Vittoria Colonna, 98. 324 Cox, Lyric Poetry, 193. 129 foundational attribute of this sonnet - a reformed vision of God as one who generates life, grants forgiveness, and as one who is the supreme donor, giving life to every facet of the created order.

Incidentally, in Sonnet 10, God’s gift of faith, grace, Christ, and intimate communion makes one worthy (“degna”) of spiritual transcendence (v. 7). If it were left to the mind of the poetess alone to attempt ascent, fear and dread of imminent descent invade: “ch’io da me pavento / Di cader col pensier, quand’ei piu sale” (vv. 7-8). Whereas God’s gift of “fede viva” - the flame that truly ignites the soul of the poet - allows for transcendence, the mind of poetess, without receiving this gracious gift, can only plummet, even when its thinking aspires to lofty ambitions. Although the mind yearns for its thoughts to ascend (“sale”), the fallen nature of the soul without God determines its inevitable fall and demise (“cader”), an idea that is conveyed in the syntactical structure of line 8, which opens with “di cader.” The fallen nature of humanity apart from God is a given – an assumption – as Colonna contrasts vertical movement of ascent/descent to highlight this split trajectory, juxtaposing the direction of the soul upon the reception of God versus rejection God.

Both the octave and the sestet reveal the inner desire for spiritual transcendence, followed by a poetic rendering of the theological implications of receiving God’s breath into the self, allowing the soul to soar. The sestet begins with a strong sense of yearning for God’s divine illumination and purification: “che ’l ciel s’alluma, / che scaccia dense nebbie” (vv. 9-10).

Colonna’s use of Petrarchan images of fire and light bolster her divine vision in which God’s light shines through and dissipates the obscurity, which further magnifies his omnipotence vis-à- vis human conception and ability. Furthermore, the “accesa / secreta fiamma,” adds to the climatic ending of the sonnet (vv.10-11); the effect of the enjambment parallels the inner aspiration of the poetess as it breaks off, as if in a moment of erotic ecstasy, to nurture this

130 intense desire. These lines recall the Petrarchan opposition of fire and ice as this holy flame consumes and absorbs all ice: “ch’ogni giel consuma” (v. 11). In Sonnet 202 from the Rime sparse, Petrarch describes a living ice that forms from the flame: “D’un bel chiaro polito et vivo ghiaccio / move la fiamma che m’incende et strugge.”325 Fire and ice produce a similar, but contradictory effects on Petrarch: they both kindle and melt him, in an all-consuming manner. In terms of soteriology, these lines also demonstrate God’s power to melt hardened and frozen hearts, recalling God’s Old Testament promise in Ezekiel: “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will take out of your flesh the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”326 In other words, only God’s purifying and vivifying fire can melt the heart of stone, frozen over with the “antico male” that has plagued humanity since the fall of Adam and

Eve. Colonna thus transcends Petrarch, for whom ice/fire remain the source of a perpetual inner conflict: for Colonna, God’s divine force alone, which exists outside of the self, can penetrate the soul.

The ending of the sonnet culminates in Colonna’s recognition that true spiritual ascent only occurs when a force other than her, existing outside of her, enables her to take flight.

Although her soul is fixated on “divino honor,” it will remain in spiritual paralysis until it embraces God’s “caldo interno vento.” This flaming wind is other; it is the divine Other that instigates true spiritual movement: “Si mova al volo altero in altra piuma” (v. 14). Colonna stresses this godly alterity through the repetition of “altero” and “altra” that takes the burden off of her own abilities and places it on God. It is clear that God exists outside of the human soul and only enters in when one receives his gift of “fede viva,” which, as conceived by the spirituali and

325 Sonnet 202. Petrarca, Petrarch’s Lyric Poems: The Rime sparse and Other Lyrics [“From beautiful, clear, shining, living ice / comes the flame that kindles and melts me,”]: 348-9. This is one of many sonnets that demonstrates this fire/ice antithesis. For other examples, see sonnets 122, 134, 182, and 220, to name a few. 326 Ezekiel 36:26. 131 in the Beneficio di Christo, was a consuming and vivifying energy that possessed salvific power.

Benedetto da Mantova explains, in the fourth chapter of the Beneficio di Cristo, that faith is given by God to his chosen people: “la [vera fede inspirata] qual Dio dona alli suoi eletti per giustificarli e glorificarli.”327 God freely gives (“dona”) this gift of faith to generate life and movement in his chosen people. Accordingly, Sonnet 10 expresses Colonna’s desire to receive the gift that instigates transcendence and provides true faith; this recognition of God’s enabling salvific power could be best summarized with the phrase, “Vostro dono è” (v. 6), which elevates the gift.

“Vorrei che sempre un grido alto e possente.” Sonnet 29, “Vorrei che sempre un grido alto e possente,” should also retain our attention because it reinforces the Christocentric nature of

Colonna’s spiritual oeuvre, the constant blend of an individual relationship with God with a more bodily communion, as well as the importance of justification by faith alone (Sola Fide), given to certain souls, chosen by God, who have done nothing to earn such faith. God’s election and justification by faith alone both underscore the profound nature of God’s gift of salvation, embodied in Christ, to underserving recipients.

Vorrei che sempre un grido alto e possente Risonasse Giesu dentro ‘l mio core; E l’opre & le parole ancho di fore Mostrasser fede viva e speme ardente. L’anima eletta, che i bei segni sente In se medesma del celeste ardore Giesù vede, ode, e ‘ntende; il cui valore Alluma, infiamma, purga, apre la mente. Et dal chiamarlo assai fermo ed ornato Habito acquista tal, che la natura Per vero cibo suoi mai sempre il brama; Onde a l’ultima guerra a noi si dura, De l’hoste antico sol di fede armato

327 Benedetto da Mantova, Il Beneficio di Cristo, Capitolo IV: 45; “the true inspired faith which God giveth to his chosen, to justify and glorify them” [Benedetto da Mantova, The Benefit of Christ’s death, 63]. 132 Gia per lungo uso il cor da se lo chiama.328

Structurally, the octave of the sonnet articulates the poet’s ardent desire for a living faith, which relies on Christ’s having instigated and illuminated such a divine passion in the human soul. The tone of the entire poem is one of desperation, and this sonnet can be understood as a performance that stages the act of crying out to God. In a similar vein, it functions like a prayer, especially in the opening four lines. The latter part of the octave, however, reveals a distanced Colonna, as seen in the shift from the first person, “vorrei” (v. 1), to the third person with “l’anima eletta, che i bei segni sente” (v. 5), conveying a more instructive tone, as the “elected” soul can only be enlightened by Christ. The sestet continues in this vein, with Colonna explaining the situation of her soul, and other souls, as one that must habitually cry out to the Lord. In the last tercet,

Colonna includes her readers, “a noi si dura” (v. 12), in describing the spiritual battles in which

Christians are engaged and who are also armed with pure faith, “di fede armato” (v. 13).

Looking at this poem more closely, we find a microcosm of the four gifts that are present throughout Colonna’s Rime spirituali: Christ himself, an intimate and unmediated access to God, the gift of faith, and the belonging to a renewed spiritual community. The formal structure of the

Petrarchan sonnet enhances Colonna’s spiritual content, particularly with the prominent image of fire, sensorial verbs, as well as the combination of an intensely individual expression with a commitment to render the experience of the spiritual exploration more palatable to the poet’s readers. By extension then, this sonnet becomes a vivid portrayal of a community of believers, filled with the flames of “fede viva.”

328 V.29, L.V.34: “I long for a high and strident call, / Lord Jesus, which would ring out eternally within my heart, / and that my deeds and words might shine forth, / revealing my living faith and burning hope. / The elected soul, who feels the wondrous heat / of the celestial fire within, / sees, hears, and understands Jesus, whose virtue / lights up, inflames, purges, and opens the mind, / and by calling out to him it acquires such a rich and pure habit, that the spirit / burns ever more for holy sustenance; / thus in that final battle with the ancient enemy, / so difficult for us, armed with pure faith alone, / the heart through long practice calls out unaided to Christ” (Sonnets for Michelangelo, 83). Also, I have left “Giesu” and “Gia” unaccented to reflect their appearance in the Valgrisi edition. 133 To begin, we observe a firm Christocentric identification on behalf of Colonna. This sonnet is one of the few poems in which Colonna refers to Christ as Jesus (Giesù) which is repeated twice within the octave.329 Indeed, it is in this sonnet where this more affectionate title appears for the first time in the Valgrisi edition of the Rime spirituali, denoting a more intimate encounter with the incarnate God, as “Jesus” was the human name given to the “Christ,” the honorific title referring to the “Anointed One.” Jesus is incorporated into the corpus of the sonnet, and into the body of the poetess in a literal sense, “dentro ‘l mio core,” thus repeating the performance of the Eucharist in which one receives and ingests ‘Giesu’ into one’s own flesh, which also stresses an unmediated personal relationship with Christ. Moreover, the vocal qualities of the first quatrain, with verbs such as “grido” and “risonasse,” imitate Colonna’s expressed desire to absorb Christ into her soul. Colonna portrays a desire of ecstatic union with the divine as she emphasizes her body’s sensorial yearning to receive another, inside of her heart, into her bosom, where we can hear the resonating sound of her desperate cry.

In the second quatrain, the first words, “L’anima eletta,” convey the reformed notion of the gift in the theological context of election, which reinforces the initiative of God in saving those whom he chooses (or predestines) and completely effaces any possibility of human effort to contribute to salvation. In the New Testament, Paul refers to God’s elect in numerous instances, such as in 2 Thessalonians 2:13: “But we are bound to give thanks to God always for you, brethren beloved by the Lord, because God chose you from the beginning to be saved, through sanctification by the Spirit and belief in the truth.”330 The idea of God’s choosing to save and act on behalf of fallen humanity is evident in Sonnet 29. In the second quatrain, we see that

Colonna’s soul is “eletta,” which speaks to the notion that God has chosen her; and not the

329 Sonnets 45 and 126, which I mention briefly, also incorporate this more intimate appellation, “Giesu,” for Christ. 330 See also Colossians 3:12, 2 Timothy 2:10, Titus 1:1, and 1 Peter 2:9. 134 inverse. In Sonnet 126, Colonna also speaks of the “elected soul,” chosen by God: “Ma l’alma invitta gia sicura eletta / Stava col suo Giesu d’amore accesa.”331 That God elects certain souls takes away any salvific power from humanity and reinforces salvation as a gift. Colonna longs for her outward deeds and words (“l’opre e le parole” [v. 3]) to reflect the inner movements of her heart: “fede viva e speme ardente” (v. 4).332 The phrase, “fede viva,” appears throughout

Colonna’s Rime spirituali and underscores the active component to one’s faith, which only emerges from the passive reception of God’s gift of grace.333

The expression “fede viva” merges the reformist idea of receiving God’s grace with an active response, which manifests itself in one’s living out the effects of the reception of God’s gifts throughout their lives. The spirituali understood and employed this concept in their writings, as well, as we see in the Beneficio di Cristo. Benedetto da Mantova articulates “fede viva” throughout the Beneficio di Cristo but most poignantly in the fourth chapter, as we have already seen, which is essentially an exposition of the theological concept of justification by faith. In fact, Benedetto da Mantova links the idea of “fede viva” with the image of fire, which undergirds Sonnet 29:

Adunque la fede, che giustifica, è come una fiamma di fuoco […] E nondimeno questa fede non può esser senza le buone opere; perché, sì come, vedendo noi una fiamma di fuoco che non luce, conosciamo quella esser dipinta e vana, e così, non vedendo noi in alcuno la luce delle buone opere, è segno che quel tale non ha la vera fede inspirata, la qual Dio dona alli suoi eletti per giustificarli e glorificarli […] Così la vera fede viva è una divinità nell’anima del Cristiano, il qual opera mirabilmente né mai si truova stanco dalle buone opere.334

331 This sonnet does not appear in ms. Lat. Vat. 11539: “But the undefeated soul, already secure and elect / Was inflamed with love for its Jesus” (my translation). Although this sonnet is not in the Valgrisi edition, the opening lines of Sonnet 8 of ms. Lat. Vat. 11539 speak to elected souls: “Anime elette, in cui da l’ampie e chiare / Cristalline del cielo onde secrete / Ristagna ogni or per farvi sempre liete / De la bontà di Dio più largo mare” (“Elected souls, in whom the broad, clear, / secret, crystal waves of heaven fill ever deeper a wide ocean of God’s bounty / to guarantee you eternal joy” [Sonnets for Michelangelo 62-63]). 332 “living faith and ardent hope” (my translation). 333 We also find a parallel with Marguerite de Navarre’s use of “vive foi” in her Miroir de l’âme pécheresse (1531). 334 Benedetto da Mantova, Il Beneficio di Cristo, Capitolo IV: 44-45; “Then is the justifying faith, as it were, a flame of fire, which cannot but cast forth brightness […] Wherefore, like as if we see a flame of fire that giveth no light, 135

The idea of faith alone as justification for humanity’s sin before God is made clear in this passage. However, Benedetto da Mantova makes it clear that faith is not dead but is infused with life through good works. It is a living and true faith, as is reinforced by the repetition of “vera” and “viva” in the expression, “vera fede viva” – an expression whose rhythmic and poetic qualities becomes a lyrical utterance of one’s response to God’s gracious gift. Benedetto da

Mantova makes it clear that it is God who gives this gift to his elect, “Dio dona alli suoi eletti,” in order to justify and glorify them, providing them with true spiritual transcendence and communion with himself.

The expression “vera fede viva” also plays a central role in Michelangelo’s and

Colonna’s correspondence, as is evident in the following passage taken from a letter from

Colonna to Michelangelo: “che io vi trovi al mio ritorno con l’imagin sua sì rinovata et per vera fede viva nel anima vostra, come ben l’avete dipinta nella mia Samaritana.”335 Referring to his drawing of the Samaritan Woman, Colonna employs the expression, “vera fede viva,” to describe her faith in Michelangelo to complete the work that she will one day be able to see with her own eyes.336 Michelangelo’s drawing provides Colonna with a sacred vision of faith and sight, which not only intersect at an aesthetic level, but also at a profoundly theological level. Michelangelo and Colonna use art as a means to represent divine truths, which enables them to more freely discuss more contentious doctrine, such as Sola Fide. This belief in justification by faith alone, though not always explicitly expressed through formal doctrinal statements on the part of the

we know by and by that it is but vain and painted; even so, when we see not some light of good works in a man, it is a token that he hath not the true inspired faith which God giveth to his chosen, to justify and glorify them withal […] In likewise, true faith is, as it were, a Godhead in the soul of a Christian, which doth wondrous works and is never weary of well-doing” [Benedetto da Mantova, The Benefit of Christ’s death, 61-63]. 335 268-269 (letter written 20 July 1542/1543); “that I have found, upon my return, from your image, such renewal and by true living faith in your soul, as you have depicted so well in my Samaritan Woman” (my translation). 336 Unfortunately, this drawing has yet to be identified (Brundin, Vittoria Colonna, 78). 136 spirituali, is inextricably tied to the culture of gift giving amongst members of these reformist circles, who saw faith as a gift of God as they freely gave artistic and literary offerings to one another, to remind each other of the ultimate gift of Christ.

Colonna reiterates the idea of “fede viva” towards the end of the Valgrisi edition of the

Rime spirituali, in Sonnet 163, as she explains how the elect soul who is full of true life will produce “fruit,” in the spiritual sense.337 The fruit, or good works produced, are formed out of a burning and living faith: “Son frutti d’una viva accesa fede.”338 God’s gift produces a true life of faith, which results in good deeds that, in turn, nourish others. Likewise, good works, or

“spiritual fruit,” are a reflection of the light of Christ, which is made clear in the first quatrain of

Sonnet 29, to which I now return. Colonna is emphatic concerning the reformist notion of sola fede: it is Jesus who illuminates, inflames, cleanses, and opens the mind: “Giesu vede, ode, e’ntende; il cui valore / Alluma, infiamma, purge, apre la mente” (vv. 7-8). Syntactically, these lines are complex, because, if one were to read this in abstraction from the two lines that precede it, one would think that Jesus would be the subject due the primal position that his name occupies in the sentence. Yet, when read with “l’anima eletta” (v. 5) as the subject, we observe that the soul sees, hears, and listens to Jesus, whose virtue then reaches into the mind. Christ’s movement within Colonna to purify and rejuvenate her heart, and enliven her senses, emphasizes the initiating gift of God, as opposed to the good works of humans to achieve salvation- a key element of the belief system of the spirituali.339

337 One can find Paul’s teachings on the “Fruit of the Spirit” in Galatians 5. 338 This sonnet is not included in ms. Lat. Vat. 11539: “are the fruit of a living burning faith” (my translation). 339 Within this conception of salvation, I would include both justification and sanctification: the former being understood in terms of the moment of salvation and the latter being the “working out” of one’s salvation through the imitation of Christ. Whereas Protestant theology differentiates these processes, Catholic theology fuses both justification and sanctification in a continuous process. For Colonna, I would tend towards the latter conceptualization, as she never clearly broke with the Roman Catholic Church. 137 In the latter part of this sonnet, Colonna expresses the importance of crying out to God, from a posture of depraved desperation. The sestet opens and closes with the verb “chiamare”:

“E dal chiamarlo assai fermo ed ornato / […] Già per lungo uso il cor da sé lo chiama” (vv. 9 and

14). The repetition of “chiamare” stresses both the vocalic qualities of Colonna’s poetry as well as the desperation of her soul’s plea. The “chiamare” of the sestet also echoes the opening cry

(“grido”) of Colonna’s heart: “Vorrei che sempre un grido alto e possente” (v. 1). As the soul continually cries out, a habit is formed (“abito acquista”), and continually nourished as “vero cibo”. The soul literally ingests and receives the presence of Christ, which recalls the opening sonnet, “Poi che ‘l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne,” as well as the other sonnets, discussed above, marked by alimentary language that parallels the act of receiving the gift through the act of eating.

From the second quatrain until the end of Sonnet 29, Colonna distances herself from the poem in that she is not necessarily performing the act of crying out herself, but rather providing an explanation of the ramifications of such an act for the “elected” soul. As Colonna continues to describe the “anima eletta” in the last tercet, she extrapolates this notion to a collectivity, which brings the poet out of the interior world and into the reformed community of faith: “Onde a l’ultima guerra a noi si dura” (v. 12). By acknowledging the hardships that “we” – that is, the elect - all face, Colonna consolidates her membership in this spiritual community. It is important to note the shift to the first person plural as the poet views herself as part of a spiritual body, and not just as an individualized soul. Colonna references the final battle, which is most likely a reference to the “Day of the Lord,” and contrasts it with the “ancient” enemy (“l’hoste

138 antico”).340As Colonna begins and ends her sonnet with the act of longing and crying out in desperation for God, she provides an insight into the trajectory of the presence of evil itself, and its ultimate demise. Armed with “fede,” however, Colonna assures her readers how to collectively persevere – that is, to continue to call out to God and hope that faith will be given as a way to endure persecution.

Directly after this sonnet, Colonna’s desire to receive the gift of Christ into her soul and body is further magnified in Sonnet 30 as Colonna invokes her own name, “Vittoria,” for the first time in the Valgrisi edition of the Rime spirituali. Colonna opens Sonnet 30 with another vision of the death of Christ and in his giving his own blood: “Vedea l’alto Signor, ch’ardendo langue /

Del nostro amor, tutti i rimedi scarsi / Per noi; s’ei non scendea qui in terra a farsi / Huomo & donarci in croce il proprio sangue.”341 Christ is the subject of the first line, and it is his lowered gaze from the cross that falls upon humanity, mirroring his own descent through the Incarnation, onto “us,” the object of his love. As in Sonnet 29, Colonna identifies with the spiritual body of believers, with the prominence of the first person plural (“nostro,” “per noi,” and “donarci”), and especially those in reformist circles. The verb “donare,” with the attached indirect object pronoun, “ci,” (“donarci”) unites the act of giving with the corporate sense of a newly formed spiritual community. This gift is not only meant to be enjoyed on an individual basis, but is to be displayed through a collective reception and celebration of the body of Christ, suspended on the cross (“nudo e exangue”), through “viva fede,” as highlighted in both Sonnets 29 and 30.

340 The “Day of the Lord,” or “Judgment Day,” is an apocalyptic expression that is used in the Bible to denote tumultuous times in the present, with the invasion of armies (especially in the Old Testament books), as well as the end of the world where God judges the living and the dead (most common in the New Testament). 341 V. 30; L.V. 61: “The Lord on high saw, as he languished / in longing for our love, scant hope of cure / for us unless he descended here to earth and became / man and offered up his own blood upon the cross” (Sonnets for Michelangelo, 105). 139 It is only after a prolonged meditation on the violence of Christ’s death, and the salvific implications of the shedding of his blood for sin, that Colonna then points to the triumph of the cross. Through Christ’s perfect sacrifice, given freely, any believer is now able to receive and imitate the gift of Christ: “Novo triompho, e in novo modo nota / Vittoria; che morendo ei vinse e sciolse.”342 “Vittoria” stands alone, completing the enjambement, whose dramatic effect summons our attention to Colonna’s simultaneous self-reference and the richness of victory that mirrors Christ. Like Christ, Colonna sees her true victory (and her true self) in the humility of the cross, a dying to herself so that she may attain such glory and victory and truly live, which is perhaps the central paradox to the whole of Christianity. In essence, Colonna offers her body as a

“living sacrifice,” mirroring the prefatory sonnet in giving of one’s self as an act of spiritual worship to God. Sonnet 30, especially when read in light of reformist and Pauline thought, is a firmly Christological sonnet that offers a theological exposition of the “beneficio di Cristo,” and one in which Colonna portrays herself as a spiritual authority whose soul has been vivified only through the willing sacrifice of her entire being to God – an inclination only made possible through the gift (“donarci”) of “fede viva.”

“Quando in se stesso il pensier nostro riede.” A final example of a poem that elucidates the new Reformist notion of the gift is Sonnet 41, “Quando in se stesso il pensier nostro riede.” The overarching theme of this sonnet is that of an affective contemplation of

Christ – a common form of devotion and a spiritual practice inherited from medieval

Christianity, which continued throughout the Renaissance. Yet if we look more carefully at the content of this poem, we find that Colonna clearly promotes ideas that can be tied, implicitly and explicitly, to the gifts of Christ, faith, communion with the divine, and a vivified community of

342 “This is a new triumph and a new kind of worthy / victory, that he conquered through death” (Sonnets for Michelangelo, 105). 140 believers. The Christocentric nature of Colonna’s spiritual poetry emphasizes the unique role that the Crucifixion plays in salvation, as Christ’s willingly gave himself as a sacrifice on the part of humanity. One’s belief in Christ’s work and the ensuing reception of his sacrifice results in justification; and, although it begins as an interior phenomenon, it is then transmitted to a broader audience – as is the evangelizing nature of reform movements. This act of universalizing this internal transformation is in itself evidence of “viva fede,” a central concept of Sonnet 41.

Quando in se stesso il pensier nostro riede Et poi sopra di se s’erge la mente; Si che d’altra virtu fatta possente Vivo ne l’aspra croce il Signor vede: Sale a cotanto ardir, che non pur crede Esser suo caro membro, anzi alhor sente Le spine, i chiodi, il fele, & quella ardente Sua fiamma in parte sol per viva fede. Son queste gratie sue non nostre, ond’hanno Per regola & per guida quel di sopra Spirto, che dove piu li piace spira. Et s’alcun si confida in fragil opra Mortal, col primo padre indarno aspira Ad altro ch’a ricever novo inganno.343

In the octave, Colonna emphasizes the act of contemplation that not only lodges itself in the mind, but that also extends itself into the realm of feeling. Meditating upon the “aspra croce” leads one to not only believe, but feel (“sente”) the pain of the Crucifixion. “Viva fede” provides the link between this meditation (via contemplativa) on the Crucifixion and the active spiritual life (via attiva), offered by God as a gift to those who believe, which is also pronounced through the sensorial language that imitates the liveliness of “viva fede.” The sestet, however, offers a

343 V.41 (this sonnet is not included in ms. Lat. Vat. 11539 that Colonna had prepared for Michelangelo): “When our thought returns to itself, / and then the mind rises above itself, / so that, made strong by another power / it sees the Lord alive on the harsh Cross, / it rises to such ardor that it not only believes / itself to be his dear limb, but even feels / the thorns, the nails, the flail and in part / his burning flame, only by means of living faith. / These are his graces, not ours, which have / as a rule and a guide that spirit above, / which inspires where he wills it. / And if someone trusts in fragile mortal / works, he will aspire in vain, with the first father, / for anything other than new deception” (D’Elia, “Drawing Christ’s Blood,” 110).

141 more evident presence of reformist theology in its explicit communication that one must not put confidence in human works (“fragil opra mortal”) when it comes to this kind of spiritual ascension and union with Christ; rather, grace and faith proceed from God, and it is only through the Spirit that man is able to transcend to have intimate communion with Christ.

A closer analysis of Sonnet 41 reveals that Colonna appropriates the Petrarchan form to frame and advance her spiritual message. From the onset of the sonnet, the language of interiority highlights memory and transcendence: “Quando in se stesso il pensier nostro riede / Et poi sopra di se s’erge la mente” (vv. 1-2). Thoughts return to the mind and then ascend to higher planes; this act of remembrance leads to the possibility of transcending the terrestrial and contemplating the celestial. The repetition of the letter “s” creates an incantatory and numinous effect through consonance (“se stesso,” “pensier,” “nostro,” “sopra,” “se s’erge”), which is further linked to the inclusion of two reflexive pronouns, “se,” that reinforce the act of reflection and inner meditation on the part of the poetess and her community of faithful believers. In these first lines we also observe that it is not just Colonna’s “pensier,” but that this meditation belongs also to a collective, as we see with the adjective “nostro,” reflecting a balance between interiority and universality on the part of the poet.

It is clear that in Sonnet 41 the ability to perceive divine truths comes from a powerful force (“d’altra virtu”) that exists outside of the individual soul. Though not clearly stated, it is understood that this omnipotent source of spiritual vision is God, who gives sight to the blind eyes of the heart to fixate on his Son, suspended between life and death, on the Cross: “Vivo ne l’aspra croce il Signor vede” (v. 4). In this sacred vision, Christ is living, although he is dying, on the bitter cross. That Colonna begins the line with the adjectival form of “vivere” (“vivo”) is noteworthy as it emphasizes the last moments of Christ’s life as a “living sacrifice.” This

142 seemingly paradoxical idea of a willing death that yields true life parallels the concept of “viva fede,” as one receives God’s gift of faith in order to experience abundant living. The syntactical position of the object before the verb keeps the action of sight (“vedea”) at the end of the sentence. The object, that is, the living Christ dying on the Cross, of the mind’s sacred vision is at the forefront, occupying the primal part of the line, whereas the actual performance of sight, as a human action, is relegated to the end of the thought.

The gift of seeing Christ Crucified is also crucial in the correspondence and artistic exchange between Colonna and Michelangelo.344 One such instance of Colonna’s reflections upon faith and visual art are found in a letter that she wrote to Michelangelo (ca. 1539-1540):

Li effetti vostri excitano a forza il giuditio di chi li guarda et per vederne più exsperientia parlai de accrescer bontà alle cose perfette. Et ho visto che omnia possibilia sunt credenti. Io ebbi grandissima fede in Dio che vi dessi una gratia soprannaturale a far questo Cristo: poi il viddi si mirabile che superò in tutti i modi ogni mia expettatione.345

Colonna’s appreciation for Michelangelo’s ability to render Christ elevates his artistic talent to the realm of divinity because his works cause those who view them to experience and see goodness and perfection (“accrescer bontà alle cose perfette”). Colonna reiterates her equation of

Michelangelo’s artwork to perfection in the same letter: “in ogni parte in summa perfectione.”346

For Colonna, Michelangelo’s representation of Christ is due to the gift and work of grace in his heart, which strengthens her own faith in God; her continual praise of Michelangelo’s work

344 D’Elia provides a helpful summary of this poem in light of the “aesthetics of reform” shared between Colonna and Michelangelo: “When the mind is raised up to a higher contemplation, it is able to see Christ, suffering alive on the Cross […] This leads to meditation on the suprahistorical meaning of Christ’s sacrifice as the redemption for sin and the Fall, but the mind only rises to this height through feeling Christ’s suffering” (“Drawing Christ’s Blood,” 111). 345 209; “The effects of your works stir up, with great power, the judgment of one who looks upon and by seeing them, experiences and is able to then speak, with ever-growing goodness, of perfect and celestial matters. And I have seen that all is possible for those who believe [citing Christ’s words from Mark 9:23]. I possess the greatest faith in God who has given you a supernatural grace to make this rendering of Christ: I have seen it and it has remarkably exceeded my expectations in every way possible” (my translation). 346 209; “in every part, in highest perfection” (my translation). 143 renders this piece of art as an object, or better yet, as a means of grace through which (her) spiritual vision is illuminated.347

We must call attention to the object of representation in Michelangelo’s works, sonnets, and correspondence with Colonna, as well as in Colonna’s own Rime spirituali, that is - Christ and his death on the cross. Nagel asserts that reform-minded individuals preferred Christocentric works that “directly addressed the movements of the viewer’s conscience, works that inculcated in the viewer the experience of being personally implicated by the immensity of Christ’s sacrifice.”348 Colonna’s faith is bolstered through the visual meditation of Christ’s Crucifixion, which is the subject of Michelangelo’s works for her. In reflecting on the image of Christ in

Michelangelo’s work, Colonna writes in her letter to Michelangelo (ca. 1539-1540):

Ho […] visto il crucifixo, il qual certamente ha crucifixe nella memoria mia quale altri picture viddi mai, né se po’ veder più ben fatta, più viva et più finita imagine et certo io non potrei mai explicar quanto sottilmente et mirabilmente è fatta […] Io l’ho ben visto al lume et col vetro et col specchio, et non viddi mai la più finita cosa.349

The abundance of visual language (“visto,” “picture,” “viddi,” “veder,” “specchio,” etc.) reinforces the connection between visualization and meditation upon Christ. This particular representation of Christ, however, lodges itself in Colonna’s memory and imagination in a way that no other image of Christ has appeared to her. Having gazed upon the drawing through various visual prisms, such as light (“al lume”), glass (“col vetro”), and with a mirror (“col specchio”), Colonna still proclaims that Michelangelo’s simple drawing of Christ Crucified most

347 2 Corinthians 5:7, “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” 348 Nagel, “Gifts for Michelangelo and Vittoria Colonna,” 655. 349 208; “I have […] seen the Crucifix, which certainly evokes other crucifixes from my memory, those other renderings I have seen have never equated to seeing such this well done, most living and completed image [of yours] and I certainly could not ever explain how subtly and marvelously it has been done […] I have looked at it in the light and through the glass and mirror, and I have never seen such a completed and wondrous thing” (my translation).

144 perfectly portrays the full thrust of the impact of the Crucifixion. This image, in a way, is what inspires Colonna throughout the Rime spirituali, and most certainly in Sonnet 41.

The progression of the sonnet into the second quatrain moves from the mind’s visual perception and intellectual acceptance of the Cross to one’s actual sensorial experience of

Christ’s pain. Colonna not only lends mental credence to the Crucifixion, but also suggests that, via a vivid contemplation of Christ on the Cross, one may actually feel the tangible pain of the

“aspra croce.” The body becomes a vessel for affective piety and compassion: “crede / Esser suo caro membro, anzi alhor sente / Le spine, i chiodi, il fele” (vv. 5-7). The brutal physicality of the

Crucifixion is brought to light, both in the mind, and in the body, through the “caro membro,” for one who sees Christ crucified, believes, and then feels the pain of “le spine, i chiodi, il fele.”

This shared experience of the violence of the Cross is finally endured only through the “fiamma” of “viva fede.” In this sonnet, Colonna reverses the order of the common expression, “fede viva.”

By placing “viva” in front of “fede,” Colonna emphasizes that this faith is alive, as the end of the first quatrain of Sonnet 41 highlights Christ’s life on the Cross. Christ’s final moments of life on the Cross, “vivo ne l’aspra croce” (v. 4), corresponds, then, to this “viva fede” (v. 8): that through dying to one’s self and giving up one’s body up as a sacrifice, one might be infused with true life and faith, which enables one to persevere. Additionally, the connection between divine fire and living faith is such that it enables the believer to endure any suffering – whether it be the affective compassion of feeling the violence of the Cross or through painful trials that plague earthly life.

On this point, it is useful to bring in one of the letters Colonna wrote to Bernardino

Ochino, between 1535-1542, in which she meditates on the story of the woman caught in adultery in John 8. Colonna considers Christ’s mercy and his judgment, and how, in this case,

145 Christ, as opposed to the Pharisees who want to stone the woman, does not condemn this woman.350 For Colonna, the mercy of Christ produces a living faith within this adulterous woman:

Credo che […] coloro gli parve che ogni grave peso se le togliesse dalle spalle, et gli nacque una grandissima fede che questo benigno Signore l’assolveria; et in quelli santi occhi vedeva mille raggi di viva speranza, […] All’hora ella, ripreso animo, con acceso amore et viva fede disse: Signor mio, nessun m’ha condannata; et a te, che sei Signor del mondo, figliuol di Dio, Messia vero, sta il mio condannarmi o l’assolvermi.351

Colonna’s exegesis of this story becomes a feminine commentary on the passage in which she illuminates the attributes of Christ while simultaneously identifying with this woman caught in adultery, which also corresponds to the (adulterous) Samaritan woman from John 4 – a drawing that Michelangelo gave to Colonna.352 Clearly, Colonna was struck by Christ’s encounters with these women who were considered outcast and sinful; yet, in both accounts of Jesus’ interactions with adulterous women, the weight of guilt and shame is relieved by the mercy of Christ and a great faith is born, which is full of living hope (“viva speranza”) and holy vision (“santi occhi”).

Colonna uses the expression, “viva fede,” to further emphasize this woman’s ardent love for

Christ. Through her interpretation of the woman’s response, Colonna teaches others that this is a proper response to the mercy of Christ, which produces “viva fede.” We must remember that

350 This passage is famous for Christ’s words, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her” (John 8:7). 351 244; “I believe that […] it seemed to those around, that every serious weight was removed from her shoulders, and a wondrous faith was born in her, given from this benevolent Lord who absolved her; and in whose holy eyes one saw a thousand rays of living hope, […] And now she, collecting her spirit, with a burning love and living faith proclaims, ‘My Lord, nobody has condemned me; and, it befalls you, you, who are the Lord of the world, Son of God, the true Messiah, to either condemn or absolve me’” (my translation). 352 This story is the theme of two letters to Ochino; in another letter in the same time frame, but written after this one, Colonna identifies with the woman caught in adultery and considers her inner turmoil as well as the light (“divin lume”) that Christ brings to her. See letter CXLV, Carteggio, 245-246. 146 Colonna’s correspondence with Ochino is significant, as he was forced to flee Italy for his reformist beliefs.353

Furthermore, as we return to Sonnet 41, the sestet reiterates the reformist belief that humans cannot achieve salvation through good works or on account of their own efforts. The first lines of each tercet mirror one another in terms of their content: “Son queste gratie sue non nostre […] / Et s’alcun si confida in fragil opra / Mortal” (vv. 9 and 12). Colonna reiterates that

God’s grace, not fragile and vain works performed by humans, enlighten and provide the mind with sacred visions. We see an opposition between the first tercet and the second tercet: the transcendent power of the Holy Spirit versus the feeble nature of mortal works. The rhyme scheme reflects such a thought as the adjective “sopra” (v. 10), describing the movement of

God’s graces through the Spirit, which soars above, and blows, “spira” (v. 11), where it pleases, juxtaposed to the weakness of human works, “fragil opra” (v. 12). The verb “spirare” indicates breath as well as the invisible movement of a breeze – an image that evokes physicality and life through breathing as well as one’s tactile senses, in feeling the wind upon one’s flesh. Colonna employs sensorial language, relating to touch and breath, in this instance to reinforce the theological idea of God’s omnipotence vis-à-vis human’s futile efforts. The verb “spira,” which describes the movement of the Spirit of God, is contrasted with the verb “aspira” (v. 13), which characterizes the fragile works of mortals, who, like the first father (“primo padre” –a reference to Adam, who, along with Eve, was tricked in the Garden of Eden), will not only fail at attaining salvation, but will ultimately find themselves in a grave deception.

353 These views are expressed in one of Ochino’s later letters (22 August 1542) to Colonna: “Christo ne insegno a più volte fuggire […] quando in una [città] io non ero ricevuto […] sono chiamato perchè ho predicato heresia et cose scandalose […] et già senza udirmi mi hanno publicato per uno heretico,” Colonna, Carteggio, 247-248; “Christ teaches, at times, to flee […] when in a city where I am not received […] I am called as such because I have preached heresy and scandalous things […] and already, without listening to me, they have brandished me as a heretic” (my translation). The content of these correspondences, and the recipients who were themselves objects of Roman Catholic suspicion, demonstrate Colonna’s deep involvement with the spirituali and as well as her theological expression of ‘heretical’ ideas. 147 Moreover, the verb, “aspirare,” is connected also to the act of breathing, yet provides a counterpoint to the verb “spirare,” which usually refers to the blowing of a breeze, but can also mean “to breathe one’s last.” D’Elia’s translates “spira” as “inspires,” which certainly provides a cohesive understanding of this particular line; however, “spirare” contains a more nuanced meaning as it can also describe a type of breathing that pertains to death: why would Colonna use the verb “spirare,” which can also be understood as breathing one’s last breath, to describe the movement of the Spirit? This blend of death with life can be traced back to the host of references to Christ’s last moments on the Cross, and the paradox of his death bring us life, to which Colonna makes references throughout the Rime spirituali. This seeming contradiction of strength borne from weakness echoes the foundational paradox: Christ’s defeating death through his own dying; and consequently, his Resurrection, in which he is even more alive – the central paradoxical image of Michelangelo’s drawings for Colonna.

This theme of human weakness compared to God’s omnipotence, especially as it pertains to one’s salvation, continues in Sonnet 45. Colonna reiterates humanity’s inability to achieve salvation without God’s grace. In particular, the sestet of this sonnet illustrates human paralysis and divine movement quite poignantly:

Non giungon lhumane ali a l’alto segno Senza il vento divin, ne l’occhio score Il bel destro sentier senza ‘l gran lume. Cieco è’l nostro voler; vane son l’opre; Cadono al primo vol le mortai piume Senza quel di Giesu fermo sostegno.354

Several verbs of movement and other words that communicate direction pervade these lines:

“giungon,” “ali,” “vento,” “sentier,” “cadono,” and “vol.” It is clear, in the first tercet, that

354 V. 45; “Human wings cannot arrive to the high mark / Without the divine wind, neither can the eye discover / The beautiful righteous path, without the great light. / Blind is our will; vain are our works; / At the first flight the mortal feathers fall / Without the strong support of Jesus” (my translation). 148 human attempts at reaching God are not possible: “Non giungon l’humane ali a l’alto segno” (v.

9). The structure of this line mimics the failure of human initiative, as it begins with a negative,

“non,” in its inability to arrive at the heights of divine essence. There is also a semblance in the two words, “ali” and “l’alto,” which both imply ascent; yet the former, “ali,” refers to human’s wings which are broken and unable to reach their desired heights, “l’alto segno,” unless they are propelled by the breath of God. Ironically, although these two words evoke ascent, the direction of humanity without God, is wrought with descent. These contrasting motions of ascent and descent, which highlight a crucial reformist belief in human’s inability to ascend without God’s initiating work of salvation through grace and faith, correspond to textual dynamics of

Petrarchism, which makes use of paradox, oxymoron, and stark juxtaposition to illustrate the turmoil of the poet. For Colonna, the Petrarchan form serves to bolster her understanding of human weakness vis-à-vis God’s omnipotence. The textual dynamics at play within Petrarchism also nuance and shape Colonna’s theological explorations, as she exploits the ability to articulate polarized ends of the reformist-Catholic spectrum, which, in this case highlights human’s inability to transcend without God’s divine breath, within in an already established system that incorporates opposition into a confined and accepted literary space. The Petrarchan sonnet thus evolves into a poetic landscape where Colonna is able to work out theologically contentious matter without attracting the attention and ire of the Roman Catholic Church.

Visual language is also an integral component of Sonnet 45. God gives his light to the blind soul so that it may truly see. In the first tercet, Colonna stresses that without divine inspiration, no eye can see the true path: “Senza il vento divin, ne l’occhio score / Il bel destro sentier senza ‘l gran lume” (vv. 10-11). Colonna goes so far as to say that our will is blind and our works are moot without God’s illumination: “Cieco è ‘l nostro voler; vane son l’opre” (v.

149 12). On the one hand, Colonna soaks human will in obscurity; on the other hand, she overwhelms God’s volition in light, which illuminates the divine gift of salvation and his providence. This sentence, when conceived as a mirror, reflects on itself as the first part emphasizes blindness of the will, “voler”; the next word, “vane,” provides consonance and an interrupted alliteration of sorts with “voler,” and equates human will with fruitless works, “opre,” which can be understood to be blind, “cieco,” as well. The first adjective of the verse then modifies the closing noun. Finally, in terms of a dynamic of universality, Colonna makes it clear that it is “nostro voler” and thereby confers this status upon a collective group instead of her own soul.

Returning to Sonnet 41, it is only after the Resurrection that we encounter the Ascension of Christ, in which he returns to heaven and leaves his Spirit as a guide and conscience to soar above and through humanity (“Per regola & per guida quel di sopra / Spirto, che dove piu li piace spira” [vv. 10-11]). Christ descends to earth only to later ascend to an even more beautiful state of transcendence in the form of the Holy Spirit. These sorts of biblical paradoxes align with the vision of the spirituali and the concept of justification by faith alone (sola fide): that neither man nor woman is capable of achieving salvation in and of himself/herself. Instead, saving power belongs to God to be given freely to those who, in dying to self and acknowledging weakness, can then receive God’s divine gift of faith.

Conclusion

It is my contention that the reformed notion of the gift is a central lens through which to understand Colonna’s Rime spirituali. Colonna celebrates the act of receiving the body of Christ, ingesting the Incarnate God into her very flesh, which creates an intimate and ecstatic bond between the poetess and God. This gift extends into the realm of faith; as a gift from God,

150 undeserved and unmerited, “fede viva” enables the soul to believe and receive Christ, which then manifests itself into an enlivened spiritual community of “elected souls,” that in turn, constitute the Body of Christ – that is, the Church. Giving and receiving are renewed and reframed through reformist ideas. While Colonna’s poems are no doubt spiritual and mystical in nature, they also explore and articulate contentious theological thought within a carefully coded Petrarchan system.

Likewise, Colonna’s epistolary correspondence with reform-minded individuals reveals a reworking of the gift along the line of thought of the spirituali in Italy. Her literary and spiritual friendship with Marguerite de Navarre, communicates these women’s shared biblical and theological knowledge, which culminated in their mutual desire for ecclesiastical reform – which is also clearly demonstrated in her exchange of letters with Ochino. In more concrete ways,

Michelangelo’s and Colonna’s correspondence unveils an integral link between the gift and free exchange of artistic works with theology, inspired by reform movements. Throughout the corpus of her poetic oeuvre, as well as in the correspondences that I have discussed, Colonna reforms the gift on literary, artistic, and theological levels. The various modes, whether the Petrarchan sonnet or through epistolary rhetoric, in which Colonna expresses unorthodox theological ideas without overtly revealing her confessional stance is what renders her spiritual poetry complex and crucial to the understanding of women’s spiritual writing vis-à-vis reformist movements in

Italy in the Cinquecento.

151 CHAPTER FOUR HEARING THE ECHO “D’UNE VOIX PRESCHERESSE” IN MARIE DENTIÈRE’S EPISTRE TRES UTILE

Si Dieu touche le cueur à quelque bon personage plus suffisant que moy, ayant le langage plus féconde, les mots plus exquis, il le déclarera.355 -Marie Dentière

Introduction

The gendered literary expression of reformist thought takes on a radically different shape in the figure of Marie Dentière (1495-1561), whose polemical declaration and defense of

Protestantism, as well as of women’s right to participate fully as co-ministers of the newly formed faith, could mostly be heard, rather than read, throughout the streets of sixteenth-century

Strasbourg and Geneva. While we do not have access to her spoken words as recorded pieces,

Dentière’s Epistre tres utile faicte et composée par une femme Chrestienne de Tornay, Envoyée à la Royne de Navarre seur du Roy de France, Contre les Turcz, Iuifz, Infideles, Faulx chrestiens,

Anabaptistes, et Lutheriens (1539) offers modern scholars interested in the gendered experience of the Reformation a rare insight into an ex-abbess’s zealous proclamation of her conversion to those still bound by the confines of the Catholic faith, as well as her struggle to minister alongside of her male contemporary reformers.356 Dentière composed the Epistre in response to

Marguerite de Navarre’s growing concern for and desire to know details behind the expulsion of reformist preachers, such as Calvin, from the Church of Geneva; Dentière’s words, however, convey much more than a simple explanation of an ecclesiastical conflict.

355 Marie Dentière, La guerre et deslivrance de la ville de Genesve, ed. Albert Rilliet (Geneva: Imprimerie Charles Schuchardt, 1881), 39: “If God touches the heart of some good and more capable person than me, having a more fecund language with even more exquisite words, then he will declare it” (my translation). 356 From this point on, I will alternate between the shorter title, Epistre tres utile, and Epistre. 152 It is my contention that Dentière’s Epistre can be understood as a reformed sermon whose message and mode of communication both reflect and advance women’s freedom and responsibility to preach the Gospel. I claim that the following four aspects of the Epistre demonstrate how Dentière textually embodies this project in the Epistre: 1) a universal call to pursue knowledge; 2) a marked prophetic voice; 3) the dynamic between revealing and hiding truth; and 4) the justification of the “prescheresse.” In particular, I will explore how the Epistre’s oral and aural qualities reinforce each of these distinguishing components and how Dentière appropriates and manipulates the epistolary genre as a means both to propagate the Protestant faith and to practice a reformed preaching that bolsters her gendered message. Although other critics have foregrounded the theological content of Dentière’s Epistre for its bold reformist proclamations and defense of women preachers,357 I suggest that the formal elements of the

Epistre deserve more attention in our understanding.

Despite its three divisions (the Dedication to Marguerite de Navarre, A Defense of

Women, and the Epistle proper), the main body of the text, the Epistle itself, is quite cyclical; one has the impression that Dentière is shouting at Marguerite de Navarre, with her use of invective and repetition, as Mary McKinley has noted. In fact, McKinley hinted at a link between

Dentière’s Epistre and the sermon tradition - specifically, the style of her male contemporary,

Guillaume Farel (1489-1565), a French evangelist who helped to establish the Reformed Church in Switzerland. McKinley remarks upon Dentière’s use of the words prescher and prescheresse, which convey “her conviction that women should not simply teach doctrine to other women in

357 For an extensive analysis on Dentière’s “vision théologique” in the Epistre, see Isabelle C Denommé, “La vision théologique de Marie d’Ennetières et le ‘Groupe de Neuchâtel’,” in Le Livre évangélique en français avant Calvin: Etudes originales, publications d’inédits, catalogues d’éditions anciennes, edited by Jean-François Gilmont and William Kemp (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004), 179-97. 153 private but should preach to both men and women.”358 Building upon McKinley’s observation, my analysis focuses on the mimetic function of orality and “fecund language,” as the exergue recalls, in Dentière’s Epistre: by emphasizing the spoken word of God as both “prescheresse” and prophetess, Dentière weaves together cultural discursive practices to not only engender true conversion, but also to produce other women like herself, who will publicly declare the Gospel.

The cultural discourse in Dentière’s context was one in which the spoken and written word were intertwined. Thomas Cohen and Lesley Twomey underscore the profound connection between written culture and oral practice in Medieval and early modern Europe. Despite the advent of print, which Cohen and Twomey deem a “frail” practice in the sixteenth-century, oral speech still perpetuated and promoted the written word.359 Cohen and Twomey explain the philological richness of European ‘orality’ from its Latin origins. While the word “orality” itself is rooted in the mouth (os, oris), Cohen and Twomey claim it permeates the entire body in the early modern context:

It makes some sense to posit that orality is all communication, between persons in one another’s presence, without the use of script, or, where script is indeed present, communication that goes beyond silent reading, like, for instance, recitation or performance. This looser, more generous sense liberates orality from the mouth that inspires its name, and attaches it instead to the whole person and, in important ways, to the hearers and to the setting in which communication happens.360

This ‘liberated’ understanding of orality extends verbal communication into an all-encompassing and holistic framework that exemplifies early modern discourse. Drawing from this holistic understanding of orality, which separates orality from its linguistic connection to the mouth, and

358 Mary McKinley, “The Absent Ellipsis: The Edition and Suppression of Marie Dentière in the Sixteenth and Nineteenth Century,” in Women Writers in Pre-Revolutionary France, edited by Colette H. Winn and Donna Kuizenga (New York: Garland, 1997), 92. See also Mary McKinley, “Introduction,” to Marie Dentière, Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre; and, Preface to sermon by John Calvin, edited by Mary B. McKinley (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004), 12-39. 359 Thomas V. Cohen and Lesley K. Twomey, “Introduction,” in Spoken Word and Social Practice: Orality in Europe (1400-1700), eds. Thomas V. Cohen and Lesley K. Towmey (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 17. 360 Ibid., 7. 154 allows it to flow into the rest of the body through the acts of seeing, hearing, writing, and even silent reading and recitation, we are able to gain a better sense of how orality functions in the

Epistre as we consider the relationship between the spoken word and written text. In an era in which the advent of print no doubt aided in the diffusion of the written word, modern scholars tend to lose the sense of orality that continued to infuse early modern communication, especially with regards to preaching (ars praedicandi). In this context, Arnold Hunt suggests that Protestant preaching, in particular, emphasized the verbal, as opposed to the visual, which is not surprising given the iconoclasm that characterized the newly found faith: “Protestant writers […] regarded the written word as a latent force, which had to be activated or ‘applied’ by the living voice of the preacher in order to strike home to the heart of the listener.”361 The act of speaking the word of God mirrored the primary way in which Protestant thinkers viewed Scripture itself, as having been breathed by the mouth of God to inspire the various writers who put the spoken word into written text.

Furthermore, against the backdrop of the suppression of the female voice in both Catholic and Protestant churches of sixteenth-century Europe, Dentière’s voice comes to us today as a reverberation, a long and pronounced echo, of a female preacher whose spoken message survives through the written word. The resounding effect of Dentière’s voice, especially in the Epistre, should be seen in the context of the discursive notion of dilatio – a Latin term that underscores a sense of opening, and is also understood as the expansion and propagation of speech - derived from the Old Testament prostitute, Rahab.362 According to the story, Rahab (in Hebrew: “broad” or “wide”), an Amorite, hid a group of Hebrew spies in her home as part of their plot to overtake the city of Jericho; she is thus thought to be an instrumental part in God’s preservation of the

361 Arnold Hunt, The Art of Hearing: English Preachers and Their Audiences, 1590-1640, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 27. 362 See Joshua 2 and 6:17-25 for the story of Rahab. 155 Israelites in the Old Testament. Rahab’s occupation as prostitute is noteworthy, as it not only calls attention to the sensual aspect of the female body, but also to the inclusion of such a woman, who was also a foreigner, in the redemptive history in Scripture. Although Dentière does not specifically mention Rahab in her list of illustrious women at the beginning of her “Defense of Women,” she does reference Ruth, Rahab’s daughter-in-law, as being listed in the genealogy of Christ (“fauldroit il condemner Ruth, pourtant qu’elle est du sexe feminin, à cause que l’hystoire d’icelle est escripte en son livre? Ie ne le pense pas, veu qu’elle est bien nombrée à la genealogie de Iesus Christ” [a4v]).363 Additionally, in Matthew 1:5, we find both Rahab and

Ruth as listed in Christ’s genealogy, which illustrates the significance of the maternal womb woven throughout the line from which Christ is born.364

Beyond the literal aspect of Rahab’s procreative participation in the messianic line, the act of dilatio is a decidedly female discursive strategy. In her book, Literary Fat Ladies:

Rhetoric, Gender, Property, Patricia Parker explains how dilatio shapes Rahab’s role in the unfolding of the Judeo-Christian tradition as

the period of spreading or widening through the ‘dilation of the Word,’ the crucial activity of that interim of deferred Judgment or Second Coming in which a promised end is yet postponed […] The dilation of Rahab or of the Church, then, involves symbolically two orifices: expansion to take in a multiplicity of members […] and the propagation, through the mouth, of the Word, again an activity not unexpectedly linked with a Church figured as symbolically female.365

363 “Must we condemn Ruth, who, even though she was of the female sex, had her story told in the book that bears her name? I do not think so, seeing that she is numbered among the genealogy of Jesus Christ” (54). All quotes are taken from Marie Dentière, Epistre tres utile faicte et composée par une femme Chrestienne de Tournay (Geneva: Jean Gérard, 1539). All English translations are taken from Dentière, Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre, edited and translated by Mary McKinley (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004) and will be provided in the footnote. Quires and gatherings of the Epistre are indicated in rounded brackets within the text; pages numbers from the English translation will be placed in the corresponding footnotes. 364 Matthew 1:5: “ and Salmon the father of Bo′az by Rahab, and Bo′az the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse.” 365 Patricia Parker, Literary Fat Ladies: Rhetoric, Gender, Property (London: Methuen, 1987), 9. 156 Parker’s interlacing the expansion of speech with the feminine body, its opening and closing through orifices, provides a lens through which to conceive of the words of women in a religious context. In the female body, the acts of consummation and delivery mirror this fecundity of speech, especially with the opening and expanding of the Word, which eventually spawns the

Church, which is itself conceived in feminine terms (“the bride of Christ”).366 For Parker, dilatio, then, is a female phenomenon, which we can perceive as a gendered discursive strategy.

Openness, with regards to the copiousness of propagating the Gospel, and deferral, referring to delayed judgment, are embedded within the concept of dilation. As Parker explains, this simultaneous widening and waiting characterizes the role of the Church. As we consider the relationship between women such as Dentière, who refused to accept the Pauline injunctions that silenced their voices and instead propagated the Word of God through speaking,367 and the

Church, the notion of dilatio allows us to weigh women’s complicated position in the Judeo-

Christian faith, as expressed in the institution of the Church. I argue that Dentière’s Epistre exemplifies dilatio as a pronounced feminized widening of speech that also stages the act of waiting: Dentière’s voice is suspended in the prolonged season of awaiting the fullness of the

Kingdom of God, in which, for Dentière, women have true equal standing with men as all inhabitants of this new city and are free to proclaim the Gospel without restraint.

366 While the expression, “the bride of Christ,” is not explicitly mentioned in Scripture, in Ephesians 5:21-27, Paul employs the marriage relationship to describe Christ’s relationship to the Church. The Church is the bride, whereas Christ is the bridegroom: “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ. Wives, be subject to your husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior. As the church is subject to Christ, so let wives also be subject in everything to their husbands. Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish.” 367 The Pauline injunction refers to the set of New Testament verses in which Paul urges women to be silent in the Church. 1 Timothy 2:12, for example, which states: “I permit no woman to teach or to have authority over men; she is to keep silent.” See also 1 Corinthians 14:34, “ the women should keep silence in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be subordinate, as even the law says.” 157 Biographical Sketch: Marie Dentière and Historical Context of the Reformation in Geneva

Although her latter years were spent in various regions and cities of what is known today as Switzerland, Marie Dentière’s origins can be traced to Tournai, France. Born into nobility,

Dentière decided, at a young age, to enter an Augustinian convent whose order was open to religious reform.368 According to Elisabeth Wengler, Dentière had access to reformist thought via the dispersal of Luther’s works brought to Tournai by merchants in the early 1520s.369 Not only was Dentière exposed to Lutheran theology, she was also drawn to it. Dentière studied and contemplated these new concepts from a theological and scriptural basis. As abbess of her convent, Dentière must have exercised a certain degree of agency within the cloister, as well as an elevated knowledge of Scripture and matters of piety.

Although little is known of the circumstances surrounding the exact time of her conversion, we are certain that Dentière fully embraced Protestantism when she left the nunnery in Tournai for Strasbourg. She also sealed her allegiance to the reformed faith through the marriage of her first husband, Simon Robert, a former priest from Tournai, in 1520. In 1528,

Robert and Dentière departed Strasbourg, joining Farel on his mission to establish the reformed church in Valais, where they were the first French married couple to jointly accept a pastoral assignment in the Reformed Church. However, their short marriage came to a close in 1533, when Robert died, leaving Dentière as a widow and mother of five children;370 Dentière shortly married another reformer, Antoine Froment, who was working with Farel in Geneva at the time.

368 Most of this information is presented in McKinley, “Introduction,” 2. 369 Elisabeth M. Wengler, “Women, Religion, and Reform in Sixteenth-Century Geneva” (dissertation, Boston College, 1999), 146. However, Wengler adds that Dentière most likely became acquainted with and attracted to the reformed faith before it spread more overtly - while it was still in its “underground” phase – and preliminary to the prosecution and persecution of clerics, merchants, artisans, etc., for Lutheran beliefs (147). 370 See Wengler, “Women, Religion, and Reform,” 147-8. 158 While Geneva was still considered to be an independent city-state during the sixteenth century, and did not become a part of Switzerland until the nineteenth century,371 we should consider its significant role in the larger social, political, and religious upheaval that characterized the Swiss lands in this era. Amy Burnett and Emidio Campi argue that while the theological underpinnings of Protestantism were certainly strong forces in this region’s acceptance of the reformed faith and rejection of Roman Catholicism, the peculiarities of the

Swiss Confederation’s social, economic, and political makeup were equally instrumental:

The strong influence of Erasmian humanism, the rapid diffusion of Luther’s works, the long-standing tradition of self-government in the members of the Swiss Confederation, the balance of power within the Swiss cities, and the religious autonomy of many rural communes all combined to give the Reformation in the Swiss lands a different profile than it had in the Holy Roman Empire.372

Burnett and Campi weave the influence of Desiderius Erasmus (1466-1536) in the complex and multifaceted unfolding of the Reformation in the Swiss Confederation; and contend that

Erasmus’ move to Basel in 1514, and his ensuing intellectual and spiritual impact, caused others to eventually reject the authority of Rome.373 Furthermore, the hallmark of Swiss thought and social practice can be embodied in the idea of self-government, as Carl Schorske explains, in which local entities, or “cantons,” “became associated with others in a unity of difference, alienating only as little power as was necessary to defend and preserve each member’s particularity.”374 This “cellular method of state building” dovetails neatly with the Reformist system, as it relies less on ties with papal authority and institutional dogma, and instead embeds

371 Amy Nelson Burnett and Emidio Campi, “Introduction,” in A Companion to the Swiss Reformation (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 4. 372 Ibid., 3. 373 Ibid., 3. 374 Carl E. Schorske, “Introduction,” in Geneva, Zurich, Basel: History, Culture, and National Identity, edited by Micolas Bouvier, Gordon A. Craig, and Lionel Gossman (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1994), 4. 159 itself within local communities of Christians, freely expressing devotion to God without the presence of priests.

Regula Schmid thus views the Protestant movement as an exploitation of the tides of social and political reform that were already at play in the regions of the Swiss Confederation.375

While Geneva was not part of the Swiss Confederation at that time, it was a fringe city-state, caught between a struggle for power among papal authorities, the dukes of Savoy, and the

French king, François I himself. Eventually, the desire for independence gained clout in Geneva, which became closely allied with Bern in the 1530s.376 In effect, the Reformation became quite popular in Geneva and the rest of the Swiss lands, as Protestant leaders, “in pursuit of their political and spiritual aims, […] made use of the Confederation’s institutional peculiarities, tradition of armed brotherhood, and ideal of local autonomy and freedom.”377 The reformist message, which rejected the authority of the Church of Rome, was enhanced by the political agendas that dictated the independent state mentality of the Swiss Confederation, and surrounding territories. This ‘perfect storm’ of sociopolitical and religious forces in 1530s/40s

Geneva enabled the Protestant Reformation to take a stronghold in the local communities that comprised these lands - this was the Geneva in which Froment and Dentière propagated the reformist cause.

It is not incidental then, as the foundation for ecclesiastical leadership in the Swiss lands and elsewhere began to experience a marked degree of tumult, that female voices such as

Dentière’s became more audible. Nancy Roelker argues that, “feminine participation in Christian leadership has been greatest in periods of upheaval when the social structure is loosened under

375 Regula Schmid, “The Swiss Confederation before the Reformation,” in A Companion to the Swiss Reformation, (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 14-56. 376 Ibid., 35-6. 377 Ibid., 56. 160 the impact of new forces, and in heresies, which always involve a challenge to established authority.”378 Yet, Dentière was not alone in her activism in the reformist cause. As the couple

Froment and Dentière continued to defend the Protestant message in Geneva, they simultaneously propagated Luther’s and Erasmus’ ideal of the institution of marriage, viewing this divinely sanctioned union as a ‘school for character’ for men, women, and children to learn, through the struggle of quotidian life, to live by faith.379 Jane Douglass notes how, while

Froment taught classes focused on Scripture to any man or woman who sought after it, Dentière led preaching crusades in convents.380 Froment and Dentière worked together to advance the cause of the Reformation through the Protestant vision of divinely instituted partnership, which, as Kirsi Stjerna has pointed out, emphasized the “domestication of women to the honorable callings of motherhood and marriage, advocated through theological argument, knitted with the

Protestants’ valorization of family and marriage as the cornerstones of society.”381 Dentière certainly celebrated the marital life of Protestantism, embraced the reformist vision for marriage on biblical principles, which she considered as liberation from the convent.

Dentière saw it as her personal mission to convert those sisters still confined in the cloisters to her lifestyle to the Protestant faith, which celebrated the marital union between man and woman. Dentière’s most outspoken campaign was in the convent of Saint Clare in Geneva, where Jeanne de Jussie (1503-1561), the order’s eventual abbess, recorded the tumultuous nature

378 Nancy L. Roelker, “The Appeal of Calvinism to French Noblewomen in the Sixteenth Century,” The Journal of Interdisciplinary History 2, no. 4, Psychoanalysis and History (1972), 403. 379 See Charmarie J. Blaisdell, “The Matrix of Reform: Women in the Lutheran and Calvinist Movements,” in Triumph over Silence: Women in Protestant History, edited by Richard L. Greaves (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1985), 17. 380 Jane Dempsey Douglass, “Marie Dentière’s Use of Scripture in Her Theology of History,” in Biblical Hermeneutics in Historical Perspective, edited by Mark S. Burrows and Paul Rorem (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 227-228. 381 Kirsi Stjerna, Women and the Reformation (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2009), 33. 161 of the Protestant Reformation’s eventual takeover of Geneva in her Petite chronique (1611).382

Jussie’s account conveys the political and religious nature of Geneva’s struggle for independence from the rule of the House of Savoy, which was deeply imbedded with papal powers.383 For

Jussie, the Reformation was heretical and an affront to her religious devotion and commitment to her sisters of Saint Clare.

Jussie’s Petite chronique also reveals the many ways in which women experienced the

Reformation. In her Petite chronique, Jussie portrays the nuns of Saint Clare as vulnerable to the

Swiss invaders, and even more so, to the reformers’ attempts to eradicate any and all Catholic symbols, institutions, and practices, including monasticism, in Geneva. Carrie Klaus argues that

Jussie, “ever attentive to the specificity of women’s experience both inside and outside her convent,” writes of women who became vulnerable to the evils of the world and for whom the

Reformation “amounted to great sexual threat, and penetrations of cloister walls carried with them the terrifying possibility of physical violence to the nuns’ own bodies.”384 From Jussie’s perspective, the Reformation endangered women; reformers, in this sense, extracted women from their chosen paths of celibacy, safely enfolded in a community of like-minded women.

The following passage from the Petite chronique portrays these “pauvres dames” as fearful, yet finding solidarity with their fellow sisters through prayer and devotion, in the midst of the Reformation in Geneva:

Les poures Dames rencluses et religieuses de madame saincte clere merveilleusement espavante de celles gens, cregnant qui ne leur feissent quelque violance, veu la fureur qui ce monstroient a gens de devocion, estant nuyt et jours en oraison, et fondant toutes en

382 Wengler informs us that the 1611 edition of Jussie’s work should not be confused with the later edition in 1865, under the misleading title, Le Levain du calvinisme, as this was based on a faulty manuscript (“Women, Religion, and Reform,” 86). 383 See Carrie Klaus, “Introduction,” in Jeanne de Jussie, The Short Chronicle, ed. and trans. Carrie Klaus, The Other Voice in Early Modern Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), 1-5. 384 Klaus, “Introduction,” 1-2. 162 larmes, se congreguerent ensenbles en chapitre pour avisez, coment se porroint governe en ce affaire.385

Jussie depicts her fellow nuns as victims of the reformers’ furious (“la fureur”) attacks on the way of life in the cloister. Describing the experience of witnessing this event in rather harsh terms, Jussie writes: “Ses audicteurs saultoient pardessus les haultel coment chieures, et bestes brutes, en grant desrision de lymaige de nostre redemption et de la vierge marie, et tous les sains.”386 For Jussie, the Protestant sermon evokes bestial reactions (“chieures, et bestes brutes”) on the part of the listeners, which stands in stark contrast to the pious and contemplative approach of saintly and Marian devotion, as practiced within the walls of the convent of Saint

Clare. As is demonstrated in this extract, Jussie believed that the reformers were invaders who sought to penetrate and desecrate their sacred space (“saultoient pardessus les haultel”).

In the short passage that follows, Jussie directs her criticisms of the Reformist coup towards a certain female: “En celle compagnie avoit une moinne, abbesse, faulce, ridé, et langue diabolique, ayant mary et enfant, nommée marie d’entiere de picardie, qui se mesloit de prescher et pervertir les gens de devotion.”387 Jussie’s appraisal of Marie Dentière does not conceal the disdain the abbess possesses for this ex-nun; it is also a remarkable example of a woman evaluating another woman along religious lines. Thomas Head notes how the changed ideal of chastity and the right for women to preach sharply divided Dentière and Jussie, as the above

385 20; “The poor secluded ladies, the nuns of Madame Saint Clare, terribly frightened by those people and afraid they would hurt them, with the fury they were showing toward pious people, prayed tearfully night and day, and they gathered together in the chapter room to decide what to do about it” (46-7); All quotes are taken from Jeanne de Jussie, Petite Chronique: Einleitung, Edition, Kommentar, edited by Helmut Feld (Mainz: Konrad von Zabern, 1991). All English translations are taken from the The Short Chronicle, ed. and trans. Carrie Klaus (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006). 386 28-29; “His audience leaped onto the altar like goats and brutish beasts, with great contempt for the images of Our Redemption and of the Virgin Mary and all the saints” (51). 387 238; “In that company was a nun, a false, wrinkled abbess wit ha devilish tongue, who had a husband and children, named Marie Dentière of Picardy, who meddled in preaching and perverting pious people” (151). 163 passage exemplifies.388 Jussie’s staggering portrayal of Dentière targets, in particular, her status as former abbess contrasted with her role as mother, signaling Dentière’s blatant rejection of the convent. More poignant, however, is Jussie’s evaluation of Dentière as employing “langue diabolique” - a judgment that emphasizes Dentière’s speech as an affront to the Catholic religion

– and that, for Jussie, inevitably leads into Dentière’s most heinous sin of meddling in preaching

(“se mesloit de prescher et pervertir les gens de devotion”), which she perceived as yet another profane intrusion into the sacred convent of Saint Clare.

Incidentally, Dentière’s unwelcome infiltration of Saint Clare gestures towards a reframing of the female spiritual community that Dentière abandoned upon her conversion to

Protestantism. Head argues that Dentière attempted to create a female sphere of religious authority and solidarity for women outside of the cloister, effectively replacing the “rejected sphere” of the convent with a spiritual female community based on reformist beliefs.389 Such an impetus to direct and form a new spiritual sisterhood was most likely based on the authority

Dentière had enjoyed as an abbess: “Since the traditional works-oriented piety that had grounded female spirituality had lost its veracity, a new spirituality had to be constructed in its place.”390

Reformist beliefs and theology established the liberating basis of this new spirituality, which, for

Dentière, enabled women to be free of the corruption of the Catholic Church as well as to enjoy all of the benefits of the married life.

Jussie’s overt disapproval of Dentière, however, creates problems for any notion of female solidarity across Protestant/Catholic lines and also perpetuates the silence of women in

388 Thomas Head, “Marie Dentière: A Propagandist for the Reform,” in Women Writers of the Renaissance and Reformation, edited by Katharina M. Wilson (Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1987), 263. 389 See Head, “The Religion of the Femmelettes: Ideals and Experience Among Women in Fifteenth and Sixteenth- Century France,” in That gentle strength: historical perspectives on women in Christianity, eds. Lynda L. Coon, Katherine J. Haldane, and Elisabeth W. Sommer (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1990), 149-175. 390 Head, “The Religion of the Femmelettes,” 158. 164 the Church, as Jussie equates Dentière’s speech with diabolic language. Madeleine Lazard also observes how Jussie targeted in particular Protestant women’s speaking, but persisted in the refusal to engage or entertain such offensive ideas.391 The polemical exchange between Jussie and Dentière reveals a deepening of the fissure between the cloister and reform-minded women - effectively erasing any notion of a female spiritual community that transcended confessional lines in the case of sixteenth-century Geneva. Dentière’s strident attempts to liberate her former sisters from the convent in fact worsened the polarized religious discourse between Protestant and Catholic women.

Dentière was not only met with criticism on the opposing side of this monumental ecclesiastical conflict, fellow reformers also turned against Dentière, as well as her husband

Froment. Dentière’s audacious presence as a woman who not only believed the reformers’ message, but also sought to declare and preach it publicly, incited the wrath of Jean Calvin, the most prominent reformer in the Swiss lands. On the one hand, Calvin’s reaction to Dentière is surprising as Dentière wholeheartedly believed and was active in the establishment of the

Reformed Church in Geneva. Moreover, in terms of reformist theology, which posits an individual’s unmediated access to God, underscored by the priesthood of all believers, including women, one would think that Calvin would have been more receptive to Dentière’s unabashed proclamation of the reformed faith.

On the other hand, one must recognize that Calvin, along with the majority of male reformers, inherited the tradition of misogyny prevalent throughout the history of Christianity.

391 Madeleine Lazard, “Deux soeurs enemies, Marie Dentière et Jeanne de Jussie: nonnes et réformées à Genève,” in Les Réformes. Enracinement socio-culturel. XXVe colloque international d’études humanistes. Tours 1-13 juillet 1982, edited by Bernard Chevalier and Robert Sauzet (Paris: Editions de la Maisnie, 1985), 239-249. Lazard explains, “Comparé à l’attitude de refus des dames catholiques et des religieuses, le rôle des luthériennes paraît singulièrement actif et offensif. Sans doute ont-elles débuté par la protestation et la provocation pour témoigner silencieusement de leur foi […] Mais le récit de J. de Jussie montre que lorsqu’elles agissent, c’est essentiellement par la parole. ‘Fauce langue serpentine’, ‘langue diabolique’, prédicante par douces paroles’, sont les injures qu’on leur prodigue le plus souvent” (245). 165 Charmarie Blaisdell claims that, “Calvin […] was definite in his opinion that women should not assume ministerial functions, such as teaching, preaching, administering baptism, or participating in congregational decision making,”392 and that, essentially, Calvin deemed marriage and child- rearing as the “highest female vocations” for women.393 While Calvin theoretically believed in extending Christian freedom in ministry to women, as Paul himself alludes to in the bedrock verse of Christian equality - Galatians 3:28, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus” – Calvin never applied the full implications of such a mandate to Reformed Church practice.

In fact, we find, in one of Calvin’s letters to Farel (1546), the following caricature of

Dentière, whom he refers to as “Froment’s wife”:

I’m going to tell you a funny story. Froment’s wife came here recently; in all the taverns, at almost all the street corners, she began to harangue against long garments. When she knew that it had gotten back to me, she excused herself, laughing, and said that either we were dressed indecently, with great offense to the church, or that you taught in error when you said false prophets could be recognized by their long garments.394

Calvin’s denigrating tone towards Dentière centers on her voice, both the content and context of her “harangue.” In this passage, it is clear that Calvin considers Dentière’s act of speech not only as an attack, but also, due to the public nature of its occurrence on street corners and in the taverns, a harangue that was particularly disruptive. Calvin was particularly offended by

Dentière’s derisive comment that mockingly equated Calvin and Farel with Catholic ministers, who wore long garments.395 Moreover, even after her boisterous entry into the Poor Clares’ convent, Dentière transgresses speech and space in the most public urban spaces, as she dared

392 Blaisdell, “The Matrix of Reform,” 25. 393 Ibid., 28. 394 McKinley, “Introduction,” 19 (note 37). McKinley has modified Jules Bonnet’s translation of John Calvin, Letters of John Calvin, 2: 70-71, and notes that the original Latin version of the letter (September 1, 1546), can be found in Ioannis Calvin opera, vol. 12, no. 824, cols. 377-78. 395 McKinley notes that in this comment, Dentière evokes the scribes in Luke 20:45, who wanted to “walk about in long robes” (“Introduction,” 19). 166 “to preach in the taverns and on the street corners, places traditionally frequented by men.”396

Dentière was a religious critic not only of the traditional abuses of the Catholic Church that became the targets of reformers, but she also did not hesitate to decry the shortcomings of her fellow reformers. Ironically, in the midst of growing persecution of reformers in the late 1550s,

Calvin chose to include a preface by Dentière in his Sermon on the modesty of women in their dress (1561) on 1 Timothy 2.397 In the Preface, while Dentière addresses the necessity for all

Christians to be on guard against Satan by fortifying their weaknesses, which, in this case, targets women’s external appearances (namely, extravagant clothing and makeup), she also reminds pastors that it is their duty to eradicate any vices they perceive amongst their congregation.398

Dentière continues to elaborate the importance of modest dress for women, through scriptural exposition and interpretation, and concludes by admonishing readers to listen carefully to

Calvin’s forthcoming sermon.

Despite this later collaborative effort, for her public declarations, which not only ignited the wrath of the Church of Rome, but also ruffled the feathers of other reformers, Dentière’s voice was unwelcome and shunned in the realm of religious discourse. The reformers’ hostility towards Dentière and Froment indicates the contentious nature of relations among the leaders of the newly established Reformed Church. As it happens, the very reason for the existence of

Dentière’s Epistre tres utile corresponds to the troubled beginnings of the Reformed Church.

Calvin and Farel had refused to commit themselves to certain rules, insisted on ecclesiastical independence, and were consequentially banished from the Council of Two Hundred in

396 Ibid., 20. 397 McKinley believes that this unlikely collaboration was due to growing persecution of reformers in France in the late 1550s, as well as a response to a widespread misperception of Calvinists being “morally corrupt and sexually dissolute” (23). Calvin’s sermon on modesty would have debunked this false propaganda. 398 “That is what the pastors and ministers of God’s word must do: Where they see that certain vices have caught on among the people in their care, they will endeavor to eradicate them by admonishing the people so that they will not spread any further” (Marie Dentière, Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre; and, Preface to sermon by John Calvin, ed. Mary B. McKinley [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004], 91). 167 Geneva.399 Marguerite de Navarre heard of this, and asked Marie Dentière to explain what had taken place. In response, Dentière wrote the Epistre, which contained vehement critiques of not only the Catholic tradition, but also of reformist ministers in the burgeoning church. For example, in the main text of the Epistre (the Epistle proper), Dentière writes, “par faulses doctrines et longues oraisons les faulx pphetes ont seduict et trope le paouvre people, donnat à entedre qu’ilz sont christz et sauveurs du people cheminas en logues robbes et habitz de brebis, mais par dedes sont loupz ravissans” (a6v).400 Dentière does not withhold accusation, and given her comment to Calvin about long garments, it is likely that this particular criticism was not only directed towards papal authorities, but also reformed ministers.

Due to the Epistre’s explicit criticisms of church leaders on both sides of the Reformation combined with an overt call for women to preach, and the very fact of its being written by a woman, city officials seized copies of the Epistre and also imprisoned its printer.401 According to

Douglass, “The new ministers felt, as the result of its publication, that they had been injured, offended, and humiliated, by a woman.”402 The reception of Dentière’s Epistre reveals the fragile and temperamental relations among the founding members of reformers in Geneva. In terms of the intended audience of the Epistre, we will see that there is a distinct female readership, namely Marguerite de Navarre, whom Dentière seeks to reach. However, Douglass claims that

Dentière also desired that men listen to what she communicated to Marguerite: “Ostensibly writing as a woman to women could be a device to make her work more socially acceptable. But it is obvious that she intends the conversation to be overheard by men.”403 Such an observation

399 Ibid., 11. 400 “by false doctrines and long orations, false prophets have seduced and tricked the poor people, letting it be understood that they are christs and saviors of the people. They walk about in long robes and sheep’s clothing, but inside are ravishing wolves” (57). 401 Jane Douglass, “Marie Dentière’s Use of Scripture in Her Theology of History,” 240. 402 Ibid., 240. 403 Ibid., 241. 168 bears weight on my analysis of the Epistre as a piece that was meant to be both read and heard; and, while the typical exchange between noblewomen involved innocuous topics, written in an inoffensive tone and undergirded by the familiar humility topos, the Epistre stands out for the brashness and boldness of delivery involving ecclesiastical and theological polemic, as well as a radical Christian feminism,404 written and spoken by a woman.

Theoretical Approaches to Dentière’s Epistre

Although Dentière is known for two other works, La guerre et deslivrance de la ville de

Genesve (The War for and Deliverance of the City of Geneva) (1536), a Christianized historical narrative of the Reformation’s success in Geneva, as well as her Preface to a Sermon by John

Calvin (1561), in which she addresses the theme of modest dress for women (the subject of

Calvin’s sermon: see above), I have selected the Epistre as my main source of textual analysis for its reformist message with an explicitly gendered bent, as well as for the stylistic aspects that render this work a sermon, rather than an exercise in epistolary rhetoric. In my approach to

Dentière’s text, I incorporate several considerations, namely, the holistic nature of early modern oral culture, the tradition of the ars praedicandi, and the theoretical concept of dilatio, which establish a foundation for my reading of the Epistre.

Dentière’s public and polemical style of speaking and writing is at once harmonious and at odds with the oral nature of early modern communication, in which written texts were significantly shaped by the spoken word. Cohen and Twomey elaborate on the interconnectedness between orality and script, the latter of which “was especially prone to social gesturing, [and] sought to mirror the intensely social habits of speech.”405 On the one hand,

404 Irena Backus argues that the Epistre consistently demonstrates “un féminisme nettement plus radical que celui des autres auteurs féminins de l’époque” (“Marie Dentière: un cas de féminisme théologique à l’époque de la Réforme?” Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 137, 1991), 182. 405 Cohen and Twomey, “Introduction,” 14. 169 Dentière’s public declarations are a product of this culture, in which script was interlaced with oral practices; on the other hand, given her gender, Dentière’s voice disturbed the religious soundscape of Geneva, as women were neither prone to protest nor were permitted to publically declare anything substantial, especially if their speech pertained to theological matters. In any case, the oral nature of Dentière’s message is quite significant, especially as we consider her written Epistre as spoken word.

The dynamic between the spoken and written word emerges most strikingly in the practice of preaching, as ministers convey the word (logos) of God to a congregation through the exposition of the Scripture. Reformers appropriated and transformed the ars praedicandi, steeped in the classical tradition of rhetoric, to serve their evangelistic ends as they sought to defend and propagate the reformist message, resulting in the conversion of souls. While

Protestantism relied heavily on the dispersal of written texts made possible through the printing press, Andrew Pettegree explains how most information was transmitted via public communication in “the market place, the church, a proclamation from the town hall steps […] it was conveyed by word of mouth, sometimes subsequently reinforced in print.”406 Preaching was undoubtedly the primary means of disseminating the reformist message in a performative and public manner.407

Pettegree stresses, however, that Reformation preaching praxis tended to be less orchestrated and more suspicious of rhetorical devices, which could persuade listeners without true conversion taking place.408 The essence of reformist preaching can be summed up in

406 Andrew Pettegree, Reformation and the Culture of Persuasion, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 8. 407 As we consider the practice of preaching as an oral performance, it is interesting to note that many reformers who preached did not wish to have their oral sermons recorded verbatim. Pettegree argues that preachers’ sermons would not be preserved as polished pieces. The oral sermon as an event was much different than the later printed versions of such pieces, which often served as models of sermons (13-14). 408 Ibid., 19-20. 170 Luther’s mantra, “Rein Evangelium” (“the Pure Gospel”), which relied on the authority and simplicity of Scripture; reformers transmitted the rein Evangelium through repetition, paired contrasts, lists and exempla, summary, and reiteration.409 Moreover, as Hunt suggests, the

Protestant theory of preaching was founded upon a Pauline text (Romans 10:17) that demonstrates an inextricable link between preaching, hearing, and faith: “So faith comes from

410 what is heard, and what is heard comes by the preaching of Christ.” That true faith comes from hearing the word of God preached is an essential angle in my reading of Dentière’s Epistre, in which the principle of fides ex auditu infuses the very structure of Dentière’s writing, which incorporates an array of formal elements, both inherited from medieval practices of preaching as well as from the reformed appropriation of the ars praedicandi. At the same time, the content embedded within these formal preaching techniques is distinctly gendered because it explicitly defends women’s right to preach - which further problematizes the dynamic between women and theological public discourse.

In addition to Dentière’s appropriation of reformed preaching methods, her speaking voice enables us to conceive of the Epistre as a demonstration of dilatio – synonymous with

Dentière’s rejection of the Pauline prohibitions, referring to the New Testament injunctions that

411 call for women’s silence in the Church (1 Timothy 2:12 and 1 Corinthians 14:34), against women speaking through her public preaching ministry. In her analysis of dilatio in early modern texts concerning women, Parker locates the “link between the categories of rhetoric and discourse and questions of gender and ideology, the importance of rhetoric not just as a system of tropes but as a motivated discourse.”412 Rather than a composite of tropes lodged in the

409 Ibid., 39. 410 Hunt, The Art of Hearing, 22. 411 See note 13. 412 Parker, Literary Fat Ladies, 1. 171 tradition of epistolary rhetoric, Dentière’s Epistre certainly figures into such “motivated discourse.” While Parker applies dilatio, which connects the formal aspects of rhetoric with gendered motivations, to the context of early modern English literature, I use it to better understand Dentière’s Epistre. In particular, the aspects of control, expansion, and multiplication, embedded in the notion of dilatio, become apparent in the Epistre.

First, control over the text can be understood as an internal formal technique as well as an external prohibition that specifically targets feminine speech. In terms of the former, dilatio, as understood in Renaissance works such as Erasmus’ De Utraque Verborum ac Rerum Copia

(1509-1514),413 or De copia, is the practice of expanding the content of the text without losing control or mastery of the subject.414 According to Erasmus, “those who unskillfully strive for copia […] although they are excessively loquacious, yet they say too little, leaving out many things that certainly need to be said.”415 On the one hand, Copia should not be confused with garrulous speech, but rather should be honed as a communicative skill that the orator employs to amplify the content of the message (auxesis). In this understanding of copia, speech emerges, paradoxically, out of a constrained hold on the text. On the other hand, as Terence Cave highlights in his classic study, The Cornucopian Text: Problems of Writing in the French

Renaissance, copia also should be understood as a “self-eliminating” theory “designed to release the movement of discourse rather than to master it.”416 When understood as the generation of

413 According to Donald B. King and H. David Rix, there were at least 85 editions of Erasmus’s De copia in circulation during his lifetime (“Introduction,” in Erasmus, On Copia of Words and Ideas (De Utraque Verborum ac Rerum Copia), trans. Donald B. King and H. David Rix (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1963), 2. 414 Parker cites Erasmus’ De copia as a source of Renaissance rhetorical tradition that instructs one how to expand discourse without losing control: “to keep dilation from getting out of bounds” (Literary Fat Ladies, 13). 415 Erasmus, On Copia of Words and Ideas, Book I, Chapter VI, 15. 416 Terence Cave, The Cornucopian Text: Problems of Writing in the French Renaissance (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1979), xiv. 172 discourse, copia and dilatio share the element of discursive fertility.417

Regarding dilatio’s second function of control as it pertains to gender, the misogynist restriction of women’s speech applied to oratory as well as to preaching, in the context of

Christian practice, since both practices involved public speaking. Even within humanist thought, women were generally excluded from learning and practicing the ars rhetorica. We see this early modern gender barrier to rhetoric for instance in De studiis et litteris (1405-1429), composed by the Italian humanist Leonardo Bruni (1370-1444). De studiis et litteris, written in the form of a short letter, is also the earliest educational treatise addressed to a woman; in this case, it was the learned poetess Battista di Montefeltro (1383-1450). While Bruni encourages the study of philosophy, theology, history, and poetry – disciplines that contributed to women’s spiritual and moral formation – the fields of geometry, arithmetic, astrology, and rhetoric are abstract and impractical for women. In De studiis, Bruni prescribes the following for the female sex:

In geometry and arithmetic, for example, if she should waste a great deal of time worrying about their subtle obscurities, I would seize her and tear her away from them. I would do the same in astrology, and even, perhaps, in the art of rhetoric […] For why should the subtleties of […] rhetorical conundrums consume the powers of a woman, who will never see the forum? The art of delivery […] so far is that from being the concern of a woman that if she should gesture energetically with her arms as she spoke and shout with violent emphasis, she would probably be thought mad and put under restraint.418

Bruni’s discarding of rhetoric as a field worthy of scholarly pursuit for women is rooted in social custom as well as a belief that might overwhelm women to consider the subtleties of such

417 Cave continues, “Furthermore, copia is envisaged not as a quantitative, linear process but as a manifestation of the desire to write, releasing and bringing to life […] the potential nuances of a single bare statement” (The Cornucopian Text, 25). 418 Bruni, Leonardo, De studiis et litteris, in Humanist educational treatises, edited by Craig Kallendorf (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2002), 105; “ut geometria et arithmetica, in quibus, si multum temporis consumere pergat et subtilitates omnes obscuritatesque rimari, retraham manu atque divellam. Quod idem faciam in astrologia, idem fortasse et in arte rhetorica […] Quid enim statuum subtilitates […] mille in ea arte difficultates mulierem conterant, quae forum numquam sit aspectura? Iam vero action illa artificiosa […] ita mulieri nequaquam laboranda, quae, si brachium iactabit loquens aut si clamorem vehementius attollet, vesana coercendaque videatur” (104). 173 intellectual endeavors. Furthermore, Bruni’s vignette of a madwoman, whose loose words and bodily gestures in the public form, serves as a cautionary tale to women who meddle in the ars rhetorica.419 Both her words and her bodily movements sentence this figurative woman to male captivity and forced restraint, effectively erasing her voice from the public forum.

Rhetoric also foregrounds the ars praedicandi - a spectacle that not only occurred within the confines of the church building itself, but also in the public realm where the impact of the spoken word expanded to reach multitudes of people. Accordingly, Parker considers the ars praedicandi as one of the most significant displays of dilatio in the early modern context, as its

“principal method of proceeding was to divide and open up a closed or difficult scriptural text so that it might ‘increase and multiply,’ to be dilated upon by the preacher so as to dilate and spread about the Word.”420 This exchange between the Scripture and the preacher, and then the preacher and the congregation parallels the reformist emphasis on one’s personal interaction with the authority of the Bible, and the ensuing call to propagate the message.

Parker also identifies the idea of ‘closed or difficult’ passages that require opening, or

‘dilating,’ by the preacher. In one sense, the meaning of the passage is expanded; in another sense, by extracting this enhanced understanding and proclaiming it to a congregation, the message of Scripture swells over a multitude of persons who hear the Gospel. This swelling of the text, in terms of meaning and public declaration, can be further linked to the idea of

419 For an interesting counterargument to this traditional misogynist reading of Bruni’s De studiis et litteris, see Virginia Cox, “Leonardo Bruni on Women and Rhetoric: De Studiis Et Litteris Revisited,” Rhetorica: A Journal of the History of Rhetoric 27, no. 1 (2009): 47-75, doi:10.1525/rh.2009.27.1.47. Cox points out that Italian rhetoric was quite comprehensive, including written and spoken forms and that for Bruni, a ban on written rhetoric for women seems implausible (55); in essence, for Cox, “It is quite clear, then, if we look at De studiis as a whole, that Bruni does not intend to exclude rhetoric in its entirety from a woman’s studies” (56). Cox further explains how, in classical rhetorical theory, three genres were further classified: the forensic or judicial, deliberative or political, and the demonstrative or ceremonial. Cox argues that it is the first of these to which Bruni was referring in his discussion of rhetoric’s irrelevance for women. 420 Parker, “Literary Fat Ladies and the Generation of the Text,” in Literary Fat Ladies: Rhetoric, Gender, Property (1987): 14. 174 multiplication. As people hear the Gospel and are converted, they are able to then go and evangelize others and thus participate in the propagation of the (Reformed) Christian faith.

Dentière heard, understood, and sought to publically declare her devotion to God along the lines of the newly formed Protestant faith. The sensorial nature of early modern discursive practice, the ars praedicandi, and the notion of dilatio bear weight on my understanding of the Epistre, particularly in the context of the gendered and reformist message in Dentière’s emphasis on seeking knowledge, her role as prophetess, the dynamic between revealing and hiding truth (and its implications on the community), and the author’s embodiment as “prescheresse.”

The Epistre tres utile as Gendered Preaching

A Call to Pursue Knowledge

In her Epistre, Dentière urges Marguerite and her audience to pursue knowledge. From this knowledge, the reader of the Epistre is invited to join Dentière in the mission to preach the reformed message – an act that she, as a woman, was criticized for performing, even by her

Protestant contemporaries. Throughout the Epistre, Dentière’s text beckons the reader to not only read, but to also carefully consider, and to ultimately participate in the reformist message and faith. This call to not only receive, but to respond to the Gospel, appears as soon as the title page of Dentière’s Epistre where we find the epigraph, “LISEZ ET PUIS IUGEZ” (a1),421 which commands the recipient(s) of this letter to read, and then make a judgment based on personal interpretation of the text.

The use of the imperative in the epigraph, “Lisez et puis jugez,” suggests authority and urgency on Dentière’s part. In addition, the epigraph recalls the practice of the “libre examen,” linked to the reformist emphasis on universal access to the Bible. According to William Kemp,

421 “READ AND THEN JUDGE” (49). 175 the epigraph, “Lisez et puis jugez,” stems from the exhortation of reformers and reform-minded humanists, such as Erasmus, Guillaume Briçonnet, and Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples, to all people to first read (“lisez”) Scripture for themselves, and, only after their exposure to the Bible should they interpret (“jugez”) the message.422 Dentière reiterates the importance of examination later in the Epistle proper as she considers the grave abuses of the Catholic Church and the inability for men to sufficiently address it; she goes on to ask how a woman would be able to diagnose such false teachings and practices: “Car aussi n’est home qui le sceust assez devemet declairer.

Commet le fera doc une femme? soyez diliges de bien examiner les textes et la cosequece d’iceux, et verrez ce que ie dy estre veritable” (c7).423 Given that this interrogative is found towards the end of the Epistre, after Dentière, as a woman, has examined and criticized papal decrees, the ironic tone does not escape us. The “libre examen,” in which those who seek truth test all words against the “la parole sacrée,” is the principal method by which women, in particular, should acquire wisdom and knowledge. Visual and oral elements come to the fore in these lines; once the examination takes place, those who read, and then judge, will see (“verrez”) that what Dentière speaks (“dy”) is the truth. Finally, that Dentière extends the invitation of the

“libre examen” to Marguerite de Navarre, as well as to her broader female readership, is significant, given the gendered restrictions in theological and ecclesiastical discourse.

In keeping with the intended female audience, we find that Dentière opens her Dedication to Marguerite de Navarre by including Marguerite in a collective comprised of women who, like

Dentière and Marguerite, are in earnest pursuit of truth. Dentière writes, in the opening line:

422 William Kemp, “L’épigraphe ‘Lisez et puis jugez’ et le principe de l’examen dans la Réforme française avant 1540,” in Le Livre évangélique en français avant Calvin, eds. Jean-François Gilmont and William Kemp, Turnhout, Netherlands: Brepols (2004): 241-272. Kemp claims, “L’idée de l’examen des textes religieux par les fidèles, l’invitation même à une telle pratique, est au cœur des textes polémiques du groupe de Neuchâtel, imprimés par Pierre de Vingle entre 1533 et 1535” (272). 423 “No man could be able to expose it enough. How, therefore, will a woman do it? In spite of that, be diligent in examining carefully the texts and the consequence of what they say, and you will see that I speak the truth” (77). 176 Tout ainsi ma treshonnorée Dame, que les vrays amateurs de verité desirent sçavoir et entendre comment ilz doibvent vivre à ce temps si dangereux: aussi nous femmes, debvons sçavoir fuyr et eviter toutes erreurs, heresies, et faulses doctrines (a2).424

Dentière aligns herself and Marguerite de Navarre, as well as all women (“nous femmes”), with those who are true lovers of truth -“les vrays amateurs de verité” – a phrase whose very structure reinforces the wedded task of truth and love, by literally enveloping the lover (“amateur”) with truth through the ‘bookends’ of “vrai” and “vérité.” Desire for knowledge also drives this common pursuit of truth for women, in particular, who must be able to think clearly. Dentière is namely concerned with correct doctrine for influential women such as Marguerite, as well as for all women who ought to pursue divine truth and avoid false doctrine (“faulses doctrines”), which corresponds to the epigraph, “Lisez et puis jugez.”

Even before the Defense of Women, Dentière demonstrates the gendered project of her

Epistre in the Dedication. In the following passage, although she states that women are forbidden to preach in public, Dentière vies for the right for women to at least be able to admonish one another. Dentière also clarifies that her letter is not only written with Marguerite herself in mind, but for all women:

Et combien que ne nous soit permiz de prescher es assemblées et eglises publiques: ce neatmois n’est pas deffendu, d’escrire et admonester l’une l’aultre, en toute charité. Non seulemet pour vois, ma dame, ay voulu escrire ceste Epistre: mais aussi pour donner courage auz aultres femmes detenues en captivité: affin qlles ne craingnent point d’estre deschassées de leurs pays, paras & amys, come moy, pour la parolle de Dieu. Et principallement pour les paouvres femmellettes, desirans sçavoir et entendre la verité: lesquelles ne sçavent quell chemin, quelle voye doibvent tenir (a3).425

424 “My most honored Lady, just as the genuine lovers of truth desire to know and understand how they should live in these very dangerous times, so we women should know how to flee and avoid all errors, heresies, and false doctrines” (51). 425 “And even though we are not permitted to preach in public in congregations and churches, we are not forbidden to write and admonish one another in all charity. Not only for you, my Lady, did I wish to write this letter, but also to give courage to other women detained in captivity, so that they might not fear being expelled from their homelands, away from their relatives and friends, as I was, for the word of God. And principally for the poor little women [femmelettes] wanting to know and understand the truth, who do not know what path, what way to take” (53). 177

In this passage, we find Dentière’s first reference to the Pauline injunction that prohibits women from preaching before a congregation or in public. While it seems that Dentière consents to the legitimacy of such an injunction, I argue that the content and form of the Epistre as a whole suggests otherwise. Even the structure of this reference to women’s silence in church, constructed in negative terms (“ne nous soit permiz de prescher,” followed by “ce neatmois n’est pas deffendu”), amplifies the disdain that Dentière possesses towards such prohibitions. In her edition of the Epistre, McKinley cites Natalie Zemon Davis’s argument that Dentière

“maintained the modest fiction that she was addressing herself only to other females” in the corresponding footnote of this passage, and further claims that Calvin’s 1546 letter, mocking

Dentière’s public “harangue” supports Davis’s statement.426 However, the tone of Dentière’s reference to the Pauline injunction is not a modest fiction, but a poignant and purposeful use of irony, as the rest of the Epistre to follow is an emphatic rejection of any such prohibition on women’s preaching to both men and women. Instead, Dentière’s text subverts the Pauline injunction not only in its polemical content, which attacks Catholic and Protestant (male) ministers alike, but also in its form, as it can be read in a similar vein as Paul’s New Testament epistles – letters that were meant to be orally conveyed to the whole body of believers – men and women included. We can also view this moment in the Epistre as the opening of the difficult text in 1 Timothy 2, one which Dentière acknowledges, but ultimately considers less incumbent in relationship with other examples of women’s speech throughout Scripture, as we will see.

Moreover, in this passage, Dentière evokes the image of women in captivity (“detenues en captivité”), constrained by false doctrine and religious male authorities that inhibit their quest

426 See note 5 (53); Natalie Zemon Davis, “City Women and Religious Change,” in Society and Culture in Early Modern France: Eight Essays by Natalie Zemon Davis, Stanford: Stanford University Press (1975), 82-3. 178 for truth and freedom. As a reaction against such detainment, Dentière’s words serve as a way to open up the paths of spiritual and theological knowledge to women, thereby expanding the

“parolle de Dieu” to everyone – which is the essence of the priesthood of all believers in the reformist framework. As a victim of such oppression herself (“come moy”), driven out of France for her conversion, Dentière elevates the freedom that is found in true faith by being exposed to

God’s true word in Scripture. This liberating quality of Dentière’s Epistre evokes the female body in its opening (dilatio) to receive truth, but to also, in response, further propagate the message by word of mouth.

It is also significant that Dentière stresses that “paouvres femmellettes” desire to know and hear the truth (“desirans sçavoir et entendre la verité”) as this theological and doctrinal approach to religion encompasses women of all backgrounds, even those who are not educated.

Dentière continues to elaborate on the repercussions of these afflicted (“tormentées et affligées”) women’s desire for knowledge and truth: they will be consoled, joyful, and led to follow Christ and his Gospel: “Et affin que desormais ne soyent en elles mesmes ainsi tormentées et affligées, ains plustost refiouyes, consolées, et esmeues à suyvir la verité, qui est l’Evangile de Iesus

Christ” (a3).427 Dentière clears the path for women to gain access to Christ, which is through the knowledge of Scripture. The distinctly feminine nature of Dentière’s mission to open Scripture to women is further brought to light as she mentions a short Hebrew grammar book that her own daughter had prepared for all young girls to use, but especially for Marguerite’s own daughter,

Jeanne d’Albret.428 With the generation of women to come in mind, Dentière concludes her

Dedication by restating the principal means of her writing Marguerite: “Qui est la cause

427 “in order that from now on they be not internally tormented and afflicted, but rather that they be joyful, consoled, and led to follow the truth, which is the Gospel of Jesus Christ” (53). 428 McKinley notes that this passage is found within brackets only within the copy of the Epistre found in the Bibliothèque Mazarine in Paris (Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre, note 7, 53). 179 principale, ma Dame, que ma esmeu à vous escrire, esperat en Dieu, que doresenavant les femmes ne serot plus tant mesprisées comme par le passé” (a3).429 Dentière strives for a paradigm shift regarding women’s place in church, one which begins with a call to women to read and judge every word against Scripture. Dentière’s Epistre therefore serves an explicit agenda: to promote women’s voices, including her own, in the unfolding formation of the

Protestant faith, both in the content and form of her written text – the latter of which bleeds into the spoken word, as script traveled through word of mouth.

Additionally, in the opening line of the Epistle proper, the exhortation to pursue truth and knowledge dominates Dentière’s directive to Marguerite de Navarre:

Le Seigneur Dieu qui desire tous venir à la pure et vraye congnoissance de verité par un seul moyenneur Iesus Christ, sans acception de personne, moyenant que par vraye et vive foy lon luy demade l’intelligence d’icelle sans vaciller n’attendre que de luy seul (a5).430

Dentière stresses truth and knowledge (“vraye congnoissance de verité”; “l’intelligence”), which recalls the opening lines of the Dedication to Marguerite de Navarre (“les vrays amateurs de verité desirent sçavoir”). Incidentally, this impetus to seek and obtain knowledge is a foundational element to the Protestant faith as can be seen by the reformers’ insistence on universal access to and interpretation of Scripture as a means to attain such unadulterated knowledge. This pure and “vraye congnoissance” is ultimately found in Christ alone (Solus

Christus), which leads to true conversion “par un seul moyenneur Iesus Christ” and his mediating work on the cross.

For Dentière, the pursuit of knowledge and truth corresponds to a sensorial amalgam of seeing, listening, and perceiving correctly. The following passage, taken from the beginning of

429 “That is the main reason, my Lady, that has moved me to write to you, hoping in God that henceforth women will not be so scorned as in the past” (54). 430 “The Lord God desires that all without exception come to the pure and true knowledge of truth through one mediator, Jesus Christ alone, by asking for that understanding only through a true and living faith, without wavering nor seeking anyone but him” (56). 180 the Epistle proper, illustrates the link between the senses and discernment: “Mais nous sommes en si grande cecité et aveuglerie à cause de nostre avarice (qu’est racine de tout mal) que ne le sçavos cognoistre, et: si nous est assez bien monstré au doigt si le pouvos entendre” (a5v).431

Initially, Dentière casts a judgment on the blindness of humanity, as can be seen by her double iteration of words that convey the lack of sight, “cecité” and “aveuglerie.” Dentière also adds that behind this human condition is avarice, the root of evil, which hinders one from recognizing truth from falsity. Dentière further highlights the inability to practice discernment through the negative structure, “ne le sçavos cognoistre,” where two verbs of understanding are doubly flawed on account of corrupt human nature. However, Dentière admits that truth must be physically shown (“bien monstré au doigt”), affecting all senses – and in this particular case, the visual and aural elements are of special concern (“cecité et aveuglerie,” “monstré,” and

“entendre”). One should not only read Dentière’s message, but should also hear and see it;

Dentière’s Epistre embodies such a task so as to clearly demonstrate truth to the reader, listener, and spectator.

The end of the Epistre provides an insight into how Dentière conceives the role of contrasts and oppositions as necessary for her readers to discern truth:

Mais il fault que Iudas soit avec Christ. Asnes passent soubz la cheminée, vetres paresseux regnet au peuple, affin que les Prophetes soient cogneuz entre les faulx apostres, verité avec mensonge, la lumiere avec tenebres, et le noir avec le blac (d6v- d7).432

Dentière stresses the importance of recognition, but also argues that without false teachings, one cannot understand truth. The starkest contrast emerges from the opposition between Judas and

431 “But we are so blind because of our avarice, which is the root of all evil, that we do not know how to recognize the truth of his words. If it is pointed out to us well enough, then we can recognize it” (57). 432 “But Judas must be with Christ, donkeys must pass under the hearth, lazy bellies reign among the people so that the Prophets can be recognized among the false prophets, truth distinguished from the lie, light from darkness, and black from white” (85-6). 181 Christ – Dentière exhorts those who are faithful to persist in their quest to seek truth, even in the midst of those who betray Christ (“Iudas”) succeed in doing so. Dentière goes on to paint a visual picture of the distinction between light/darkness, and black/white; with this vivid portrayal of the Manichean circumstances in which those who desire to know truth live, Dentière recognizes the necessity of false prophets to elucidate those prophets who proclaim pure knowledge and wisdom.

Although this exhortation to pursue knowledge extends to a multitude, Dentière stresses that few will actually achieve such understanding. The few chosen by God for salvation is a trope that is present in both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible. For example, the prophetic texts often allude to the remnant of Israel or tribe of Judah in particularly volatile moments in redemptive history (Isaiah 37:32-32, Micah 4:7, etc.); God ultimately restores the faithful few who are cast aside as pariahs by the rest of society. Paul uses the same type of language to describe the emerging church under severe persecution (i.e. “at the present time there

433 is a remnant, chosen by grace”). Likewise, Dentière adopts the language of the “remnant” and the “elect” to highlight God’s foreknowledge and omniscience. In the Epistle proper, Dentière reminds her reader(s) that God’s elect, who arrive at true saving knowledge of Christ, are few in number:

plusieurs sont qui le suyvent: mais peu la verite, le chemin qui meine à salvation, comme assez appert par tout le vieil et nouveau Testamet […] Car il est certain que plusieurs y sont appellez, mais peu d’esleuz: et plusieurs vrayement sont creez, mais peu de gentz seront sauvez: tellemet qu’il ny a bie peu qui se puisset nomer vrayemet chresties, se glorifians en Dieu seul (b8).434

433 Romans 11:5 434 “Its followers are many, but few are the followers of the path that leads to salvation. That is clear enough throughout the Old and the New Testaments […] It is certain that many are called, but few are chosen; many in truth are created, but few will be saved. Thus, only a few can truly call themselves Christians, glorifying God alone” (68). 182 Dentière anchors this rather harsh truth of the remnant in Scripture, as both the Old and New

Testaments testify to the predestined remnant that finds the path of true salvation. Dentière also reflects Christ’s words from the Gospel of Matthew: “For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few.”435

In the context of the Epistre, Dentière weaves this theme into a larger criticism of sects such as Franciscans, Dominicans, papists, Anabaptists, and other sects of Christianity whom she considers false, having strayed from the truth (“Certes tous y ont erré” [b8]).436 Dentière lambasts such groups for choosing to delight in the poverty of their ignorance instead of acknowledging their erroneous beliefs: “diligemet veoir, entedre, cofesser et cognoistre leurs faultes et erreurs.” This sensorial combination of infinitives unites the body and mind, as truth comes through seeing (“veoir”), hearing (“entedre”), speaking (“cofesser”), followed by mental consent (“cognoistre”). Dentière beckons her public to utilize their external senses of hearing and seeing (in the form of reading) to witness her words, and then to make a judgment for themselves. Dentière’s communication affects her readers as holistic entities, body and soul; this call to pursue truth thus encompasses all senses and mental faculties and points us back to the opening epigraph, “Lisez et puis jugez” – an imperative that seeps through every page of the

Epistre.

Despite having warned Marguerite of the few who actually understand truth, through the grace of God, and receive salvation, only through Christ, Dentière persists in the call to pursue knowledge through assiduous reflection of the claims, especially from religious authorities, that one hears and reads. Dentière emphasizes the need, for women, in particular, to discern true doctrine amidst a vast array of false teachings, mostly emanating from papal authorities:

435 Matthew 7:14 436 “Certainly all have strayed into error” (68). 183 Puis que des aultres en somme avos parlé viedros à la loy papale, ou aultremet nomée faulsemet chrestiene […] veu q selo la verité sera declairée, ou à tout le mois en partie. Car n’est à moy n’a aultre feme la pouvoir assez suffisamet despaidre et declairer, voyant l’enormité et abominatio d’icelle. Vous priat lire et entedre avant que iuger (c3).437

Dentière launches into another attack on the Catholic Church by way of incorporating a collective conversation through the use of the first person plural (“avos parlé”); this usage signals a corporate contour to Dentière’s Epistre, which is ostensibly communal and public. Compelled to tell the truth, Dentière admits that the errors of papal authorities are too egregious to fully explain. Dentière attempts, nevertheless, to vividly and loudly depict this judgment (“despaidre et declairer”) of the abuses of the Catholic Church to her readership and audience, which she has already addressed and will continue to do so throughout the remainder of the Epistre.

Dentière’s concluding remarks to Marguerite involve an exhortation to beware of false doctrine as set forth by “moynes cafardz” (“hypocritical monks”). Dentière warns Marguerite to flee from these deceptions: “Parquoy telz asnes, loups et impudes libins cafardz entre brebis, doibvet estre par tout fuis et chassez coe chimeres du troppeau: affin q par faulse doctrine et meschate coversation ne seduysent plus le paovre peuple” (d7v).438 Dentière, preoccupied by the power of seduction from such “wolves amongst sheep,” functions as a shepherd, protecting the sheep from danger. The bestial and spectral language (“asnes,” “loups,” and “chimeres”) paints a stark and base picture of the religious conflict in Geneva, as well as in France, in Dentière’s estimation. This type of seduction can be avoided if one recognizes truth from false doctrine, as

437 “Since we have spoken of all the others, let us come to papal, or in other words, falsely Christian law […] seeing I will speak the truth about it, or at least part of the truth. For it is not in my power, nor in that of any other woman to depict and declare it sufficiently, given its enormity and abomination. I ask you to read and understand before judging” (73). 438 “That is why such donkeys, wolves, and impudent, lustful hypocrites among sheep should be avoided everywhere and expelled like chimeras from the flock, so that by false doctrine and evil conversation they are not able to seduce the poor people” (86). 184 well as good from evil conversation – a combination that further stresses the symbiotic relationship between knowledge and discourse.

Heeding the Words of the Prophetess

Dentière strengthens the imperative to her reader(s) to pursue true doctrine and knowledge in the midst of confusion and strife through a prophetic delivery of her message, which enhances our understanding of the spoken nature of the Epistre. G. Sujin Pak argues that

Dentière considered herself a prophetess - a “mouthpiece of God” – who sought to elevate

Scripture over her own words and who relied heavily on prophetic texts and language from the

Bible to help readers and listeners identify false teaching.439 With regards to Dentière’s Epistre,

Pak claims that Dentière’s “language and tone derived from the Old Testament prophets,” as

Dentière “located her ministry and her language within a biblical prophetic pattern of rebuke, call to repentance and hope of restoration.”440 Pak’s observations stress the influence of the biblical mode of prophecy on Dentière’s understanding and conveyance of her contemporary context.

In my analysis of the Epistre, I argue that the prophetic pattern provides a further contour to the gendered notion of dilatio, as the prophetess exposes difficult divine truth, often via public declarations, to groups of people who find the message hard to receive. In fact, the prophetess is often shunned and marginalized, which, can be understood as a social constraint (dilatio) on prophetic messages, especially prophetesses whose words challenge male authorities. Dentière reflects this gender rejection later, in the Epistle proper, when she aligns herself with women who are rejected by those in authority: “Ilz sont tant de docteurs, tant de sages, tant de grans clers, tant d’universitez contre nous paovres femmes, que sommes reiectées et mesprisées de tout

439 G. Sujin Pak, “Three Early Female Protestant Reformers’ Appropriation of Prophecy as Interpretation of Scripture,” American Society of Church History, 84.1 (2015): 106, doi:10.1017/S0009640714001723. 440 Ibid., 107, 110. 185 le mode” (b2).441 Dentière numbers herself among these poor women who have experienced rejection at the hands of men in powerful positions. Beyond the presence of prophetic patterns, as influenced by Scripture, there is a gendered distinction in the prophetic voice that permeates the Epistre.

Despite the rejection that “paovres femmes” have endured, Dentière embodies the role as prophetess as soon as the beginning of the Epistre, where we find four prophetic biblical citations: Joel 2:21, 1 Corinthians 1:27, Luke 3:8, and 19:40 directly following the epigraph,

“Lisez et puis iugez.” While the verse taken from the Old Testament book of Joel encourages people to rejoice in light of God’s promise to perform good works throughout the land,442 the last three verses offer a prelude to the theme of God using ‘weaker’ vessels to serve as prophetic voices. In the first passage, taken from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians (1 Corinthians 1:27), we find the paradox of wisdom and folly (“Car il a esleu les choses foibles et conteptibles de ce mode pour cofondre les grades”),443 as God uses “things,” which at times are actual people, considered weak and foolish in the world’s perspective, in order to confound worldly wisdom.

Dentière also cites this passage, significant for her own understanding of her calling to pursue and proclaim truth, towards the end of the Epistle proper: “Car il est certain que Dieu veult destruyre la sagesse des sages, et la prudence des prudens. Et si a esleu les choses foibles, petites et contemptibles pour abbatre les grades. 1 Corinth. 1” (d2).444 In the climate of sixteenth- century reform, we can understand how Dentière herself, as a woman, identifies herself among these “choses foibles, petites et contemptibles,” as a “femmelette” – a term that Dentière

441 “They are just so many doctors, so many wise men, so many great clerics, so many universities against us, poor women, who are rejected and scorned by everyone” (61). 442 “Be glad and rejoice: for the Lord will do great things.” 443 “But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise.” 444 “For it is certain that God will destroy the wisdom of the wise and the prudence of the prudent. And so he chose weak things, small and contemptible, to bring down the great. 1 Cor. 1” (80-1). 186 employs in the Dedication to Marguerite de Navarre: “les paouvres femmellettes, desirans sçavoir et entendre la verité” (a3).445 This diminutive word also evokes Erasmus’s usage of a similar term (muliercula) in his Paraclesis (1516), the preface to his Greek and Latin edition of the New Testament, when he describes the philosophia Christi as being open and accessible to the uneducated masses, especially women: “I would that even the lowliest women read the

Gospels and the Pauline Epistles.”446 This Erasmian influence sheds light on the importance of the simplicity of the Gospel and the necessity of the prophet, and in this case, Dentière, to communicate it plainly and clearly, for all to hear and respond.

Moreover, in the last two verses, extracted from the Gospel of Luke (“Certes il est puissant de susciter des pierres et en faire des enfans à Abraham”; “Et si ceux se taisent, les pierres parleront”),447 the image of rocks “crying out” emerges as a poignant way of exemplifying God’s infusing even inanimate objects with life and a voice that can do nothing else but proclaim the Gospel. Incidentally, the verse taken from Luke 3 is associated with John the Baptist, hailed as ‘the voice of one crying in the wilderness,’ whose prophetic voice prepared the ‘way of the Lord.’448 Dentière views her role as on par with John the Baptist, as both were designated and chosen by God to declare the simple message of Christ. Accordingly, Dentière can also be seen as a prophetess, joining the voice of the prophets Joel and John the Baptist, in their refusal to keep silent about the coming of Christ, which is reinforced by the words of Christ

(“if these were silent, the very stones would cry out”) in response to the Pharisees, angry at the

445 “the poor little women [femmelettes] wanting to know and understand the truth” (53). 446 Desiderius Erasmus, Christian Humanism and the Reformation: selected writings of Erasmus, with the life of Erasmus by Beatus Rhenanus, trans. John C. Olin (New York: Fordham University Press, 1975), 97-108 (101). For the Latin translation, see Desiderius Erasmus, Desiderius Erasmus Roterodamus Ausgewählte Werke, ed. Hajo Holborn (Munich: C.H. Beck, 1933), 139-49. 447 “For I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham”; “if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.” 448 Luke 3:1-9 introduces John the Baptist in these terms, recalling Isaiah 40:3, “A voice cries: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, Make straight in the desert a highway for our God.’” 187 clamor over Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem. To be sure, Dentière anticipates a scornful response from those who consider women to be sources of pleasure for men (and certainly not

“mouthpieces” for God): “Aucus pourrot estre marris de ce qui est dict par une femme, comme n’appartenat à icelle, disans estre faict à plaisir” (c6v).449 Dentière mentions this probable backlash from ecclesiastical authorities in the middle of her diatribe against papal powers, various religious sects (i.e. Lutherans), and even some of her fellow reformers in Geneva. In the case of Dentière’s Epistre, then, not only is the prophetic message unpalatable, the interlocutor is also dismissed and rejected because of her gender (“dict par une femme”).

Likewise, in the following passage taken from the beginning of the Dedication to

Marguerite de Navarre, Dentière reminds Marguerite of the rejection that prophets and preachers have endured in response to their proclamation of the Gospel.

Et iaçoit ce, que plusieurs bons et fideles serviteurs de Dieu, se soyent perforcez au temps passé, d’escrire, prescher, et annocer la Loy de Dieu, l’advenement de son filz Iesus Christ, les oeuvres, la mort, et la resurrection d’iceluy: ce nonobstant ont este reiectez, et reprouvez, principalement des safues du people […] Parquoy il ne vous fault ester esmerveillée, si de nostre temps voyos telles choses advenir, à ceux à qui Dieu faict grace, de vouloir escrire, dire, prescher et annocer ce mesme que Iesus et les Apostres, ont dict et presché (a2).450

Dentière’s repetition of communication verbs (“escrire,” “dire,” “prescher,” and “annocer”) performs the act of declaration that reformers such as Calvin and Farel, as well as herself, sought to accomplish, in the vein of prophets such as John the Baptist, who were ultimately rejected for proclaiming of the “advenement” of Christ. This rejection that casts the prophet as a social pariah ultimately identifies him, and in the case of Dentière, her, with Christ, who was shunned by his

449 “Some might be upset because this is said by a woman, believing that this is not appropriate for her, since woman is made for pleasure” (76). 450 “And although several good and faithful servants of God have been moved in times past to write, preach, and announce the Law of God, the coming of his son Jesus Christ, his works, death, and resurrection, nevertheless they have been rejected and reproached, principally by the wise men of the people […] That is why you should not marvel if in our time we see such things happening to those to whom God has given the grace to write, say, preach, and announce the very things that Jesus and his Apostles said and preached” (51-2). 188 own: “He came to his own home, and his own people received him not.”451 Furthermore, this is the first of several appearances of groupings of three to four communication verbs that reinforce the oral nature of Dentière’s Epistre. Dentière’s weaving together of such discursive verbs exemplifies the seamless nature, as Cohen and Twomey suggest, of communication in the early modern context, in which the written and spoken word are intertwined.

As we continue through the Dedication, we see how Dentière perceives her own context of religious conflict as similar to biblical paradigms where division, dissension, and corruption reign – situations that demand the prophesizing of divine truth. From her justification to speak and announce the Gospel against the backdrop of ecclesiastical chaos, Dentière goes on to rebuke the fractured state of affairs in Geneva more broadly:

Brief, toute abomination regner. Le pere cotre le filz, et le filz contre le pere: la mere contra la fille, et la fille contre la mere, voyre iusques à vendre l’un l’autre, la mere deslivrer sa propre fille à toute meschanceté […] Brief, y ny a que division. Car il ny a qu’un Dieu, une Foy, une Loy, et un baptesme (a2-a3).452

Division not only characterizes the situation of the Church in Geneva, but also extends to society as a whole, as Dentière piles on descriptors of familial division and strife. However, in the final sentences, Dentière juxtaposes the fractured condition of her society (“Brief, y ny a que division”) with the unity that is found in God (“Car il ny a qu’un Dieu, une Foy, une Loy, et un baptesme”). The contrast that Dentière casts between division and unity appears later in the

Epistle proper, as well, as true faith in God (“la vraye unité de foy”) alone restores harmony;

Dentière desires that the “paovre peuple”: “vienne à recongnoistre un seul Dieu, une seule loy et foy, un mediateur et advocat, un seul sauveur et un baptesme […] n’estans plus en tant de

451 John 1:11. 452 “In short, all manner of abomination reigns: father against son and son against father, mother against daughter, daughter against mother, even as far as one selling the other, the mother delivering her own daughter up to all evils” […] In short, there is only dissension, and one or the other must necessarily be living in evil, because there is only one God, one faith, one law and one baptism” (52). 189 divisios et dissentions lesquelles sont à present sur la terre” (b7).453 Dentière’s judgment on her society leads into an opportunity to highlight the restoration and unity available in God, which is most truthfully proclaimed in the Protestant message.

The presence of prophetic language continues to reverberate in Dentière’s “Defense of

Women,” whose opening statement alludes to her critics, opposed to the truth of the Gospel, who seek to silence her voice:

Non seulement aucuns calumniateurs et adversaires de verité nous vouldrot taxer de trop grande audace et temerité: mais aussi aucuns des fideles, disans, que les femmes sont trop hardies d’escrire les unes aux aultres de la saicte escripture (a4).454

Dentière’s initial defensive warning to Marguerite of the impending criticism to come from both those opposed to Protestantism whom Dentière considers “calumniateurs et adversaires de verité,” but also those who are “fideles,” referring to her fellow reformers, sets the tone of this portion of the letter. Even within this passage, spoken communication blends with the written word as Dentière hears what these men are saying (“disans”) about women writing (“escrire”) – that women writing to one another concerning the Bible is too bold (“trop hardies”) an act.

Furthermore, in the Epistle proper, Dentière’s depiction of her contemporary situation resembles an apocalyptic scene wrought with famine, plague, and strife. Nevertheless, Dentière distinguishes her message from this turbulent backdrop of war as she calls on Marguerite to demonstrate courage and faith in God:

Parquoy ne fault estre estonnez: ains prendre courage, quand lon voit guerres, pestes, et famines sur la terre: nation cotre nation, royaume cotre royaume, le pere contre le filz, la mere contre la fille l’un au champ prins et l’aultre delaisse […] et tant de sects par tout

453 “come and recognize only one God, only one law and one faith, a mediator and an advocate, one savior, and one baptism […] being no longer in so many divisions and dissensions, as they are at present throughout the land” (66). 454 “Not only will certain slanderers and adversaries of truth try to accuse us of excessive audacity and temerity, but so will certain of the faithful, saying that it is too bold for women to write to one another about matters of scripture” (54). 190 pulluller et regner (a5).455

Dentière implores Marguerite not to be shocked by war, famine, and plagues; instead, she commands her reader(s) to take courage despite turbulent and volatile circumstances.

Incidentally, in the Gospel of Luke, Christ illustrates a similar world, which could be best described as apocalyptic: “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and pestilences.”456 The division that surrounded the advent of Christ, the greatest prophet, informs Dentière’s understanding and narrative of her own circumstance.

This imperative tone becomes more poignant as Dentière escalates her prose to one of the more noteworthy moments in the Epistre. Shortly following these lines, Dentière adopts the voice of Christ, using the rhetorical device of prosopopoeia, to speak even more directly to

Marguerite: “Soyes doncques veillatz et prestz en tribulation […] Car pour les esleuz les iours seront abbregez. Ie le vous ay predict, s’ilz m’ont persecute, aussi vous persecuteront ilz […]

Soyez doc sur vostre garde et veillez affin que l’adversaire ne vous trouve endormis” (a5v).457

Dentière borrows verbatim the words of Christ and Paul from passages throughout the New

Testament, such as the Gospel of John (“If they persecuted me, they will persecute you”),458 various verses from the Gospel of Luke (“They will lay their hands on you and persecute you

[…] and you will be brought before kings and governors for my name’s sake. This will be a time

455 “Therefore you must not be astonished but take courage when you see wars, plagues, and famines on earth, nation against nation, kingdom against kingdom, father against son, mother against daughter, one seized in the field and another left […] and so many sects reigning everywhere and others springing up” (57). 456 Luke 21:10-11 457 “Be therefore vigilant and ready in tribulation […] For the elect the days will be shortened. I foretold it to you: As they have persecuted me, so they will persecute you […] Be on your guard and vigilant so that the adversary will not find you sleeping” (57). 458 John 15:20 191 for you to bear testimony”),459 and in 1 Corinthians (“Be watchful, stand firm in your faith, be courageous, be strong”).460 In addition to the striking similarities between Dentière’s words in the Epistre and these New Testament passages, we find a distinctly prophetic tone, as Dentière, like Christ, foretells what is to come to pass (“Ie le vous ay predict”). Despite this persecution,

Dentière encourages her audience to persevere and be vigilant in the midst of adversarial times.

In her concluding thoughts to Marguerite, Dentière adopts an apocalyptic tone as she conveys, emphatically, the dire and grim circumstances of church leaders, in both the Catholic

Church as well as the Reformed Church in Geneva. Dentière describes the situation in the following way: “Or pour coclusio, peu sont de present q ne regardent à eux mesmes, et no au peuple de Dieu, de pourveoir aux homes, et no à l’eglise de Iesus […] Brief, ce n’est qu’avarice, ambitio, et confusion […] faisans toutes divisions en l’eglise de Iesus” (d8).461 Whereas the call to persevere reaches an apex in the middle of the Epistle proper, in Dentière’s final words, the present and future of the Church is quite ominous, as ministers are only concerned with self- protection and self-aggrandizement; this leads to avarice, greed, and confusion, which ends in a church characterized by division.

The prophetic end of the Epistre gives the impression that the apocalypse is at hand, as

Dentière exclaims: “La fin certes est venue sus mon peuple […] Et les marchas d’icelle ploureront et larmoyerot sus la grade Babylone disans, malheur, malheur à icelle, elle est cheute la grande Babylone, et est faicte habitation des Diables” (d8).462 Referring to the Church of

Rome as the “Great Babylon” (“la grande Babylone”), Dentière paraphrases a verse from

459 Luke 21:11-13 460 1 Corinthians 16:13 461 “So, to conclude, there are few at present who do not look out more for themselves than for the people of God, providing for men and not for the church of Jesus […] In short, there is only avarice, ambition, and confusion […] creating division in the church of Jesus” (87). 462 “Surely the end has come on my people […] her merchants will cry and shed tears on that great Babylon, saying, Woe, woe to her; she is fallen, the great Babylon, and has become a dwelling place of devils” (87). 192 Revelation (“They will stand far off, in fear of her torment, and say, ‘Alas! Alas! Thou great city, thou mighty city, Babylon! In one hour has thy judgment come’”), the last book of the New

Testament, which is also known as the “Apocalypse of John.”463 The interlacement between prophetic and apocalyptic language suits Dentière’s mission, which is to proclaim truth and point to God (as a prophet does) in the midst of what she perceives to be the end of days (the apocalypse).

Concealing and Revealing ‘la pure parolle de Dieu’

In the Epistre, Dentière’s prophetic voice reveals that which is hidden, bringing to light that which is obscure, or difficult to understand. We can further consider the movement involved in revealing as opening, given our understanding of dilatio as a feminine discursive strategy. The dynamic between hiding and revealing also parallels other contrasts throughout the Epistre, such as the relationship between inner (invisible) and outer (visible) manifestations of the Gospel.

While Dentière seeks to reveal the truths that God has spoken to her, based on Scripture, she is also careful to differentiate herself from a reliance on outward expressions of religion, found in the Catholic Church, such as icons and the belief in transubstantiation. Dentière’s extraction of truth and then revealing it exists for the Church, and for all women, especially – not for her own personal advancement.

From the beginning, Dentière introduces the interplay between concealing and revealing truth through the talents with which God has endowed his people. Specifically, in the Dedication,

Dentière addresses the need for women to preach in public based on the notion that what God reveals to men and women should not be kept hidden or silenced. Instead, everyone to whom

God has uncovered his divine truth should declare his words: “Car ce que Dieu vous a donné, et

463 See Revelation 18:10; McKinley points out that this verse recalls Isaiah 21:9, “Fallen, fallen is Babylon, and all the images of her gods he has shattered in the ground” (note 72, 87). 193 à nous femmes revelé, non plus que les homes, le debvons cacher et fouyr dedens la terre”

(a3).464 Dentière’s use of the first person plural identifies Marguerite and Dentière as members of a distinctly feminine spiritual body who has received spiritual insight from God. If God has revealed himself to both men and women, why are women urged to conceal and hide these revelations?

Dentière responds to this question in the conclusion to the Defense of Women, where she alludes to the dynamic between hiding and revealing the talents that God has given to certain people to publically proclaim the Gospel.

Si Dieu docqs a faict graces à aulcunes bones femmes, leur revelat par ses saictes scriptures, quelque chose faicte et bone: ne poserot elles escrire, dire, ou declairer les unes aux aultres, pour les caluniateurs de verité? A, ce seroit trop hardiemet fait les vouloir epescher: et à nous faict trop follement de cacher le talent que dieu nous a doné: que nous doit grace de persévérer jusqu’à la fin. Amen (a5).465

The initial hypothetical conveys the significance of God’s revelation to “aulcunes bones femmes,” such as Dentière and Marguerite, through Scripture. Dentière then opposes these chosen women, who should write, speak, and declare that which God has revealed to them, with

“caluniateurs,” referring to slanderers and defamers – those whose spoken words contradict divinely inspired truths. In essence, Dentière argues that it is foolish to hide the talent that God generously gives (“et à nous faict trop follement de cacher le talent que dieu nous a doné”). For

Dentière, women, in particular, are under obligation to utilize the talents that God has given to them, including preaching, teaching, and writing about religious matters.

464 “For what God has given you and revealed to us women, no more than men should we hide it and bury it in the earth” (53). 465 “Therefore, if God has given grace to some good women, revealing to them by his holy scriptures something holy and good, should they hesitate to write, speak, and declare it to one another because of the defamers of truth? Ah, it would be too bold to try to stop them, and it would be too foolish for us to hide the talent that God has given us, God who will give us the grace to persevere to the end. Amen” (56). 194 The word “talent” itself contains philological, biblical, and cultural richness. While the word “talent” conjures up Christ’s Parable of the Talents in Matthew 25,466 Carol Thysell has noted that the early modern usage of the word “talent” conveyed a sense of “natural ability or a mental endowment,” as opposed to the biblical use of the term talanton, which originally connoted a monetary value.467 Moreover, from the patristic period through the medieval eras, talenton was interpreted allegorically to mean the office of the preacher who had been entrusted with communicating the Gospel.468 As such, “talent” eventually came to be understood as shorthand for the Gospel itself, which necessarily incorporated the responsibility to communicate it through evangelistic efforts. With such an understanding of the term, “talent,” Dentière, in this passage, justifies her burden to share the Gospel, which she views as “la pure parolle de Dieu” – a phrase that appears throughout the Epistre.469 Dentière’s act of revealing divine truth, however, served neither individualistic nor private devotional purposes – nor were Dentière’s words simply meant to only be read by Marguerite; rather, as we can see in the Epistre, Dentière’s words are laden with communal implications. In Thysell’s words, “Dentière’s argument was that, when the talents of women are hidden, the community’s well-being is threatened because the word of God goes unheard.”470 While Dentière’s assertion of her individual giftedness in revealing the word of God no doubt undergirds her defense, her emphasis on the corporate aspect of hearing the Gospel communicated further bolsters her right to declare what God has made visible and comprehensible to her through Scripture.

466 See Matthew 25:14-30, “The Parable of the Talents.” 467 Carol Thysell, “Unearthing the Treasure, Unknitting the Napkin: The Parable of the Talents as a Justification for Early Modern Women’s Preaching and Prophesying,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 15, no.1 (1999), 11. 468 Ibid., 11. 469 Dentière repeats this phrase especially in the Epistle proper (b2-3). 470 Thysell, “Unearthing the Treasure, Unknitting the Napkin,” 14. 195 In the Epistle proper, Dentière applies the dynamic of hiding/revealing to the interplay between visible versus invisible signs of belief. After criticizing the Catholic clergy for walking about in long robes, or, “sheep’s clothing,” while on the inside they are “ravishing wolves”

(“cheminas en logues robbes et habitz de brebis, mais par dedes sont loupz ravissans” [a6v]),471

Dentière problematizes the nature of visible (i.e. revealed) appearances of religion:

Car le royaume de Dieu ne consiste en telles choses: mesme n’est en aucune observation exterieure, ne visible, mais est dedens nous: et si est paix, iustice, et ioye au sainct spirit. Le Seigneur Dieu sçachat bie nostre nature ester tousiours prompte à mal et inclinée à toute idolatrie, à croyre, receopvoir, et enfuyure les faulx prophetes, nous a predict nullemet les recevoir, croyre, ne ouyr (a7).472

Dentière speaks of a divine kingdom that consists in the invisible qualities of peace, justice, and joy, which reside within us. Moreover, in her criticism of the Catholic Church, Dentière elevates these invisible attributes of faith as a means to reveal the corruption that exists within the human heart – a depravity that often attempts to conceal itself by means of ‘religious’ external appearances. Towards the end of this passage, Dentière highlights the human tendency to be drawn towards false prophets through poor listening (“ouyr”) and beckons her reader(s) to listen to her voice instead – as one that seeks to reveal the false prophets who mislead others through façades of religious behavior.

Elsewhere in the Epistle proper, Dentière explicitly states her imperative not to rely on such outward forms of religious expression: “ne fault regarder ceremonies, sacrifices ou signes visibles, attendat salut par choses exterieures ou visibles qui sont administerées par les hommes”

471 “They walk about in long robes and sheep’s clothing, but inside are ravishing wolves” (57). 472 “For the kingdom of God does not consist in such things, nor in any external or visible observation, but it is within us; it is peace, justice, and joy in the Holy Spirit. The Lord God, knowing well that our nature is prone to evil and inclined toward all sorts of idolatry, inclined to believe, receive, and follow false prophets, warned us not to receive, believe, or hear them in any way” (58). 196 (b5).473 In this instance, Dentière singles out men as responsible for the perpetuation of such false appearances (through ceremonies, sacrifices, and other visible manifestations of religion).

As we have seen in the previous passage, long garments on ministers (“logues robbes et habitz de brebis”) often conceal their inner corruption through false pretenses of religious appearances; this gendered attack on clothing, coming from a woman, renders Dentière’s later Preface to

Calvin’s sermon on modest dress all the more intriguing as Dentière instills upon women the importance of modest and simple dress, which reflects the simplicity of the philosophia Christi.

Dentière’s critique of visible demonstrations of religiosity becomes especially apparent in these passages as she excises the traits that mirror God’s vision for a renewed humanity, most clearly illuminated in the elect group of women (including Dentière and Marguerite) to whom God has revealed his truth, in which these new ethics of peace and justice flow naturally from the heart.

As Dentière divulges the simplicity of the Gospel to her reader(s), she does so by stripping away outward distractions, as she perceives them, which take on various forms, but most clearly in certain Catholic rituals. Dentière considers it blasphemy to attribute any repetitive significance to bodily representations of Christ’s sacrifice, when his redemption was accomplished once and for all. Dentière’s scathing tone and marked criticism culminates in her attack on the Catholic version of the sacrament of Eucharist: “le grad blaspheme et iniure qu’on faict à nostre Seigneur […] quand au lieu du voluntaire sacrifice, qu’il a faict et offert une fois pour nous: on vient de rechef iournellement offrir une chose visible et sans ame pour nostre redemption” (b1).474 Dentière reflects her suspicion of outward rituals that cover an empty soul and reveals her concern for visible realities to reflect invisible truth.

473 “we must not look to ceremonies, sacrifices, or visible signs, expecting salvation by exterior and visible things that are administered by men” (64). 474 “the great blasphemy and injury that we do to our Lord […] when instead of the voluntary sacrifice that he made and offered once for us, we come again daily to offer a visible thing, without soul, for our redemption?” (59-60). 197 Accordingly, for Dentière, the Catholic understanding of transubstantiation exposes this discrepancy between visible and invisible expressions of Christianity. Dentière accuses the

Catholic clergy of misleading their parishioners into believing in the actual transformation of the bread and wine into Christ’s body and blood:

faisans idolatrer le paouvre peuple, qui adore le pain et le vin comme son propre Dieu: lequel n’a point son habitation es choses faictes de main d’homme. Et ne veult aussi estre servi ne adore en choses faictes par artifice ne industrie humaine (b1).475

In Dentière’s estimation, the Catholic practice of transubstantiation lends itself to weak-minded people who, because of their predilection for the material, through physical consumption and nourishment (i.e. bread and wine), begin to worship the latter elements as if they were God himself - exchanging adoration of God’s creation for devotion to the Creator, God himself. We must continually bear in mind the female readership to which Dentière devotes her Epistre, which, not only includes Marguerite, but also the femmelettes, for whom Dentière holds special concern as she reveals these truths.

In the passage, Dentière’s repetition of “faire” displays her belief in God’s omnipotence and omnipresence to do and make – to create – a power that exists beyond and quite distinctly from any sort of human agency. Shortly after these lines, Dentière strings together eleven rhetorical questions to highlight God’s limitless power. Dentière, employing the trope of adunata, whereby one posits an abundance of impossible ideas, demands that her readers think carefully about God’s omnipotence as we see in the following questions: “Pourquoy est ce doc que nous doubtos en ses promesses come s’il estoit impuissant? Craignez vous qu’il ne le puisse

475 “They turned the poor people into idolaters who adore the bread and the wine as their own God, when God does not abide in things made by human hands. Nor does God wish to be served or adored in things made by human industry and artifice” (60). 198 faire? Ou est vostre Foy? N’a il point tout en sa main?” (b5).476 This line of interrogation creates a dramatic effect on the reader; it is as if Dentière is shouting at us, as the incessant line of rhetorical questions renders their interlocutor breathless, without pause or hesitation. Dentière’s choice of questions pierce the reader in a way that a preacher’s words would a congregation, pleading with hearers of the “parolle de Dieu” to remember God’s omnipotence. While the reformist disdain and condemnation for transubstantiation is unmistakable in Dentière’s Epistre, the tone and register of her delivery resemble the spoken word with her reiteration of the absolute error that occurs when one attempts to reduce God, whose power is boundless and incomprehensible, to mere physical representations and rituals.

With regards to the Eucharist and the misguided and false doctrine of transubstantiation,

Dentière explains how to properly conceive of this sacrament:

Nous le nomons et appellons pain, en la saincte table, qui est so sacremet. Tellement que le pain est nommé et appellé le corps de Iesus Christ: pource que le pain nous signifie et represente le corps de Iesus avoir esté liuré et baillé à la mort pour nous: et est prins en memoire et recordation que son corps a esté mis à mort pour nous (b4).477

Far from the belief in the literal and physical transformation of the elements into the real body of

Christ, Dentière explains, in a pedantic tone, with a clearly stated and simple explanation, which reads as a formula, how Christians are to understand and take part in the sacrament of the Lord’s

Supper as a sign of an invisible reality. That which is seen and eaten, and absorbed through all of the senses, is emblematic of a historical reality that has already taken place, and that Christians look back on and remember. It is important to note that Dentière does not abandon this sacrament, and the actual performance of such a ritual, but seeks to properly align it to match the

476 “Why then do we doubt his promises, as if her were not all-powerful? Do you fear that there is something he cannot do? Where is our faith? Does he not hold everything in his hands?” (65). 477 “we name and call him bread at the holy table, which is his sacrament. In the same way, the bread is named and called the body of Jesus Christ, because bread signifies and represents the body of Christ, which was delivered up and put to death for us; it is taken in memory and recognition of his body having been put to death for us” (63). 199 truth revealed through Christ’s following words, as articulated by Paul in his letter to the church in Corinth: “This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”478 The Eucharist becomes a visible sign and representation of an invisible reality – the crucifixion of Christ as a sacrifice and atonement for the sins of humanity.

Despite her distrust and condemnation of exterior symbols and other external rituals, I contend that Dentière, through her own use of rhetorical strategies not uncommon to the sermon genre, seeks to draw her audience into an understanding of true inner faith, whose outer manifestations are firmly rooted in the hearing of Scripture. In the following passage, Dentière emphasizes the unseen and hidden aspect of faith, instructed by the “parolle de Dieu”:

La foy donc et l’esperit de Dieu habitat en nous, nous enseignet cecy par la parolle de Dieu, sans les songes des homes […] et le baptesme pris en foy est appellé renouvellement de vie en la mort de Iesus Christ, pource qu’il signifie la regeneratio et renovatio interieure et spirituelle (b3).479

Faith resides within the human soul and is only revealed through genuine encounters with this pure “parolle de Dieu.” In his analysis of how Erasmus represents interactions between Christ and his disciples in Erasmus’s Paraphrases on the New Testament (1517-1524), Reinier

Leushuis notes how Erasmus emphasizes the “spoken word of the living Jesus,” as containing the “power to affect hearts.”480 Leushuis claims, more specifically, “The gospel text having for

Erasmus the capacity to transform our inner self by the presence of God as incarnated in the text

(or ‘inverbation’), he emphasizes the spoken word of the living Jesus, and the dynamics of

481 speech (sermo) in general.” The spoken word possesses the same power in Dentière’s Epistre,

478 1 Corinthians 11:24. 479 “Faith, therefore, and the spirit of God residing in us, teach us all of this by the word of God, without the illusions of men […] and baptism, taken in faith, is called the renewal of life in the death of Jesus Christ, because it signifies regeneration and interior spiritual renewal” (63). 480 Reinier Leushuis, “Emotion and Imitation: The Jesus Figure in Erasmus’s Gospel Paraphrases,” Reformation, 22, no. 2 (2017): 82-101, doi: 10.1080/13574175.2017.1387967. 481 Ibid., 93. 200 which we see in this passage as Dentière stresses that men should not tamper with the purity of

God’s Word (“sans les songes des homes”).

In this instance, Dentière targets men’s words, providing a gendered contour to her hermeneutics as it is clear that women, to whom this epistle is more generally addressed

(femmelettes, “à nous femmes revelé”), then, possess a purer approach to Scripture and are therefore more qualified to extract and convey its truths in an unadulterated manner. Dentière expounds upon the unity and peace that proceed out of the symbiosis between the believer and

God’s spoken word in Scripture later on in the Epistle proper: “Non pas une paix mondaine, sourrée et des hommes: mais de Dieu qui est en nous, ayans l’intelligence de sa parolle: à laquelle du tout se fault arrester sans y rien adiouster ou diminuer” (b7).482 To know God and his peace is to be in perfect harmony and understanding of his words in Scripture. The “parole de

Dieu” consumes and saturates Dentière’s own voice, which serves as an instrument to amplify and project Christ - the culmination of God’s word (logos), as reflected in John 1 (“And the

Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth”).483

Returning to the passage above, Dentière repeatedly gestures towards an internalized faith that must first be brought under the purifying water of Christ’s death, which is illustrated through the image of baptism (“baptesme pris en foy”), before it can be wholly actualized in outward actions. Through the sonorous string of expressions, “renouvellement de vie,” and “la regeneratio et renovatio interieure et spirituelle,” Dentière exclaims and celebrates the revitalizing force that Christ gives through his death. The purifying faith that Christ provides is reiterated a few lines later when Dentière declares that “ceste Foy purifie les coeurs, pource q

482 “Not the worldly, hollow peace of men, but the peace of God, who is in those of us who know his word, before which all must stop, without adding or taking away anything” (66). 483 John 1:14 201 Iesus Christ habite par Foy au coeur du croyant” (b4).484 Dentière magnifies the crucial role of faith (Sola Fide) in the working out of one’s salvation – as a phenomenon that begins as God’s inner renovation of the believing heart which then produces outward signs, and not vice versa.

The Spectacle of the ‘Prescheresse’

Dentière’s revealing of the hidden truths in the Gospel culminates in her explicit defense and practice of female preaching. Through Dentière’s “évangélisme militant,” which removes her from the domestic setting and into the public eye, and in so doing, imitates the movement of concealing to revealing, we can further perceive Dentière’s vision for the Epistre as a demonstration of gendered ars praedicandi – a spectacle for all to see and hear.485 Dentière’s

Epistre summons the energetic interchange between a preacher and the congregation or audience, as many sermons were not only preached in churches, but also other public spaces (i.e. street corners, taverns, and other public forums). Along this line of thought, Cynthia Skenazi describes Dentière’s preaching as exemplary of the symbiosis between the divine word of God

(Verbe) and the rest of the community, as the sermon was not aimed towards private devotional reader, but for a large gathering of people.486 As we will see, Dentière’s task of preaching becomes integral in consolidating the spiritual community, particularly of women, through the abundance of the spoken word (sermo), which corresponds to our conception of dilatio, and is

484 “this faith purifies hearts, because Jesus Christ lives through faith in the heart of the believer” (64). 485 See Catherine Bothe, “Ecriture féminine de la Réformation: Le Témoignage de Marie Dentière,” Romance Languages Annual, RLA, 4 (1992): 15-19. Bothe argues the following: “Son évangélisme militant est une preuve qu’elle envisage pour la femme une vocation dépassant le cadre familial” (15). 486 Cynthia Skenazi, “Marie Dentière et la prédication des femmes,” Renaissance and Reformation / Renaissance et Réforme, New Series / Nouvelle Série, 21.1 (1997), 5-18. Skenazi’s sees early modern culture as “fondée sur le respect du Verbe”: “comment en effet séparer l’homo religiosus de l’homo loquens? […] La parole reçue et transmise constitue le fondement même d’une telle conception religieuse; c’est elle qui établit le lien avec le divin et réunit la communauté” (9). Skenazi is in line with leading French critics who have brought this aspect of early modern culture to the fore in French studies: see Gérard Defaux, Marot, Rabelais, Montaigne: l’écriture comme presence (Paris: Champion, 1987). 202 also present throughout the Epistre.487

In terms of the written recording of the spoken sermon, the spectacle of the sermon was difficult to encapsulate in writing as the sensorial experience, involving visual, audible, and emotional exchanges between the speaker (preacher) and the audience (congregation) was nearly impossible to recreate in textual form.488 Yet, as we consider the Epistre as a written sermon, we can see these types of emotional exchanges and other sensorial dynamics at work as Dentière seeks to fully convert Marguerite and the rest of her audience into a true understanding of the

Gospel. For Dentière, true faith comes about by hearing the preaching of Scripture (fides ex auditu). At times, in the Epistre, Dentière speaks of correct soteriology along reformist lines (i.e.

Sola Fide, Solus Christus, etc.); at other moments, she fulminates against the Catholic Eucharist and transubstantiation. Woven throughout her Epistre, however, is a steady stream of justification for her right to say what she is in the midst of saying. Most importantly, her staging validates her defense of female preaching as she preaches, which comes to a climax towards the end of the Epistle proper.

Towards the beginning of the Epistre, Dentière begins to build her argument in favor of female preachers. In the middle of her “Defense of Women,” Dentière lists several examples

(exempla), in the tradition of “illustrious women,”489 of biblical women such as Deborah, Ruth, the Virgin Mary, the Samaritan woman, and Mary Magdalene. With the latter two figures,

487 Gérard Defaux considers the ‘renaissance’ of the “verbe, sermo, and loquela Dei” as central for understanding early modern literary conveyance: “S’ouvrir à cette Parole, l’accueillir et la loger en soi, l’assimiler, s’imprégner d’elle et la faire sienne, se faire enfin disciple de la ‘Philosophie du Christ’ – de cette philosophie que le Christ lui- même appelle une ‘renaissance’ (renascientia)” (Marot, Rabelais, Montaigne, 14). Moreover, for Defaux, the word of God, in humanist thought, is synonymous with presence: “la Parole de Dieu est Présence, elle est présence au point d’être Dieu; elle est une réalité spirituelle vivante, un lieu de plénitude, un espace habité” (19-20) 488 For Pettegree, the sermon involved a purposeful interplay of psychological, emotional, and theatrical elements: People expected to be moved, and all the theatrical or rhetorical elements of preaching – the careful preparation, the solemn opening, the whole choreography of emotion reaching a shattering climax – were all means towards this primary goal” (Reformation and the Culture of Persuasion, 12). 489 Giovanni Boccaccio’s De mulieribus claris (1374), an anthology of illustrious biblical, historical, and mythological women, continued to influence the Western expression and conception of female exemplarity during the sixteenth century. 203 Dentière highlights how both the Samaritan woman and Mary Magdalene are known for their public proclamation of Christ throughout their communities. Dentière employs the word

“prescheresse” to describe these women as she demands the following:

Quelle prescheresse a esté faicte plus grande que la Samaritaine: laquelle n’a point eu d’honte de prescher Iesus et sa parolle, le confessant ouvertemet devant tout le monde, incontinent qu’elle a entendu de Iesus qu’il faut adorer Dieu en esperit et verité? (a4).490

Dentière confers an elevated status to the example of the Samaritan woman whose encounter with Christ, as recounted in John 4, results in her returning to her city and declaring the following to her people: “Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the

Christ?”491 The account in John continues: “Many Samaritans from that city believed in him

[Christ] because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me all that I ever did.’”492 The Samaritan woman’s sermon was simple, but quite effective. Moreover, the Samaritan woman does not conceal the fact that Christ draws her adulterous lifestyle out of her through dialogue, but instead includes this, “He told me all that I ever did,” in her sermo. Dentière thus amplifies the spoken legacy of the Samaritan woman, who, before her encounter is undoubtedly a “pécheresse,” becomes known as an effective “prescheresse” – as one who preached Christ and his word

(“prescher Iesus et sa parolle”).

This passage abounds in oral and aural communicative qualities that demonstrate a public speech act on the part of the Samaritan woman. Dentière specifically refers to this woman’s preaching as an open confession shared before everyone (“le confessant ouvertemet devant tout le monde”). The present participial form of “confessant” extends the Samaritan woman’s confession as an ongoing act that applies to Dentière’s contemporary context and further

490 “What woman was a greater preacher than the Samaritan woman, who was not ashamed to preach Jesus and his word, confessing him openly before everyone, as soon as she heard Jesus say that we must adore God in spirit and truth?” (55). 491 John 4:29 492 John 4:39 204 heightens the energy associated with this instance of speech. Incidentally, Leushuis observes how Erasmus, in his Paraphrase on John (1523), stresses the mimetic energy of the spoken word in the exchange between the Samaritan woman and Jesus. In his opening to the paraphrase on

John 1 (In principio erat verbum), Erasmus explains how, “Speech is truly the mirror of the heart, which cannot be seen with the body’s eyes […] there is no other thing among mortals more effective for stirring up every movement of our hearts than speech.”493 Leushuis further argues that “Erasmus stages the gradual effect of intimate and transformative verbal communication” in his paraphrase of this Christ’s encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well.494 We can find similar emphases in Dentière’s elucidation of the Samaritan woman as

“prescheresse” as her first inclination, upon hearing Christ’s words (“elle a entendu de Iesus”), was to go out and tell what she had heard concerning true worship. For Dentière, hearing the

Gospel, as the Samaritan woman did, results in an inevitable compulsion to tell others about

Christ.

Dentière also reminds Marguerite of Mary Magdalene, who witnessed the resurrection of

Christ, and then proceeded to tell the other disciples: “Ou est celuy qui se peut vanter d’avoir eu la premiere manifestation de ce grad mystere de la resurrection de Iesus, sinon Marie

Magdaleine? (a4).”495 For Dentière, Mary Magdalene’s initial witness of Christ’s resurrection becomes an inaugural moment of women being selected to publically declare the Gospel. Mary

Magdalene’s vocal proclamation of the resurrection ushers her into a pivotal role in the unfolding story of Christendom, which also links her to Rahab, in our conception of dilatio. Dentière views herself, accordingly, as a member of this female line of prophetesses and “prescheresses” –

493 Erasmus Desiderius, Collected Works of Erasmus, 46 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press (1997), 16. 494 Reinier Leushuis, “The Mimetic Paraphrase: Faith, Speech, and Imitatio in Erasmus’s Paraphrase on John,” Church History and Religious Culture, 96, no. 4 (2016), 553. doi:10.1163/18712428-09604004. 495 “Who can boast of having had the first manifestation of the great mystery of the resurrection of Jesus, if not Mary Magadelene” (55). See John 20:11-18. 205 mouthpieces for God who boldly proclaim the truth to others. In addition to Mary Magdalene,

Dentière notes how God had revealed himself to other women: “Et les aultres femmes auxqlles plustost s’est decliré par son Ange, que non pas aux homes, et commander de le, dire, prescher, et declairer aux aultres?” (a4).496 Dentière is careful to point out that God declares himself to women, as opposed to men (“que non par aux homes”), and that, as a result, these women are commanded to tell, preach, and declare divine truths to others. Furthermore, the grouping of three speaking verbs (“dire,” “prescher,” “declairer”) amplifies Dentière’s message: as an act of obedience to God, women have been and will continual to be called upon to announce the

Gospel in public ways so that everyone, man and woman alike, can hear and understand.

In the conclusion to her Defense, Dentière asks a rhetorical question similar to the above passage, which begs her reader(s) to consider women as fellow ministers, emboldened by the same God to preach the Gospel:

Si Dieu docqs a faict graces à aulcunes bones femmes, leur revelat par ses saictes scriptures, qlque chose faicte et bone: ne poserot elles escrire, dire, ou declairer les unes aux aultres, pour les caluniateurs de verité? (a5).497

Dentière’s reformist theology at once fuels and justifies the call for women to write, speak, and declare truth. The gift of God’s grace to reveal himself to humanity, including women, envelops this conclusion as Dentière also points to election – that God chooses to reveal himself in particular ways to specific individuals (“aulcunes bones femmes”). Scripture itself also foregrounds and bolsters Dentière’s claims, since, when God reveals himself to some women, it is only true because it is founded on his word (“ses saictes scriptures”) and therefore must be conveyed in oral and written form.

496 “and the other women, to whom, rather than to men, he had earlier declared himself through his angel and commanded them to tell, preach, and declare it to others?” (55) 497 “Therefore, if God has given grace to some good women, revealing to them by his holy scriptures something holy and good, should they hesitate to write, speak, and declare it to one another because of the defamers of truth?” (56). 206 Throughout the Epistle proper, Dentière continually justifies and defends her right to preach the Gospel. The following passage exemplifies Dentière’s preacher-style register as she communicates the essence of the Gospel in a clear and concise manner:

Ce nonobstant de rechef ce bon Dieu est prest de nous retirer, recevoir, et pardonner pour l’amor de son filz. Car il est impossible que par autre moyen que par Iesus, les pechez soyent pardonnez, ne qu’on puisse venir au pere que par luy. Veu qu’il est le chemin, la voye, la verité et la vie, le seul mediateur et advocat entre Dieu et les hommes, la seule porte de vie, la seule hostie qui a esté prefigurée par les ceremonies et sacrifices levitiques, qui ont esté baillez aux enfans d’Israël (a7v).498

After Dentière decries the fallen state of humanity, blinded by avarice, she paves a path for her message of hope that centers on the person of Christ and his redemption, which covers all sin.

Dentière reinforces the singularity of Christ to do this work through repetitive descriptions such as “il est impossible que par autre moyen que par Iesus,” “que par luy,” and the repetition of

“seul”: “le seul mediateur et advocat entre Dieu et les hommes,” “la seule porte de vie,” and “la seule hostie qui a esté prefigurée par les ceremonies et sacrifices levitiques.” The reformist belief in Solus Christus saturates Dentière’s words as she makes her appeal to those who are listening to her words. Indeed, this type of repetition renders her work a sermon, as those listening would not have access to a written text upon which to re-read and meditate. Instead, Dentière reiterates her points in simple terms to her congregation.

Dentière’s preaching comes to a climax towards the end of the Epistle proper, where she finally responds to Marguerite’s initial request for information concerning the dismissal of

Calvin and Farel in Geneva. Dentière explains to Marguerite how authorities in Geneva ultimately expelled these preachers of the Gospel for being faithful for declaring the truth: “Tu le

498 “In spite of all that, this good God is ready to take us back again, receive us, and pardon us for the love of his son. For it is impossible that sins be forgiven by means other than through Jesus or that we come to the father except through him. He is the path, the way, the truth, and the life, the sole mediator and advocate between God and men, the sole door of life, the sole host who was prefigured by the levitic ceremonies and sacrifices, which were given to the children of Israel” (58). 207 voys assez apertement en ceuz qui veulet prescher puremet Iesus et sa parolle, comme ilz sont dechassez des cours des roys, princes et seigneurs” (c7v).499 On account of their proclamation of the Gospel, preachers, including Dentière, are rejected and driven from spheres of influence, such as the court. Due to the banishment of her fellow male reformers, Dentière assumes the responsibility of preaching, at the most climactic point in the entire Epistre: “Car ie prescheray, ie endoctrineray, ie bailleray bon exemple, i’en feray des biens, retirant les paovres frères persecutez” (c8).500 The repetitive use of the future tense adds a palpable weightiness to

Dentière’s words; the future speech act is secure and certainly will occur.

To add to her authoritative tone, Dentière’s choice of verbs intensifies the oral and public nature of her message to come. “Prescheray” clearly defines Dentière’s mode of oration and communication, which puts her on par with male preachers in the Protestant faith.

“Endoctrineray” alludes to the theological and doctrinal discourse embedded within her sermon, the Epistre – this is not a spiritual journey of the soul, but rather a long oration directed towards a specific public, the Church at large, including women. With regards to the last action, “bailleray bon exemple,” we can understand this term, as McKinley’s translation suggests, as “to give.”

However, the verb “bâiller” or “bayer” can also mean to “open” or to “gape,” referring to the mouth. Bearing in mind my discussion of dilatio and women’s theological and religious speech, this verb sheds light on Dentière’s commitment to set a good example for others, men included, of how to boldly proclaim the Gospel by word of mouth.

Dentière complements her promise to preach, indoctrinate, and set the model for speaking truth with a poignant exposition of the unity found in the Gospel itself (rein Evangelium), which

499 “You see it clearly enough in the way that those who would preach Jesus and his word purely are run out of the courts of kings, princes, and lords” (77). 500 “For I will preach, I will indoctrinate, I will give good examples, I will make something good from it, rescuing the poor persecuted brethren” (78). 208 is the only way for reconciliation to take place in the divisive situation surrounding the Epistre.

Dentière celebrates the priesthood of all believers, including those who are marginalized for their economic status, gender, and ethnicity:

Ie demande, Iesus n’est il pas aussi bie mort pour les paovres ignoraz et idiotz, que pour Messieurs […]? Est il tant seulemet dict, allez, preschez mo Evagile à messieurs les sages et gradz docteurs? N’est il pas dict à tous? Avos nous deux evangiles? L’un pour les homes et l’aultre pour les femmes? L’un pour les sages et l’aultre pour les folz? Ne sommes nous pas un en nostre Seigneur […]? N’est ce pas au nom de Christ? Certes il n’est point divisé, il n’y a poit d’acceptio de psonnes, tous somes un en Iesus Christ, il n’y a ne masle ne femelle, ne serf, ne frac (d1).501

In Dentière’s conception of the kingdom of God, which manifests itself in the Church (and most accurately in the newly forming Protestant Church), social, ethnic, and gendered differentiation dissolves in the presence of Christ’s unifying Gospel. Dentière describes Christ’s preaching the

Gospel in personal possessive terms, “mo Evagile,” which illustrates the heightened degree of intimacy that Dentière embodies, as one who bears Christ within her, but who also reveals him through her preaching, as he himself modeled in his earthly ministry.

Furthermore, the cadence of Dentière’s prose accelerates in this series of questions (i.e.

N’est il pas dict à tous? Avos nous deux evangiles? L’un pour les homes et l’aultre pour les femmes? L’un pour les sages et l’aultre pour les folz? Ne sommes nous pas un en nostre

Seigneur […]? N’est ce pas au nom de Christ?”), creating the sensation of breathlessness that one experiences when the heart beats with conviction in a moment of heightened emotion, which usually occurs in a more public setting where others are present. This stream of questions reaches a pinnacle in Dentière’s paraphrase of one of the more celebrated verses of the New Testament,

501 “I ask, did not Jesus die as much for the poor ignorant people and the idiots as for my dear sirs […]? Did he preach and spread my Gospel so much only for my dear sirs the wise and important doctors? Isn’t it for all of us? Do we have two Gospels, one for men and another for women? One for the wise and another for the fools? Are we not in our Lord? […] Is it not in the name of Christ? He is certainly not divided. There is no distinction between the Jew and the Greek; before God, no person is an exception. We are all one in Jesus Christ. There is no male and female, nor servant nor free man” (79). 209 Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” In both form and content, this passage serves as a crescendo to the entire Epistre, as Dentière, the embodiment of the reformed

“prescheresse” unequivocally proclaims the implications of the Gospel of Christ: all- encompassing peace, complete equality for men and women, and absolute harmony and reconciliation in the midst of strained ethnic, social, political, and religious relationships.

Conclusion

It has been my intention to illuminate the formal aspects that render Dentière’s Epistre a sermon, whose message of women’s full participation as co-ministers in the newly formed

Protestant church was neither meant to be publically spoken nor heard amidst the religious upheaval of sixteenth-century Geneva. Dentière’s exhortation to pursue truth, amplified by her prophetic voice and burden to reveal hidden truths, which culminates in her self-identification as a “prescheresse,” extend the implications of the Epistre from a mere informative letter, to a fully fledged sermon, created by a vociferous woman, unafraid of the consequences of declaring her reformist message. Through the rhetorical lenses of the ars praedicandi and dilatio, in particular,

Dentière’s communication of the rein Evangelium continues to provide a wealth of consideration of women and the complicated nature of their role in the Reformation.

To the chagrin of modern scholars of women’s history in religion, it is clear that Calvin and other Protestant leaders did not welcome their fellow female reformers alongside them as co- ministers; rather they prohibited and silenced such “clamor” when it came to the insertion of women’s voices into the ministry of the Reformed Church. In reflecting upon women’s experience of and speaking about the Reformation, Davis asks a poignant question: “Women had been incited to disobey their priests: were they now going to be allowed to disobey their pastors?

210 The pastors quelled them rather easily, and the noisy women subsided into silence or, in a few cases, returned to the Catholic Church.”502 Dentière, a “noisy woman” on all counts, neither relented the vocal nature of her reformed message nor rejoined the convent. Although the lack of support from and harsh criticisms made by fellow reformers stunted her ministry, her later reconciliation with Calvin, as evidenced by his requesting her to write the preface for his sermon on modesty, indicates that Dentière did not completely retreat into a position of subservient silence. Yet even beyond this understanding of women’s silence or noisiness in the religious discursive domain, we can also conceive of Dentière as the embodiment of dilatio in the fullest sense. As both a woman who fully embraced the Protestant vision for women and a wife and mother who procreated, increased, and multiplied humanity itself, Dentière becomes the opening of the difficult biblical texts that seek to silence women’s voices as she expands the Gospel to not only defend fellow male reformers, but to also amplify the sound, through the fecundity of her language and emphasis on the spoken word of the Protestant message, by including “les paouvres femmellettes” as equally capable of heeding the call to pursue knowledge and truth.

502 Davis, “City Women and Religious Change,” 84. 211 CHAPTER FIVE THE PRACTICE OF REFORMED FEMALE SPIRITUAL FRIENDSHIP IN THE DIALOGUES OF OLYMPIA MORATA

Dissolvi cupio, tanta est fiducia menti, Esseque cum Christo quo mea vita viget.503 – Olympia Morata

Introduction

The precarious nature of the political, social, and religious climate of sixteenth-century

Italy both created and destroyed the intellectual and spiritual endeavors of Olympia Morata

(1526-1555). While there is no evidence of any correspondence between Morata and her contemporary, Vittoria Colonna, Morata’s upbringing at the court of Renée de France (1510-

1575) links her to Marguerite de Navarre, and thus to the broader network of reform-minded women in France and Italy.504 Morata’s writings demonstrate a significant degree of alterity: a learned woman, who increasingly identified with reformist thought that challenged Roman

Catholic dogma at a particularly volatile moment in church history, articulates theological views through the literary genre of dialogue. In the Dialogue between Lavinia della Rovere and

Olympia Morata (1550) and the Dialogue between Theophila and Philotima (1551-1552), both written in Latin,505 Morata stages female interlocutors who engage in an exchange marked by spiritual intimacy, as well as substantial deliberation concerning theological and scriptural ideas, which are then applied to the interlocutors’ contemporary circumstances. Not only does the genre

503 Olympia Morata, The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic, ed. and trans. Holt N. Parker (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2003), 183: “I long to be dissolved, so great is the confidence of my mind, / And to be with Christ in whom my life flourishes.” This short poem, “Olympia Votum” (“The Prayer of Olympia”), was Morata’s “deathbed” poem. 504 In the “Introduction: Olympia Fulvia Morata (1526/27-55),” to The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic (2003), Parker notes that Vittoria Colonna stayed at the Este court of Ferrara from 8 May 1537-22 February 1538 (note 44, 9). It is possible that Colonna and Morata met, however, we the time of Colonna’s visit parallels Morata’s period of disfavor and isolation from the court due to the religious climate as well as her father’s illness (19-20). 505 Dialogus. Lavinia Ruverensis Ursina, et Olympia Morata colloquuntur (1550); Secundus Dialogus. Theophila & Philotina colloquuntur (1551-1552). 212 of dialogue allow Morata to write bluntly concerning the reformist cause, as it is a fictionalized literary exchange, it also becomes a means by which Morata establishes a distinctly female practice of “Christian friendship,” enhanced by her adherence to the nascent evangelical faith.

Both in her correspondence with, and the above-mentioned dialogues written for her companion,

Lavinia della Rovere (1521-1601), I contend that Morata develops a gendered praxis of spiritual friendship namely through the following four elements: 1) the centrality of Scripture, 2) the priesthood of all believers, 3) the defense of the “pure religion of Christ,” 4) and her conception of a female spiritual community based on illustrative women from Scripture and other contemporary women involved in the reformist cause.

After providing some useful biographical information concerning the life of Morata, followed by a consideration of literary and theological influences on her work, I conduct a comparative textual analysis of Morata’s dialogues and letters, the majority of which are written between Morata and her companion Lavinia della Rovere. Of the letters that survive from

Morata’s oeuvre, we have six letters written in Latin between Lavinia della Rovere and Olympia

Morata,506 as well as the two dialogues. The first dialogue stages an interchange between

Olympia Morata (“Olympia”) and Lavinia della Rovere (“Lavinia”),507 while the second, written in the form of a consolatio for Lavinia della Rovere, includes two composite voices, “Theophila” and “Philotima,” fictional interlocutors who serve as masks for Morata and Lavinia della Rovere.

506 Five of the six surviving letters are from Morata to Lavinia della Rovere. Both Morata and Lavinia della Rovere wrote to one another in Latin. In one of her letters to Morata, Lavinia della Rovere writes the following: “I would have written it [the letter] in the mother tongue, except I know that you would rather read Latin” (110, Letter 21, Parma (2 November 1550). All references from the dialogues and letters are taken from Olympia Morata, The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic. For the original text in Latin of the dialogues, see Olympia Morata, Olympiae Fulviae Moratae foeminae doctissimae ac plane divinae Orationes, Dialogi, Epistolae, Camina tam Latina quam Graeca, ed. Caius Secundus Curio, 1562, 2d ed. (Basel: Petrum Pernam), Reproduced on microfilm, “History of Women,” reel 62, no. 396 (New Haven: Research Publications, 1975), http://www.uni- mannheim.de/mateo/desbillons/olimp/seite32.html and http://www.uni- mannheim.de/mateo/desbillons/olimp/seite38.html. Pages numbers will be placed in the corresponding footnotes. 507 From this point on, I will refer to the historical person, as “Lavinia della Rovere” or “della Rovere,” and the interlocutor simply as “Lavinia.” Likewise, I will refer to the historical person, as “Olympia Morata” or “Morata,” and the interlocutor simply as “Olympia.” 213 The longer second dialogue contains more developed theological ideas and scriptural references as it was written after Morata had spent substantial time in Germany and was able to more freely explore Lutheran theology, in particular. In order to understand Morata’s correspondence and her dialogues in the context of her reformist beliefs (scriptural authority, the priesthood of all believers, and the defense of Protestantism), I will discuss, after the biographical sketch, the sources and influences upon her work as they pertain to her theological framework, the classical tradition and its theories of friendship, and the literary genre of the dialogue.

Biographical Sketch: Olympia Morata

To begin, it is helpful to briefly illustrate the life of Olympia Morata, especially as it concerns her itinerary from Italy to Germany, and the causes for such an uprooting. As we consider the life of Morata, two prevailing aspects become clear: her giftedness as a scholar and her devotion to theology – both of which can be traced throughout her life from her courtly upbringing to her eventual flight from Italy to Germany to join her husband, Andreas Grunthler

(c. 1518-1555).508 Morata was born to noble parents Lucretia and Fulvio Morata (1483-1548), who himself was invited to the court of Este as a tutor.509 Fulvia was also involved in the spread of Lutheran and Calvinist ideas at the court of Ferrara with other reform-minded individuals such as Celio Secondo Curione (1503-1569) and Bernardino Ochino (1487-1564)– the former a prominent Italian humanist with ties to the latter, who was known for his overtly reformist sermons in Venice, in which he insisted on Luther’s notion of justification by faith.510

In addition to Curione and her father, certain women, namely Renée de France, also

508 The following overview is mainly indebted to Parker, “Introduction,” which provides the most recent overview of Morata’s life. I have also consulted Roland Bainton, Women of the Reformation in Germany and Italy (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1971) as well as Robert Turnbull, Olympia Morata: her life and times (Boston: Massachusetts Sabbath School Society, 1846). 509 Janet L. Smarr, “Olympia Morata: From Classicist to Reformer,” in Phaethon’s Children: The Este Court and its Culture in Early Modern Ferrara, eds. Dennis Looney and Deanna Shemek (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2005), 322. 510 Ibid., 324. See also Chapter 2. 214 significantly influenced Morata’s spiritual and theological formation. Renée de France spent the majority of her childhood and adolescent years in the court of Marguerite de Navarre.511 With the affaire des placards in 1534, François I’s policy towards Protestants and the évangéliques took a markedly oppressive turn. In January of 1535, after a Catholic procession in Paris, François I, his wife, and other prominent figures watched the burning of six heretics - the seventh, Clément

Marot, fled for Italy to the court of Este under the protection of Renée, who had married Ercole d’Este, Duke of Ferrara, in 1528.512 Renée’s marriage to Ercole d’Este was an alliance that secured another northern Italian city to France; however, for Ercole, this union further complicated relations among papal powers and the emperor, Charles V, and the various French and Italian territories. Like Marot, Jean Calvin also took refuge at the court of Ferrara, with the aid of Marguerite de Navarre. Renée’s habit of accepting religious refugees from France slowly attracted the suspicious eye of the Church of Rome, concerned for heresy in Ferrara.

It was during this tide of simultaneous religious reform and persecution in which Renée invited young Morata, hearing of her genius, to join her daughter Anne, in a rigorous program of classical learning at the court of Ferrara. Under the tutelage of three self-proclaimed Lutheran

Germans from Schweinfurt in Franconia, Morata and Anne received a prestigious classical education. During this time, Morata also happened to fall in love with one of her tutors, Andrea

Grunthler. As the Roman Inquisition steadily zeroed in on Ferrara in 1542, Curione, Grunthler, and others under suspicion of heresy departed as a result of the growing religious intolerance.

Grunthler left Morata in the care of her companion, Lavinia della Rovere as he went on to secure a safe home for them in his own land. Morata and Grunthler later married in 1550 in Bavaria.

511 King Francis’s second wife, Claude de France, was the sister of Renée. See Bainton, Women of the Reformation in Germany and Italy, 235. 512 Bainton, Women of the Reformation in Germany and Italy, 238. 215 From Germany, Morata was able to freely explore and identify with Protestantism. She also maintained contact with her family and friends in Italy via correspondence, mostly composed in Latin and Greek. In fact, a significant amount of Morata’s letters, dialogues, poetry, and other writings are composed either in Latin or Greek – a linguistic choice that offers a counterpoint to the reformist tendency to communicate in vernacular tongues so as to permit universal access to Scripture and other types of religious discourse. Morata’s proclivity for the languages of Antiquity serves to confirm the duality of Morata as a scholar who sought to wed her pursuit of divine studies with her admiration for and mastery of Greco-Roman philosophies and languages. We can only speculate on Morata’s choice to communicate in Latin, as opposed to Italian, with della Rovere, and others, who were still in Italy; perhaps Morata wrote in Latin as a means to discretely convey her project of defending the cause of reformers – a choice that would dismiss any suspicion of her attempting to “convert” the masses.

Her preference for languages of Antiquity notwithstanding, Morata’s pursuit of divine studies evolved into a desire for theological liberation, which progressively aligned her with

Lutheran thought in the midst of the Counter-Reformation, and ultimately drove her away from

Italy and into Germany, where, to the dismay of those scholars who are intrigued by Morata, most of her mature literary works were destroyed in the siege of Schweinfurt. Though Grunthler and Morata managed to escape this devastating attack, the physical turmoil of such an event took its toll on Morata, who died at the young age of twenty-nine of tuberculosis.513 We are indebted to her father’s friend and her own companion, Curione, to have any record of her writings as he took it upon himself to collect the remaining works of Morata shortly after her death. In fact,

Stjerna informs us that, “The first edition of 1558 (there were four editions in all) Curione had dedicated to Isabella Bresegna, a prominent Italian humanist reformer. The 1562 augmented

513 Kirsi Stjerna, Women and the Reformation (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2009), 207. 216 edition he dedicated to Queen Elizabeth I of England.”514 Incidentally, Queen Elizabeth was also known to have translated Marguerite de Navarre’s Miroir de l’âme pécheresse when she was only eleven years old.515 Curione’s choice of Isabella Bresegna and Elizabeth I, two powerful women associated with Protestantism, as the recipients of Morata’s collected works, speaks to the legacy of Morata as a woman not only praised for her learnedness, but also as one who was intimately tied to reformist beliefs and the defense of those persecuted for their religious beliefs

– a model for other powerful female figures to follow and emulate.516

Influences: Theology, Friendship, Dialogue

In order to establish how Morata’s work is distinct, we must recognize that Morata appropriated and drew from existing theological ideas, models of friendship, and the actual form of the dialogue. At the same time, Morata did not merely borrow from the wealth of classical knowledge that was available to her, but she also mastered the style of prose of philosophers, like

Cicero, as can be seen in her lecturing on his Stoic Paradoxes at the Este court at age 14.517 Yet, as she matured, and even sealed in memory after her death, Morata’s gender forbade her from achieving the acclaim of her male contemporaries. The epitaph on her grave, written by a certain

Jérôme Angenoust, supports this claim: “Nature denied you nothing of all her gifts / with one

514 Stjerna informs us that, “The first edition of 1558 (there were four editions in all) Curione had dedicated to Isabella Bresegna, a prominent Italian humanist reformer. The 1562 augmented edition he dedicated to Queen Elizabeth I of England” (Women and the Reformation, 208). 515 See Chapter 1. See also Ferguson and McKinley’s “Introduction” to A Companion to Marguerite de Navarre, 1- 27. 516 On this note, Janet Smarr informs us of Catherine des Roches’ mentioning of Morata in the second volume of the Oeuvres (1583) where Catherine breaks from classical and medieval dialogues, from “personification dialogues to a more fully human and realistic (i.e. more Ciceronian) type followed from her acquaintance with the work of another dialogue-writing woman, this time the Italian Olympia Morata, whose name she mentions with praise and whose posthumous volume of works she obviously knew […] Even though the des Roches were solid Catholics, Catherine was open to Morata’s influence in the matter of reconceiving the dialogue genre. Morata’s writings offered Catherine the model of a woman’s humanist dialogue between contemporary female speakers” (Smarr, “A Female Tradition? Women’s Dialogue Writing in Sixteenth-Century France,” in Strong Voices, Weak History: Early Women Writers & Canons in England, France, & Italy [Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2008], 44-5). 517 Parker, “Introduction,” 2. 217 exception: that you were a woman.”518 Contemporary scholars of her era praised Morata for her learnedness in the classical tradition, but also acknowledged the limits that her gender imposed upon her.

In addition, Morata’s dabbling in the theology of the reformers as a young woman at the

Este court attracted scrutiny in the climate of the Roman Inquisition. Parker speculates that due to her open complaints about the ‘faithfulness of princes,’ “It may be that in the closely watched world of the court, Morata’s Protestantism was too open and dangerous.”519 Indeed, Morata openly identified with Lutheran thought and espoused these beliefs, as we see in one of her letters written for della Rovere in which she also sends a selection of Luther’s works.520 In fact, for his part, Luther favored a stronger theological education for women, as is evidenced in a few of Luther’s letters where he addresses themes of women’s domestic, scholastic, and scriptural education, which corresponds to Morata’s own pursuit of divine studies.521 Along this line of thought, we must remember that, while women were not prominent in the history of the

Reformation, where their participation and experience differed substantially, Kirsi Stjerna argues that we should avoid hasty conclusions about gendered experience of the Reformation as “it is not true that […] women [were] always passive bystanders or receivers, or that women adopted

522 the gendered world with its gender-biased options and parameters without scrutiny.” This is the case for Morata, who attempted to ignore and overcome “gender-biased parameters” in her pursuit of humanist studies and reformist theology. In the latter part of her life especially, Morata

518 For Angenoust’s epitaph, see Parker, “Writings about Olympia Morata or in Honor of Her,” 213; “Dotibus ex cuntis tibi nil natura negavit: / hoc uno excepto, foemina quod fueris” (note 39). 519 Parker, “Introduction,” 20. 520 117, Letter 28, Schweinfurt (winter 1551/1552). This letter will be discussed in more detail later on in the chapter. 521 Evelyne Berriot-Salvadore provides a telling explanation of Luther’s and other reformers’ view of women’s education in her work, Les Femmes dans la société française de la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 1990), 62-73. 522 Stjerna, Women and the Reformation, 4. 218 was able to practice and promote Lutheran ideas more freely because she was physically removed from the papal inquisitions of the Counter-Reformation.

First, we recognize that while Morata was not a theologian, per se, she did engage with and express theological ideas that were tied to Lutheranism. Mario Cignoni’s reconstruction of

Morata’s theological vision, based on his analysis of her surviving works, is most useful.

Cignoni contends that it was her father’s death as well as the persecution of the reformer Fanino

Fanini (1520-1550), who was burned at the stake on account of his Protestant beliefs, which drove Morata to her reformist faith. Cignoni purposefully employs the term, “conversione” to describe Morata’s personal faith crisis that led to a marked adherence to Lutheran thought, a theological framework, which he argues best characterizes Morata.523 In particular, Fanini’s persecution at the hands of the Roman Catholic Church demonstrated, in the words of Cignoni,

“il vero volto” of the Counter-Reformation and resulted in both radicalizing her and enabling her to freely choose Protestantism for herself.524

While personal circumstances are useful in comprehending the nature of Morata’s conversion to the Protestant faith, Cignoni also addresses the theological elements that are present within her work, which reflect an undoubtedly reformist bent. Cignoni addresses the following types of reformist doctrine that are present in various letters and in her dialogues: Sola

523 Mario Cignoni, “Il pensiero di Olimpia Morato nell’ambito della Riforma protestante,” Atti della Accademia delle scienze di Ferrara 60-61 (1982-3, 1983-4), 191-204. Cignoni states: “Non vi è alcun dubbio che, più della morte del padre, fu l’allontanamento da corte, con l’abbattimento che ne seguì, a provocare in lei una crisi esistenziale, con la relativizzazione di quei valori transeunti che prima aveva esaltato, che si risolse, col matrimonio, in una conversione al cristianesimo […] Ho usato appositamente la parola “conversione”, perchè è di questo che si tratta” (196). 524 In Cignoni’s own words: “L’esecuzione fece scalpore, mostrò il vero volto della Controriforma e distaccò dalla Chiesa di Roma molti che erano rimasti titubanti a metà strada […] L’avvenimento su Olimpia ebbe un effetto radicalizzante: approfondì in maniera definitiva la spaccatura che la separava dalla chiesa cattolica. Mentre fino ad allora il protestantesimo aveva potuto essere per lei una libera scelta che non comportava necessariamente una critica aspra alla chiesa di Roma, ora esso diventa una necessità per contrastare il potere papale” (197). 219 Scriptura, Sola Fide, Solus Christus, and a significant emphasis on the role of the Holy Spirit.525

According to Cignoni, Lutheran theology (in terms of soteriology as well as the notion of Sola

Fide) is the most explicit source of Morata’s more mature theology as Morata mentions Luther’s writings three times in her correspondence.526 I seek to build on Cignoni’s conclusions by analyzing the specific ways in which Morata practically links reformist Lutheran thought to her gendered praxis of Christian friendship, especially as it concerns her companion, Lavinia della

Rovere.

While it is true that Lutheranism most typifies Morata’s theological convictions, we could more aptly consider Morata as a “classicist” turned “reformer,” in the tradition of Erasmus

(1466-1536), as Janet Smarr suggests.527 Smarr argues that it was Erasmus, a Christian humanist, who exerted the most profound influence on Morata. In particular, Erasmus’ Colloquies, published between 1518 and 1534, a series of dialogues written in Latin and used for purposes of civic and Christian education, and which challenged misogynist attitudes towards women, inspire Morata’s own dialogues. For Berriot-Salvadore, Erasmus is one of the first to see the contradiction between education of women and their role as wives, and to reconcile a Christian vision of marriage with an education that encourages women to discover their intellectual capacities, instead of merely preparing girls for frivolous behavior.528 Erasmus’ Colloquies not only challenge common societal evaluations of women’s roles, but also reveal starkly anti- clerical tendencies. We see this type of ecclesiastical criticism coupled with objections to

525 For more information, see Cignoni’s discussion, 198-203. 526 Cignoni, “Il pensiero di Olimpia Morato,” 201. 527 See Smarr, “Olympia Morata: From Classicist to Reformer.” 528 According to Berriot-Salvadore, “Erasme propose une éducation intellectuelle qui conduirait la jeune fille à découvrir elle-même et à légitimer sa situation de femme” (Les Femmes dans la société française de la Renaissance, 54). 220 misogynist views of women’s education most prominently, as Smarr has noted, 529 in Erasmus’ dialogue, “The Abbot and the Learned Lady” (Abbatis et eruditae). This dialogue portrays an abbot (“Antronius”), who is baffled to find a young woman (“Magdalia”) surrounded by books, and thus begins questioning the learned court lady for her possession of not only French texts, but also works written in Greek and Latin. Antronius’s central claim can be summed up in his following statement: “It’s not feminine to be brainy. A lady’s business is to have a good time.”530

As a gentle rebuttal, Magdalia argues that, in order to enjoy life, one must possess wisdom.

Throughout the dialogue, Magdalia constantly outwits Antronius’s claims by asking rhetorical questions, in a pedantic and didactic manner, which ultimately render the abbot as the pupil under the tutelage of the clearly more qualified and learned Magdalia. The “Abbot and the

Learned Lady” serves as an undeniable protestation for women’s ability and the need to receive quality education - not just for domestic ends, but also for women to cultivate and impart wisdom as they engage in erudite conversations alongside men. Furthermore, it is evident that

Magdalia is the more knowledgeable figure between the two interlocutors as can be seen in the following exchange:

Antronius: I’ve often heard the common saying, ‘A wise woman is twice foolish.’ Magdalia: That’s commonly said, yes, but by fools. A woman truly wise is not wise in her own conceit. On the other hand, one who thinks herself wise when she knows nothing is indeed twice foolish.531

Magdalia contradicts Antronius’s claim that a learned woman is doubly idiotic; for, in

Magdalia’s perspective, this very thought comes only from the mouth of imbeciles and further still, those women who believe themselves to be intelligent are truly ignorant – these are the ones

529 Smarr mentions this particular dialogue in passing in Chapter 3 of Joining the Conversation: Dialogues by Renaissance Women (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005), 125. 530 Erasmus Desiderius, Collected Works of Erasmus: Colloquies, 39 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997), 501. 531 Ibid., 504. 221 who are foolish. Instead, wisdom is promoted through humility and a growing desire to acquire more knowledge.

Given that Antronius specifically addresses women’s education in Latin and Greek, it is also of further interest to link the “the Learned Lady” to Morata, as she was praised for her mastery of the two ancient languages. Antronius essentially argues that Latin is not a suitable language for women. Magdalia immediately demands an explanation for Antronius’s claim, as we see in the following exchange:

Antronius: Because it [Latin] does little to protect their [women’s] chastity. Magdalia: Therefore French books, full of the most frivolous stories, do promote chastity? Antronius: There’s another reason. Magdalia: Tell me plainly, whatever it is. Antronius: They’re safer from priests if they don’t’ know Latin. Magdalia: Very little danger from you in that respect, since you take such pains not to know Latin! […] Magdalia: Is it fitting for a German woman to learn French? Antronius: Of course. Magdalia: Why? Antronius: To talk with those who know French. Magdalia: And you think it unsuitable for me to know Latin in order to converse daily with authors so numerous, so eloquent, so learned, so wise, with counselors so faithful?532

For Erasmus’ Antronius, the ancient languages of Greek and Latin do not contribute to the preservation of women’s chastity nor do they contain any practical value for women; in fact,

Antronius goes so far to suggest that by not learning Latin, women are actually protected from priests. We can detect Erasmus’s anti-clerical sentiment as the abbot admits the duplicitous and often corrupt nature of priests, whose abuses of power became a central theme of the reform movement among Christian humanists. Magdalia’s cunning responses, however, demonstrate her superiority in relation to Antronius. Magdalia refutes Antronius by employing his own claims

532 Ibid., 503. 222 against him: Latin is no less a cause for chastity as is French, and, if one converses with Latin and Greek thinkers through reading their works, then knowledge of classical languages is quite practical. It is impossible to ignore the parallel qualities of Magdalia and Morata, a learned woman who exhibited a remarkable proficiency for both languages, in the spirit of the classical philosophers to whom she devoted herself throughout her life, and who certainly embodies the spirit of “Magdalie” in Erasmus’s dialogue, “The Abbot and the Learned Lady.”

Furthermore, in both the ideal of friendship as well as the choice to write in the genre of dialogue, it is clear that Morata was following a Ciceronian model laid out in On Friendship

(Laelius de Amicitia), written in 44 BC.533 It goes without saying that Cicero’s On Friendship takes its cue from Books 8 and 9 of Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics (349 BC), in which Aristotle casts friendship in terms of human virtue: “For friendship is a certain virtue or is accompanied by virtue; and, further, it is most necessary with a view to life: without friends, no one would choose to live, even if he possessed all other goods.”534 Friendship was no doubt a prominent feature of

Ciceronian ideals of human relationships; and, as we consider Morata, we are certain that she knew Cicero’s work quite well, as her father’s humanist school in Vicenza was known for public lectures on Cicero and Horace; Morata herself went on to lecture on Cicero in the court of Este, which has already been established.

With regards to friendship itself, in both Morata’s dialogues and letters we find that this particular relationship, which had been theorized and idealized by classical philosophers, namely

Cicero, plays a crucial role in the development of Morata’s thought. In fact, Morata mentions the word “friend” five times throughout her two dialogues, and the word “friendship” twice in the

533 For a more detailed analysis of the evolution of the ideal of friendship, see Ullrich Langer, Perfect Friendship: Studies in Literature and Moral Philosophy from Boccaccio to Corneille (Geneva: Droz, 1994). 534 Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Book 8, trans. Robert C. Bartlett and Susan D. Collins (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2011), 163. 223 second dialogue. In the letters exchanged between Morata and della Rovere specifically, the term

“friend” appears once, while “friendship” is mentioned three times. While the affection between the two companions, Morata and della Rovere, is apparent, Morata’s dialogues for her friend also signal a feminized version of the ideal of friendship. In particular, Morata draws from Cicero’s

De amicitia with her use of real-life interlocutors, including herself, coupled with historical examples, as Smarr has noted.535 Cicero’s De amicitia is the most elaborate treatise on the ideal of friendship, as Laelius, the main interlocutor, clearly delineates the origins, meaning, purpose, and benefits of such a relationship. For Cicero, through the mouthpiece of Laelius, “friendship is nothing else than an accord in all things, human and divine, conjoined with mutual goodwill and affection.”536 Cicero weaves in the transcendent aspect of friendship (“divinarum”), and later asserts that love is the origin of friendship: “For it is love (amor), from which the word

‘friendship’ (amicitia) is derived, that leads to the establishing of goodwill.”537 Friendship, borne from love that seeks the good of the other, is the driving force in friendship.

While it goes beyond the scope of this chapter to analyze the Ciceronian ideal of friendship, which contains a noted political and ethical dimension, I would like to add two more aspects that more directly relate to Morata’s dialogues. For Cicero, truth telling, or rebuking the other, becomes a necessary “rule” of friendship whereas flattery must be avoided at all costs.

Laelius states: “for friends frequently must be not only advised, but also rebuked, and both

535 Smarr, Joining the Conversation. Due to Morata’s “use of real persons as speakers, the inclusion of herself, the friendship among educated persons that gives rise to an intellectual conversation, the references to historical examples, and even some of the phrasing,” it is clear that Cicero is an influential source for these dialogues (80). 536 “Est enim amicitia nihil aliud nisi omnium divinarum humanarumque rerum cum benevolentia et caritate consensio,” 130-1, vi. 20. All passages from De amicitia are taken from Cicero, Marcus Tullius, De senectute; De amicitia; De divination, trans. William Armistead Falconer (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1923). I have provided the original Latin version in the note. 537 “Amor enim, ex quo amicitia nominata est, princeps est ad benevolentiam coniungendam,” 138-9, viii. 26. 224 advice and rebuke should be kindly received when given in a spirit of goodwill.”538 There is a mutual giving and receiving of telling the truth to the other, even when it comes in the form of a correction, or rebuke. This type of confrontation opposes flattery: “nothing is to be considered a greater bane of friendship than fawning, cajolery, or flattery.”539 This is an essential Ciceronian element in terms of friendship, as well as dialogue, as we will see in Morata’s dialogues, who not only quotes Cicero’s words regarding flattery but also practices this type of interchange in the conversations between her staged interlocutors.

However, in comparison with Cicero’s De amicitia, the interlocutors in Morata’s surviving dialogues demonstrate more parity in terms of the actual length of their iterations, especially in the first dialogue. Although Theophila speaks more than Philotima in the second dialogue, their interactions consist more in asking questions and responding as opposed to

Laelius’ diffuse monologues concerning the nature of friendship where the friends’ interjections only serve to provide a platform from which Laelius speaks. Instead, Morata’s dialogues present two interlocutors who engage in a debate (disputatio) that presents a more perspicacious and vivid approach to resolving inner turmoil, which further reflects the influence of Erasmus and the

Lucianic dialogue. In both dialogues, one of the interlocutors is faced with a dilemma: the first dialogue centers upon Olympia’s conundrum of pursuing divine studies alongside classical philosophy; in the second dialogue, Lavinia struggles with jealousy and other temptations as a married woman who is surrounded by the lavish lifestyle of court. On the one hand, one of the interlocutors encounters a personal obstacle, as does Olympia, or several, in the case of

Philotima, which are presented and addressed through carefully crafted and staged interchange.

538 “nam et monendi amici saepe sunt et obiurgandi, et haec accipienda amice, cum benevole fiunt,” 196-7, xxiv. 88- 89. 539 “est nullam in amicitiis pestem esse maiorem quam adultationem blanditiam assentationem,” 198-9, xxv. 91. 225 On the other hand, both dialogues clearly situate a voice of wisdom, authority, and reason that seeks to convince the other of the best way to go about resolving the other’s problem.

Dialogue, then, becomes a means through which one can arrive at a reasonable and wise solution to conflict in Morata’s dialogues. In her study of early modern women’s use of the dialogue genre, Smarr demonstrates how the author of dialogues is able to work through complicated dilemmas by way of dividing her voice between two interlocutors, but also notes how, with female dialogue by women, “we are often dealing not with a truly open and undecided argument but with an intent to change someone’s mind.”540 Furthermore, Morata’s dialogical approach makes education more accessible to the female reader. In addition to the split-voice and didactic features, Morata’s female dialogues assume equality between the two speakers, and also demonstrate two women who possess the capacity to reasonably discuss and resolve a complicated problem. By extension, we can read Morata’s dialogues as a literary engagement with theological and ethical issues which underscore, as Ullrich Langer posits, how

“relationships represented in literature work out ethical and theological issues debated in intellectual culture.”541 Along this line of thinking, I consider Morata’s dialogues with the fictional presence of her friend, Lavinia della Rovere, to be a gendered model of resolving complex spiritual, theological, and intellectual dilemmas, which is undergirded by a profoundly spiritual companionship.

Furthermore, Morata’s dialogues mark a transition from the epistolary mode in which she wrote to communicate with her friends in Italy. We see this differentiation between the dialogical and epistolary genre most clearly in her attaching the second dialogue to one of her letters to

540 Smarr, Joining the Conversation, 98. 541 Langer, Perfect Friendship, 26. 226 della Rovere.542 What then, is the effect of Morata’s shift from the epistolary, in her letter written for della Rovere, to the genre of dialogue, in the attached Dialogue between Theophila and

Philotima? In the absence of her friends’ presence, Morata stages dialogue as a means of invoking her companion’s presence – an act that reflects the Ciceronian approach to dialogue, as found in the Prologue to De amicitia: “for I have, so to speak, brought the actors themselves on the stage in order to avoid the too frequent repetition of ‘said I’ and ‘said he,’ and to create the impression that they are present and speaking in person.”543 Cicero’s dialogue addresses a practical issue - avoiding repetition - and also involves a performative element by staging the presence of another in their absence. Likewise, Morata’s use of the dialogue allows her to clearly convey her opinion without interruption, as she invokes the presence of Lavinia della Rovere – creating the impression of her physical proximity.

In addition to these features of the dialogue and the ideals of friendship as inspired by both Erasmus and Cicero, the voice speaking in Aelred of Rievaulx’s Spiritual Friendship (De spirituali amicitia), written between 1163 and 1166, resonates closely with Morata’s interlocutors who embody female spiritual friendship through dialogue. Aelred of Riveaulx

(1110-1167), a monk in the Kingdom of Northumbria, wedded Christian themes with a classical friendship ideal, in the vein of Saint Augustine.544 Although Aelred does not reinvent the concept of friendship, as his treatise on friendship largely reiterates both Ciceronian content and style

(describing its origin, utility, and limitations), this Cistercian monk codifies a distinctly Christian form of friendship that greatly influenced the ways in which communities of monasteries and convents functioned. Marsha Dutton informs us that Spiritual Friendship, the most popular of

542 Letter 28, Schweinfurt (winter 1551/1552). 543 “quasi enim ipsos induxi loquentis, ne ‘inquam’ et ‘inquit’ saepius interponeretur atque ut tamquam a praesentibus coram haberi sermo videretur,” 109-11, Prologue. 544 For more information, see Douglas Roby, “Introduction,” Aelred, The Works of Aelred of Rievaulx, trans. Mary Eugenia Laker (Spencer, Mass: Cistercian Publications, 1971), 3-41. 227 Aelred’s spiritual treatises, was repeatedly translated into French, Italian, German, and

English.545 While Aelred’s Spiritual Friendship was not as influential as the Roman de la Rose

(1230-1280), for instance, Dutton notes that at least five compendia of this work survive in fifteen different manuscripts from the thirteenth through fifteenth centuries.546 Additionally, we are aware of a printed version of Spiritual Friendship in the Opera Divi Aelredi Rievallensis

(1616) in Douai, France, in circulation close to the period of time in which Morata was in

Germany.547

Unfortunately, we cannot positively establish whether or not Morata knew Aelred: while she was most likely aware of Ciceronian and other classical philosophers’ theories on friendship, it is difficult to ascertain her exposure to more obscure authors such as Aelred of Riveaulx, especially given the tumultuous nature of the latter years of her life when she fled Italy for

Germany. Nevertheless, there are striking similarities in textual and thematic elements between

Aelred’s Spiritual Friendship and Morata’s dialogues, which justify a cross-reading of these authors’ notion of Christian friendship. Throughout my analysis of Morata’s dialogues I will also incorporate Aelred’s considerations on friendship as a point of comparison, as both authors, though writing in entirely different periods and contexts, infuse their vision of friendship with explicitly Christian themes. While the intimate space of dialogue, with two interlocutors engaged in speaking in private is by no means innovative in the literary genre, in Aelred’s Spiritual

Friendship, we find a third interlocutor present: Christ. Aelred’s desire to speak with Ivo, as well as the invocation of Christ’s presence, spurs the moment of dialogue:

545 Marsha L. Dutton, “Introduction,” in Aelred of Rievaulx Spiritual Friendship, trans. Lawrence C. Braceland (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2010), 24. Dutton also informs us that Jean de Meun translated Aelred’s Spiritual Friendship into French in late 13th century (24). 546 Ibid., 23. 547 Ibid., 24. 228 Aelred: Here we are, you and I, and I hope a third, Christ, is in our midst. There is no one now to disturb us; there is no one to break in upon our friendly chat, no man’s prattle or noise of any kind will creep into this pleasant solitude.548

The tone and setting of Aelred’s interaction with Ivo is one of intimacy that is also infused with the transcendent element of Christ’s presence. Aelred’s idea of spiritual dialogue thus creates a

Trinitarian friendship, with two friends enjoined to Christ, and to one another.

Furthermore, we find in Aelred a clear impetus to join one’s self to the other in a shared effort to pursue morality and practice charity. Accordingly, the passage below, taken from the end of Book One in Spiritual Friendship, is most beneficial to our understanding of Morata’s praxis of female spiritual friendship in which the ethical dimension directs the content of her correspondence with and dialogues written for della Rovere:

For spiritual friendship, which we call true, should be desired, not for consideration of any worldly advantage or for any extrinsic cause, but from the dignity of its own nature and the feelings of the human heart, so that its fruition and reward is nothing other than itself […] And so spiritual friendship among the just is born of a similarity of life, morals, and pursuits, that is, it is a mutual conformity in matters human and divine united with benevolence and charity.549

Aelred acknowledges that pure friendship exists propter se, in the vein of Aristotle’s virtue- based friendship, which, unlike friendship on account of pleasure or utility, evolves between good people: “But complete friendship is the friendship of those who are good and alike in point of virtue […] Each person involved is good simply and for the friend, since good people are good simply and beneficial to one another.”550 This rare “complete friendship” also reminds us of Montaigne’s writings of friendship, where perfect harmony between friends only exists when there is no ulterior motive in friendship save the desire for the other and the companionship itself, as his famous alexandrine for La Boétie demonstrates: “Parce que c’estoit luy; par ce que

548 Aelred, The Works of Aelred of Rievaulx, 51, I.1. 549 Ibid., 60-61, I.45-46. 550 Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Book 8, 168. 229 c’estoit moy.”551 Langer asserts that this symbiosis in friendship is a-teleological, that is, non- directed, which, in Montaigne, is also mimetically represented through autotelic (self-directed) writing that is utterly private – with no end other than the self.552

Aelred’s spiritual friendship, however, contains teleological significance as the union of two souls share “mutual conformity” to achieve both human and divine ends, which are beneficial to the community (i.e. charity). In Book Two, Aelred adds that this type of friendship is one that is “a stage toward the love and knowledge of God.”553 For Aelred, human love becomes a symbiotic function of divine love: love for the other parallels love for God.

Ultimately, Christ’s model of self-sacrifice is the driving force behind Aelred’s spiritual friendship: “Christ himself set up a definite goal for friendship when he said: ‘Greater love than this no man hath, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’”554 Citing Christ’s direct words from John 15:13, Aelred evokes the imitatio Christi with regards to love and friendship, in that giving one’s life for another mirrors Christ’s death on the cross for humanity.

While Cicero provides a substantial basis upon which Morata bases her dialogues, like

Smarr, I argue that Morata more closely resembles Erasmus’ Colloquies as well as his Christian humanist spirit. Furthermore, I have established a new connection between Aelred of Riveaulx and Morata in terms of spiritual friendship – an ideal that is evident in Morata’s dialogues. In fact, towards the beginning of her second dialogue, Morata specifies that “Christian friendship”

551 Michel de Montaigne, Les Essais de Michel de Montaigne, ed. Pierre Villey and V[erdun]-L[ouis] Saulnier (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1965), 188; “Because it was he, because it was me” (Michel de Montaigne, The Complete Works: Essays, Travel Journal, Letters, trans. Donald M. Frame [London: Everyman’s Library, 2003]), 169. 552 Langer, Perfect Friendship, 169. 553 Ibid., 74, II.18. In Book Two, entitled “The Fruition and Excellence of Friendship,” Aelred is joined by two other companions, Gratian and Walter. Ivo no longer appears in the dialogue. 554 Aelred, The Works of Aelred of Rievaulx, 78, II.33. 230 is one in which advice is freely given and taken.555 Aelred’s treatise on spiritual friendship provides a more concrete foundation upon which to conceive Morata’s practice of ‘reformed’ friendship with della Rovere. Placing Morata within the context of pre-existing discourses on theology, spirituality, and friendship, as well as within the genre of literary dialogue, assists in my ensuing analysis, which explores how Morata establishes a gendered model of female spiritual friendship, which is further nuanced by the expression of reformist thought in her correspondence with della Rovere, as well as through the literary genre of dialogue.

The Practice of Reformed Female Spiritual Friendship

I argue that Morata’s correspondence with, and dialogues dedicated to her companion,

Lavinia della Rovere, feature a distinctly feminine expression of spiritual friendship in praxis.

This gendered spiritual companionship that characterizes Morata and della Rovere is further distinguished by their shared reformist beliefs and participation in evangelical movements, which were closely monitored and eventually suppressed in Italy. As such, Morata’s reformist thought engenders a marked divergence from women’s typical role in religious debates and conversation, which was the domain of male clerics. One of the most crucial tenants of reformist thought was unmediated access to God, which, for Sylvia Brown, nuances women’s rapport with religion:

“When a believer radically reimagines her relationship with the divine – giving God feminine attributes, for instance, or asserting unmediated access to divine wisdom – she necessarily reimagines her relationship with others and with the world.”556 While Morata does not assign feminine traits to God, it is in her unapologetic expression of reformist belief where we see one’s unmediated relationship with Christ demonstrates such a “radical reimagining of relationship

555 I discuss this passage in more detail in my analysis: “Since to give and take advice is part of true and Christian friendship […] I must give you advice more boldly because you are more dear to me” (119). 556 See Sylvia Brown, “Introduction,” in Women, Gender and Radical Religion in Early Modern Europe, ed. Sylvia Brown, Leiden: Brill (2007), 2. 231 with God,” in Brown’s conception. Keeping this uninhibited communion with God, for men and women, in the reformist line of thinking, we find, in Morata and della Rovere, a rare manifestation of female spiritual friendship. It is my contention that Morata reforms Christian friendship between two women most clearly through the following four elements, present in both her correspondence with and dialogues dedicated to della Rovere: 1) the authority of the Bible,

2) the priesthood of all believers, 3) the explicit defense of the Protestant faith, and 4) the connection of both women to illustrative biblical women, as well as contemporary women, forming a female spiritual collectively that embodies Christianity in the purest sense.

The Authority of Scripture

It is evident that Morata prioritizes the authority of the Bible (sola Scriptura) throughout her correspondence with Lavinia della Rovere as well as in her dialogues. Her concern for the authority of Scripture ties Morata to reformist movements in Italy, for which personal encounter and interpretation of Scripture, unmediated by any human authority, was an essential element.

Morata’s two prose dialogues also shed a more intimate light into her spiritual hermeneutics – that is, how she interpreted Scripture in her quotidian, relational, and intellectual existence.557 In the first dialogue between Lavinia and Olympia, the opposition between divine and human studies prevails as the dominant theme. It is clear that Morata upholds the Bible, the source of

“divine studies,” as superior to classical philosophy. We find, in the opening lines, Lavinia’s observation of Olympia, who is constantly “poring over books.” Lavinia then redirects Olympia to “divine” studies and employs the imagery of the harvest to make her point:

557 We have several letters, a few poems, and a selection of Psalms that Morata translated from Hebrew into Greek. Regarding her prose selection of Psalms, Parker states: “An English prose translation of a Greek verse translation of a Greek prose translation of ancient Hebrew verse is a curious object, and it is difficult for us modern readers to recapture why these poems were regarded by Morata’s contemporaries as her most glorious achievement. The Book of Psalms lay at the heart of the worship of the new Protestant churches” (Morata, The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic, 184). 232 Lav. You are always poring over books, Olympia. Do you never take a break? The mind has got to relax occasionally, and then you can go back to your studies […].

Olymp. That’s true, Lavinia, but I agree with the man who said that every moment you don’t spend in study is lost […]. In fact, I feel like I’m sinning if I don’t spend the time God has given me […] in these literary studies […].

Lav. You could do that more easily than Laertes did by tilling the fields. For divine studies, I say, are the fields: the healthiest and richest fields. From them the friends of God harvest ripe, rich, and immortal fruit. The rest of human literature is a pleasure to those for whom the eyes of the soul do not yet have the power to see the truth, so they can view the heavens and contemplate heavenly things. And so they pluck what falls so quickly from these little flowers.558

In the course of these first few exchanges, both interlocutors quote from classical auctoritas. For example, the man with whom Olympia agrees is Pliny the Elder.559 Morata infuses her dialogues with classical thought in order to highlight the supremacy of divine studies, as Lavinia argues, that, to elevate one’s mind to divine pursuits is to harvest fruit on rich soil, which yields produce of everlasting value. The imagery of the harvest evokes biblical language as is seen in both the

Old and New Testament, where those who follow God are likened to workers in a field. For instance, Christ beckons believers to engage in a sort of spiritual tillage: “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; pray therefore the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”560 This labor is arduous, but yields eternal fruit; and, for Lavinia, Olympia must see her own theological pursuits as following in line with the mandate to labor in such divine fields.

558 101; “Lavinia. Semper ne libros evolves Olympia, nec ullum remittes tempus? Relaxandus erat nonnnuquam animus: deindead hec tu studia referres […] Olympia. Sunt ista vera, Lavinia, sed ego illi assentior, qui omne tempus amitti dicebat, quod in studiis non consumeres […] iam mihi peccare videor, si tempus, quod mihi a Deo datur […] in his studiis literis non consumam […] Lav. Facilius tu id quidem poteris, quam ille Laertes agro colendo. Studia enim divina dico, sunt agri saluberrimi et maxime fertiles, e quibus amici Dei laetos et uberes et immortales ferunt fructus; alia vero humanarum literarum voluptati sunt his qui sensum nondum habent animi oculorum vera cernentium, ut caelum suspicere et caelistia contemplari possint: itaque ex eis flosculis quosdam celeriter decidentes carpunt.” 559 Ibid., 101 (note 158: Pliny the Elder as described by Pliny the Younger, Ep. 3.5.16). 560 Luke 10:2, cf. Matthew 9:37. All biblical references are taken from the Revised Standard Version (RSV), unless otherwise noted. There are several instances of this type of imagery throughout the Bible: Proverbs 12:14, 18:20, Jeremiah 2:3, 8:13, Hosea 6:11, Luke 10:2, John 4:35, 1 Corinthians 9:11, 2 Corinthians 9:10, Galatians 6:9, and James 5:7. 233 Morata utilizes terrestrial imagery as a way of perceiving divine studies vis-à-vis human literature. Instead of richness, health and everlasting fruit that comes from the encounter with

Scripture, reading worldly philosophy is likened to wallowing through mud. Olympia confesses that, before her conversion (we assume), she was

Olymp. […] wallowing in their works like mud. But even as I was exalted to the skies by everyone’s praise, I realized that I lacked in all learning and was ignorant. I had fallen, you see, into the error of thinking that everything happened by chance and of believing ‘that there was no God who cared for mortal things,’ so great was the darkness that had overwhelmed my soul.561

Olympia bemoans flattering words from others, who view her mastery of classical literature as praiseworthy, and contrasts their elevated perception of her with the lowliness of her ignorance.

Instead of being exalted in the skies, Olympia admits her humble state of wallowing in the mud and falling into the darkness. Morata essentially pits biblical studies against “human literature,” which denies the love and presence of God.562

To further highlight the importance of Morata’s scriptural authority through the lens of friendship, Aelred’s Prologue also demonstrates the Bible’s preeminent status above any other source of knowledge. Aelred remembers his past and how he came to behold Scripture above any other work, including Cicero’s On Friendship.

From that time on, Sacred Scripture became more attractive and the little learning which I had acquired in the world grew insipid in comparison. The ideas I had gathered from Cicero’s treatise on friendship kept recurring to my mind, and I was astonished that they no longer had for me their wonted savor. For now nothing which had not been sweetened by the honey of the most sweet name of Jesus, nothing which had not been seasoned with the salt of Sacred Scripture, drew my affection so entirely to itself.563

561 101; “Olymp. […] in eorum scriptis, tanquam in luto volutabar, tunc cum ad caelum laudibus ab omnibus esserebar, me omnis eruditionis expertem atq: ignaram esse comperi. Interdum enim in eum errorem rapiebar, ut omnis casu fieri putarem, neq; Deu crederem curare mortalia quenqua. Tanta animo meo offusa erat caligo.” 562 Parker informs us that Morata accuses herself for having once believed the Epicureanism of Lucretius; Morata, The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic, 101. 563 Aelred, The Works of Aelred of Rievaulx, 46 [Prologue, 4-5]. 234 Aelred’s reflection sounds quite similar to Morata’s own journey from classical philosophy to theological study, as has been discussed in the passage above (“I realized that I lacked in all learning and was ignorant”), taken from the first dialogue. Although Aelred relies heavily on

Cicero’s theory of friendship, he ultimately finds it lacking because it is not rooted in Christ himself. Christ brings sweetness and salience, through the divine logos, the Word of God, to his conception of friendship. Like Aelred, Morata endures a decisive moment wherein she realizes that her classical learning, while useful and good, is not an endeavor that results in ultimate and eternal value.

We find the first explicit biblical reference towards the end of the first dialogue between

“Olympia” and “Lavinia.” The interlocutor Lavinia closes the first dialogue with a direct citation of one of Paul’s more famous verses from his letter to the Romans: “‘For we know that all things work together for good for those who love God’ [Rom. 8:28] and we pray God that it may be so for us.”564 Within the context of Paul’s letter, this verse concludes a discussion on persevering through suffering. Morata, however, citing this passage in Lavinia’s closing statement, which urges Olympia to further her pursuit of theology, applies this message to the division between profane and sacred studies: “But let me urge you, in the midst of human life, to pursue divine studies.”565 Morata’s understanding of suffering, trials, and discipline correspond to the theme of toil and labor in that one must apply one’s self to theology through carefully studying the Bible.

In Morata’s application of this biblical verse to the overarching conflict in her personal life - the choice between classical and divine studies – we also see her personal interpretation and approach to the bible, which reflects the reformist inclination towards one’s unmediated access

564 102-103; “[Morata provides the Greek version of Romans 8:28 […] quod nobis ut eveniat, Deu comprecabimur.” 565 102; “Lav. Tantum te hortabor, ut in vita humana divina studia colas.” 235 to God through Christ (Solus Christus) and through the encounter with the authority of Scripture

(Sola Scriptura).

Morata employs more explicit scriptural references in the Dialogue between Theophila and Philotima, in which the two interlocutors work through painful circumstances. In one of her letters to Morata, della Rovere expresses that she is in a dire state and longs for the presence of her companion (Morata): “As for me, you should know that my situation is growing more desperate daily. All that’s left is to beg you to come to me with your husband and stay here until you have to leave, which will be pleasing to all and most pleasing to me.”566 As a response to this letter, in which della Rovere also laments the absence of her husband, Morata includes the

Dialogue between Theophila and Philotima, written in the form of a consolatio. 567 Morata communicates with purpose and clarity in terms of her intentions as her words bring solace to her companion: “I suspect, with the war in France, that your husband has left you and that you are in pain […] So I’ve scattered some things, if not all, that relate to your circumstances in the dialogue, as you’ll see.”568 In this same letter, Morata also includes some writings from Luther:

“I’m also sending you some writings by Dr. Martin Luther, which I enjoyed reading. They may be able to move and restore you, too.”569 Morata intends to help her companion to find restoration for her soul through the inclusion of the Dialogue between Theophila and Philotima, attached to the end of the letter, as well as reformist documents written by the most prominent and vocal Protestant reformer himself - Martin Luther.

While we are uncertain of the exact writings by Luther that Morata attached to the letter and dialogue, we can be confident that these documents bolstered the notion, which infuses

566 109, Letter 21, Parma (2 November 1550). 567 117, Letter 28, Schweinfurt (winter 1551/1552). 568 Ibid, 117. 569 Ibid, 117. 236 Morata’s letter and dialogue, that Scripture is the foundation for true rest, comfort, and wisdom.

From the start of the second dialogue, biblical wisdom dictates the direction of the ensuing conversation. Theophila (“She who loves God”) reminds Philotima (“She who loves honor”) that life often works out differently than we expect, especially in times of adversity. It is likely that

Theophila represents Morata herself, whereas Philotima is a mask for Lavinia della Rovere, who is in need of consolation in the midst of suffering. As Theophila begins to address Philotima, we see Morata’s concrete thought concerning the role of Scripture:

First, if you had read, as was proper, the books of the Old and New Testament diligently, you would have imbibed from these fountains a different opinion about human affairs, and you would have realized that everything turns out quite differently than we think it will.570

Although Theophila’s tone is admonishing with regards to Philotima’s lack of scriptural knowledge, the language used to describe the Bible is vivacious: the books that form the Bible are life-giving. God’s words to humanity are a fountain from which to not only drink as a means to satiate one’s thirst, but to also enjoy to the fullest extent, as the verb “imbibe” suggests.

In terms of explicit biblical references, Theophila goes on to quote directly from the Old

Testament book of Proverbs and relates this idea to how Philotima considers her own life: “The heart of man thinks about his path, but the Lord moves his steps.”571 While Philotima perceives her life in one way, God guides her to vastly different perspectives that often go against her previously conceived notions. In a sense, Morata’s choice of scripture – the Lord moving the steps of man - mirrors her main project of her dialogue, which is to demonstrate how God is the ultimate source of movement in the pursuit of divine truth. Theophila seeks to correct

Philotima’s faulty thinking in regards to suffering by drawing her mind and heart to biblical

570 119; “Theo. Primum igitur sit u, ut par erat, diligenter libros Veteris & Nuovi Testamenti leggisses, aliam de rebus humanis ex istis fontibus opinionem imbibisses, onmia aliter eveni re multo intellexisses, ac nos cogitamus.” 571 119; Quoting from Proverbs 16:9, “Cor hominis de via sua deliberat, Dominus vero promouet gressus eius.” 237 truths. She continues: “if we think about the matter correctly, we will understand that there is so great a multitude and magnitude of sufferings even in the lives of those whose holiness shines above all the rest.”572 Tribulation is not just a divine form of punishment, but rather enters into the experience of those who lead holy lives. In a way, this criticism becomes a solace for

Philotima.

Yet, in the same instance, and a few lines later, Theophila reminds Philotima to “Read the

Ten Commandments diligently with their commentary, examine your life in them as in a mirror, and you will see that your life is heaped with every sin.”573 The speculum de scriptura sacra manifests itself in the law, and most glaringly so in the Ten Commandments.574 Morata also implicitly alludes to Paul’s teaching of the law in Galatians 3:4, “Therefore the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified through faith.”575 In other words, before Christ, the law served as a means to remind God’s people of their imperfection, thus, highlighting their need for a savior. The Old Testament, which can be said to chart the trajectory of not only the Israelites, but also of humanity, portrays a people who constantly fail at keeping the law. Even as Moses is receiving the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai, the Israelites had engaged in cult worship in the form of the Golden Calf.576 Theophila’s words to Philotima are by no means shocking when understood in their biblical context, but rather can be viewed with an understanding of the divine law as the main mirror that exposes sin.577

572 120; “si rerecta reputabimus via tatam esse etiam in illis quorum sanctitas prae caeteris elucet, & multitudinem & magnitudinem intelligemus.” 573 120; “lege diligeter decalogum eius explanation adhibita, in eoque tanquam in speculo vitam tuam inspice, & te omnibus vitiis cumulatissimam esse perspicies.” 574 See Exodus 20. 575 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV). I chose the NRSV translation because I prefer the word, “disciplinarian” as opposed to the RSV’s “custodian.” 576 See Exodus 32. 577 See John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. Henry Beveridge, Grand Rapids, Michigan (1989). In Book II, Chapter VII, Calvin states: “the Law is a kind of mirror. As in a mirror we discover any stains upon our 238 Despite the seemingly harsh tone with which biblical wisdom is administered, these dialogues stage a profound companionship, which offers spiritual counsel and emotional stability during turbulent times. In the same letter that includes the second dialogue, Morata assures della

Rovere that her lack of communication is only due the difficulty of war:

We are parted by the greatest distance of space […] So my dear Lavinia, if you get my letters less often […] please don’t think it’s happening because of my neglect or forgetfulness of you […] I am so far from forgetting you that my anxiety about you increases every day.578

Morata’s words to her companion reveal a strong attachment in the midst of devastating separation, of which Morata is daily reminded. This suffering is acknowledged from the onset of the second dialogue, where Morata links Scripture to an understanding of afflictions through the first words of Theophila: “Our life has been exposed to all the weapons of the Devil, so that no matter where you turn in spirit or thought, you will always find something painful.”579 Following this admission of suffering, which seems to enfold human existence, Theophila’s ensuing words to Philotima invite her to cast her eyes on divine truth and the love of God in the midst of difficulty.

Later in the dialogue, after Philotima complains of her lot and often compares herself to more prosperous women, Theophila challenges Philotima’s way of thinking. Instead of looking to women whose lives are more luxurious and insouciant, Theophila asks Philotima to consider those whose lives are much drearier, more dangerous, and thus more miserable than her own:

“you will see that you are not as miserable as you think, but that you are the happiest. You are

face, so in the Law we behold, first, our impotence; then, in consequence of it, our iniquity; and, finally, the curse, as the consequence of both” (305). 578 117, Letter 28, Schweinfurt (winter 1551/1552). 579 118, “Theoph. Omnibus telis diabolic proposita est haec vita nostra, ita, ut quocunque te animo & cogitatione convertas, semper quod doleat invenias.” 239 treated as a daughter by God; for whom He loves, He also chastises.”580 In the words of

Theophila are paraphrases of Scripture, from both the Old Testament and New Testament:

Proverbs 3:12, “For the Lord reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights” and Hebrews 12:6, “For the Lord disciplines him whom he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives.” Morata’s changing the gender from son to daughter is significant as it diverges from the patriarchal and masculine language used throughout the Bible. In this paraphrase, Morata purposefully inflects the biblical language with gender as a way of drawing her companion, Lavinia della Rovere (Philotima), into the consolation found in Scripture.

These scriptural notions present a paradoxical idea – that God would discipline or chastise those whom he loves and considers sons and daughters. Theophila’s words to Philotima are by no means pleasing but rather direct Philotima to an intimate knowledge of the first person of the triune God, that she would view God as her Father and thus as one who allows trials to come her way as a means to draw her into deeper communion with him. Theophila ends this thought in the following manner: “What greater happiness can there be than to be a daughter of

God, most blessed to enjoy life eternal with Christ and to be a sharer of His kingdom.”581

Philotima’s notwithstanding, Theophila argues, through the authority of the Bible in the form of scriptural paraphrase, that pain often drives one to a more joyous and intimate relationship with

God, wherein she is able to identify as daughter of her Holy Father.

While Theophila’s relating of scriptural wisdom, at times, seems to obfuscate her ability to sympathize with Philotima’s turmoil, towards the end of the dialogue, we see a more gentle,

580 124; “te no tam miseram esse, ut existimas videbis, imo felicissima: nam a Deo tanquam filia tractaris: quem enim diligit, hunc castigat.” 581 124; “Quae maior felicitas esse potest, quam Dei esse filiam, cum Christo beatissimam aevo sempiterno frui & illius regni sociam esse.” 240 yet still urgent, tone. In response to Philotima’s desire to be relieved of her many afflictions,

Theophila advises Philotima to cast her burdens on and rest in Christ:

I can give you no better advice than if you are not able to bear adversities patiently [then] take yourself to Him Who calls all who labor and are heavy laden to Him to give them rest […] He Himself will strengthen you and give you, as He promised, the Holy Spirit, so that you will be able to taste all those heavenly goods, which beyond all doubt will ease your grief and fill your thirst for those things; for he will never thirst who has drunk from there.582

In the course of two to three sentences, Morata paraphrases a few New Testament verses, leading out with Christ’s invitation to divine rest, taken from the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 11:28). 583

The explicit reference of Christ’s invitation to rest is also a defining moment in Marguerite de

Navarre’s Miroir de l’âme pécheresse (1531). Marguerite and Morata both elevate the person of

Christ as the source for the most transcendent form of rest for one’s weary soul; and for both women, the centrality of the Scriptures fuel their drive to accept such an invitation (see Chapter

One).

Additionally, Morata’s selection, simplification, and explanation of biblical truths exemplify the reformist impulse for personal interpretation and exposition of Scripture. In doing so, Theophila urges Philotima to look for Christ in Scripture: “Therefore seek Christ. Have no doubt: you will find Him in the books of the Old and New Testament; nor can He be found anywhere else […] Your labor will not be in vain.”584 Morata’s clear instructions are bound by scriptural authority; but also seek to comfort Philotima and point her to Christ for true healing

582 124; “Nullum aliud tibi melius consilium dare possum, qua si adversa patienter ferre non potes, ut ad eum te conferas, qui omnes oneratos & laborantes recreaturus ad se vocat […] ipse te confirmabit & Spiritum Sanctu uti pollicitus est dabit, quo caelestia illa bona gustare poteris, quae fine ulla dubitatione omnem tuum dolorem mitigabunt & sitim istarum rerum explebut: non enim sitiet unquam, qui inde biberit.” 583 Other verses to which Morata (Theophila) alludes include: Titus 1:2, Hebrews 6:18 and John 4:13-14. 584 126, “Quaere igitur Christum, ne dubites, eum invenies in libris Veteris & Novi Testamenti, nec enim alibi inveniri potest […] no erit inanis tuus labor.” 241 and rest amidst despair. Christ, who is the “Word [logos] made flesh,” can be accessed most directly through one’s personal encounter with the Bible, which is the Word [logos] of God.

The Priesthood of All Believers

Morata’s insistence on the primacy of Scripture is not an abstract notion, but rather infuses her vision and praxis of friendship in her correspondence with Lavinia della Rovere, especially in the practice of mutual confession and exhortation. In both dialogues, we find a role- reversal priesthood: whereas traditionally, the male priest (considered to be morally superior) listened to the female confessant (morally inferior) and provided correction or encouragement, in

Morata, both interlocutors equally serve as priests who practice confession and exhortation. In

Morata’s re-working of priesthood, two females partake in mutual confession and revealing of one’s self to the other.

In this context, Michel Foucault’s (1926-1984) genealogy of confession can complement the analysis of the presence of confession and its implications for spiritual friendship in Morata’s dialogues. Foucault traces the various epistemic shifts in the practice of confession from

Antiquity, to the beginnings of Christianity, and its more modern manifestations, from public penance to private confession between confessant and priest. Foucault’s broad understanding of

Christian confession, taken from his lecture entitled, “Christianity and Confession” (1980), is pertinent as it frames the various forms (i.e. corporate, individual, private, public, etc.) of this practice:

Christianity is a confession. That means that Christianity belongs to a very special type of religion, the religions which impose on those who practice them obligation of truth. Such obligations in Christianity are numerous; for instance, a Christian has the obligation to hold as true a set of propositions which constitutes a dogma; or, he has the obligation to hold certain books as a permanent source of truth; or, he has the obligation to accept the decisions of certain authorities in matters of truth.585

585 Michel Foucault, “Christianity and Confession,” from lecture series: “About the Beginning of the Hermeneutics of the Self: Two Lectures at Dartmouth,” Political Theory 21, no. 2 (1993), 211. 242

In Foucault’s analysis, the “obligation of truth” is central and determines a wide range of ecclesiastical practice. Not only must Christians confess their faith and obey church leaders, the believer also must verbalize that which occurs inside of their soul. Foucault continues,

“Everyone, every Christian, has the duty to know who he is, what is happening in him” and “is obliged to say these things to other people, to tell these things to other people, and hence, to bear witness against himself.”586 One must examine the self so that he/she may verbalize and expose secrets, sins, and even thoughts of temptations to their master, i.e. the priest. Truth is thus spoken in both confession and exhortation: the one who confesses reveals the reality of one’s depraved heart while the one who listens goes on to exhort, in turn, and vocally addresses the weaker soul with words of encouragement and correction. The latter figure in this confessional relationship can also be understood, in Foucault’s terminology, as a parrhesiastes, who, in Greco-Roman culture, would say “what is true because he knows that it is true; and he knows that it is true because it is really true.”587 This type of “fearless speech” constitutes parrhêsia, that is, truth- telling, and can be linked to the confession as the penitent tells the truth to the confessor, who in turn, utters exhortations that are bound by divine truths.

Individual and corporate acts of confession thus evoke the figure of a priest as one who listens to the admissions of sinful actions and thoughts of his parishioners and becomes their intercessor who intervenes on their behalf by mediating between the confessant and God through prayer, the giving of homilies or sermons, and via corporate confessions of church doctrine (i.e. the communal reading of creeds). Priests not only provide prayer for their parishioners, but also speak words of wisdom, as they exhort and encourage their confessants to devote themselves to a

586 Foucault, “Christianity and Confession,” 211. 587 Foucault, Discourse and Truth: the Problematization of Parrhesia (taken from his six lectures given at the University of California at Berkeley, October-November, 1983), ed. Joseph Pearson, Digital Archive: Foucault.info, 1999, http://foucault.info/documents/parrhesia/index.html. 243 life of faith. While, for Catholics, this type of relationship is relegated to the priest and the other members of the clergy, but especially the priest as one who is able to access the divine, for reformers, all Christians are considered priests, in that each individual has direct access to God through Christ. For reformist theologians, 1 Peter 2 exemplifies the priesthood of all believers when Paul refers to Christians as a “holy priesthood.”588 In his Commentary on Peter and Jude

(1523), Luther, whose theology influenced Morata’s theology, explains the notion of universal priesthood, as evidenced in 1 Peter, in the following way: “we are all priests before God if we are

Christians […] Therefore I would be glad to find this word priests becoming as common as it is for us to be called Christians.”589 Since individual persons have an unmediated relationship with

God, in the reformist line of thinking, Christians therefore become ministers to one another. On the one hand, Christians confess their sins to one another; on the other hand, Christians exhort one another through the act of speaking the truth, based on biblical authority and mutual love.

Following Foucault’s considerations on confession as well as the Protestant revision of priesthood, which describes all believers, I contend that Morata’s dialogues written for Lavinia della Rovere become models of reformed friendship through the practice of mutual confession and exhortation. Priesthood and friendship become interlaced in Morata’s dialogues as both interlocutors demonstrate characteristics of both confessor and confessant. With regards to the gendered inflections of such a confessional relationship, Jane Couchman asserts that women, in particular, were empowered by the reformist belief in the universal priesthood: “Protestant women and their supporters took seriously the notion of the priesthood of all believers and thus

588 See 1 Peter 2:4-5. 589 Martin Luther, Commentary on Peter and Jude, trans. and ed. John Nichols Lenker (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Kregel Classics, 1990), 104. 244 the legitimacy of women’s speech.”590 Indeed, Morata’s dialogues for della Rovere embody the biblical view of friendship, as articulated in Proverbs 27:6: “Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy.”591 The author of this proverb believes that true friendship is exemplified when one faithfully speaks truth to the other, even when hearing or speaking truth is difficult and offends the other. The proverb contrasts this sort of confrontation with a much easier (but more destructive) form of communication: to flatter another through profuse applaud and even in displays of affection, such as the kiss, often reveals an enemy instead of a friend.

Inherent to this proverb, and in Morata’s own thoughts as well as in Cicero, is a critique of the flatterer who does not behold the other from a selfless position, but rather seeks to manipulate the other through false accolade for selfish purposes. In lieu of delivering necessary, and at times harsh, truths to the other, the flatterer chooses the path of offering facile lip service.

Both of Morata’s dialogues epitomize the biblical proverb. In the first dialogue, Morata weighs the validity of those who praised her for her former dedication to and mastery of Greco-

Roman philosophies. Weighing others’ praise of her learned status becomes a central feature of the dialogue. The following exchange, which includes a passage that I have previously discussed, demonstrates Morata’s working out the conflict with regards to flattery as opposed to honest evaluation and examination of another (and therefore, of one’s self):

Olymp. […] But even as I was exalted to the skies by everyone’s praise, I realized that I lacked all learning and was ignorant […] At last I realized how stupid I was.

Lav. But everyone said that you were endowed with remarkable piety and virtue.

Olymp. That was the story and what you heard. But if people would examine what is said about princes and their friends, they would not have such a great opinion of me. Flatterers, because they want to get close to princes, don’t just flatter the princes but their

590 Jane Couchman, “Protestant Women’s Voices,” in The Ashgate Research Companion to Women and Gender in Early Modern Europe (Vermont: Ashgate, 2013), 150. 591 Proverbs 27:6. 245 friends too, or at least the ones they think are especially close. You can give testimony about how far away I was from Christianity.592

While Lavinia recalls what others have spoken of Olympia’s erudition, Olympia is quick to quantify this sort of estimation: one cannot deduce the true nature of another based on others’ praise. Morata, through the voice of Olympia, quotes from Cicero’s De amicitiae, as she criticizes empty flattery; instead Olympia prefers honest, though at times, piercing, feedback from true friends. Though not explicitly stated, this sort of biblical wisdom from Proverbs 27:6 is demonstrated in the words of Olympia, in the first dialogue.

As a point of comparison, Aelred also derides flattery in the vein of Cicero, but more explicitly ties it to scriptural underpinnings, which helps us better understand the fullness of

Morata’s Christianization of this classical ideal. In his treatise on Spiritual Friendship, Aelred provides a helpful explanation of the biblical proverb as it relates to Morata’s dialogues:

For corrections are good and often better than a friendship which holds its peace. And even though your friend think himself wronged, nevertheless correct him […] For the wounds inflicted by a friend are more tolerable than the kisses of flatters’” […] above all things, one ought to avoid anger and bitterness in the spirit of correction, that he may be seen to have the betterment of his friend at heart rather than the satisfaction of his own ill humor.593

Aelred’s explication furnishes our reading of Morata’s dialogues with a more biblical conception of the opposition between flattery and truth telling. Additionally, Aelred quotes directly from the biblical proverb concerning the “faithful wounds” of friends versus “kisses” of flatterers.

Furthermore, Aelred insists that friends should not cultivate a spirit of bitterness in response to criticism; rather, the friend who receives correction should remember that the other has his/her

592 101-2; “Olymp. […] tunc cum ad caelum laudibus ab omnibus esserebar, me omnis eruditionis expertem atq: ignaram esse comperi […] ah vix tadem sensi stolida. Lav. Tamen increbuerat apud multos, te commemorabili pietate & virtute praeditam esse. Olymp. Audieras, & fama fuit: sed si homines attenderent, quae de principibus & eorum familia ribus dicuntur, non tam magna fuisset eorum opinio de me. Adulatores enim, quia ad principes affectant viam, no modo principibus adularia solent, sed etiam eorum familiaribus, quas apud illos gratores esse putant. Tu testimoniu dare poteris, quam abhorres fuerim a re Christiana.” 593 Aelred, The Works of Aelred of Rievaulx, 121, III.106. 246 best interest in mind. The impetus for the disputatio is conceived from this biblical/classical belief that, with conflict comes deeper understanding and growth, in difficult circumstances and in friendship.

Giving and receiving correction in this biblical and classical spirit is exemplified in

Morata’s first dialogue, in which Olympia’s conversion to divine studies occurs. After Lavinia encourages Olympia to focus on divine studies, the latter confesses:

If only I hadn’t wasted time in this great error and in ignorance of what’s really important! I used to think that I was most learned because I read the writers and scholars of all the liberal arts and was wallowing in their works like mud.594

Olympia admits to wasting time in intellectual error and ignorance, and neglecting divine studies, which contain eternal significance. Olympia repeats this phrase, “error of thinking,” in the next sentence, as she continues to reflect upon her past mistakes. Olympia’s sin, even if it is intellectual in nature, affects her soul, as she dismisses theology, the study of God and scripture, causing a paralysis (“mud”) brought about by her self-immersion in godless thought. Moreover, as we think about the role of confession and the priesthood of all believers, women included,

Olympia’s admission of guilt places Lavinia in a priestly role. The unfolding dialogue between the two interlocutors also enables Olympia to divulge her self to Lavinia, whose words extract the hidden truths from Olympia’s mind, which eventually lead to her transformation.

Yet, even after Olympia’s initial confession of her former worldly endeavors, Lavinia still praises her and compares her to other women: “But what I especially admire is that when you were a girl you never deviated from your resolve, despite the urgings of silly women and the

594 101; “Utina neque ego in hoc summo errore, & in hac maximarum rerum ignoratione versata aliquando fuissem. Ego enim que me ipsam doctissimam arbitrabar, quia omnium artium bonarum scriptores tales & doctores legebam, & in eorum scriptis, tanquam in luto volutabar.” 247 attacks of men that you were going to waste all your other gifts.”595 Embedded in Lavinia’s criticisms and challenges to Olympia is simultaneous praise for Olympia’s love of learning – a desire that distinguishes her as an example for other women to follow. Following Lavinia’s exhortation, as well as her own confession of sin, Olympia arrives at a new confession of faith in which she professes a commitment to pursue divine studies, as her friend Lavinia advises.

Olympia speaks of her past but also complements her former ways with a commitment to a new self:

For my part, when I considered the matter over and over again as diligently as possible, I could find no other reason for me to work at these studies […] He [God] gave me the mind and talent to be so on fire with love for learning that no one could keep me from it […] Everything is done according to His plan and purpose, and He does nothing rashly or thoughtlessly.596

In contrast to her former belief in Epicurean thought, in which the gods do not concern themselves with mortal beings nor possess sovereignty in all matters, as she stated earlier in the dialogue, Olympia has now ascribed to a full acceptance of God’s providence (“He gave me the mind and talent”) and his inspiration (“to be so on fire”) in every realm of knowledge. Olympia’s closing comments reveal her newfound confession of theological studies as opposed to her former belief in worldly philosophy.

In the longer second dialogue between Theophila and Philotima, friendship between the two interlocutors is staged more substantially, and accompanied by more honest confessions as well as a more direct mode of admonition, as Theophila confronts Philotima’s struggle with vanity, and other vices, in an exhortative tone. From the beginning, confession and friendship are

595 102; “Hoc autem mihi maximam admirationem mouet, quod cu esses puella, tamen neque hortatu muliercularum, neque virorum impulsis.” 596 102; “Ego sane cum etiam atque etiam quamdiligenter considerarem, nulla aliam causam reperire potui […] me his studiis operam dedisse. Ille mihi ingenium & hanc mentem dedit, ut studio discendi adeo incense fuerim, ut nemo me ab his deterrere potuerit […] quare haec omnia eius nutu atq; consilio gesta sunt. Neque vero quidquam temere aut imprudenter facit.” 248 linked together as Philotima explains, “Since so great a friendship exists between us and there is no woman dearer to me than you, I have long shared all my secrets with you.”597 The intimacy between Philotima and Theophila is characterized by the impetus to expose the inner parts of the self to the other. This utterance of revealing the self by sharing all inner secrets evokes Petrarch’s

Secretum, a trilogy of dialogues written in Latin between 1347 and 1353, in which Petrarch examines himself by interacting with the voice of Augustine.

Like Morata’s second dialogue, Petrarch’s Secretum takes part in the genre of consolatio and also demonstrates dialectic features, as is to be expected in the dialogical form.598 Towards the end of the First Book, after “Francesco” and “St. Augustine” engage in a dialogue that introduces the substantial matters to be discussed (the fear of death, the sin of pride, etc.),

Francesco, exhausted from the interchange, exclaims: “I am utterly unhappy! Now you have probed fully into my wound. Here is where my pain really is.”599 St. Augustine’s “probing” of

Francesco’s mind elicits truthful confessions from the latter’s inner world, which is the objective of the dialogue, confirmed in St. Augustine’s response: “That is good. You have begun to respond.”600 The dialogue serves as a way for the “secretion of the self” (confession) as interlocutors are forced to answer piercing questions that expose their inner world.

In a similar vein, we can conceive of Philotoma’s use of the word “secret” to be a confession, as well, which places Theophila in a priestly role in this particular dialogue. Not only does an intimacy and trust exist between these two figures, a willingness to speak truth to one another also marks their relationship. According to Theophila, “Since to give and take advice is

597 119; “Nam iandudum, cum tanta tecum mihi necessitudo intercesserit, neque te mihi familiarior ulla foemina sit, omnia mea occulta apud te exprompsi.” 598 See Francesco Petrarca, Petrarch’s Secretum: with Introduction, Notes, and Critical Anthology, eds. Davy A. Carozza and H. James Shey (New York: P. Lang, 1989). Shey provides helpful information on the genre of Petrarch’s Secretum in his “The Form and Meaning of the Secretum,” 9. 599 Ibid., 62 (Liber Primus). 600 Ibid., 62 (Liber Primus). 249 part of true and Christian friendship […] I must give you advice more boldly because you are more dear to me.”601 For Theophila, greater affection between two companions yields an even greater need for the exchange of wisdom and truth. We find, towards the end of this dialogue, a heightened sense of affection and intimacy that occurs after the mutual confession and exhortation. After hearing Theophila’s closing remarks, Philotima states: “Why do you want to leave so soon? Stay here just a little longer.”602 The desire to be in one another’s presence continually fuels the dialogue, as Morata’s longing to be with her companion, Lavinia della

Rovere, manifests in the form of a staged encounter, which also resembles an act of priesthood, as one mediates between the other and the presence of the divine. In a sense, the priest becomes the physical apparition of the divine, substituting for the absence of a corporeal presence.

Likewise, Morata’s dialogues create presence in the midst of absence for both Morata and

Lavinia della Rovere through an encounter that awakens the senses to the other through a fictitious exchange.

However, before the affectionate closing to the second dialogue, Theophila’s examination of her friend’s life contains a verbose accusation of Philotima for not trusting God, even in the midst of difficulty: “in your whole previous life you have despised God and His Word, placing everything ahead of Him […] you relied on your nobility and the power of your relations.”603

Instead of pursuing “human literature,” as was the case for Olympia in the first dialogue,

Philotima’s temptations and struggles pertain more to her social status as a noblewoman in the court. More specifically, Theophila’s criticisms towards Philotima involve a lack of personal

601 119; “Cum & monere & moneri proprium sit verae & Christianae amicitiae […] eo a me audacius es admonenda, quo charior.” 602 126; “Cur tam cito abire vis? mane adhuc paulisper hic.” 603 120; “ex incommodes vitae molestiam capias, cu in omni anteacta tua vita Deum, & eius divinum verbum contempseris […] tua nobilitate nixa, & tuorum potentia freta fueris.” 250 trust in God, revealing a misplaced reliance on external circumstances, as well as envy towards other women, who “live a life of leisure, are driven around in gilded carriages, indulge in clothes too much, as women usually do in Ferrara and other Italian towns […] Do you think they are happy and do you want to imitate them?”604 Theophila’s challenge causes Philotima to carefully consider exactly what she seeks, from the source of her inner most spirit, as opposed to comparing herself to other women who seem, to Philotima, similar to her. An inner/outer dynamic is at play, and Theophila seeks to challenge Philotima to look inside herself, at her heart, as she continues to draw out the confession of the heart. Philotima responds: “I don’t want to imitate them […] But it does bother me that they have plenty of all the things I lack.”605 Envy reveals itself as the center of Philotima’s sin as Theophila’s didactic approach generates honest feedback from Philotima, who earnestly seeks her friend’s counsel.

There is a shift in Theophila’s tone, directly following Philotima’s confession, which reveals humility and common ground between the two as Theophila is reminded of her own past and similar weaknesses: “I too was stuck in the same mud and still would be if God in his mercy hadn’t pulled me out.”606 We cannot help but think of Olympia’s confession in the first dialogue, where she was “wallowing in the mud” of humanist philosophy, ignoring divine studies.

Accordingly, if we were to compare the confessants in each dialogue, and view Theophila

(Morata) as the primary confessant in the first, with Philotima (Lavinia della Rovere) as the primary confessant in the second, we find a role-reversal when these two dialogues are set alongside one another. This inversion of roles between the two dialogues, as well as the presence of two female interlocutors, furthers my claim that Morata uses dialogue to subvert the male

604 120; “quae in otio vivunt, vestitu nimio indulget, curibus auratis vehuntur, ut Ferrariae solent mulieres, & in allis Italiae urbibus […] has tu beatas existimas, & imitari velles?” 605 120; “imitar nolim […] sed hoc mihi dolet, eas multis rebus, quib. ego careo.” 606 121; “nam in eodem ego quoque haesitavi luto, & adhuc nisi me Deus, quae sua est misericorida, extraxisset, hesitarem.” 251 confessor-female confessant relationship. Women’s speaking of both theological and spiritual matters through dialogue undermines the patriarchal practice of Christian confession and bolsters

Morata’s embodiment of female Christian friendship. Furthermore, if this role-reversal, displayed in the priesthood of all believers, can occur in the context of friendship, it can also migrate into female communities where every woman is a confessor and confessant simultaneously to her companions. This practice falls in line with the reformist mediation of faith and scripture through the practice of mutual confession.

Lastly, in terms of the priesthood of all believers, we find the inclusion of a peculiar verb for a conversation between two female figures, towards the end of the second dialogue. After

Theophila’s diffuse expositions concerning Philotima’s sinful habits, her elaborate illustrations of virtuous women, to serve as gendered models for Philotima to follow, and her encouragement for Philotima to follow Christ and find joy in life eternal with God, Philotima states the following: “You’re preaching the truth.”607 The action ascribed to Theophila sets her in a position of ecclesiastical authority. First, only priests administered homilies and sermons, and thus engaged in the activity of preaching. Secondly, a woman within Christianity during this era was never associated with such an act. That Theophila’s words resemble a sermon to Philotima is quite significant and thus not only promotes the universality of priesthood within faith, but also hints at women having the capacity and agency to speak with authority on scriptural, theological, and personal matters.

The Explicit Defense of Protestantism

The defense of the reformed faith also inflects Morata’s practice of female spiritual friendship. This marked defense of reformist thought and practice appears most notably in the second dialogue, as well as in her correspondence with Lavinia della Rovere in 1550. Both

607 124; “Vera quidem praedicas.” 252 women appear to be in solidarity over this cause, and we are aware of both Morata’s and Lavinia della Rovere’s pleading on behalf of Fanino Fanini (1520-1550), a Protestant preacher who was imprisoned and later burned at the stake for his heretical beliefs.608 In fact, both women were known to have visited Fanini while he was in prison. In two letters written between Morata to

Lavinia della Rovere, Morata appeals to Lavinia della Rovere in efforts to save Fanini. In the first correspondence, Morata writes:

I thank you so much for promising me your support and help in aiding Fanino […] Your journey seems to offer me some hope, since I know how powerful your influence is in Rome. Besides, it occurs to me that even though you’ve left there it may offer him some aid. For no doubt the duke will promise all his support to you […] So you’ll be able to ask him, if he wants to do anything for your sake, to pardon a man who is without fault.609

Morata’s letter is predicated on della Rovere’s prior promise of assistance in freeing Fanini.

Since della Rovere possesses noble status, Morata argues that she can wield this social position as leverage in Rome to help convince the duke, in this case, of Fanini’s innocence.

Not only does Morata believe Fanini is innocent, but more importantly, he, along with countless others, are suffering for the sake of Christ. Thus, Morata implores della Rovere to act for “those who are unfortunate and ruined not for any fault of their own but for the sake of

Christ. You know well that whatever service and kindness you do to them, Christ will reckon as having been done for Him.” Fanini, through his death and martyrdom, becomes an emblem of the Protestant movement for Morata. Fanini’s persecution left an indelible mark on Morata and most likely induced a more fervent conviction to the Protestant religion. To further this notion,

Morata references one of Christ’s parables, found in Matthew 25, in which Christ tells of the means by which one can enter into his heavenly kingdom. Christ, who identifies as king in the

608 Parker, “Introduction,” 21-23. 609 105; Letter 12, from Kaufbeuren [August/September 1550]. 253 parable, asks those who seek to pass through the gates whether or not they have given their food to the hungry, their clothes to the naked, and water to those who thirst: “And the king will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of these my brethren, you did it to me.’”610

In other words, if one has given to the poor, or, in the case of Fanini, if one has sought to liberate the innocent and oppressed, then one has given to and emancipated Christ himself.

Furthermore, for Morata, Fanini represents a renewed and more unadulterated form of

Christianity. In her closing appeal to della Rovere, Morata writes:

I won’t write anymore […] because I know that his safety is as great a care to you as it is to me. I’m only encouraging you, lest you bow down the greatness of your soul under the most evil-minded appeals of men in matters which pertain to the pure religion of Christ.”611

Morata views Fanini’s cause as synonymous with the defense of the “pure religion of Christ” as she encourages della Rovere to stand firm against the persecution of evil-minded men in powerful (ecclesiastical) positions. Lavinia dell Rovere’s response letter indicates that she intended to do everything possible to save Fanini, and to honor her friendship with Morata: “I want you to know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, and our friendship wouldn’t let it be otherwise.”612 The friendship between Morata and della Rovere becomes more solidified through their collective efforts to liberate Fanini, a cause that functions as a microcosm for the greater cause of defending the reformist faith. However sincere and arduous their attempts at stopping

Fanini’s impending persecution, he was burned at the stake on 22 August 1550.613 In response to

Fanini’s execution, Morata addresses his death in the following manner in a subsequent letter written to della Rovere: “I couldn’t help but be moved by the death of Fanini, a man endowed

610 Matthew 25:40. 611 105-6, Letter 12, from Kaufbeuren [August/September 1550]. 612 109, Letter 21, from Parma [November 1550]. 613 Parker informs us of Fanini’s execution in a footnote to the following letter written by Morata to Lavinia della Rovere: Morata, The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic, Letter 25, from Schweinfurt [summer 1551], 112. 254 with great piety. Later, however, his great faithfulness lightened my sadness.”614 Fanini becomes a martyr for the Protestant faith and further emboldens Morata’s own reformed faith, which she uses to inspire her friend, della Rovere. These letters between Morata and Lavinia della Rovere serve to highlight how defending the Protestant faith was integral to these women’s spiritual companionship. Defending Fanini becomes a significant theme throughout their correspondence and although his name does not appear in the dialogues, I argue that the protection and defense of those persecuted for the acceptance of the “pure religion of Christ” still play an important part in Morata’s second dialogue.

Towards a Female Spiritual Collective

Finally, Morata, particularly in the second dialogue, also expands her concept of female spiritual friendship by incorporating a larger feminine community based on illustrious women from Scripture, as well as other contemporary women involved in the reformist cause. To begin,

Theophila provides Philotima with two examples of godly women from the Bible: Abigail, the wife of King David, and Queen Esther. Both women are involved in political affairs, maintain powerful positions in court, and more importantly, according to Philotima, both women

“cultivated piety, even though they flourished in riches and honors.”615 Whereas Philotima seeks to highlight these women’s wealthy status so as to defend her own selfish desires for prosperity and a life of ease and leisure, Theophila selects these women and purposefully expounds upon their lives as models of obedience and faithfulness to God, amidst difficult situations.

While little is known of Abigail, one of King David’s wives, the Old Testament book of 1

Samuel informs us that she was discerning and beautiful.616 The narrative goes on to describe how Abigail’s then husband, Nabal, did not demonstrate gratitude towards David, the future king

614 112, Letter 25, from Schweinfurt [summer 1551]. 615 121; “hae nihilominus pietatem coverut etiamsi opibus & honoribus floruerunt.” 616 1 Samuel 25 recounts the story of David and Abigail. 255 of Israel; yet, instead of encouraging David to seek revenge, Abigail convinces David to be peaceful towards her very foolish husband, Nabal.617 Because of her discretion and wisdom,

David praised Abigail and also followed her advice. Shortly thereafter, Nabal dies, and David then takes Abigail as his wife. Morata does not provide much detail concerning Abigail’s calm demeanor and discernment in this specific situation; rather, through the mouthpiece of

Theophila, we see Abigail’s suffering vis-à-vis David: “since we know that David was involved in great difficulties, we have to consider that she [Abigail] suffered many evils also.”618

Apparently, Abigail’s story was more widespread and discussed in religious circles during the sixteenth century whereas the modern mind is more prone to recall David’s affair with

Bathsheba.619

While Abigail sought peace in defending the folly of her husband, which resulted in

Nabal’s death and her marriage to the future king, David’s sin of adultery with Bathsheba ended in his murdering her husband, Uriah, out of jealousy – viewing Bathsheba as his own possession.

Morata omits the more infamous female figure of Bathsheba, who is associated with David, and instead recalls Abigail, the humble and wise wife of the king. Theophila continues: “If you look only at the splendor and outward form of their lives, you don’t see the labor and worry as well.”620 We remember that it is Philotima who introduces Abigail and Esther as royal figures who are able to enjoy the benefits of courtly life without adversity or affliction. However,

Theophila’s brief words concerning the figure of Abigail remind Philotima of the stressful and, at times, painful nature of the lives of women holding powerful political positions, fitting for

Lavinia della Rovere’s own situation as a noblewoman and a court lady.

617 1 Samuel 25:14-38. 618 123; “vero Davidem cum in tantis malis versatum fuisse constet, multa perpessam existimare debemus.” 619 2 Samuel 11. 620 123; “Si tu tantu splendorem & speciem vite illarum intueris, laborem autem & solicitudinem non respicis.” 256 I have already established how the dialogue between Theophila and Philotima becomes a means of self-examination and drawing out Philotima’s inner conflicts – processes that cause

Philotima to articulate how she compares herself to other women, which reveals her envy and covetousness. This practice eventually leads to Theophila’s long and compelling discussion of

Queen Esther as biblical female model for Philotima: first, in terms of her devotion to God, and secondly, but arguably more importantly, in terms of her protection and defending of the Jewish people, who were being oppressed by the Persian Empire. As Theophila continues to probe

Philotima as to her concept of beauty, and encourages her to value the soul over the body (“We dress our body beautifully, but we go out naked in what pertains to the soul”), Philotima then introduces Queen Esther as a model for her to follow.621 Philotima’s clever mention of Esther is meant to surreptitiously challenge Theophila, who insists that Philotima must care more for the soul as opposed to external concerns. Philotima states: “But there have been some women, holy and religious women, who had the goods of the body, who were beautiful and rich, and placed by

God in the highest station of dignity; for example, Esther, whom a great king married.”622

Philotima wants to uphold Esther as someone who reaped the external benefits (beauty treatments, etc.) of courtly life while internally devoting herself to God.

However, Theophila reminds Philotima that, “God gives different gifts to different people and gives different burdens, and it is wrong to judge concerning his judgments. But we know for certain that He does nothing randomly but everything for our benefit.”623 Although Queen Esther profited from her external beauty as well as her powerful status, she only was able to do so for a

621 Morata, The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic, 121. 622 121; “sed fuerunt tamen nonnullae sanctae & religiosae mulieres, quae ista corporis bona habuerut, egre gia forma & dites fuerunt, in altissimoque dignitatus gradu a Deo collocatae. Quemadmodum Hesteram in matrimoniu duxit tantus rex.” 623 122; “Deus allis alia munera donat, & aliud alii onus imponit, & de eius iudicio nesas est iudicare. Certo scimus cum nihil temere facere, sed omnia quae ex usu nobis fint.” 257 purpose, which Theophila reveals in her ensuing expansive exposition of Esther’s life. Indeed,

Theophila’s interpretation of Esther constitutes her most expansive thoughts of any one theme throughout this dialogue. Theophila additionally hopes to convince Philotima that Queen Esther serves as an example of a woman who ultimately allows God to guide her. With regards to

Morata’s and Lavinia della Rovere’s friendship, the choice of this particular biblical figure is important. Not only is Esther a female biblical figure to which Lavinia della Rovere can better relate, she is also a courtly figure, which is another important link to Lavinia della Rovere, herself a member of the court.

Morata’s reading of the figure of Esther is peculiar, however, as it omits Esther’s predilection for the advantages of the extravagant courtly life. At the beginning of the Old

Testament story, although initially she did not want to be queen, as Theophila explains (“She was so far from wanting to be queen”), Esther did eventually relish playing the part of the secular queen once she accepted this role; she enjoyed many perks, such as receiving external beauty treatments and the like. However, Theophila tends only to call attention to Esther’s character growth, which progresses throughout the Old Testament account. For Theophila, Queen Esther’s

“whole life testified that she had spoken the truth, for neither riches, nor honors, nor the love of the king was able to draw her from God.”624 In Theophila’s biography of Esther for Philotima, she notes her perseverance and dedication to God in both the worst and best of circumstances.

Beyond Queen Esther’s steadfast faith and devotion to God, Theophila points to her courage in the protection of oppressed people even though her own life was at risk. Theophila goes on to provide a brief summary of Esther’s life:

Indeed we know that for the safety of her people she risked the loss of all those goods, and of her own head. For when the king, at the urging of the wicked Haman, had

624 122; “verumque se dixisse tota vita te stificata fuit, cum neque divitiae, neque honores, neque regis amore am a Deo abstrahere potuerint.” 258 appointed the day for the destruction of the Jews and that safest day dawned, Mordecai, concerned for the safety of himself and his people, went to the queen. Begging and pleading with her, he besought her to try and save her people from death. 625

At her cousin Mordecai’s request, Esther begins to chart out her plan for approaching the king, an act that was forbidden, for, according to Theophila, “it was the custom in that kingdom that if anyone came to the king without summons he must surely die.”626 Without any deliberation, as

Theophila’s very next words suggest, Esther proceeded with courage: “Then she put herself in danger for the sake of her people and approached the king.”627 Like Esther, who used her powerful position to protect the Jewish people from execution by the Persian Empire, both

Morata and Lavinia della Rovere were involved in defending the lives of those persecuted for their reformist beliefs. However, there is an acknowledgement that Lavinia della Rovere

(Philotima) possesses more political power than Morata (Theophila), and so this model of Queen

Esther is tailored specifically for her circumstance.

After Theophila recounts the story of Queen Esther, she immediately returns to

Philotima’s yearning for worldly possessions and poses the following rhetorical question, which is followed up by a sort of lesson:

Do you not believe that it was a greater grief for her, living with impious men in a court far from the people of God, to possess those things, than it is for you to lack them? […] And so God […] deprives His people of these things, or, if He bestows them, afflicts His people with other griefs of the spirit. For if Esther had not had such great griefs of the spirit to endure, these good things would only have brought her as much pleasure as they usually bring people, and beyond any doubt she would have forgotten God.628

625 122; “imo prae populi sui salute omnium bonorum illorum, & capitis etia periculum englexisse eam constat. Cum enim Rex, Amanis sceleratissimi impulse, diem ad perdedos Iudaeos statuisset, imaq; dies ille tristissimus illuxisset, Mardocheus & de sua suorumq; salute solicitus ad reginam adiit, eam orans & obsecrans, ontestatur uti populum suum a morte eripere vellet.” 626 122; “ut si quis ultro ad regem venisset, ei omnino moriendem esset.” 627 122; “Regina tu seipsam in discrimen pro populo suo obiecit, regemque adiit.” 628 122-3; “an non credis maiori dolore fuisse illi, ista possidere, cum impiis in aula procul a populo Dei viventi, quam tibi eisdem carere? […] propterea Deus suos ne pereant istis rebus privat, aut si largitur aliis, illos animi doloribus afficit. Nam si Hestera tantos animi Dolores non sustinuisset, hae res tantum, quantum aliis asserre solent, voluptatis attulissent, & sine ulla dubitatione Dei oblita fuisset.” 259 Essentially, Theophila sees Philotima as distracted from her overarching task: to remember God.

Even though Esther possessed riches and beauty, it is evident how she was afflicted and “grieved in spirit” because she was made aware of the plight and persecution of the Hebrew people, of which she shared identity and heritage. Esther, of course, is a Persian name that she used so as to conceal “Hadassah,” her true Jewish identity. In this sense, the name Philotima serves a similar function in masking della Rovere’s true identity, which is one that belongs to the “pure religion of Christ” (i.e. Protestantism). Morata’s long exposition of the story of Esther serves as a gendered model and reminder to della Rovere to continue to stand firm in the face of mounting opposition to reform-minded individuals.

Moreover, beyond her compelling exposition of Queen Esther and the brief inclusion of

Abigail, Theophila brings up an important contemporary female, Sibylle, the duchess of Saxony, who is also significantly linked to the defense of Protestantism. Although this rather obscure historical detail is brief, Theophila’s mention of this particular personage corresponds to the notion of female solidarity for the reformist faith. Theophila introduces this Sibylle in the following manner:

I could give examples of many people who are alive at this time, but I’ll just mention one woman of the highest rank and her noble husband, the duke of Saxony. How great do you think their pain is, when they have been separated so long and since their love is strong and shared? Nor is he currently, as your husband is, in the highest honor, but an absent captive, deprived of all his possessions, all his titles lost, despised, humbled, in the power of his enemy, and yet of such piety and probity that I do not know if there is anything else like it on earth […] Their misfortune (if misfortune it can be called, for I rank his prison and ignominy ahead of all the triumphs and victories of others) is greater than yours.629

629 123; “Multoru etiam qui vivunt hac tempestate exempla possem proponere: sed de una tantum foemina primaria & eius viro praeclariis. Duce Saxoniae mentionem faciam. Quantos illos Dolores esse censes tanto tempore seiunctos esse? cum summus mutuusque sit amor, neque ille nun cut tuus in magno honore est: Sed abest captiuus, omnibus bonis privatus, omnibus ornamentis amissis, contemptus, abiectus, in potestate hostis […] Horum calamitas, si tamen calamitas diceda est (nam illius carcerem, ignominiamque, aliorum omnibus triumphis, victoriisque antesero) maior quam tua est.” 260 This passage unites Sibylle with her husband, Johann Friedrich der Grossmütige (1503-1554), the duke of Saxony, in a way that reveals Morata’s ideal of marriage, whereby two souls become one. Sibylle’s pain is inextricably linked to her husband’s suffering. Although we could argue that Theophila neglects the actual personage of Sibylle, if we understand the vision of marriage as Morata sees it, much similar to her own marriage with Grunthler, this passage becomes clearer. Like Lavinia della Rovere, Sibylle’s husband is absent: yet, it seems that their situation is more dire as Johann Friedrich was imprisoned and condemned to death by the emperor Charles

V for his confession of the Protestant faith. Like Luther, Frederich refused to recant; and as a point of fact, Frederich himself was known to have sustained a correspondence with Luther, whom he considered to be his own spiritual father.630 Unlike Fanini, however, Frederich was eventually released in 1552.631

Sibylle and Frederich become yet another example for Philotima of facing religious oppression with strength and continued faith in God. Theophila considers such ardent believers as those who suffer for Christ, and more specifically for the Protestant cause. Theophila follows up her explanation of Sibylle and Frederich with the following question for Philotima to consider: “What can I say about others who daily, as you know, for Christ suffer injury, ignominy, exile, are killed, are burned?”632 Morata certainly reminds Philotima of the death of

Fanini in this piercing question and also references others who are being persecuted for their reformist beliefs. Religious persecution is the impetus, backdrop and leitmotif for Morata’s dialogues and letters for Lavinia della Rovere. The explosive religious climate fueled anxiety for

630 Martin Luther, Luther’s Spirituality, ed. Philip D. Krey and Peter D.S. Krey (New York: Paulist Press, 2007), 269. In fact, Luther dedicated his explanation of the Magnificat, known as the “Song of Mary” from the Gospel of Luke (Luke 1:46-55), to Frederich (91). 631 Parker provides this information in a footnote to the second dialogue (Morata, The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic, 123). 632 124; “Quid de aliis dicam, qui quotidie, ut nosti, propter Christum iniuriis, ignominia, exilio afficiuntur, trucidantur, comburuntur?” 261 both women in terms of their personal faith and intellectual assent of the reformed faith, and also deepened their compassion and concern for those who were shamed, exiled, and even burned at the stake for adopting what Morata believed to be the most pure expression of Christianity.

Conclusion

In conclusion, through Morata’s letters and dialogues written for her companion, Lavinia della Rovere, we find a demonstration of a peculiar form of friendship between two women – one that embodies not only spiritual intimacy, but also exemplifies a feminine collective reaction to the suppression of reformist thought during the time of the Roman Inquisition in Italy. In both her correspondence and dialogues that I have discussed here, Morata shapes the direction of female spiritual friendship based on the authority of Scripture (Sola Scriptura), the practice of mutual priesthood given to all believers, the defense of the nascent reformist religion, and the conception of a female spiritual community comprised of illustrative biblical and contemporary women. While Morata certainly adopted certain literary practices in terms of her use of the genre of dialogue, as well as her reliance upon Cicero and Erasmus, it is important to establish how she diverged from such existing models in terms of her particular socio-historical and religious moment. Aelred of Riveaulx provides a helpful intersection between Cicero and Erasmus, but also aids in clarifying how Morata establishes her model of spiritual friendship along biblical lines. I have thus demonstrated how Morata appropriated existing models of the dialogue and the notion of amicitia from Antiquity into a feminized version of spiritual friendship.

Along these lines, an overarching theme of my exploration hinges on the mimetic qualities of the dialogue that render Morata’s practice of female friendship all the more palpable and exemplary for other women to follow. Although Morata does not provide a theory of friendship per se, I argue that her work serves as the praxis, utterance, and actual manifestation

262 of a feminized reformed spirituality actualized through expressions of friendship with another –

Lavinia della Rovere. Morata thus articulates a distinct form of female spiritual friendship that is further bolstered by her reformist beliefs, which then enables her to find a certain degree of solidarity in defense of the Protestant cause. Morata’s more mature literary works shed light on her attempt to not only inwardly accept reformist ideas in a volatile religious moment, but also to advance the newfound faith through encouraging her friends, and in particular, her female companions, to continue both to practice and to defend the reformist cause in solidarity with one another. We can firmly claim that Morata’s expression of reformist thought was formed by her relationship with those around her, namely her friend, Lavinia della Rovere, whose companionship provides a vehicle for the articulation of her nascent Protestantism, but even more so, gives shape to her staging of female spiritual friendship through literary dialogue.

263 CHAPTER SIX CONCLUSION

The latter years of the completion of this dissertation project evoke the memory of two significant reform movements involving religion and gender: while 2017 marked the 500th anniversary of the 1517 Reformation, 2018 heralds the 50th anniversary of the impactful social revolutions of 1968, which included the women’s liberation movement. Reflecting upon such reform movements, scholars in humanities often attempt to extrapolate the effects of such social transitions on literary and artistic production as signposts of paradigm shifts in the unfolding narrative of human experience. Accordingly, with specific attention given to gender and religion, my dissertation participates in the consideration of the relationship between movements of social reform and literary movements of the early modern era. More specifically, this dissertation has sought to respond to the following question: how do women’s spiritual and theological writings reflect and manifest reformist thought of sixteenth-century France and Italy?

Rather than focusing predominantly on the biographies and historical experiences of each female author, the chapters in my dissertation elucidate the literary contours of the written works of Marguerite de Navarre, Vittoria Colonna, Marie Dentière, and Olympia Morata that convey a

“reformation of words” in a way that resembles the very beliefs each woman sought to embrace, to varying degrees. Along these lines, I do not suggest that we should consider these women as theologians. Instead, I view their spiritual writings and their epistolary correspondence with one another and with other reform-minded individuals, as containing a wide range of polemical content, which reflected their reformist tendencies, in some cases (Marguerite de Navarre and

Vittoria Colonna), and their rejection of Catholicism for Protestantism, in other cases (Marie

Dentière and Olympia Morata).

264 In Chapter One, the textual dynamics of the Miroir reveal Marguerite de Navarre’s nuanced spirituality and theology, which oscillates between Catholic fidelity and reformist inclinations. In the experience of reading the text, the reader senses a mouvement pendulaire, which desperately seeks a state of equilibrium that mirrors Christ’s invitation to rest in Matthew

11:28. Christ’s invitation to rest emerges as a central feature of the Miroir. Additionally, I consider reformist notions such as Sola Scriptura, Solus Christus, Sola Gratia, and Sola Fide, which appear in poetic representation throughout the poem, to be synonymous with this “resting equilibrium.” The notion of vive foy, in particular, assuages Marguerite’s inner spiritual conflict and also demonstrates the convergence of Catholic and reformist understandings of salvation.

Whereas Catholicism emphasizes one’s works that grant God’s salvific favor, the reformers stress that it is only by faith (Sola Fide), given as a gift from God, that one can be saved. Vive foy, however, unites the two approaches in a way that infuses the reception of faith with a liveliness that encourages the doing of good works as a response to grace. Lastly, the Miroir illustrates Marguerite’s vision of a spiritual community, which seeks to possess charité through faith (vive foy) while serving as a means to calm the incessant erratic textual movement, and thus embodies the most significant source of rest for Marguerite.

We are fortunate to have access to Marguerite’s epistolary correspondence with other women, such as Vittoria Colonna and Marie Dentière. The letters exchanged among these women shed light on our understanding of female collectivity in response to reformist movements. Colonna’s and Marguerite’s literary and spiritual friendship reveals significant commonalities between these women, including their knowledge of the Bible and their reformist ideology, which is especially evident in their desire for ecclesiastical reform. In fact, Colonna’s use of the term “contrappesi” in one of her letters to Marguerite inspires the image of the

265 pendulum, which I conceive as the defining textual movement of Marguerite’s Miroir. The majority of Chapter Two is dedicated to the analysis of four sonnets from Colonna’s Rime spirituali: “Poi che ‘l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne,” “Spiego per voi Signor indarno l’ale,”

“Vorrei che sempre un grido alto e possente,” and “Quando in se stesso il pensier nostro riede.”

Colonna’s spiritual poems may seem innocuous as they contain mystical elements conveyed in a conventional form (Petrarchism), but as I have shown, her spiritual poetry articulates contentious theological thought through her manipulation of the Petrarchan system, which is not surprising given her close rapport with the spirituali. By performing close-readings of the poems and cross- referencing other sonnets from the collection, I find that the reformed notion of the gift should function as the central lens through which we perceive the reformist inflections in Colonna’s

Rime spirituali. In light of this “renaissance of the gift,” Colonna, through her poetry, glorifies the act of receiving the following elements: 1) a vision of Christ’s crucified body, 2) faith (Sola

Fide), 3) intimacy in relationship with God, and 4) the invitation to be engrafted into a newly formed spiritual community that is comprised of souls bonded to one another through faith (fede viva). Colonna thus conveys a reformed understanding of the gift, a hallmark of the reformers’ approach to soteriology, without overtly calling attention to her reformist inclinations. As a result, Colonna’s spiritual poetry illustrates a complex and nuanced mode of women’s spiritual writing in Cinquecento Italy.

In Chapter Three, I argue that Marie Dentière’s Epistre tres utile, written to Marguerite de Navarre, surpasses the epistolary genre and should be conceived as a sermon, which provides a gendered and reformed version of the ars praedicandi. In my analysis of the Epistre, I concentrate on the interplay of orality and aurality that amplifies Dentière’s message of women’s right to preach the Gospel alongside male ministers in sixteenth-century Geneva. Dentière’s

266 exhortation to her female readership (Marguerite and “les paouvres femmellettes”), in particular, to pursue truth is inflected by her prophetic voice and burden to expose the truths that God has revealed to her. Dentière’s reception of the call to declare God’s Word culminates in her self- identification as a “prescheresse.” In addition, the concept of dilatio frames my consideration of

Dentière’s Epistre as a feminized discursive strategy, characterized by the fecundity of language as well as the sense of openness in the act of conveying, by word of mouth, the Protestant message. Beyond the acknowledgement of Dentière’s bold participation in the cause of the reform, which was criticized by Catholic women (Jeanne de Jussie) and male reformers (John

Calvin), this chapter considers the Epistre as a dilation itself, which expands scriptural truths and propagates the Gospel, as understood by reformist ideology, through the spoken word.

Due to her association with Marguerite through Renée de France (the sister of Claude, wife of François I), and her involvement in the reform movements in Italy, which led to her eventual flight for Germany, I have concluded this project with a consideration of Olympia

Morata’s letters and dialogues (the Dialogue between Lavinia della Rovere and Olympia Morata and the Dialogue between Theophila and Philotima). Chapter Four explores the ways in which

Morata’s letters and dialogues written to and for her companion, Lavinia della Rovere, provide a reformed and gendered praxis of spiritual friendship, which is based on the authority of Scripture

(Sola Scriptura), the practice of mutual priesthood given to all believers, the defense of the reformist faith, and the creation of a female spiritual community that extends beyond Lavinia della Rovere and Morata, and incorporates illustrative biblical and contemporary women.

Moreover, I consider the mimetic qualities of the dialogue that render these interactions as a female manifestation of confession in which the traditional male confessor – female confessant rapport is subverted through the presence of two female interlocutors. Through the practice of

267 confession, which is undergirded by the reformist understanding of mutual priesthood, the dialogues enable the transformation of the minds of the female interlocutors (“Olympia,”

“Lavinia,” “Theophila,” and “Philotima”) to embrace divine studies, grow in biblical wisdom, and defend the reformist cause.

My dissertation has evinced that women’s spiritual and theological writing in France and

Italy furnishes us with rich insights as to how written expression informs and reforms the mimetic power of literature, especially as a response to oppressive dogmas and regimes that threaten discourses of alterity. The textual corpus of my dissertation represents such alterity at the nexus of gender, religion, and genre: by writing in literary forms that were not typically employed for theological discourse, the female authors of this dissertation are able to express contentious reformist thought against both the backdrop of women’s silence in church and the constraining force of the Counter-Reformation. Moreover, in an age imbued with the language of

Christianity, the pervasive nature of Scripture should hold significant bearing on our understandings of early modern texts, in general, and most notably in the works of this dissertation. Gérard Defaux expounds upon the prominence of the Bible as a vivifying force whose communicative presence permeated sixteenth-century Europe. By extension, early modern writers often placed great emphasis on their written texts as mirrors of the “Parole de

Dieu,” which conveyed presence, expression, and representation of the “sujet parlant.”633

Defaux’s notion of the speaking subject, which stresses scriptural influence and authority, complements Kristeva’s gendered conception of subjectivity, and further unifies my project as an

633 According to Gérard Defaux, we should conceive of early modern understandings of Scripture and the power of words in the following manner: “L’Ecriture, donc, est étrangement vivante: plus vivante encore que le vivant. Elle est souffle, et mouvement. Elle pense, elle souffre, elle respire et elle parle […] Elle n’est plus lettre, mais Esprit. Et puisque tout, dans ce monde, est régie par la loi des similitudes, puisque tout y est image, miroir ou signature, comme la Parole de Dieu, celle de l’homme est elle aussi présente, expression et representation du sujet parlant” (Marot, Rabelais, Montaigne: l’écriture comme presence [Paris: Champion, 1987], 34). 268 exploration of women’s written expressions of reformed spirituality and theology. This particular ensemble of religious texts, interlaced with the authority of scripture that both generates and substantiates the works written by Marguerite de Navarre, Vittoria Colonna, Marie Dentière, and

Olympia Morata, demonstrates the emergence and cohesive presence of a female spiritual collectivity, whose aim of church renewal steadily evolved through their epistolary exchange with one another and reformist networks, and by their active engagement in theological discussion through literary expression.

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282 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH MERRY E. LOW Curriculum Vitae

EDUCATION Ph.D. - French Literature, Department of Modern Languages and Linguistics, Florida State University, 2018

M.A. - French Literature, Department of Modern Languages and Linguistics, Florida State University, 2013

M.A. – Religion, Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, 2008

B.A. – International Relations and French, Samford University, 2006

CONFERENCE PAPERS PRESENTED 2018 “Hearing Echoes of the ‘voix prescheresse’ in Marie Dentière’s Epistre tres utile (1539).” New College Conference on Medieval and Renaissance Studies. Sarasota, Florida.

“Women Preaching through Reform: Marie Dentière’s Epistre tres utile (1539).” Winthrop-King Institute, Women in French. Tallahassee, Florida.

2017 “Protestant theology and female spiritual friendship in the Dialogues of Olympia Morata.” Renaissance Society of America. Chicago, Illinois.

2016 “Venetian female lyric of the Counter-Reformation: Moderata Fonte’s ‘S’angelico pensier, puro intelletto.” American Association of Teachers of Italian. Naples, Italy.

“Sacrificial Violence in Vittoria Colonna’s Rime spirituali.” American Association of Italian Studies. Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

PROFESSIONAL MEMBERSHIPS Modern Languages Association American Association of Teachers of Italian American Association of Italian Studies Renaissance Society of America Women in French

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