BIBLIOTECA DELL’ «ARCHIVUM ROMANICUM» Serie I: Storia, Letteratura, Paleografia 508 GIADA GUASSARDO THE ITALIAN LOVE POETRY OF LUDOVICO ARIOSTO: COURT CULTURE AND CLASSICISM Preface by Lina Bolzoni LEO S. OLSCHKI EDITORE MMXXI INTRODUCTION Preamble The lyric poems of Ludovico Ariosto have always constituted for the modern reader the most elusive portion of his work, and have rarely been the subject of comprehensive studies. This is due to several difficulties that arise in their analysis. There is a stylistic dishomogeneity among the poems that is not found in his other works, and moreover, their philological status is not limpid, owing to the almost complete lack of autographs 1 and to the absence of any authorised printed edition. For a long period, the accepted critical position was to take the poems as sporadic and occasional products, and the only critical edition available was that by Giuseppe Fatini (Ariosto 1924), which was then improved by Cesare Segre (Ariosto 1954). This edition however does not follow a sound philological method.2 In the mid1980s, a significant shift took place in the perception of the rime, following Cesare Bozzetti’s discovery that Ariosto had selected some of them in order to form a canzoniere (Bozzetti 1985), thereby proving the existence of an actual lyric project on Ariosto’s part. This finding provoked a flurry of scholarly interest in this output, which resulted in a 1999 conference held in Gargnano sul Garda (whose proceedings are published in Berra 2000) aimed at re-examining Ariosto’s ‘brief ’ literary forms, i.e. the Satire and the 1 The hypothesis of Finazzi 2002-2003, p. 105 that the two bifolios Vb, with the text of canzone 50, may have been authored by Ariosto has now become a certainty (I should like to thank Finazzi for offering me this update). So far this is the only known autograph of Ariosto’s lyric poems. 2 The corpus of this edition consisted of 5 canzoni, 41 sonnets, 12 madrigals, 27 capitoli, 2 eclogues. Following Segre’s suggestions, two attempts were made at establishing a new critical edition, by Anna Carlini and Roberto Chittolina: the former stopped at a discussion of the stemmatic relationship between the testimonies known at the time (Carlini 1958), the latter completed the edition, which however remained unpublished (the scholar published a single article, Chittolina 1967, concerned exclusively with questions of attribution). As a consequence, the commentaries to the rime by Mario Santoro (Ariosto 1989) and Stefano Bianchi (Ariosto 1992) have continued to adopt the critical text established by Fatini. —3— Chapter I BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY: ARIOSTO’S ELEGIAC SELF-FASHIONING Preamble This study of Ariosto’s lyrics will begin by examining some characteristics of the poetic ‘I’, or, to use Stephen Greenblatt’s felicitous phrase (Greenblatt 1980), from the idea of ‘self-fashioning’. This particular focus appears necessary, because even a superficial reading yields a strong sense that a number of poems use a systematic and coherent set of shared patterns in terms of the interaction between the lyric subject and the world that surrounds it. The label that may be attached to such patterns is, for the sake of convenience, that of ‘autobiographism’. A particularly suitable viewpoint for this phenomenon is offered by four poems – namely, Rime del canzoniere, XXIX, XXX, XLIII and XLV – which it seems to me possible to analyse as a group since they are linked to each other by the similarity of the situations presented: in each of them, the speaker-Ariosto refers to a real event and to his own involvement in it. To be more specific, in XLV the chronological reference is 1512, the year of the battle of Ravenna, whose effects the speaker says he witnessed; XLIII refers to an interrupted journey he made in 1514, when he was accompanying Cardinal Ippolito d’Este; in XXX he talks of having been sent to Florence; finally, in XXIX the lyric subject is travelling to the Garfagnana (the reference here is to his 1522 journey). These poems also share the same metrical form, the capitolo in terza rima – a form regarding which a premise should be made. The capitolo, which was extremely popular in the last decades of the fifteenth century (see Introduction, 3), had developed a strong link with the elegiac mood of the amorous lament. A 1504 letter to Isabella d’Este by Vincenzo Calmeta illustrates, within a wider discussion aimed at fixing the context in which the elegy could be used, how the link was made by one contemporary: hanno li moderni poi e contemporanei nostri (o sia per la sonorità de la terza rima, o vero perché el terzetto più cum la musica abia conformitade) a li ternari — 31 — CHAPTER I 3. A poem addressed to Ippolito d’Este If in XLV Ariosto was still caught up in the rhetorical modes of the courtly capitolo, in XLIII (Del bel numero vostro havrete un manco) a more original elaboration can be detected. The poem was occasioned by an event which took place in October 1514: Ariosto, who was accompanying Cardinal Ippolito to Rome, was forced by a sudden illness to stop at the Furlo Pass.31 This poem addresses Ippolito himself and is in fact a most interesting testimony to Ariosto’s lyric activity at the cardinal’s court, allowing us to touch upon the poet’s relation to patronage. In the opening lines, Ariosto apologises to the cardinal for not being able to follow him any further: Del bel numero vostro havrete un manco, Signor, ché qui rest’io dove Apenino d’alta percossa aperto mostra il fianco, (Rime del canzoniere, XLIII 1-3) Tiemme la febre, […] (l. 10) This opening is an exact calque of the incipit of Tibullus, I 3: ‘Ibitis Aegaeas sine me, Messalla, per undas, […] / me tenet ignotis aegrum Phaeacia terris’ (ll. 1-3).32 As a matter of fact, the whole situation outlined by Ariosto mirrors the source, indeed closely following its first half in which Tibullus also tells his lord, Messalla, that an illness has prevented him from following his entourage. Later on, both poets express their fear of dying in a foreign land, far away from the woman they love.33 We have, therefore, an outstanding case displaying a coincidence between a real situation and a motif belonging to literary tradition: I will return to this point later. For the moment, it should be observed that the 31 This episode is reconstructed in Catalano 1930-1931, I, pp. 374-375. This link was first noted by Floriani 1988bis, p. 252. 33 Cp. Rime del canzoniere, XLIII 61-67: ‘Ché se qui moro, non ho chi mi pianga: / qui sorelle non ho, non ho qui matre / che sopra il morto corpo il capel franga, / né quatro frati miei, che con vesti atre / m’accompagnino al lapide che l’ossa / devria chiuder del figlio allato il patre. / Madonna non è qui […]’ and Tibullus, I 3,5-9: ‘abstineas, Mors atra, precor: non hic mihi mater / quae legat in maestos ossa perusta sinus, / non soror, Assyrios cineri quae dedat odores / et fleat effusis ante sepulcra comis, / Delia non usquam […]’. See also Rime del canzoniere, XLIII 52: ‘Lasso, chi sa ch’io non sia al fin degli anni?’ and Tibullus, I 3,53: ‘Quodsi fatales iam nunc explevimus annos’. If the dating to 1514 is correct, Ariosto’s beloved must be identified as Alessandra Benucci. 32 — 42 — BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY: ARIOSTO’S ELEGIAC SELF-FASHIONING rewriting from Tibullus – an author whose influence is also felt in Ariosto’s Latin poetry – 34 is not an end in itself but must be inscribed in Ariosto’s overall rhetorical strategy aimed at paying homage to his lord. Through the classical borrowing, he is implicitly praising the figure of the cardinal as a modern Messalla: that is, as a figure of power, but also as a patron of the arts (as Messalla famously promoted the activity of a group of writers – one of whom was Tibullus – who were known as the ‘Messalla circle’). Notably, in his choice of representing Ippolito in this way Ariosto only partially follows a strategy of embellishment. Indeed, contemporary historical research on the cardinal has unearthed his profound interest in the arts, music, and the sciences, overall pointing to a cultural background that was certainly superior to that of his brother Alfonso. His passion for literature led him to encourage, along with the composition of the Furioso, also the intellectual activity of Equicola and Calcagnini.35 The statement by the historian Giuseppe Antonelli that Ippolito ‘ne’ suoi viaggi sempre seco trasportava buon numero di volumi’ 36 suggests the intriguing possibility that he might have even read Tibullus during the 1514 journey, and perhaps discussed this reading with Ariosto. Another homage to the cardinal occurs from l. 13. The speaker, maintaining a tone of bland confidentiality – which significantly diverges from the gloomy funereal register adopted by Tibullus –, jokingly wishes that the fever had come at a more opportune moment and had prevented his setting out in the first place, thus providing him with a ‘scusa degna’ (l. 23) that may spare him the pain of separation from his beloved lady. Within this statement, he resorts to an equation (highlighted by the enjambement) of woman and lord as his ‘two lights’: Ché s’ero per restar privo de l’una mia luce, al men non devea l’altra tormi la sempre aversa a’ miei disir’ Fortuna. Deh, perché quando honestamente sciormi dal debito potea, che qui mi trasse, non venne più per tempo in letto a pormi? (Rime del canzoniere, XLIII 13-18) Equally worthy of note is, in the last part of the poem, the mention of Ferrara, the city in which the speaker hopes to be buried if he dies (‘Almen 34 See the notes of the most recent edition (Ariosto 2017). On the figure of Cardinal Ippolito, see Menegatti 2016; Menegatti 2017, esp. pp. 5051; Dorigatti 2018. 36 Quoted in Dorigatti 2018, p. 21. 35 — 43 — CHAPTER I l’inutil’ spoglie habbia Ferrara’, l. 91). While paying homage to his lord, Ariosto is here also declaring his ultimate faithfulness to his homeland, following a well-established topos of courtly poetry. Further elements may be observed that suggest Ariosto’s intention of highlighting here his compliance with the courtly amorous code. At ll. 13-18 (above), he is stressing his own involvement in a pattern of reasoning that was very common within this repertoire, and a constitutive element of the dipartita: the ongoing conflict between its two key principles, love and duty, which forces the poet, a servant of both, to make a difficult choice between the two. The ultimate victory of the former is declared in the central section of the text. Here the speaker is tormented by worries caused by Love, who wishes to take revenge on him for setting out against his dictates. An echo of Tibullus is again observable (I 3,21-22: ‘Audeat invito ne quis discedere Amore, / aut sciat egressum se prohibente deo’), but what is conspicuously Ariosto’s own innovation, one with its roots in his cultural milieu, is the radicalisation of the portrayal of Love as the overpowering ruler of a court – ‘tyran’, l. 43 –, in open competition with that of Ippolito – ‘Signor’, l. 2: 37 Né per spronare o caricar d’antenna si può fuggir, o con cavallo o nave, che [Amor] non ne giunga in un spiegar di penna. (Rime del canzoniere, XLIII 37-39) Questo tyran, non men crudel che forte, ch’anchor mai perdonar non seppe offesa né lascia entrar pietà ne la sua corte, perché mille fiate et più contesa m’havea la lunga via, che sì m’absenta da quella luce in c’ho l’anima accesa, de la inobedientia hor mi tormenta […] (ibid., ll. 43-49) The contrast between love and the claims of duty can also be regarded as a constant centrifugal force of the Furioso. Here, too, the outcome is always the victory of love, which takes the form either of an insane over37 The metaphor of Love as a ruler is noted by Mengaldo 1963, p. 328 with a reference to Boiardo: the scholar notes how it stands ‘all’incontro della tradizione poetica latina e volgare’ but ‘ha nel B[oiardo] un’estensione, dettata da una poetica umanistico-cortese, ben più larga che nel Petr[arca]’. For the theme of the ‘two lords’ in courtly literature, see also Filenio Gallo, A Safira, 81,14: ‘ch’a due servir non puol un servidore’; Tebaldeo, Rime della vulgata, 282,36: ‘ché a dui signor’ non se sta ben sugetto’. — 44 — BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY: ARIOSTO’S ELEGIAC SELF-FASHIONING turning of chivalric values – emblematic is the case of Orlando and Rinaldo, who are seduced away from their obligations towards the Christian army by Angelica’s charms – or that of the ‘rational’ call of marital obligations, as with Ruggiero, who is continually torn between his predestined marriage to Bradamante and his devotion to king Agramante. Significantly, similar lexical choices are observable between the capitolo and a passage whose subject is Ruggiero: Restomi qui, né, come Amor vorebbe, posso Madonna satisfar, […] (Rime del canzoniere, XLIII 7-8) né per spronare o caricar d’antenna si può fuggir, […] (ibid., ll. 37-38) Tal fallo poi di punition sì grave punisce […] (ll. 40-41) Tra sé volve Ruggiero e fa discorso, se restar deve, o il suo signor seguire. Gli pon l’amor de la sua donna un morso per non lasciarlo in Africa più gire: lo volta e gira, et a contrario corso lo sprona, e lo minaccia di punire, s’el patto e ’l giuramento non tien saldo, che fatto avea col paladin Rinaldo. Non men da l’altra parte sferza e sprona la vigilante e stimulosa cura […] (Fur., XXXVI 66 and 67,1-2 AB; XL C) (emphasis mine) The speaker of the capitolo, however, cannot even aspire to be regarded as an analogue of Ruggiero. Indeed, his illness prevents him from even choosing between his court obligations and his servitium amoris: ‘né, come Amor vorebbe, / posso Madonna satisfar, né a voi / l’obligo scior che la mia fe’ vi debbe’ (ll. 7-9). We therefore encounter here the paradoxical strategy typical of the courtly repertoire of love poetry. Along the same lines, Ariosto also revises another motif drawn from his model, namely, the appearance of the speaker’s epitaph at the end of the poem. Indeed, while the tombstone imagined by Tibullus sought to immortalise him only as a comrade of Messalla’s (I 3,55-56: ‘hic iacet immiti consvmptvs morte tibvllvs, / messallam terra dvm seqvitvrqve mari’), in the inscription designed by Ariosto he appears as a victim of the sorrow caused by separation from his lady: ‘così né anchor chi questo marmo serra / viver lontan da la sua donna puote’ (ll. 96-97). Arguably, the speaker here fashions himself as an ‘unwilling’ courtier, who sets love above duty. Could such an attitude – even if merely a literary pose – run the risk of alienating favour from his addressee? If one looks at the internal evidence offered by the text, the answer is no. Indeed, the poet assimilated his patron into the logic of the capitolo: the fact that Ippolito himself is a lover binds the two closely and suggests their reciprocal sympathy. One should note in particular how Ariosto-the-speaker invokes his — 45 — CHAPTER I lord’s indulgence for his behaviour, counting on the fact that the latter, too, is among those who have felt the sting of love’s arrow: ma mi fido ch’a voi, che de la fiera punta de Amor chiara notitia havete, debba la colpa mia parer leggiera. Così vi sien tutte le imprese liete, com’è ben ver ch’ella talhor v’ha punto, né sano forse anchora hoggi ne sete. (Rime del canzoniere, XLIII 28-33) In representing Ippolito along these lines, Ariosto certainly met with his lord’s approval. Within the system of relationships between those in power and court literati, the lords not only enjoyed appearing as political centres, but also being involved in the fashionable code of love, which constituted the basis of the intellectual exchange between themselves and their entourage and prompted their activity as patrons. Such forms of exchange also encouraged the creation of poems, emblems, mottos, etc. Capitolo 285 by Tebaldeo, for which he used the mouthpiece of Francesco Gonzaga and which has already been mentioned in section 2, is to be taken as a further example stemming from the same cultural milieu. The marquis is obliged to support Venice in its war against France, but all his thoughts are occupied by love, and he deserves forgiveness, he argues, for his lack of military prowess:38 Sendo io al stipendio del Leon condutto, ve andai, pensa cum qual ira e travaglia, ch’io fui qual pianta svèlta in su il far frutto! […] de altro fastidio fu il combatter mio, ché loro [= Camillus and Caesar] ebber la pugna sol cum Galli et io cum Galli e cum Amor, che è dio; era divisa a dui diversi balli la mente mia, e son degno de scusa s’io avesse nel pugnar commessi falli. (Tebaldeo, Rime della vulgata, 285,100-114) That Cardinal Ippolito, too, was willing to be represented as a lover is confirmed in another capitolo by Ariosto, XXV, which it is worth briefly considering. Here, the lyric voice speaks of a burden that oppresses him 38 From Tebaldeo’s capitolo 282, whose speaker is again Gonzaga, it is also possible to glean the marquis’s desire to be represented in poetry as a lover. See the previous footnote, and ll. 16-18: ‘ecco, io, per farme in l’arme excelso e magno, / per trar l’afflicta Italia de fatica, / da te, da la qual pendo, me scompagno’. — 46 — BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY: ARIOSTO’S ELEGIAC SELF-FASHIONING almost unbearably. In order to describe its strength, he engages in a long series of metaphors and similes which draws on various topoi of endurance: De sì calloso dosso et sì robusto non ha né dromedario, né elephante l’odorato indo, o l’ethiope adusto che possa star, non che mutar le piante, se radoppiata gli è la soma poi che l’ha qual può patir, né può più inante. (Rime del canzoniere, XXV 1-6) 39 In the context of Vr, the poem lends itself to be read as the complaint of a lover – albeit one who has almost reached the limit of his endurance of the servitium amoris (see Introduction, 4) – but in fact the subject is deployed quite obscurely, in a way that has long defied understanding. It was Bozzetti who eventually grasped the meaning with which it was initially conceived, by linking the opening image of the capitolo – an excessively burdened dromedary – to one of Ippolito’s imprese, which is known to us thanks to Giovio’s description: a kneeling camel accompanied by the Spanish motto ‘No suefro mas de lo que puedo’.40 Arguably, therefore, the capitolo was written at the request of Ippolito, probably when the cardinal, a keen collector of imprese, first adopted that of the camel.41 Incidentally, Ariosto’s poetic response to the creation of a device demonstrates that he, too, accepted the well-established vogue of writing works on emblems by means of which court literati tried to ‘smooth their way to patronage’.42 39 See Purg., XXXI 16-19: ‘Come balestro frange, quando scocca / da troppa tesa la sua corda e l’arco, […] / sì scoppia’ io sottesso grave carco’. 40 Bozzetti 1985, p. 96 (but Fatini 1934, p. 170 had already advanced a hypothesis in this sense). Indeed, translations and rewritings of this motto recur at various points throughout the capitolo: ‘che l’ha qual può patir, né può più inante’ (l. 6); ‘quando superchia le sue forze il pondo’ (l. 15); ‘che non si rompa a tirar senza fine’ (l. 18); ‘ma se de più sol una dramma leve / giunta mi fia, verrei subito a manco’ (ll. 29-30), and, in the closing line (l. 43), ‘c’ho fatto oltra il poter e a più non basto’. The presence – highlighted by Finazzi 2002-2003, pp. 242-243 – of a variant, in two manuscripts carrying an earlier version of the capitolo, is a further confirmation of this: indeed, in the original version, the last line was ‘c’ho fatto oltra il poter e amàs no abasto’, where the Spanish hemistich clearly reminds us of the motto. On this poem, see also Chapter III, 4. 41 Giovio 1559, p. 117: ‘portò anchora per impresa amorosa un Camelo inginocchiato carico d’una gran soma con un motto, che diceva; non svefro mas de lo qve puedo; volendo dire alla dama sua, non mi date più gravezza di tormenti di quel che posso sopportare’. Giovio does not specify when Ippolito first adopted this impresa: it can only be argued that the choice of language was prompted by the fashion for all things Spanish triggered by the arrival of Lucrezia Borgia’s court at Ferrara. 42 Schirg 2015, p. 136. Other examples of imprese in Ariosto’s lyrics are analysed in Chap- — 47 — CHAPTER I A parallel case may be seen in Equicola’s Latin dialogue De opportunitate (1507), which illustrates another of Ippolito’s devices, whose probable inventor was Leonardo da Vinci: 43 a falcon holding a balancing weight in its beak. It should also be noted that Ariosto’s poem is simply a description, not an explanation. As such, this enigmatic quality was itself also a characteristic element in the way the court made use of such devices, as is evident from a letter by Equicola in which he asks Ippolito if he may incorporate some of the cardinal’s imprese in his writings, specifying that he would not however be so presumptuous as to wish to fully penetrate their meaning.44 At any rate, what is especially of interest here is that Giovio clearly ascribes the camel impresa to an amorous motivation, and this proves that the passion of love belonged to the public self-fashioning of the then young cardinal (Ippolito was born in 1479). This point is confirmed by biographical accounts, which depict him as definitely more devoted to secular life than to religious concerns – an assiduous frequenter of balls and hunting parties, who took a particular interest in expensive purchases, and made no secret of his infatuations.45 To him, the perfect embodiment of the contemporary courtly code, Equicola apparently gifted the first version of his Libro de natura de amore.46 In this light, it is clear that the lack of dutifulness that Ariosto parades in capitolo XLIII is in fact a pretext to reinforce the closeness between the public image of the courtier and that of his lord. The degree of sincerity of Ariosto’s flattery in this capitolo might perhaps be questioned by the reader. Indeed, the ‘myth’ of Cardinal Ippolito, fuelled by Ariosto’s early biographers and still carrying some authority, is mostly that of an ungrateful lord and patron. It is a myth that stems from Ariosto’s own words in satira I, which, one feels, deserve further attention.47 The satira was famously written after the definitive break between the two men in 1517, when Ariosto, unlike other courtiers belonging to his entourage – such as Ludovico da Bagno and the poet’s brother Alessandro, the two addressees of the poem – refused to follow Ippolito to his new ter III, 4. Also on poetry concerned with devices, in particular that by Serafino Aquilano, see Rossi 1980, pp. 69-74. 43 This was discovered by Schirg 2015. On De opportunitate, see also Kolsky 1991, pp. 97-101. 44 The letter is quoted in Kolsky 1991, p. 101. 45 There is documentary record of his infatuation for Angela Borgia (one of Lucrezia’s damsels), which would ignite his rivalry with his stepbrother Don Giulio and, as a consequence, trigger the plot of Don Giulio and Don Ferrante (on this event, see Introduction, 5). 46 Equicola 1999, p. 18 and footnote 3. 47 See also Sat., VI 233-234: ‘dal giogo / del Cardinal da Este oppresso fui’. — 48 — BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY: ARIOSTO’S ELEGIAC SELF-FASHIONING see in Eger (Hungary). After a decidedly uncomplimentary brief opening sketch of courtly life – suggesting that none of Ippolito’s other courtiers would ever speak out in defence of Ariosto’s decision, so as not to offend the cardinal, ll. 4-9 –, the poet lists the reasons that drove him to his refusal. In a long tirade he voices the disappointment caused by Ippolito’s disregard of his poetic activity (he is referring specifically to the Furioso, which was written under the cardinal’s patronage) and his belief that other court offices, which in fact were degrading and menial, were much more worthy of recompense (a theme he will return to in the sixth satira, re-evoking how ‘di poeta cavallar mi feo’, l. 238): Non vuol che laude sua da me composta per opra degna di mercé si pona; di mercé degno è l’ir correndo in posta. (Sat., I 97-99) S’io l’ho con laude ne’ miei versi messo, dice ch’io l’ho fatto a piacere e in ocio; più grato fora essergli stato appresso. (ibid., ll. 106-108) The apex of the speech comes as the poet stakes his claim to personal freedom (ll. 118-123). In order to enjoy it, he is ready to return all the ‘doni’ received from his lord (ll. 263-265). The satira and the capitolo may be seen as antithetical in that they capture two extremely different moments in the relationship between Ariosto and Ippolito, but also in that they follow very different classical models. While in the ‘elegiac’ capitolo the speaker is integrated in the environment of his patron, viewed as a new Messalla, in the satira, which is powerfully influenced by Horace’s Epistulae and in particular reflects the ‘cuncta resigno’ of Epist. I 7,34, we grasp a representation of the lord as Maecenas just as the poet, who desires his freedom, seeks to cut the cords of his dependence.48 The anti-courtly impulse that dictates the portrayal in the satira, however, is not absolute, and it is in fact nuanced in its central part. Ariosto explains (ll. 124-135) that his bitterness derives not so much from the cutting of the ties between himself and Ippolito, as from the anger of the cardinal, ‘che da l’amor e grazia sua mi esclud[e]’ (l. 132), and by his accusations of unfaithfulness. As critics have highlighted, these words suggest that the affection for his former lord still endured – this would 48 A recent comprehensive analysis on the complex and profound Horatian influences in the Satire is Cucchiarelli 2019. — 49 — CHAPTER I be confirmed by Ariosto’s choice not to expunge the dedication to Ippolito from either the 1521 or the 1532 versions of the Furioso,49 and, moreover, by his choice to include the capitolo in his provisional canzoniere, at a point in time when the break had already occurred and the first satira had been written. In addition to this passage, I would suggest that a residue of nostalgia for court life may also be felt in the aforementioned ll. 97-99 and ll. 106-108, where Ariosto states his desire to be acknowledged not merely as a poet, but as an author of ‘laude’, i.e. poetry in celebration of his lord. Celebration was precisely among the aims of the Furioso,50 expressed in its dedication: ‘Quel ch’io vi debbo […] / quanto io posso dar, tutto vi dono’ (Fur., I 3,4-8 ABC). This is a passage which shares with capitolo XLIII the emphasis on ‘debito’, meaning court obligation (‘Deh, perché quando honestamente sciormi / dal debito potea’, ll. 16-17) and which, according to Masi, may be linked to it for its expression of an ‘unadulatory’ intention.51 I also believe that a true sense of gratitude is perceivable in the capitolo, a sentiment which moreover must have lasted even after 1517, although lord and courtier had different conceptions of what was deserving of ‘mercé’.52 But even if we leave aside their psychological basis, the comparison between capitolo XLIII and satira I also proves fruitful on a stylistic level, as it allows us to identify some relevant elements of continuity and identifying traits between the satirical and the elegiac terza rima. With regard to this, it should be noted that only three years separated the historical occasions that prompted the two works. As he was writing the satira, Ariosto still had in mind the capitolo, and it is tempting to consider the former as a palinode, as it were, of the latter, once the illusion of obtaining any compensation for his poetic homages had lost hold. The fact that Tibullus’s poem I 3 was newly echoed in the opening of the satira – cp. ll. 1-3: ‘Io desidero intendere da voi […] / s’in corte è ricordanza più di noi’, and, from Tibullus, l. 2: ‘o utinam memores ipse cohorsque mei!’ 53 – is a clear sign of the link between the two poems in Ariosto’s perception. Among the most relevant differences – leaving aside those mentioned above, and those most obviously ascribable to the respective poetic codes – 49 See Russo’s commentary in Ariosto 2019, pp. 38-39; pp. 52-54. On the descriptions and praises of Ippolito in the Furioso, see Stimato 2009. 51 Masi 2003, p. 83. 52 The conceptual nucleus of service-reward is acknowledged as a fundamental theme of this satira: see again Russo’s commentary on this point. 53 Such rewriting was observed, but not discussed, by Floriani 1988bis, p. 252. Note however that another possible influence here is from Horace, Epist., I 3,6: ‘quid studiosa cohors operum struit? Hoc quoque curo’ (see Cucchiarelli 2019, p. 271). 50 — 50 — BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY: ARIOSTO’S ELEGIAC SELF-FASHIONING the management of the temporal dimension should be mentioned. While in the Satire the speaker is at a certain remove from the events he recalls, the capitolo is entirely played out in the present: the lyric voice here is still in the middle of the situation it describes. This rhetorical solution, despite its difference from that of capitolo XLV, nevertheless achieves a similar effect, that of emotionally involving the reader/listener in the dynamic of the situation recounted. If we turn to examine the analogies, the reader will first note that similar situations (two refusals to Ippolito) are conveyed through the same form: the epistle, whose addressees are Ippolito himself in the capitolo, Alessandro Ariosto and Ludovico da Bagno in the satira. While this is a common formal feature in all the Satire, its adoption in capitolo XLIII is a unique case in the rime, and this makes the link between the two poems all the more interesting. Another element of affinity may be found, quite unexpectedly, on the level of self-fashioning. It is well known that Ariosto’s satirical persona is not only that of an ‘imperfect’ courtier, but also that of someone who speaks the truth, even though this may have potentially negative consequences.54 A similar characterisation applies to the speaker of the capitolo, who admits, frankly and against his interests, that he is the only unhappy person in Ippolito’s ‘joyful retinue’ (a phrase in which Fatini and Santoro detect an ironic note): Io so ben quanto mal mi si convegna dir, Signor mio, che fra sì lieta schiera io malcontento sol dietro vi vegna (Rime del canzoniere, XLIII 25-27) Ma se in altro biasmarme, almen dar laude dovete che, volendo io rimanere, lo dissi a viso aperto e non con fraude. Dissi molte ragioni, e tutte vere (Sat., I 19-22) We shall examine the comparison between the two self-portrayals in greater detail in section 6. By way of conclusion here, I would suggest that a general affinity also exists in the way Ariosto marries biographical concreteness with a closer use of the classical sources. The process by which Ariosto superimposes Horatian influences onto personal events, acknowledged by Piero Floriani as a distinctive trait of the Satire (‘il punto generativo del codice oraziano [è] la connotazione forte – circostanziata cronisti54 On this type of characterisation, see at least Marini 2008 and Ugolini 2017. — 51 — CHAPTER I camente – dell’io recitante […]’),55 is very closely paralleled here by his use of Tibullus. In the Satire, this process determined a stepping beyond the traditional manner of the moralising capitolo: in XLIII it similarly marks a step forward from the tradition of the capitolo elegiaco. 4. A mission to Florence In capitolo XXX (Gentil città, che con felici auguri), the poet speaks from Florence. The fact that he refers to the city being governed by the Medici allows us to infer that the poem was written after September 1512, but it is nonetheless hard to determine exactly which among the numerous journeys Ariosto undertook in that period inspired it. According to Fatini (whose position is generally shared by later scholars) the poem may be referred either to the journey of 30 August-8 September 1516 or to that of February 1519 (the former commissioned by Ippolito, the latter by Alfonso d’Este). However, one should also note that it seems to allude not to a journey commissioned by Ariosto’s lords but to one motivated by personal reasons, and we will return to this point below.56 We shall first examine, however, the most notable stylistic elements of this capitolo. In the first part, which in fact takes up two thirds of the poem, the speaker praises the beauties of Florence. Ariosto is here following the humanist genre of the laudatio urbis, which was extremely popular throughout the Quattrocento.57 Among the works belonging to this genre written in the second half of the century, one should mention Tebaldeo’s Ad Magnificum Laurentium Medicem – a Latin poem in hexameters that dates to around 1480, where the praise of Florence acts as a prelude to a celebration of Lorenzo il Magnifico – 58 and Cornazano’s De laudibus urbis Florentiae, of 1464, a collection of four capitoli in terza rima in praise of Florence, composed to celebrate the city’s alliance with Milan.59 Finally, we should not overlook the proem to Cristoforo Landino’s Comento on Dante’s Comedy. Here, Landino articulates a long encomium of Florence (within the context of a defence of Dante against those who accused him of offending his hometown), exalting its political history and the virtues of its people.60 All these models are to 55 56 57 58 59 60 Floriani 1988, p. 72. Fatini 1934, pp. 182-184. On this genre, see at least Tateo 1990 and 2002. A description of the poem is in Pasquazi 1966, CIV-CVII; the text is ibid., pp. 58-62. On this poem, see Zancani 2007. See Lentzen 1985. The Comento was first printed in 1481. — 52 — BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY: ARIOSTO’S ELEGIAC SELF-FASHIONING merse himself in the passion of love is essentially tantamount to a repudiation of the idea of recovery, and an acceptance of madness as a necessary element – the ‘ragion pazza’ of the Satire.118 Within this framework, as we have seen, the speaker of the capitoli speaks from a perspective that is exclusively ‘internal’ to the love malady, of which he remains unconscious, and this fact triggers the mechanism of paradoxicality that underlies the poems. However, this crucial difference is inscribed within the wider continuum that is Ariosto’s interest in this theme. Interestingly, the exordium of the thirty-fifth canto has been the basis for Federica Pich’s interpretation of the narrator in the Furioso as the protagonist of a vicissitude which ‘focuses on his continuous struggle to save his wits from amorous folly’ and which is, therefore, ‘to a great extent lyric in inspiration and expression’.119 Whether or not one accepts the more general argument within which this observation is placed (according to Pich, the narrator must not be seen as the author’s projection but as a character proper of the poem), nevertheless I believe that the emphasis placed on the osmosis between Ariosto’s different poetic personas is correct, and indeed confirmed by our examination of these poems. From the observations made so far, it can be argued that both the satirical and the lyric code are generated by an imbalance between the ‘letter’ and its meaning. The lyric persona defines as ‘errore’ all that stands in the way of love, but this is an unreliable speaker; the satirical persona labels as error passions and self-interest, its actual aim however being an apology of these ‘faults’. In other words, I believe that in the capitoli it is possible to detect the influence (to the extent to which this is possible within the lyric code) of the logic of the spoudaiogeloion, the principle which sets the rules for Alberti’s and Erasmus’s concepts of folly and which appears to have been deeply assimilated by Ariosto in both the Satire and the Furioso. This entailed the description of things through an estranged or reversed perspective and explored the dialectical intertwining between reason and folly.120 118 Ferroni 1975, p. 87. Another comparison between the speaker’s folly and Orlando’s is in the proem to canto IX (see 2,1-4: ‘Ma l’escuso io pur troppo, e mi rallegro / nel mio difetto aver compagno tale; / ch’anch’io sono al mio ben languido et egro, / sano e gagliardo a seguitare il male’). 119 Pich 2015, p. 338 and p. 337 respectively. 120 On the points of contact between these authors and Ariosto in terms of their conception of madness, I will refer the reader at least to Ferroni 1975, Ossola 1976 and (for a comparison between Erasmus and Ariosto) Scianatico 2014, pp. 1-40. The serio-comic mode has been famously theorised by Bakhtin 1984, pp. 106-132; see also Zatti 1990, pp. 129-132 for Ariosto’s relation to it. — 77 — Chapter II ARIOSTO, THE LYRIC LOVER Preamble In the poems analysed in the previous chapter, the speaker was entirely moulded by love, a state before which any duty took second place. It is now time to delve deeper into the subject, in order to understand more about the type of love relationship Ariosto envisages in his rime. Once again, this is a theme that has often been considered in relation to the Furioso, although it is essentially – constitutionally, one may say – lyric, and indeed the fundamental contribution of this genre, especially of the lyric poetry of Petrarchan descent and of the love elegy, to Ariosto’s chivalric-epic poem has been observed by many scholars.1 Throughout the rime, the theme is attributed a particular complexity: the reader is shown all the possible degrees and nuances of the experience of love and, as a consequence, is presented with a highly multifaceted speaking subject. This is certainly due to the status of the corpus itself as a ‘layered’ compilation of poems, but it is also a result of both Ariosto’s personal inclination (this is also evident in the Furioso, where his propensity to maintain the ambivalence of the emotion of love emerges fully) and of the influences he received. Ariosto’s interest in investigating ‘love cases’ emerges already from two capitoli that very probably belong to his youthful output,2 and which he kept on in Vr. XLIV (Piaccia a cui piace, et chi lodar vuol lodi) and XLVI (Chi pensa quanto il bel disio d’amore) share the same structure, and their contents 1 I will mention in particular Cabani 1990; Matarrese 2005; Praloran 2005. Pich 2015 provides a radical interpretation of the entire Furioso by arguing that its narrative is embedded in a story, that of the Narrator, whose nature is essentially lyric (see Chapter I, 6). Other studies will be cited where relevant. 2 See Cabani 2016, p. 121, who in turn takes up a hypothesis formulated by Bigi and Fatini. — 85 — Chapter III THE PORTRAYAL OF WOMEN Preamble In the preceding chapter, my discussion of Ariosto’s treatment of the love relationship necessarily touched upon the fashioning of the beloved woman in the rime. I have tried to show the originality of the poet’s elaboration of this theme, especially in those cases in which a balanced relationship between the two lovers is hinted at. Intriguingly, in certain cases, in the way this relationship is depicted on page one sees how the traditional topoi make way for an intimate dimension which seems to spring from some more private autobiographical source. It is now time to set aside the theme of the relationship in order to examine more in depth the female portraits he paints. To speak of the female figure in Ariosto means, it would appear, to return to a subject which has received an inordinate amount of scholarly attention: indeed, critics have long tried – not without encountering some difficulties – to extrapolate the author’s position with regard to the querelle des femmes.1 The debate, however, is far from having run its full course. Indeed, another declension of the female theme, the stereotypical representation of beauty, has received less attention, leaving us uncertain as to Ariosto’s relationship to the tradition of the descriptio puellae. Studies on this subject (which nevertheless remain critically valuable) have rarely focused exhaustively on Ariosto, and the preferred line of investigation has been to examine the wider range of the topos and to position Ariosto within this range. Moreover, where Ariosto has been considered, the focus has been exclusively on the Furioso, and his other works have been overlooked. 1 On female characters and/or on the questione femminile in the Furioso, see at least Durling 1965, pp. 150-163; Tomalin 1976; Peirone 1988; Shemek 1989; Finucci 1992; Mac Carthy 2007; Stoppino 2012; Weaver 2016. — 163 — THE PORTRAYAL OF WOMEN to the psychological relationship proper – combined with the semantic modification of mirabile produce an effect of concreteness. While the core of this process could already be detected in sonnet XXXIII ed. Fatini (see above), it is here turned into a witty desecration of the descriptio puellae.31 Here too, moreover, the revisiting of the topos is filtered through the classics. It is probable that the sonnet was influenced by the description of Daphne in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, as may be inferred from the disposition of the elements, from the anaphor of verbs of perception (‘miri’) and from the emphasis on the eyes, compared to stars, and the lips: […] videt igne micantes sideribus similes oculos, videt oscula, quae non est vidisse satis; laudat digitosque manusque bracchiaque et nudos media plus parte lacertos: si qua latent, meliora putat (Met., I 498-502) 32 This is a further confirmation that, although it is entirely legitimate to interpret Ariosto’s canon through the concept of ut pictura poesis, at the same time its roots in an age-long literary tradition should be recognised. 2. The ‘dressed beauty’ and her social context The irony applied by Ariosto to the catalogue of beauties and his elaboration of a provocative ‘canon of nudities’ belong to the same process of de-absolutisation of the topos, which has the effect of leading the female figure back to an earthly dimension. This attitude also induces him to focus on another aspect: the social context in which the woman’s charms exert their power. This happens in canzone 50 (Non so s’io potrò ben chiudere in rima), which recalls the circumstances of his first falling in love with Alessandra Benucci (and is in fact the only document we have that regards that momentous occasion).33 The event is described as having taken place on 24 June 1513 in Florence, during the celebrations for St John the Baptist. The reader is not told how much time has elapsed since then; as a matter of 31 Also according to Favaro 2010, p. 126, the poet’s aim here is ‘smorzare i toni sulla bellezza muliebre, sottraendola alla sublimazione petrarchista’. 32 See also Amores, III 2,35-36: ‘Suspicor ex istis et cetera posse placere, / qui bene sub tenui condita veste latent’. 33 See Fatini 1934, p. 137 and pp. 196-202. — 175 — CHAPTER III fact, the dating of the poem is unknown. We only know that the canzone is not featured in Vr and that it belongs to the poems newly added in the later phases of selection, together with the poems that have been analysed in Chapter II, 5.34 The situation described in canzone 50 is inescapably reminiscent of Rvf, XXIII, the celebrated canzone where Petrarch recalls his first meeting with Laura, which is also precisely echoed in many places.35 What results from such a comparison is that Ariosto, unlike Petrarch, endeavours to place the fact in its context, a context that is even assigned partial responsibility for the event. The speaker is already acquainted with his future beloved when he sees her on the ‘fateful day’. His is not a case of love at first sight: rather, it is described as a confused feeling, at first unrecognised by the poet himself because of the difficulties involved in its practical realisation (ll. 23-33 – the allusion is perhaps to Alessandra’s husband, Tito di Lionardo Strozzi, who was still alive at that time), and finally breaking out when he becomes fully aware of Alessandra’s charm.36 Such charm is in turn a combination of her own personal qualities and the atmosphere in which the meeting takes place: a different context, Ariosto seems to say, would not have prompted his desire to the same extent. The object of love is thus deprived of the absoluteness of her powers, the very thing that had invariably qualified her as ‘divine’ in the lyric tradition. It is for this reason that the first stanzas of the canzone contain such an accurate illustration of the feast of St John the Baptist – which in 1513 must have been even more elaborate than usual, as it also honoured Giovanni de’ Medici, who had been recently elected Pope Leo X: Ne la tosca città che questo giorno più riverente honora, la fama havea a spettacoli solenni fatto raccor, non che i vicini in torno, ma li lontani anchora; anchor io, vago di mirar, vi venni. […] […] da preghi vinta et liberali inviti di vostra gente, con honesta et cara 34 Moreover, in addition to these testimonies, the canzone is also transmitted in Vb, which is the only autograph we have of Ariosto’s lyrics (see Introduction, footnote 1). 35 See Bianchi’s commentary in Ariosto 1992, pp. 203-209. 36 See Rime del canzoniere, 50,29-33: ‘Ma selve, monti et fiumi / sempre dipinsi inanzi al mio desire, / per levarli l’ardire / d’entrar in via dove, per guida porse, / io vedea la speranza star in forse’. — 176 — THE PORTRAYAL OF WOMEN compagnia, a far più liete le feste, a far più splendidi i conviti con li doni infiniti in ch’ad ogn’altra il ciel v’ha posta inanzi, venuta erate dianzi, […] Porte, finestre, vie, templi, theatri vidi pieni de donne a giuochi, a pompe, a sacrificii intente, et mature et acerbe, et figlie et matri ornate in varie gonne; altre star a conviti, altre agilmente danzare; et finalmente non vidi, né senti’ ch’altri vedesse, chi di beltà potesse, d’honestà, cortesia, d’alti sembianti voi pareggiar, non che passarvi inanti. (Rime del canzoniere, 50,56-61; 69-75; 78-88) This description is probably reminiscent of a poem from Tito Vespasiano Strozzi’s Eroticon libri, where the speaker recalls his falling in love during the feast of St George in Ferrara (‘Candida lux aderat Maiis vicina Calendis, / quam festam veteres instituistis avi. / Quam pia solemni celebrat Ferraria cultu, / aurea cum admissis praemia ponit equis’).37 In addition, it reminds us of some passages from the Furioso, such as that describing the joust of Damascus: ‘Adorna era ogni porta, ogni finestra / di finissimi drappi e di tapeti, / ma più di belle e ben ornate donne / di ricche gemme e di superbe gonne. // Vedeasi celebrar dentr’alle porte, / in molti lochi, solazzevol balli’ (Fur., XV 20,5-8 – 21,1-2 AB; XVII C). Also, the festive occasion that draws gentlemen and ladies from far and wide is a situation that often features in chivalric poems, being typically associated with tournaments (see Fur., XI 6,3-4 AB; XIII C: ‘Trasse la fama ne le terre nostre / cavallieri a giostrar di più paesi’). The same atmosphere is evoked in sonnet 56 (Qui fu dove il bel crin già con sì stretti), which has already been quoted in the overview on Ariosto’s use of myths in Chapter II, 5. As observed there, in this poem, too, the speaker recalls the occasion on which he fell in love and mentions some architectural elements of Florence (with a phrasing that in turn reminds us 37 Quod die solemni Divi Georgii amare Anthiam coepit, ll. 1-4 (quoted from Strozzi 1513, II, f. 2v). This link has also been noted by Zampese 2000, p. 464. — 177 — CHAPTER III of capitolo XXX, the poem featuring the laudatio urbis). The city, he says, on that day gathered ‘donne et cavallieri eletti’, l. 5: Ariosto here is clearly echoing the famous opening words of the Furioso, ‘Le donne, i cavallier’.38 As a matter of fact, the insistence on the details of the festivity in these poems may have been a consequence of the ongoing exchange between the poems and the Furioso. The epiphany provoked by the vision of Alessandra in the canzone recalls, even more markedly than the topos of the ‘woman seen among other women’ from the Vita nuova,39 the first appearance of Alcina in the Furioso: Non tanto il bel palazzo era escellente, perché vincesse ogn’altro di ricchezza, quanto ch’avea la più piacevol gente che fosse al mondo e di più gentilezza. Poco era l’un da l’altro differente e di fiorita etade e di bellezza: sola di tutti Alcina era più bella, sì come è bello il sol più d’ogni stella. (Fur., VII 10 ABC) […] spesso in conviti, e sempre stanno in feste, in giostre, in lotte, in scene, in bagno, in danza (Fur., VII 31,5-6 ABC) The common ground is the context of splendour and refinement within which social interactions are enacted and made possible. This is, of course, of the world of the court. As a matter of fact, the aforementioned excerpts may be compared to a passage from Ariosto’s 1506 eclogue, in which one of the interlocutors, Tirsi, recalls the scene of the marriage between Alfonso d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia (who appear under the guise of the shepherds ‘Alfenio’ and ‘Licoria’). The latter is seen ‘in mezo onesta schiera / di bellissime donne, anzi pur dive’ (ll. 245-246). As in canzone 50, the statement about the protagonist’s outstanding beauty is introduced by an excursus that describes a gathering of ladies, mentioning their different dresses and the ways in which they are grouped: 38 Because this sonnet does not feature in Vr, I am assuming that the occurrence of the Furioso – in A the reading is ‘Di donne e cavallier’) is earlier. The phrase derives from Purg., XIV 109: ‘le donne e’ cavalier, li affanni e li agi’; it also appears in Rvf, CCCLX 111: ‘ch’a donne et cavalier’ piacea il suo dire’. On this opening, see Zampese 2018bis. 39 See Vita nuova, XIV: ‘avenne che questa gentilissima venne in parte ove molte donne gentili erano adunate […] levai li occhi, e mirando le donne, vidi tra loro la gentilissima Beatrice’. Later occurrences of the theme are listed in de’ Medici 1992, p. 84. — 178 — THE PORTRAYAL OF WOMEN Io vidi tutte l’altre, e vidi questa, or sole ad una ad una, e quando in coro, e quando in una e quando in altra vesta. Quale è il peltro all’argento, il rame all’oro, qual campestre papavero alla rosa, qual scialbo salce al sempre verde alloro, tale era ogn’altra alla novella sposa; gli occhi di tutti in lei stavano intenti, per mirarla obliando ogn’altra cosa. (Rime, eclogue I ed. Fatini, ll. 250-258) The relationship these examples entertain with the preceding tradition is characterised both by continuity and innovation. The description of female beauty against the background of courtly entertainments often features in late-Quattrocento poetry, a typical situation being that which featured the ‘dancing lady’ (cp., in Ariosto’s canzone, ‘altre agilmente / danzare’, ll. 83-84). Correggio’s sonnet 391, whose protagonist is also, most probably, Lucrezia Borgia,40 is a good example of this: Se parla, uscir di lei se ode un concento che l’aër d’armonia dolce aura rende; se respirando dà el fiato e ’l reprende, de odor se empie quel loco in un momento; se in mezo ornate donne e in balli o festa non prima el delicato piede move, che ognun lei mira, e vincta ogni altra resta. E da i belli occhi suoi tal grazia piove che se ben nega a un che a danzar l’ha chiesta, col suo sguardo el sdegno puoi da quel rimove. (Correggio, Rime, 391,5-14) Although Niccolò is inspired by Propertius, II 1 (a description of the attitudes in which the poet observes Cynthia: walking, playing the lyre, sleeping),41 he eschews the self-celebratory lyric voice of this model, in which the poet uses description as an opportunity to proclaim his own poetic glory, and insists rather on describing the surrounding environment and the way in which Lucrezia interacts with it: her voice impresses the air; 40 See Fenzi 2006, p. 157 and footnote. Propertius, II 1,9-12: ‘sive lyrae carmen digitis percussit eburnis, / miramur, facilis ut premat arte manus; / seu compescentis somnum declinat ocellos, / invenio causas mille poeta novas’. 41 — 179 — CHAPTER III her breath fills it with a sweet scent; her movement in dance inspires awe in those who watch; her eyes bestow grace on her admirers. His portrayal is, therefore, closer to those of Ariosto. However, this sonnet still pays tribute to the medieval representation of the lady as a divine creature (also on account of the socially superior status of its dedicatee), and echoes Dante and the dolce stil novo,42 this time with a proper use of the verb ‘mirare’. An idealised conception of the court lady, in other words, still prevails in it. Something similar happens in the lyric poetry by Boiardo, from whose canzoniere I will single out only two examples, both of which capture Antonia, the young maiden beloved by the poet, in the act of dancing on a social occasion (in the former, she is accompanied by two friends): Qual nei prati de Idalo on de Cythero, se Amor de festegiar più voglia avea, le due sorelle agiunte a Pasithea cantando di sé cerchio intorno féro, tal se fece oggi e più legiadro e altero essendo in compagnia de la mia dea e de l’altre doe belle, onde tenea la cima di sua forza e il summo impero. (Amorum libri tres, I 30,1-8) Ben se è ricolto in questa lieta danza ciò che può far Natura, il Cielo e Amore; ben se dimostra a’ nostri ochi di fuore ciò che dentro dal petto avean speranza. Ma quella dolce angelica sembianza che sempre fu scolpita nel mio core è pur la stella in cielo, in prato il fiore, che non che l’altre ma sé stessa avanza. Il suave tacere, il stare altero, lo accorto ragionar, il dolce guardo, il perregrin dansar ligiadro e novo m’hano sì forte acceso nel pensiero, che sin ne le medole avampo et ardo, né altrove pace che in quel viso trovo. (ibid., I 54) 42 For the phrase ‘dolce aura’ see, besides the obvious references from the Fragmenta, Purg., XXVIII 7 (‘un’aura dolce’); further on in the same canto (ll. 52-54) a simile on a dancing woman is also present. Mengaldo 1963, pp. 306-316 notes the persistence of the vocabulary of the stil novo in Northern late fifteenth-century lyric poetry (he especially analyses Boiardo’s case) and argues that it was prompted by the influence of chivalric literature. — 180 — THE PORTRAYAL OF WOMEN As in Correggio, in Boiardo the portrayal of the ‘socialite’ also obeys the criterion of the idealising transfiguration. In I 30 this happens through the superimposition of myth, as a simile is established between Antonia and Pasithea, one of the three Graces. In I 54, too, despite the ‘realistic’ reference to the choreography the young lady is following, which is described as new (l. 11),43 and despite the presence of a sensual vein which originates precisely from the maiden’s moves, the portrayal is ideal: Antonia is endowed with an ‘angelica sembianza’ (a phrase for which Zanato supplies parallels in Petrarch and Cavalcanti).44 Most importantly, the poet himself, subscribing to a Platonic topos, declares that the image of his beloved engraved in his heart – which he imagines to live in all the elements of nature, the skies and the meadows – is more beautiful yet than the woman herself (ll. 5-8).45 Significantly, the site of the meeting, i.e. the court of Reggio Emilia, also appears similarly transfigured through this ideal, two sonnets earlier: ‘alor questa aula de angelico canto / sembrava e de adorneza un paradiso’ (Amorum libri tres, I 52,7-8). Against this pattern, as we have seen, Ariosto develops his descriptions in entirely ‘human’ terms. A related fact is his peculiar treatment of certain specific details of the female portrait. Let us return to canzone 50: the description of the feast of St John is followed by a comprehensive portrayal of Alessandra. This proceeds from top to bottom and the parts described correspond to the canone lungo, with frequent borrowings of Petrarchan words and syntagms. However, one striking feature may be noted, and indeed has been noted by Lina Bolzoni: among the woman’s beauties, her ‘bel volto’ (l. 89), her ‘biondo et spesso crine’ (l. 91) and the ‘avorio bianco’ (l. 96) of her shoulders receive only the briefest of mentions.46 Instead, what is given importance is her fine outfit, as well as details of her hairstyle and clothing – in other words, all that contributes to a social characterisation of her beauty. Stanza 9 and part of stanza 11 develop the representation of the woman’s coiffure. It consists of a thin net that gathers the hair (parted in the middle) on the nape, and then flows down the neck and reaches as low as the shoulders; 47 it is embellished by a laurel-shaped diadem decorated with gemstones: 43 This is probably a bassadanza, as hypothesised by Zanato (Boiardo 2012, p. 325). Ibid., p. 326. 45 On the theme of the image of the beloved woman portrayed or engraved in the lover’s heart, see Chapter II, footnote 66. 46 See Bolzoni 2010, pp. 184-185. 47 In fact, what descends at ll. 96-97 may be either the net or the shadow that it casts. 44 — 181 — CHAPTER III Trovò gran preggio anchor, dopo il bel volto, l’artifitio discreto ch’in aurei nodi il biondo et spesso crine in rara et sotil rete havea raccolto; soave ombra dirieto rendea al collo et inanzi alle confine de le guancie divine, et discendea fin all’avorio bianco del destro homero et manco. (Rime del canzoniere, 50,89-97) non senza [mistero] anchor fu quel gemmato alloro tra la serena fronte e il calle assunto che de le ricche chiome in parti ugual va dividendo l’oro. (ibid., ll. 113-116) This is not the only instance of the special attention Ariosto pays to hair. In the Furioso, when Dalinda describes how she masqueraded as princess Ginevra, she highlights the ‘[…] rete pur d’or, tutta adombrata / di bei fiocchi vermigli al capo intorno’ (Fur., V 47,3-4 ABC). The theme is frequently found throughout the lyrics: the mini cycle of poems that was occasioned by the cutting of Alessandra’s hair – Rime del canzoniere, 52, 53, 54, 55, and 57 (for which see Chapter II, 5) may be usefully recalled here. It was in fact not uncommon, especially in Quattrocento lyric poetry, for authors to dedicate poems to the celebration of a single part of the body.48 In such cases, however, the object of the praise occupies the entire poem, and it is rather unusual to intermingle elements of the canon with a ‘realistic’ occasion,49 although occasionality itself is a typical feature of courtly poetry of that period. This is something which also helps distinguish, by contrast, Ariosto’s case: as I already showed in the last chapter, the poet introduces reality in a context built up through Petrarchan topoi and classical 48 This is also noted by Bartolomeo 2012, pp. 49-53, who, in the context of her analysis of sensual themes in fifteenth-century lyric poetry, focuses on four canzoni by Cosmico which celebrate solely (under the influence of Pontano) the beloved’s bosom. To these we may add countless instances from other authors: to mention but a few, Giusto de’ Conti’s canzoniere famously dedicates poems to his lady’s hand or eyes, highlighting the psychological effects that their sight causes in the speaker (see Pantani’s notes in Comboni – Zanato 2017, pp. 232; 236237); Sasso wrote two sonnets (LXII-LXIII) on his lady’s hand. Another relevant example is the Amorosa opra (a prosimetro) by Muzzarelli, within which a cycle of lyrics is dedicated to each physical trait of the woman, hair included (see Dilemmi 2000bis, pp. 285-286). 49 On the idealised nature of the canone, see Pozzi 1979, p. 22; Quondam 1991, pp. 291-328. — 182 — THE PORTRAYAL OF WOMEN mythology, producing an effect of good-tempered irony. See, for example, the details used to describe Alessandra’s various hairstyles before her hair was cut: Son questi i nodi d’or, questi i capelli c’hor in treccia, hor in nastro et hor raccolti fra perle et gemme in mille modi, hor sciolti et sparsi all’aura sempre eran sì belli? (Rime del canzoniere, 53,1-4) The gathered hair may seem an unrenounceable element of the canon, appearing in both Petrarch and Boccaccio.50 As Muñiz Muñiz observes, it is principally the latter who develops this theme, by introducing garlands of flowers as the privileged beauty accessory of the ninfe fiorentine: 51 Boccaccio’s aim, however, is not to guarantee verisimilitude, but rather to harmonise the female figure with the surrounding locus amoenus (and even in later poetry, the theme of the gathered hair follows this type of stylisation). Conversely, regarding sonnet 53 it should first be noted that, in lamenting the event that has taken place, the speaker adopts the deictic ‘questi’, suggesting that perhaps the shorn locks are lying before him; in so doing Ariosto both evokes and refashions the Petrarchan model (Rvf, CCCLIX 56: ‘Son questi i capei biondi, et l’aureo nodo’), which used the same deictic but in the context of a dream, in which Laura had appeared to Petrarch.52 Secondly, a uniquely minute descriptive attention may be noted. Indeed, the styles of coiffure mentioned in the excerpts quoted above correspond quite closely to those that may still be seen in portraits of noblewomen painted in Northern Italian courts in the early Cinquecento, which probably, as Uberto Motta observes,53 carried a symbolic meaning, linked to the values of nobility and chastity. In the literary panorama, one particularly relevant text in this context is Gian Giorgio Trissino’s dialogue I ritratti (which, although only published in 50 The canon normalised by Petrarch actually includes two hairstyles: gathered hair and loose locks, the latter being the most frequent one (the ‘capei d’oro a l’aura sparsi’ of Rvf, XC 1). For this point, see Motta 2018, pp. 85-90. 51 Muñiz Muñiz 2018, pp. 65-67; see also Maffia Scariati 2008, p. 476-477. 52 Note that at ll. 3-4 Ariosto also echoes the blatantly traditional syntagm from Rvf, XC 1 (see footnote 50). 53 Motta 2018, p. 89: ‘l’elaborazione di acconciature particolarmente complesse […] assunse una duplice e polisemica connotazione: quale segno di convenienza e decoro per le donne sposate, nonché prova della loro ricchezza, e come documento di tendenziale autogoverno del potenziale erotico ai capelli tradizionalmente connesso’. The scholar also provides figurative references. — 183 — CHAPTER III 1524, had already been finished ten years earlier).54 Its contents should first be briefly recalled. In it, Vincenzo Macro tells his interlocutor Pietro Bembo about a beautiful unknown lady he has just seen: from his description of her, Bembo eventually understands that she is Isabella d’Este, and draws on Macro’s account for his own speech in her praise. This dialogue shows that an attempt was being made to enrich the canon. Indeed, the description is developed in three distinct steps: at the beginning, Macro recalls the lady’s physical features, following the canone lungo; then (in response to Bembo’s plea) the details of her outfit; finally, Bembo’s speech insists on Isabella’s intellectual qualities. What is offered is therefore a more complete and individualised female portrait,55 and, importantly, in addition to pure beauty, the dialogue emphasises other elements that were rapidly gaining importance in that cultural context: the ability to distinguish oneself in society through behaviour and through intellect. To this I shall be returning later. What is most immediately relevant here is the second section of this literary portrait, which concerns Isabella’s outfit and also lingers on her hair. It is well known that Isabella was particularly fond of experimenting with hairstyles (fogie da testa) and is even credited with having invented some herself: such as the one worn at her brother Alfonso’s wedding with Lucrezia Borgia in 1502, or the particular kind of turban named capigliara.56 In Trissino’s text, her chosen style reminds us of that of Alessandra in Ariosto’s canzone: Ella, disse Macro, aveva i capegli in capo diffusi, in guisa, che sopra i candidi, e dilicati umeri ricadeano; e questi tutti erano raccolti da una rete di seta di color tanè, con maestrevole artificio lavorata, i groppi de la quale mi pareano essere di finissimo oro; e fra mezo le maglie di questa rete, le quali erano alquanto larghette, vi si vedeano scintillare i capegli […]. Ne la sommità poi de la fronte, dove questi in due parti si divideno, vi aveva un bellissimo, e fiammeggiante Rubino, dal quale una lucidissima e grossa perla pendeva […].57 54 On this work (whose model is Lucian’s Eikones), see Beer 1990 and Pich 2010, pp. 228-230. 55 As observed by Pich 2010, from Trissino’s perspective ‘Ciò che permette di distinguere bellezze altrimenti tutte uguali è l’habitus, un complesso insieme di elementi che comprende i dati visibili più individualizzati: composto di aspetto e di atteggiamenti, è un luogo di connotazione sociale e morale e di caratterizzazione temperamentale’ (p. 229). 56 See Bonoldi 2002-2003, pp. 59-69. 57 Trissino 1729, pp. 272-273. The elaboration of the former section, dedicated to Isabella’s physical features, is quite different: here the canon is developed along entirely ideal lines. Macro offers a contemporary version of the myth of Zeuxis: just as Zeuxis had composed the portrait of Helena by using the features of the five fairest women of Croton, he can describe Isabella’s beauty only by assembling the physical traits of five renowned Italian beauties of his — 184 — THE PORTRAYAL OF WOMEN However, unlike Isabella’s, Alessandra’s hairstyle – though elegant and precious – is not elaborate in a showy way. Ariosto presents it exactly as it must have been, suited to the social status of its owner. Moderation, moreover, is counted as a positive quality, and is in fact the highlight of Alessandra’s portrait: the expression ‘artifitio discreto’, which means both ‘accurately chosen’ and ‘not showy’ (l. 90 of canzone 50, probably in direct reference to Horace, Carm., I 5,5: ‘simplex munditiis’) should be duly noted as it suggests at the same time the elaborateness of her look and her ability in concealing the effort behind it. Thus, Alessandra perfectly conforms to the aesthetic ideal of moderation of the Renaissance, which Castiglione in his Cortegiano labels as ‘sprezzatura’.58 Ariosto’s description of his beloved’s hair is followed by that of her gown, which she herself has embroidered (with ‘aco dotta’, l. 109). Again, Alessandra’s sewing skills are probably drawn from reality as they also feature in sonnet 51, where the woman is caught in the act of reproducing on her dress the pattern she saw embroidered on another: Aventurosa man, beato ingegno, beata seta, beatissimo oro, ben nato lino, inclito bel lavoro da chi vuol la mia dea prender dissegno […] (Rime del canzoniere, 51,1-4) 59 It also occurs in a simile from the Furioso, introduced by the narrator to describe Zerbino’s blood, which gently oozes from his armor: Così talora un bel purpureo nastro ho veduto partir tela d’argento time (ibid., pp. 271-272). Shortly after, in order to make his verbal portrait more complete (he uses the word ‘colorire’), Macro resorts not to a realistic description but rather to the Petrarchan metaphorical attributes: ‘il quale primieramente colorirà le chiome […] facendole di oro fino […] et il volto farà di calda neve […]’ (ibid., p. 272). One further descriptio of Isabella along these ideal lines is foregrounded by Trissino in his canzone LIX; see ll. 34-45: ‘Orω mai nωn si tolse / d’alcuna vena a le sue kiome εquale, / nε credω mai che cωsì nerω fusse / guajacω che da l’India si cωndusse, / nuovω rimεdiω a l’insanabil piaghe, / cωme le bεlle cilja; ε sì lucεnti / nωn sωnω in Ciεl seren due stelle ardεnti, / cωme sωn di cωstεi le luci vaghe; / nε gilji o neve han biancω sì perfεttω, / cωm’ella ha ’l viʃω ε ’l pεttω, / in cui qualche rωsseza vi si poʃa, / che pare in latte una vermilja roʃa (I shall refer the reader to Francesco Davoli’s commentary to this canzone in Davoli 2017-2018, pp. 207-224). 58 Cortegiano, I.XXVI-XXVIII. 59 On this poem, see also Chapter II, 2. Cp. Tebaldeo, Rime della vulgata, 43,5-8: ‘e ordì con le sue man’ sì bel lavoro, / che Pallade tra nui più non se stima: / onde, se pria de lei io facea stima / per sua belleza, hor per virtù l’honoro’. — 185 — CHAPTER III da quella bianca man più ch’alabastro, da cui partire il cor spesso mi sento. (Fur., XXII 66,1-4 AB; XXIV C) 60 The canzone also offers some further details on the gown. It is, for example, made of black silk: Non fu senza sue lode il puro e schietto serico habito nero, che, come il sol luce minor confonde, fece ivi ogn’altro rimaner negletto. (Rime del canzoniere, 50,100-103) 61 Also, it is entirely covered with embroidery featuring an impresa of two intertwined grapevines. Nothing is said about the colour of the threads used for the embroidery: grapevines may suggest green, though a darker colour (black on black perhaps) is more likely, as it renders the whole dress ‘ombroso’ (‘[…] l’implicate fronde / de le due viti, d’onde / il leggiadro vestir tutto era ombroso’, ll. 105-107). The theme of the black dress paradoxically generating light, which Ariosto underscores in these lines, was already backed by a lyric tradition, as testified by its having been also employed by Tebaldeo: Per mostrar quanta forza i soi lumi hanno e che non men splendor di Phebo rende, costei, che di beltà col ciel contende, coperta stassi sotto oscuro panno. Ché, come da le nubi che vi vanno intorno per ombrarlo ei si diffende, così la donna mia luce e risplende in veste che assai più tenebra fanno. (Tebaldeo, Rime extravaganti, 394,1-8) While here, however, the woman’s super-human beauty stands out in spite of the black, in Ariosto the black adds something to it: clearly, the adjectives ‘puro’ and ‘schietto’ again highlight moderation, a quality that, from his perspective, might outmatch extreme luxury (l. 110: ‘le porpore 60 As commentaries note, however, this simile also has a Homeric antecedent (Ariosto 2012, p. 810). 61 In the earlier version of the poem, testified by Vb, ll. 102-103 contain a further reference to the woman’s tailoring skills: ‘a cui la industria havea sì dato aiuto / che ivi fè ogn’altro rimaner negletto’. — 186 — THE PORTRAYAL OF WOMEN et l’oro il nero vinse’). This general ideal leads us back to Ariosto’s classical vision, a famous example being Propertius’s poem I 2, in which the poet protests against his beloved’s excessive use of cosmetics, arguing that ‘love is naked, and loves not beauty gained by artifice’ (‘nudus Amor formam non amat artificem’, l. 8). This value is also at the core of the description of Alessandra that we find in the Furioso. In canto XLII Rinaldo is led by a mysterious knight to admire a marble fountain, supported by eight female statues. In a sort of prophecy, the knight reveals that they are illustrious ladies that will live at later times. Among them, occupying the place between Lucrezia Borgia and Beatrice d’Este, is Alessandra. Her description is fairly similar to that in the canzone, and here too, her actual name is not mentioned. Her outfit is once again defined as ‘puro’ and ‘schietto’, and as at l. 102 of the canzone, the effect of this absence of embellishment is likened to that of a star more luminous than all the others: Tra questo loco e quel de la colonna che fu sculpita in Borgia, com’è detto, formata in alabastro una gran donna era di tanto e sì sublime aspetto, che sotto puro velo, in nera gonna, senza oro e gemme, in un vestire schietto, tra le più adorne non parea men bella, che sia tra l’altre la ciprigna stella. (Fur., XXXVIII 90 A; XXXVIII 93 B; XLII 93 C) The possibility, sometimes put forward by critics, that here Ariosto should refer to a mourning dress 62 is not an impediment to linking the two descriptions, which cooperate towards the expression of a precise idea of beauty. The portrayal offered by Alessandra’s statue is even more interesting if one tries to understand the point of view of a contemporary reader. Beatrice and Lucrezia were famous – even among their peers – for the lavishness of their clothes: in that, they could compete (and indeed did, as documents testify) only with Isabella d’Este, whose elegance was almost legendary.63 If we return to the second section of Trissino’s I ritratti, 62 See Catalano 1930-1931, I, pp. 421-422, who especially places the woman’s white (‘puro’) veil in relation to mourning attires of the time. From this hypothesis (which is shared by Dorigatti 2011, pp. 43-44), the conclusion should be drawn that the octave was composed after Tito Strozzi’s death in October 1515: it would be, therefore, one of the last additions to the poem, just before it went to press. 63 Luzio – Renier 1896 examine in detail the sources attesting Isabella’s look, including her purchases. — 187 — CHAPTER III we find a realistic account of Isabella’s outfit, which so greatly adds to her natural beauty that it prompts Macro to refer to the topos of ars simia naturae. Another black dress is here described, decorated with awe-inspiring embroideries and even solid gold buckles: indosso aveva una bella, e ricca robba di velluto nero, carica di alcune fibie d’oro tanto ben poste, e tanto ogni cosa, che aveva d’intorno, era mirabilmente lavorata, che pareva gli artefici, per ornar costei, aver voluto con la natura istessa contendere.64 Rich, laden: such adjectives, which seem to precisely contrast Alessandra’s dress – unadorned, without any gold or gems –, may undoubtedly also be applied to the gowns of Beatrice and Lucrezia.65 Ariosto does not give this kind of detail, but the courtier reader would undoubtedly have visualised them in this manner, and the overall effect of this octave must have been that of a luxurious frame out of which the central figure of Alessandra shone in all her purity. Her dress was probably made of a plain silk cloth; we may read ‘schietto’ as signifying the opposite of the uneven surface of the brocade (or its more expensive variety, fashionable in the early Cinquecento, the riccio sopra riccio).66 As for the dark grapevine decoration that is described in the canzone, it would appear to be very different from the luxurious imprese – interwoven or embroidered in gold and silver – in executing which the noblest ladies would compete. Finally, Alessandra did not resort to any ‘artèfici’, such as those mentioned by Trissino for Isabella, but only to her own skills. The black of Alessandra’s gown – which appears in both descriptions – deserves attention. Traditionally associated with mourning, this colour (as my previous argument implies) enjoyed a parallel popularity as a colour denoting elegance and refinement,67 a popularity which moreover stemmed from classical literature. It is especially useful to recall Ovid’s Ars amatoria, which was highly influential throughout the early Renaissance, and was also explicitly paraphrased in works by Calmeta, Equicola, and Castiglione.68 Its third book offers advice to women in the art of seduction, engag64 Trissino 1729, p. 273. As documented by Catalano 1930-1931, I, p. 402, Lucrezia ‘compariva nelle feste di corte con magnifici abiti di velluto nero e indossava ricche vesti di broccato, coperte di raso nero’. 66 Luzio – Renier 1896, p. 16. 67 A history of colours in clothing is Luzzatto – Pompas 1997; specifically on black, see Pastoureau 2008. 68 See Kolsky 1991, pp. 268-269. 65 — 188 — THE PORTRAYAL OF WOMEN ing in a discussion on hairstyles, clothes, and cosmetics: when it comes to dress, dark hues are explicitly prescribed for women with pale skin (‘Pulla decent niveas’, l. 189). It is not just this passage, however, but the whole of Ovid’s argument that is relevant here, as the poet begins by observing that as most women have not received from the gods the gift of perfect beauty, they must resort to stratagems to enhance their look – but should, however, as in the argument of Propertius’s I 2, avoid excessive luxury.69 Some texts from Ariosto’s time should also be taken into consideration. Castiglione’s Cortegiano, whose fundamental concept of sprezzatura was in turn probably influenced by Ovid – this definition implied, in this specific case, that the lady should give what aid she could to her own natural attractiveness, but avoid showing affectation –,70 does not give any prescription for the colours of women’s dresses; it does, however, recommend black for the male courtier’s everyday clothing,71 whereas bright colours are allowed for festive occasions. A similar point is made by Equicola in his Libro de natura de amore; that is to say, he quotes Ovid’s passage about colour choices for women, and extends its validity to men,72 but does so within an erudite dissertation on the symbolic meaning of colours.73 Equicola’s concern is that men might appear effeminate if they dress too elegantly: therefore, he prescribes that they should ‘in nesciuna parte imitare femine’ but that their 69 Ars amatoria, III 103-106: ‘Forma dei munus: forma quota quaeque superbit? / Pars vestrum tali munere magna caret. / Cura dabit faciem; facies neglecta peribit, / Idaliae similis sit licet illa deae’; ll. 169-172: ‘Quid de veste loquar? Nec vos, segmenta, requiro / nec te, quae Tyrio murica, lana, rubes. / Cum tot prodierint pretio leviore colores, / quis furor est census corpore ferre suos!’. 70 Ibid., III.VIII: ‘[…] deve questa donna aver iudicio di conoscer quai sono quegli abiti che le accrescon grazia […] ma dissimulatamente più che sia possibile; e […] mostrar sempre di non mettervi studio o diligenzia alcuna’. 71 Ibid., II.XXVII: ‘però parmi che maggior grazia abbia nei vestimenti il color nero, che alcun altro; e se pur non è nero, che almen tenda al scuro’. 72 Libro de natura de amore, Libro quinto, f. 260 (Equicola 1999, p. 502): ‘Ovidio nel terzo libro dela Arte amatoria, dando precepti alle domne de qual colore debiano vestire, dice alle fusce convenire il bianco, alle bianche il pullo, donde si po asseverare alli bruni tucti quelli colori convenire che hanno col bianco propinquità, et alli bianchi quelli li quali hanno col negro affinità’. 73 As is well known, deciphering the meaning of colours was a popular entertainment in early Cinquecento courts. A famous example in literature is sonnet 299 by Correggio (Sì como el verde importa speme e amore). In this context, however, black was always interpreted as a sign of sadness/melancholy, and as such was worn by unrequited lovers in the poems belonging to this tradition. Ariosto himself features this motif in the Furioso when Orlando fears for Angelica’s life (Fur., VIII 85,5-6 ABC: ‘Ma portar vòlse un ornamento nero, / e forse acciò ch’al suo dolor simigli’); see also Correggio, Rime, 348,43-45: ‘La veste scura, e parte più che oscura, / che mostra affanno, sopra affanno vesto, / perché mia vita è più che morte dura’. An examination of lyric and especially theoretical sources of the time related to the interpretation of colours (which takes the Furioso as a starting point, but also includes later texts), is in Salza 1914, pp. 144-174. — 189 — CHAPTER III outfit should be ‘puro, necto et elegante’ (Libro quinto). Simplicity thus appears as a typically manly feature. For Equicola, moreover, clothes must reflect the man’s social status, and his interiority must in turn conform to them. See again from Libro quinto: ‘Non exceda nostra conditione nostro habito; al’exteriore lo interiore responda; sia nel nostro vestire concento, l’uno habito al’altro responda’.74 Read against this background, Ariosto’s passages on his beloved dressed in black appear to be something more than a simple imitative description of a refinedly elegant woman. The fact that they focus on the sobriety of her sartorial choices makes them very different from many coeval poems that underscore details of of female attire – such as Trissino’s sonnet VIII, in which the woman described wears a golden coloured dress and veil and is adorned with gemstones, thus exhuding what appears to the poet to be a divine quality.75 But most intriguingly, in these passages the woman is linked to a particular look in which a set of traditionally ‘manly’ traits are embedded. Indeed, their textual tailoring suggests that her most outstanding features are not to be sought in her external appearance, but in her interiority: it is here that the most distinctive feature of Ariosto’s portraits is found. This subject will be further explored in the following section. 3. The intellectual canon To retrace the history of the verbal depiction of women in terms of their non-physical qualities is indeed a hard task. The scope of the present study does not permit an exhaustive overview, but it should be pointed out that this type of characterisation seems to be more relevant in the classical than in the vernacular tradition – while physical description, on the other hand, is generally less sophisticated in the classical canon.76 This may be seen, for instance, in Propertius’ poems II 1 and II 3, which capture the woman in the act of dancing, singing, and composing poetry (I will quote from II 3 further on; for II 1, see above). In early Italian lyric poetry, when interior attributes were highlighted they either were subordinated to 74 Quotations are from f. 243 (Equicola 1999, pp. 490-491). Trissino, Rime, VIII 1-2: ‘Sωtt’un vel d’or cωn leggiadretti nodi / εranω insiεme i bε’ capelli avolti’; ll. 9-11: ‘A la nuova belleza, ε l’ωrnamentω / di pεrle ε d’ambre al collω ε vεsta d’orω, / facean parer cωstεi dal ciεl diʃcεʃa’. 76 On this point, see Muñiz Muñiz 2018, p. 53. Among the exceptions should be mentioned Catullus’s poem XLIII, where Lesbia’s physical features can be inferred e contrario from the description of an ugly woman (this is, therefore, in fact a counter-canon): ‘Salve, nec minimo puella naso / nec bello pede nec nigris ocellis / nec longis digitis nec ore sicco’ (ll. 1-3). 75 — 190 — CONTENTS Preface by Lina Bolzoni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pag . Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . » V VII Preliminary note . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . » 1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Preamble . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 . The history of Ariosto’s ‘canzoniere’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 . The rime extravaganti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 . General features of the lyric corpus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 . Between Latin and Italian: the cultural context . . . . . . . . . . 5 . Ariosto as court poet? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 . Methodology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . » » » » » » » » 3 3 5 9 11 18 22 29 Chapter I – Between Love and Duty: Ariosto’s Elegiac Self-Fashioning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Preamble . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 . Ariosto and the tradition of the ‘parting between two lovers’ 2 . Love and warfare . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 . A poem addressed to Ippolito d’Este . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 . A mission to Florence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 . The journey to the Garfagnana: style and sources . . . . . . . . . 6 . Portrait of the lyric speaker as a lover . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . » » » » » » » » » 31 31 34 36 42 52 57 66 83 » » » » 85 85 92 103 » 126 Chapter II – Ariosto, the Lyric Lover . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Preamble . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 . Love encounters: a classical theme . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 . Fides and constancy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 . Another path of the love discourse: the ‘courtly-Petrarchan’ celebration of woman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . — 243 — CONTENTS 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . The flight of the poet: cases of metapoetry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pag . Between realism and myth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . » The conclusion of Vr . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . » Final note: Ariosto’s ‘Catullian’ lyric poetry . . . . . . . . . . . . . » 137 144 155 161 Chapter III – The Portrayal of Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Preamble . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 . Experiments on the canon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 . The ‘dressed beauty’ and her social context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 . The intellectual canon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 . Female wisdom and social behaviour . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . » » » » » » » 163 163 165 175 190 201 214 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . » 217 Appendix – Conversion Between the Numbering of Fatini’s Edition of the Rime and That of Finazzi’s Edition . . . . . » 219 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . » 223 — 244 — FINITO DI STAMPARE PER CONTO DI LEO S . OLSCHKI EDITORE PRESSO ABC TIPOGRAFIA • CALENZANO (FI) NEL MESE DI FEBBRAIO 2021