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Content THE INFLUENCE O F PIETRO ARETINO O N ENGLISH
LITERATURE O F TH E RENAISSANCE
by
Anna M aria J a r d in i
A D is s e r t a tio n P re sen te d t o th e
FACULTY O F THE G RADUATE SCH O O L
UNIVERSITY O F SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In P a r t ia l F u lfillm e n t o f th e
R equirem ents f o r th e D egree
DO CTO R OF PHILOSOPHY
(E n g lish )
June 1957
UMI Number: DP23013
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This dissertation, written by
ANNA MARIA JARDINI
under the direction of her Guidance Committee,
and approved by all its members, has been pre
sented to and accepted by the Faculty of the
Graduate School, in partial fulfillment of re
quirements for the degree of
D O C T O R O F P H IL O S O P F IY
^ _ _
Dean
June 1957
Date.
Guidance Committee
Chairman
£ c
^ -C^.Q .Q ^k j l sQ -. ..
*3 r ,
ysts*4 - 1 ~ I
fl
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTION .................................................................... 1
I . TH E LIFE O F PIETRO ARETINO.................................. 5
I I . TH E W O R K S O F PIETRO A R E T IN O ............................. 23
The L e t t e r s ............................................................... 23
Jou rn alism and b la ck m a il ............................. 24
A r e tin o , th e "Scourge o f P r in c e s 1 1 • . 25
A r e tin o , th e c o u n s e llo r o f p r in c e s • • 26
L e tte r s o f in tim a te l i f e ............................. 32
The p a in te r in w o r d s ....................................... 36
A r e tin o T s th e o r y o f s t y l e ........................ 41
A r e tin o T s s t y l e ................................................. 46
The modern p rose s t y l e ............................. 4&
The baroque s t y l e ....................................... 55
The R agionam enti (D ia lo g u e s) ........................ 60
The C o m e d ie s ............................................................... 63
A r e tin o T s in n o v a tio n s in comedy . . . 64
La C o r tig ia n a ( On Court L i f e ) . . . ., 66
I I Mare sc a le o (The M a r s h a l ) .................... 73
La T a l a n t a ............................................................... 79
L ^ p o c r it o (The H y p o c r i t e ) ......................... 69
I I F ilo s o f o (The P h ilo so p h e r ) . . . . 96
L’ O r a z i a .............................................................................. 106
l i i
CHAPTER PAGE
I I I . TH E K N O W L E D G E O F ITALIAN IN RENAISSANCE
ENGLAND.............................................................. 110
Knowledge o f I t a l i a n a t th e c o u r ts
o f Henry V III and E liz a b e th . . . . 110
F a m ilia r ity o f g r e a t p o e ts w ith
I t a li a n (S id n ey , S p en ser, M ilto n ) . 115
F oreign language sc h o o ls in s ix te e n th
cen tu ry London ..................................................... 120
F oreign lan gu age m anuals; John F lo r io 123
Books p u b lish e d in I t a l i a n in London
d u rin g th e s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry . . . . 125
I t a li a n books brought in to England . • 127
IV . TH E REPUTATION O F ARETINO IN RENAISSANCE
ENGLAND............................................................................. 129
The European r e p u ta tio n o f A retin o . • 129
P r o v e r b ia l r e p u ta tio n o f A re tin o in
R en a issa n ce England ...................................... 131
Comments on A retin o b ased on more
s o li d know ledge . . . . ............................. 133
W illiam T h o m a s..................................................... 134
Thomas Nashe and A retin o ............................ 134
N asheT s comments on A re tin o . . . . 134
A dm iration and d e s c r ip tio n o f
A r e tin o ’ s s t y le ........................................... 135
iv
CHAPTER PA G E
D efen se o f A r e tin o ’s c h a r a c te r . . . 13$
S p e c if ic r e fe r e n c e s to La C o r tig ia n a 140
N ashe*s f ir s t - h a n d knowledge o f
A retin o T s w o r k s .......................... 142
In flu e n c e o f A retin o on th e s t y l e
o f Nashe and o th e r E liza b eth a n
p am p h leteers ................................................. 145
M ention o f A retin o in th e N ashe-
Harvey q u a r r e l ........................................... . 14$
Harvey on A r e t i n o ......................................... 157
V- SHAKESPEARE AN D A R E T IN O ..................................... 161
>
S h a k esp ea re’ s r e la t io n to A retin o as
p a r t o f a la r g e r problem : th e
r e la t io n o f E liz a b e th a n comedy to
th e comedy o f th e I t a lia n
R e n a i s s a n c e ................................................ . 161
The in d e b ted n ess o f E liz a b e th a n to
I t a l i a n R en a issa n ce comedy ....................... 161
The tr a n sfo r m a tio n o f th e c l a s s i c
t r a d it i o n in th e comedy o f th e
I t a l i a n R en a issa n ce ................................. 163
The in tr o d u c tio n o f new elem en ts . . . 163
CHAPTER
The tr a n sfo r m a tio n o f th e c l a s s i c
ch a r a c te r ty p e s in I t a l i a n
R en a issa n ce comedy .......................................
C la s s ic c o n v en tio n s f u l l y broken down
in th e Commedia d e l l T A r te ; A re tin o
as p recu rso r o f th e Commedia d e l l ’
A r t e .........................................................................
The f a m il ia r i t y o f E liz a b e th a n s w ith
I t a li a n R en a issa n ce comedy ....................
T e stim o n ie s to th e p resen ce o f I t a l i a n
Commedia d e l l 1 Arte tro u p e s in
s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry England ....................
A llu s io n s t o th e Commedia d e l l T A rte
in E n g lis h w r ite r s .......................................
I t a l ia n com edies o f th e R e n a is s a n c e . as
so u rce m a te r ia l fo r E n g lish
p la y w r ig h ts o f th e s ix te e n th cen tu ry
Shakespeare and th e Commedia d e l l *
A r t e .........................................................................
S h a k esp ea re’ s knowledge o f A r e tin o ’ s
com edies ...............................................................
S h a k esp ea re’ s knowledge o f I t a l i a n -
P a r a ll e l p a ssa g es in Shakespeare
and A retin o .................................................
PAG E
163
167
170
171
172
175
177 i
181
1$3
186 ;
VI
CHAPTER PAGE
C o n c lu s io n ................................................................... 195
V I . TH E H U M O R PLAYS O F BEN JONSON A N D T H E
COM EDIES OF A R E T IN O ................................................ 197
Jon son ’ s so u r c e s .................................................... 197
J en so n ’ s p o s s ib le know ledge o f I t a l ia n
R en a issa n ce comedy and o f A retin o • 199
Through F lo r io ................................................. 199
Through p erform ances o f th e Commedia
d e l l ’ A rte tr o u p e s in England . . 200
S im ila r ity o f Jon son ’ s and A r e tin o ’ s
c o n c e p tio n o f comedy .................................. 201
The r e a l i s t i c and s a t i r i c a l
p o r tr a y a l o f manners ............................. 201
I
Jon son ’ s g r e a te r m oral s e r io u s n e s s . 204 j
The c a s t ig a t io n o f ’’humors” in :
Jo n so n ’ s and A r e tin o ’ s com edies . . 208
i
The o b je c t o f th e s a t ir e in th e !
com edies o f Jonson and A retin o . . . 209 i
j
form a tio n o f th e c h a r a c te r ty p e s
in th e com edies o f Jonson and
I
A retin o ............................................ 210 j
D e r iv a tio n from c l a s s i c m odels and J
r e f l e c t i o n o f contem porary s o c ie t y 210 :
CHAPTER
The dominant t r a i t or r,humor”—th e
com b in ation o f in d iv id u a l and
t y p ic a l ..........................................................
P a r a lle l ty p e s in th e humor com edies
o f Jonson and the com edies o f
A r e tin o — s i m i l a r i t i e s and
d iv e r g e n c e s .....................................................
The ty p e o f th e m ile s g lo r io s u s . •
B ob ad il ) _ , .
S h if t ) CaPt a in T inea
The in tr ig u in g serv a n t .............................
Brainworm --Rosso
The ”g u l l s " .....................................................
Stephen and Matthew )
S o g lia r d o and Fungoso ) M esser
A sotus ) Maco
C o u r tiers and g a lla n t s .............................
P u n ta rv o lo )
Amorphus }
F a s tid io u s B risk ) P arabolano
C o u r tiers o f ) P o lid o ro
C y n th ia ’ s R ev els )
Jonson’ s and A r e tin o ’ s u se o f
s a t i r i c a l c h a r a c te r s k e tc h e s . . . .
O bservance o f c l a s s i c r u le in
Jonson and A retin o .......................................
v i i
PA G E
211
213
214
215
222
223
234
23 3
v i l i
CHAPTER PAGE
S tr u c tu r e in th e com edies o f
Jonson and A r e t i n o ......................................... 239
C o n c lu s io n ............................................................... 241
! CONCLUSION............................................................................ 244
i
BIBLIOGRAPHY .......................... 249
TH E INFLUENCE O F PIETRO ARETINO O N ENGLISH
LITERATURE OF TH E RENAISSANCE
! INTRODUCTION
)
j
j P ie tr o A r e tin o — in our day th e name ev o k es a
le g en d a r y fig u r e surrounded by a dim aura o f n o t o r ie t y ,
b u t in th e s ix t e e n t h ce n tu ry i t was one o f th e m ost ;
famous names in E urope. In th e p o l i t i c a l , l i t e r a r y , j
a r t i s t i c l i f e o f h is a g e , A retin o r e p r e se n te d a r e a l j
f o r c e . K in gs, p o p es, and em perors, from f e a r or f r ie n d - ,
s h ip , p aid him t r i b u t e . He was a t tim e s th e c o u n se lo r ;
i
a t tim e s , as A r io s to c a lle d him , th e scourge o f p r in c e s .
The p eo p le a c cep ted him a s t h e i r spokesm an, and, e x p lo it - j
in g th e power o f h is w r it in g s o v er p u b lic o p in io n , he j
j showed how th e modern w orld co u ld be ru le d by th e p r e s s .
I As a w r ite r and c r i t i c he r e v o lte d a g a in s t l i t e r a r y
I
| a r t i f i c i a l i t y and th e ty ra n n y o f c l a s s i c c o n v e n tio n s ,
i
and he renewed th e c o n ta c t o f l i t e r a t u r e w ith l i f e .
J P a s s io n a t e ly d evoted t o a r t , he was th e fr ie n d and
r e s p e c te d c r i t i c o f some o f th e g r e a t e s t a r t i s t s o f th e
; I
i I t a l i a n R en a issa n ce and a p atron o f a r t o f u n b e lie v a b le i
j g e n e r o s it y . H is l i f e was liv e d in th e R en aissan ce
s p i r i t , r u le d by th e p a s s io n f o r b ea u ty and p e r s o n a l
freedom and by th e a s p ir a t io n t o fame and th e f u l l n e s s
o f e a r th ly en joym en t. In him h is age saw i t s image and
found i t s c o n s c io u s n e s s .
In t h i s stu d y I have f i r s t o f a l l t r ie d t o r e fr e s h
th e somewhat faded image o f A retin o in our age and t o
b r in g out th o se q u a l i t i e s o f h is p e r s o n a lity th a t c a lle d
fo r th from h is con tem p oraries such e p it h e t s a s " d iv in e"
and "un iqu e." I have made a rev iew o f h is m ost im portan t
works t o show by what q u a l i t i e s he d is tin g u is h e d h im s e lf
in h is c r i t i c a l id e a s and in h is w r it in g s from th e
l i t e r a r y men o f h is tim e , th e w o rsh ip p ers o f c l a s s i c
m o d els, th e im ita to r s o f B o c ca c cio and P e tr a r c h , who s e t
th e l i t e r a r y sta n d a rd s o f th e l a t t e r p a rt o f th e I t a l i a n
R e n a issa n c e . And I have t r i e d t o show how in h is l i t e r a r y
th e o r y and p r a c t ic e A retin o was a fo reru n n er o f a more
modern l i t e r a t u r e .
In th e secon d p a rt o f my stu d y I have brought A retin o
in t o r e la t io n w ith th e England o f th e s ix t e e n t h c e n tu r y .
I t r ie d f i r s t t o determ ine what r e p u ta tio n A re tin o had
among th e Englishm en o f t h i s a g e , and t o se e how fa r t h i s
r e p u ta tio n was b ased on h ea rsa y and le g en d and how fa r on
an a c tu a l know ledge and u n d ersta n d in g o f A r e tin o ’ s w r it
in g s . I th en look ed fo r th e p o s s ib le in flu e n c e o f A retin o
on w r ite r s o f th e E n g lish R e n a issa n c e . I co n sid er ed
e s p e c i a l l y th r e e w r it e r s — Thomas N ashe, S h ak esp eare, and
Ben Jonson— whose work, fo r d if f e r e n t r e a so n s, seemed t o
in d ic a t e a t l e a s t th e p o s s i b i l i t y o f a c o n n e c tio n , d ir e c t
or i n d i r e c t , w ith A r e tin o ’ s .
Thomas N ashe, in a number o f comments through out h is
pam phlets and in th e U n fortu n ate T r a v e lle r , ex p re sse d
e n t h u s ia s t ic a d m ira tio n fo r A re tin o * s s t y l e , p r o fe s s e d
! h im s e lf t o be h is d i s c i p l e , and was in d eed known among
i
| h is con tem p oraries a s ’ ’th e E n g lish A r e t in e .” Were h is
I
| i
I comments on A retin o b ased on a d ir e c t know ledge o f h is |
w orks, and d id A r e tin o ’ s s t y l e a c t u a lly in flu e n c e th a t j
o f Nashe?
Shakespeare n ot o n ly drew on th e I t a lia n n o v e lle fo r
a g r e a t number o f h i s p la y s b u t, e s p e c i a l l y in h is
co m ed ies, in th e u se o f c e r t a in d e v ic e s and s it u a t io n s i
i
I
and in th e m o d ific a tio n o f c h a r a c te r ty p e s from t h e i r |
I
o r ig in a l c l a s s i c m o d els, he showed th e in flu e n c e o f th e j
t j
Commedia d e l l ’ A r te . M ight he n ot th en have been fa m ilia r j
w ith th e com edies o f A retin o who, among th e I t a l i a n
w r it e r s o f th e c in q u e c e n to , was one o f th e m ost n o ta b le
! p r e c u r so r s o f th e Commedia d e l l ’ A rte? An i n t e r e s t was
| added t o t h i s in q u ir y by c e r ta in p a ssa g e s in Shakespeare
i w hich awakened r e m in isc e n c e s o f A r e tin o .
!
’ The r e n o v a tio n o f comedy, w hich Ben Jonson i n i t i a t e d
j in England w ith E very Man in H is Humor, had a lr ea d y been
^ c a r r ie d out a lo n g s im ila r l i n e s by A retin o in I t a l y , and
Jon son ’ s id e a s o f th e n a tu re and fu n c tio n o f comedy, on
w hich he based h is reform , c o in c id e d on many p o in ts w ith
A r e tin o ’ s* M oreover, th e humor com edies o f Jonson p re
se n te d in t e r e s t in g p a r a l l e l s t o A r e tin o ’s com edies in
t h e i r c h a r a c te r t y p e s , t h e ir s a t i r i c p o r tr a y a l o f
4
contem porary m anners, even in th e q u a lit y o f t h e i r s t y l e .
M ight n o t A r e tin o have been one o f th e innum erable
so u r c e s on w h ich , as one c r i t i c has put i t , Jonson drew
to produce an o r ig in a l work?
These are th e q u e s tio n s I have attem p ted t o answer
in th e l a s t th r e e ch a p te r s o f t h i s stu d y .
f CHAPTER I J
!
j THE LIFE OF PIETRO ARETINO
!
| P ie tr o A retin o was born in 1492 in th e l i t t l e town
j o f A rezzo, in T uscany. H is fa th e r was perhaps a nobleman j
I o f th e v i c i n i t y , p erh ap s an a r t is a n o f th e tow n— no one
seem s q u ite s u r e . A r e c e n t b io g ra p h er o f A re tin o sa y s:
He was th e son o f a young member o f th e B a e c i, or o f
th e B uonam ici, o r o f M aster Luca, shoem aker, but
c e r t a in ly he was th e son o f lo v e and o f th e summertime
. . • born o f th e g r a c e s o f T ita , v ery young, o f
r a d ia n t b e a u ty , and th e r e fo r e many lo v e s
I t was A retin o h im s e lf who ch ose l a t e r t o be c a lle d by
th e name o f h is n a tiv e tow n .
P ie tr o had in him from boyhood th e r e s t l e s s s p i r i t
o f h is t im e s . He co u ld n o t be co n ten t to ob serve l i f e
through th e narrow window o f A rezzo, and a t th e age o f
! f i f t e e n s e t out a lo n e and p e n n ile s s from h is m o th er's
| house in sea rch o f w id er e x p e r ie n c e . He tu rn ed so u th -
i ward tow ards th e c e n te r o f R en a issa n ce l i f e , Rome, but
i * *
l
| he stop p ed f i r s t a t th e town o f P eru g ia , where he became
| a p p r en tic e d t o a b o o k b in d er. I t was an a p p r e n tic e s h ip
t h a t was to prove v er y im p ortan t fo r him , fo r i t in t r o -
I duced him n o t o n ly t o th e tra d e o f b o o k b in d in g , but a ls o
t o th e w orld o f b o o k s. Up t o th en P ie t r o 's ed u ca tio n
-^-Antonio F o s c h in i, L 'A retin o (M ilan o, 1 9 5 1 ), p* |
The p a ssa g e s c i t e d from t h i s t e x t are my own t r a n s la t io n -
had not gone beyond th e elem en ta ry sc h o o l a t A rezzo,
alth o u g h he had le a r n e d much m erely by h is own sharp
o b serv a tio n * Suddenly a new sou rce o f th e l i f e fo r w hich
i
he t h ir s t e d was r e v e a le d to him: by th e power o f th e
p r in te d w ord, th e s t o r e s o f th e a n c ie n t w o rld , th e p o e tr y ,
i
| rom ance, p h ilo so p h y o f th e modern were l a i d open to him . ]
i
j I t was a momentous and d iz z y in g e x p e r ie n c e . Images o f
i . i
th e pagan and C h r is tia n w orld s crowded to g e th e r :
S e c u la r r e a d in g s echoed w ith th e v o ic e s o f l i t u r g i c a l '
wisdom , in p h rase and v e r s e and ample p e r io d ; and from
th e words a ro se th e s p i r i t and f l e s h , th e v e g e ta tio n j
! and str u c tu r e o f a d iso rd er ed la n d sca p e th a t th e j
exuberance o f h i s n atu re p ile d up in c o n f u s io n .2
As he p ro g r e sse d in th e works o f o th e r w r it e r s , he :
! I
j made a ls o h is own f i r s t , awkward a tte m p ts t o e x p r e ss th e
I tu r b u le n t w orld o f h is s e n s a t io n s . P a in s ta k in g ly he I
i
1 lin k e d to g e th e r a s t r in g o f so n n e ts f o r C hiara, a dark-
i eyed P erugian g i r l who had s e t h is h e a r t on f i r e . From
I th e s t a r t , i t was h is own th o u g h ts and f e e l in g s t h a t ,
i
A retin o t r ie d t o bend t o th e v e r s e . Even in th e s e f i r s t |
lo v e poems he d id n o t , in th e u su a l way o f th e tim e s ,
i
! borrow from th e ready s t o r e s o f t h a t m aster o f lo v e ,
i
t
P e tr a r c h . Though i t was rea d in g th a t had made him
r e a liz e th e p o s s i b i l i t i e s and th e m agic o f w ords, th e
m odel t o w hich he lo o k ed in h is w r it in g w as, from th e J
t
i
2F o s c h in i, p . 2 0 . j
b e g in n in g , n o t lit e r a t u r e but l i f e .
R ather than to turn out w ell-m ade c o p ie s o f o ld m od els,
he p r e fe r r e d , however b a d ly a t f i r s t , t o carve h is own
j im ages from th e l i v i n g s to n e ; im ages th a t were odd and
I m onstrous in th e e a r ly days o f h is a r t i s t i c a p p r e n tic e -
i sh ip . . . cru d e, d is t o r t e d r e f l e c t i o n s o f h is c r e a tiv e
] ard ou r, but s in g u la r ly e x p r e s s iv e .3
!
He a ls o t r i e d h is hand in th e mediums o f th e p l a s t i c
a r t s , e s p e c i a l l y o f p a in t in g . He stu d ie d th e r u le s o f
p e r s p e c tiv e and d e s ig n , th e b len d in g o f c o lo r s , compo
s i t i o n , c h ia r o s c u r o . Though he came t o th e c o n c lu sio n
th a t th e medium f o r which he was b e s t f i t t e d was language
th e knowledge he gain ed was t o make him r e sp e c te d as an
j a r t c r i t i c by th e g r e a t e s t a r t i s t s o f th e a g e .^ He found
t o o , in th e p a in tin g and sc u lp tu r e o f th e R en aissan ce h is
m odels fo r th a t im m ediacy in th e e x p r e s s io n o f n a tu re fo r
which he lo o k ed in v a in in th e r h e t o r ic a l l i t e r a t u r e o f
I th e tim e .
I
A retin o was t o form h is s t y l e o f im a g es, tr y in g to
! esca p e from th e m orass o f G r a e c o -L a tin iz in g lit e r a t u r e
w ith i t s a n t i - p l a s t i c e la b o r a tio n s and v e r b a l a ra
b esq u es • • • t o p r e s e n t th e tr u th naked and r e sp le n d
e n t o n ly o f i t s own s e l f . 5
3 F o s c h in i, p . 24*
^See A lessan d ro D el V ita , L fA r e tin o — "Uomo L ibero
p er G razia d i D io ” (A rezzo , 1 9 5 4 ), P • 43 • ,fL ArebinoJ
was a b le t o w r ite and speak on m a tter s o f a r t as few men
o f h is tim e , . . . and so as t o in flu e n c e th e a r t i s t i c
work o f T iz ia n o and th e c r it iq u e s o f V a s a r i, who in h is
L iv e s made u se o f th e t h e o r ie s A retin o had exp osed and
th e c r i t i c a l problem s he had s e t u p .”
^ F o sc h in i, p . 2 6 .
| A fte r th e in te r lu d e o f P er u g ia , A retin o resumed h is
j journey t o Rome. In our know ledge o f t h i s p e r io d o f h is
!
y o u th fu l w anderings in I t a l y , f a c t s are m ixed w ith i
t• i
le g e n d s .0 A ccording t o one s t o r y , he i s supposed t o ,
i
j have a r r iv e d in Rome in 1511 a t th e age o f n in e te e n and !
j t o have been fo r a tim e v a l e t in th e s e r v ic e o f Pope J
j J u liu s I I , th en to have resumed h is t r a v e l s , g o in g n o r th - [
ward a s fa r a s Lombardy, ea r n in g h is l i v i n g in a v a r ie t y
I
o f p ic tu r e sq u e ways a lo n g th e ro a d . He seem s t o have
been in V e n ic e , a l s o , fo r h is f i r s t book, c o n ta in in g h is j
j y o u th fu l v e r s e s , was p u b lish e d th e r e in 1512: "Mew ;
j w r itin g s o f th a t v er y t a le n t e d young man, P ie t r o A r e tin o ,
} th e p a in t e r . That i s , s tr a m b o tti, s o n n e ts , c a p i t o l i ,
J e p i s t l e s , comic poem s, and a l o v e r ’ s la m en t." He i s s a id
i
: t o have serv ed tim e a s a g a lle y - s la v e and, a t Ravenna,
t
' t o have e n te r e d a m onastery and t a s t e d f o r a w h ile th e
i
l i f e o f a capuchin f r i a r . What i s c e r t a in , how ever, i s
t h a t he was in Rome in 1516 and th a t he rem ained t h e r e , !
J w ith in t e r v a ls o f en fo r ce d a b se n c e , u n t i l 1524* These j
&The o n ly sou rce o f in fo r m a tio n fo r t h i s p e r io d o f
i A r e tin o ’ s l i f e i s a pam phlet e n t i t l e d The L ife o f A retin o
I p u b lish e d in 1536 by N ic c o lo F ranco, a form er p r o te g e o f
A re tin o who had become h is arch enemy. I t g iv e s "a
m a le v o le n t, d is t o r t e d , but on th e w h o le, b a s i c a l l y
a c c u r a te r e la t io n o f h is e a r ly y e a r s ." Thomas C. Chubb,
A r e tin o , Scourge o f P r in c e s (New York, 1 9 4 0 ), p . 26?•
j y e a r s were im portant fo rm a tiv e o n e s. The ex p e r ie n c e he
i g a in ed a t th e V a tica n co u r t was to be an im portant f a c t o r
I
in A r e tin o ’ s fu tu r e l i f e and work, and th e in f lu e n c e s t o
w hich he was su b je c te d th e r e were to have a perm anent !
e f f e c t on him . t
In 1516 th e R en aissan ce was in i t s l a s t e ffu lg e n c e j
in I t a l y . Under th e p o n t if ic a t e o f Leo X, son o f Lorenzo j
i
th e M a g n ifice n t and a tr u e M edici in h is lo v e o f lu x u ry |
I
and a r t , th e c i t y o f Rome was c lo th e d in sp len d o r and !
ev e r y day was b e in g fu r th e r adorned by a h o st o f a r t i s t s
le d by Raphael and M ic h e la n g e lo . A r e tin o ’ s p a ssio n for>
b ea u ty was f ir e d by th e r e l i c s o f a p a st m a g n ific e n ce and
th e in c r e d ib le flo w e r in g o f th e new a r t . The V a tica n j
co u rt was a ls o th e p o l i t i c a l and d ip lo m a tic c e n te r o f j
E urope. Here th e am bassadors and le g a t e s o f th e v a r io u s
i ■
I European s t a t e s met t o m easure t h e i r s k i l l a g a in s t one
! a n o th e r . A r e tin o , a s an i n t e l l i g e n t o b serv er w ith a \
i I
I
f l a i r f o r d ip lom acy, co u ld le a r n much about th e p o l i c i e s j
o f th e g r e a t European p ow ers, e n ta n g le d a s th e y were w ith j
th e in t r ig u e s o f th e I t a l i a n s t a t e s . E s p e c ia lly , he j
j g a in ed an in s ig h t in t o th e r i v a l a m b itio n s o f France and j
i i
; S p a in , who were p la y in g out t h e i r game fo r power on th e
ch essb oard o f I t a l y . A gain , A retin o was str u c k by th e
i
c o r r u p tio n o f Rome. The c o n tr a s t betw een th e m isery o f |
th e poor and th e in s o lv e n t la v is h n e s s o f th e r ic h made
i
j an in d e lib le im p r essio n on h is m ind. He was n ev er to
| t i r e o f s a t i r i z i n g th e h y p o c r isy and a rr o g a n c e, th e
i
a v a r ic e , s e l f i s h n e s s , and c r u e lt y o f th e g r e a t lo r d s and j
p r e la t e s ; nor o f ex p o sin g th e w retch ed n ess o f t h e i r
l u c k le s s se r v a n ts and th e h o p e le s s abasem ent o f th e I
c o u r t ie r s , who f r i t t e r e d away t h e ir l i v e s in th e v a in ■
e x p e c ta tio n o f f a v o r s .
In Rome, A retin o found o c c a sio n t o u se th a t a r t o f
I
j
v e r b a l e x p r e s s io n w hich he had been d e v e lo p in g and b r in g - I
in g to p e r f e c tio n s in c e h is b ook b in d in g days a t P e r u g ia .
I
i And he r e v e a le d , b e s id e s , a s a t i r i c g e n iu s th a t was t o be ,
! u nequ aled by t h a t o f any w r ite r o f th e a g e . The f i r s t
! o c c a sio n f o r th e e x e r c is e o f h is powers was o ffe r e d by ;
f
| th e d eath o f Pope L eof s In d ia n e le p h a n t. The ev en t
: ' 1
cau sed q u ite a s t i r in th e co u rt; th e anim al had been ]
I d ear t o th e Pope; i t had been a g i f t from th e k in g o f
j P o rtu g a l and a r a r it y in I t a l y . A retin o saw h is oppor- i
t u n it y ; in th e t r a d it io n o f th e m oeking "T estam ents” o f j
V illo n he composed "The W ill and T estam ent o f th e
i E le p h a n t.” The e le p h a n tf s b e q u e sts— th e t u s k s , th e ja w s,
i
th e k n e e s, th e e a r s — a p p r o p r ia te ly c o n ferr ed on t h i s or
th a t c a r d in a l or m on sign or, d e v a s t a tin g ly r e v e a le d th e
m ost in tim a te f o i b l e s o f th e v a r io u s lo r d s o f th e Church.
Pope L eo, who a p p r e c ia te d w it , r e c e iv e d th e au th or o f
th e poem in to h is h o u se h o ld , in what c a p a c ity i t i s not
c e r t a in — as a j e s t e r , b u ffo o n , or la c k e y , sa y A r e tin o ’ s
enem ies* But th e n , "in th e house o f L eo, a j e s t e r was
a p erso n o f no sm all s i g n i f i c a n c e H e n c e f o r t h , A retin o
r e s id e d in th e p a la ce o f th e Pope and th e r e g a th ered t h a t J
ex p e r ie n c e o f co u rt l i f e o f w hich h is com ed ies g iv e such
v iv id e v id e n c e . He a ls o accum ulated a q u a n tity o f
I
d e t a ile d and a cc u r a te in fo r m a tio n about a l l th e n o ta b le '
I
p e r s o n a li t ie s o f th e V a tica n c o u r t, a r e so u r c e upon |
w hich he was t o draw t o g iv e h is s a t ir e i t s d ea d ly s t i n g . |
An o p p o r tu n ity f o r th e u se o f t h i s m a te r ia l was n o t lo n g j
in com ing. !
Leo X d ied su d d en ly in 1 5 2 1 , and a co n c la v e was
c a lle d t o e l e c t h is s u c c e s s o r . As th e c o n c la v e h e ld i t s
s e s s io n s b eh in d c lo s e d d o o r s, everyon e s p e c u la te d on th e j
ch an ces and m e r its o f th e v a r io u s c a n d id a te s . A r e tin o ’ s !
s p e c u la tio n s to o k th e form o f p a r t ic u la r ly b i t i n g s o n n e ts ,
and fo r th e s e so n n e ts he found a v er y apt m o u th p iece— j
P a sq u in o . Pasquino was an a n c ie n t m u tila te d s ta tu e which
had been p la c e d in P ia zza Navona, a c e n tr a l square in |
Rome. I t was s a id t o have been named fo r a f i f t e e n t h
cen tu ry sch o o lm a ster w ith a s c u r r ilo u s to n g u e , and s in c e
th e b eg in n in g o f th e s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry had become th e
i
o f f i c i a l v e h ic le fo r academ ic d is p u t e s . O n P a sq u in o ’ s J
{
I
|
7Chubb, p . 5 2 . \
12
f e a s t d ay, once a y e a r , ep ig ra m s, s o n n e ts , s a t i r i c a l
poems o f a l l k in d s were a f f ix e d t o th e p e d e s ta l o f th e
i
i
s t a t u e . These "pasquinades" as th e y were c a lle d had i
m o stly t o do w ith q u a r r e ls betw een s c h o la r s , but anyone
i
j co u ld ta k e th e o p p o r tu n ity to speak f r e e l y about whomever j
he p le a se d ; s in c e th e v e r s e s w ere n ot s ig n e d , P asquino
a lo n e had th e r e s p o n s i b i l i t y fo r them . O n th e o c c a sio n j
o f th e p ap al c o n c la v e , A retin o saw th e o p p o r tu n ity f o r a j
I
t im e ly u se o f Pasquino and to o k him over so c o m p le te ly
j a s t o becom e, as he s a id , h is " c h a n c e llo r ." Under j
A r e tin o * s hand P asquino was tran sform ed : he became much J
l e s s academ ic and p e d a n tic and much more p r e c is e ly
inform ed on t o p ic a l m a tter s and prom inent p e r s o n a li t ie s
*
o f Rome; he took on a new sh a rp n ess and freedom o f tongu e
• i
and a much g r e a te r freq u en cy o f u tte r a n c e ; he a cq u ired
I th e c h a r a c t e r is t i c s , in f a c t , o f a modern sc a n d a l s h e e t .
| E very day th a t th e co n cla v e was in s e s s io n , P asquino had !
I
J a new comment in th e form o f a m ocking son n et t h a t
| a llu d e d , s u b tly but u n m ista k a b ly , t o one or o th e r o f
th e c a n d id a te s or t o some abuse o f th e p a p a l c o u r t.
A r e tin o 's "Pasquinades" c r e a te d a s e n s a tio n b e c a u se ,
though th e y were d ia b o l i c a l l y m a lic io u s , what th e y s a id
was u n d en ia b ly t r u e , and th e y were alw ays in c r e d ib ly
inform ed on e v e r y th in g th a t was rumored, w h isp ered , or
h in te d a t anywhere in Rome. M oreover, th e y e x p r e sse d \
13
p u b lic o p in io n so co m p le te ly and a p tly th a t as soon a s
th e y were w r itte n th e y were on e v e r y o n e ’ s lip s * In th e
f if t y - o d d so n n e ts th a t c o n s t it u t e d h is ’ ’P a sq u in a d e s,”
we can se e th e q u a lit y th a t gave A retin o such an i n f l u
ence in th e R en aissan ce w orld: a s s o c ia t in g h im s e lf w ith i
i
what was g e n e r a lly th o u g h t and f e l t , he cou ld e x p r e ss
]
th e p u b lic mind w ith u n errin g a ccu ra cy and e f f e c t i v e n e s s , j
I
w h ile he s u b t ly gu ided i t s r e a c tio n s * In th e ’ ’P asq u in - |
a d e s ,” as l a t e r in th e ”G iu d iz i” (p r o g n o s tic a tio n s ) and
in many o f h is l e t t e r s , A re tin o was i n i t i a t i n g modern
I
jo u rn a lism and foresh ad ow in g th e d om ination o f th e p u b lic j
!
mind by th e p r e ss* A lthough th e ”P asq u in ad es” were
u n sig n e d , A retin o made su re t h a t no one ig n o re d th e name
o f t h e i r au th or; and a s th e y were c a r r ie d t o ev e ry co u rt
and p a la c e on th e c o n tin e n t, th e p o w erfu l men o f Europe
became aware o f him a s a fo r c e w hich i t would be w e ll t o ;
have in o n e ’ s s e r v ic e . The p a p a l co n cla v e o f 1521 d id !
n o t end w ith th e e l e c t i o n o f C ard in al G iu lio d e ’ M e d ici,
th e ca n d id a te whom A retin o had fa v o r e d , but th e au th or
o f th e ’’P a sq u in a d es” had none th e l e s s a tta in e d h is end:
he had become known a s ’’th e p o s s e s s o r o f th e most d an ger-
ous tongue in E u ro p e.”0
^Chubb, p . 65*
14
The e l e c t i o n o f Pope Adrian ¥ 1 , whom he had m erci
l e s s l y a tta c k e d , made i t e x p e d ie n t fo r A retin o to le a v e
Rome f o r a tim e . He a v a ile d h im s e lf o f th e h o s p i t a l i t y
o f th e Duke L u ig i Gonzaga and v i s i t e d th e c o u r t o f
M antua. I t was a t t h i s tim e th a t A retin o met G iovanni
d e T M e d ici, known a s G iovanni d e lle Bande Here ( o f th e
B lack B an d s), one o f th e g r e a t e s t I t a l i a n c o n d o t t ie r i
and le a d e r o f th e m ost renowned group o f armed men in
I t a l y . With G io v a n n i, A retin o form ed one o f th e d eep est
and s in c e r e s t f r ie n d s h ip s o f h is l i f e , and he was to
i
j lo o k back on th e days sp en t in th e com radeship o f th e
I c a p ta in a t h is camp n o t fa r from Mantua a s among th e
i
j h a p p ie s t he had known.
j The p o n t if ic a t e o f A drian, how ever, was a sh o r t one,
1 and upon th e s u c c e s s io n o f Pope Clement V II, th e form er
i C ard in al G iu lio d e T M e d ic i, who had a lr e a d y b e fr ie n d e d
him , A r e tin o T s hopes r o s e up a g a in , and he retu rn ed to
| Rome. T h is tim e he was d riv en out o f th e c i t y by a p lo t
! c o n tr iv e d a g a in s t h is l i f e by th e p ap al d a ta r y , Gian
j
| M atteo G ib e r ti, who was moved by je a lo u s y o f th e grow ing
j fame o f A retin o and f e a r f u l o f h is fa v o r w ith th e P op e.
One n ig h t , as A retin o was s t r o l l i n g a lo n g th e T ib e r , he
was a tta c k e d by men who rushed ou t a t him w earin g masks
and armed w ith d a g g e r s. He esca p ed o n ly by swimming
a c r o s s th e r i v e r . The p r e te x t g iv e n out fo r th e a tta c k
was th e sc a n d a l cau sed by A re tin o * s s ix t e e n E r o tic
S on n ets ( S o n n e tti L u s s u r io s i)., which he had w r itte n t o
match M arcantonio R aim ondif s s ix t e e n en g ra v in g s o f
d e s ig n s by G iu lio Romano. Clement V II made no attem p t
t o oppose G ib e r ti* s a c t by r e c a llin g A r e tin o , and i t may
be th a t h e, t o o , found th e " c h a n c e llo r o f Pasquino" an
u ncom fortable p erson t o have in to o c lo s e p r o x im ity .
A re tin o now r e jo in e d G iovanni d e l l e Bande N ere, who
was u n it in g h is army w ith th e fo r c e s o f th e French k in g ,
F ran ces I , in a p la n t o d r iv e th e Emperor C h arles V out
o f I t a l y . At th e V a tica n c o u r t, A r e tin o had g ain ed
know ledge o f th e r i v a l a m b itio n s o f France and Spain in
I t a l y . Now, h is a s s o c ia t io n w ith G iovanni d e lle Bande
Nere gave him a n o th er p o in t o f v iew and made him share
in th e g r e a t le a d e r * s i d e a l o f form ing a s in g le n a tio n
out o f th e w arring I t a l i a n s t a t e s , subm erging th e j e a l
o u s ie s and p e t t y r i v a l r i e s th a t had made I t a l y an open
f i e l d t o fo r e ig n a g g r e s s o r s . G iovan n i, who p la c e d much
hope in th e support o f th e young French k in g , se n t
A re tin o a s h is am bassador to F r a n c is I to make him
u n d erstan d how th e Bande Nere were n ot a m ercenary fo r c e
a t th e s e r v ic e o f any m aster b ut th e m a n ife s ta tio n o f
th e " r e b ir th o f a n a tio n w hich in th e wars a g a in s t
C h arles V was r e c o n s t it u t in g i t s hom ogeneity and fin d in g
i t s name as I t a l y . "9 But th e dream was prem ature. In
th e b a t t l e fo u g h t on February 5 , 1525 a t P a v ia , in s p it e
o f th e h eroism th a t j u s t i f i e d th e French k in g T s w ords,
" to u t e s t p erd u , f o r s l ’honneur," th e v ic t o r y went t o
th e im p e r ia l army, and F r a n c is I was ta k en p r is o n e r .
In a second b a t t le fo u g h t in November o f 1526, G iovanni
de* M edici r e c e iv e d a wound th a t proved m o r ta l. One o f
A r e tin o * s most m oving l e t t e r s i s th a t in which he
d e s c r ib e s th e d eath o f G iovanni d e lle Bande N ere, making
u s f e e l h is a d m ira tio n fo r th e d a r in g , h ero ism , and
h igh -m in d ed n ess o f h is c a p ta in , and h is own deep sorrow
a t th e l o s s o f a fr ie n d and a t th e w aning o f th e id e a l
i
I t h a t seemed t o d ie w ith him . I have quoted th e b eg in n in g
i in
; o f th e l e t t e r in C hapter I I . In th e fo llo w in g p a ssa g e s
A re tin o d e s c r ib e s th e courage w ith w hich G iovanni bore
j
th e am putation o f h is l e g and th e manner o f h is d eath :
i
j The hour h avin g come and th e d o c to r s a r r iv e d w ith th e
i in stru m e n ts n eed ed , th e y ord ered e ig h t or te n p erso n s
t o be found t o h old him w h ile th e bone was b e in g saw ed.
"Not even tw e n ty ," he s a id s m ilin g , "could h o ld me."
Then p rep a rin g h im s e lf , w ith a s t e a d f a s t fa c e he to o k
th e ca n d le in h is own hand t o g iv e them l i g h t . I ,
h avin g f le d and h o ld in g my hands o v er my e a r s , heard
o n ly two c r ie s and th e n my name c a lle d ; and when I
I sto o d by him he t o ld me: "I am h ea le d " ; and tu rn ed t o
I a l l o f u s w ith a j o y f u l f a c e .
^ F o sc h in i, p . 71*
•*-®See page 5 4 .
17
I And so we rem ained . . . u n t i l about n in e a t n ig h t on
J th e v i g i l o f S a in t Andrea. And b eca u se h is s u f f e r in g
i was w ith ou t m easu re, he prayed t h a t I would put him to
s le e p by r e a d in g , and so d o in g , I saw him w aning from
one s le e p t o a n o th e r . At le n g th . . . a r o u sin g h im s e lf ,
he sa id : "I dreamt I was d y in g , and here I am w e ll; i f I
I co n tin u e t o r e c o v e r t h u s , I w i l l te a c h th e Germans j
how b a t t l e s are fo u g h t and in what manner I know how t o j
avenge m y s e lf .” Upon th e s e w ords, th e l i g h t grow ing j
tr o u b le d in h is e y e s began to g iv e way t o p e r p e tu a l
d a r k n e ss. Then, h avin g h im s e lf r e q u e ste d extrem e
u n c tio n and r e c e iv e d th a t sacram en t, he s a id : ”1 don*t
want to d ie among a l l th e s e p l a s t e r s . ” So t h a t , a
camp bed b ein g p repared he was p la c e d upon i t , and j
w h ile h is so u l slu m bered , i t was o ccu p ied by d e a t h .H j
i i
A re tin o now gave up th e id e a o f a c t iv e p a r t ic ip a t io n j
t
in m ilit a r y or p o l i t i c a l e n t e r p r is e s . D isg u ste d w ith
c o u r t s , he r e t ir e d t o th e R ep ub lic o f V e n ic e , where he
l i v e d from 1527 u n t i l h is d eath in 1 5 5 6 . The V en etia n j
i
R e p u b lic , surnamed in r e c o g n itio n o f i t s w e a lth and I
j pow er, ”La M a g n if ie s ,” a ffo r d e d i t s c i t i z e n s a s e c u r it y
j and l i b e r t y unknown elsew h ere in I t a l y . Here A re tin o
| liv e d th e sp le n d id m a tu r ity o f h is l i f e and w rote h is
I m ost im portant w orks— th e s i x volum es o f h is l e t t e r s ,
! th e R agion am en ti, th e f iv e com ed ies, and th e tra g e d y
I L’ O ra zia . Taking advantage o f th e freedom o f sp eech he
1 - ■ ■
j en jo y ed in V e n ic e , he h u r led th e s h a ft s o f h is in v e c t iv e
a t th e Roman co u rt and r id ic u le d i t s v ic e s in com edies
l^ P ie tr o A r e tin o , L e t t e r e , e d . F au sto N ic o l in i
(B a r i, 1913), I, 7, 9-
| th a t had a n o te o f f ie r c e n e s s in t h e i r la u g h t e r . From
I
j V en ice , t o o , he s e n t out th e l e t t e r s t h a t in flu e n c e d th e
h is t o r y o f h is tim e and, draw ing t r i b u t e s t o him from
a l l th e s o v e r e ig n s o f E urope, won him h i s t i t l e o f
i
"Scourge o f P r in c e s ."
In V e n ic e , A retin o r e a liz e d h is id e a l o f a r ic h ,
f u l l l i f e . H is house on th e Canal Grande became fam ous.
G reat a r t i s t s and poor s tr u g g lin g o n e s, p a in t e r s , s c u lp
t o r s , and p o e t s , flo c k e d th e r e as to t h e i r home and
found in A retin o a new k in d o f p a tr o n , one who d id n o t
t r y t o e n s la v e t h e i r s p i r i t but encouraged i t t o fin d
i t s untrammeled e x p r e s s io n . He p rid ed h im s e lf on having
c r e a te d a new k in d o f " co u rt” where a r t was n ot sta r v e d
|
| and a b a sed .
i
I A re tin o was a consummate s e n s u a l i s t . He lo v e d a l l
i
| th e good th in g s o f l i f e , from th o s e t h a t s a t i s f i e d h is
' m ost b a s ic a p p e t it e s t o th o s e th a t a p p ea led t o h is
, h ig h e s t se n se o f b e a u ty . There was in him , sa y s De
S a n c t is , "not o n ly th e sen se o f p le a s u r e but th e se n se
j o f a r t . In h i s p le a s u r e s he sou ght m a g n ific e n c e ,
j sp le n d o r , b e a u ty , t a s t e , and e le g a n c e ." A When money
!
began t o flo w i n , he sp en t i t l a v i s h l y , f i l l i n g h is
l 2 F ran cesco De S a n c t is , S to r ia d e lla L e tte r a tu r a
I t a lia n a (M ilan o, 1 9 1 7 ), I I , 99^
house w ith food and w in e, r ic h c l o t h e s , f in e f u r n is h in g s ,
works o f a r t , and b e a u t if u l women- The women were o f
a l l ty p e s and s t a t i o n s , and a l l o f them he h ou sed ,
b e fr ie n d e d , p r o t e c t e d , li k e d , and made lo v e t o in th e
wide g en ero u s s p i r i t o f th e R e n a issa n c e . He was "the
l i v i n g p o r t r a it o f th e a g e," De S a n e tis c o n c lu d e s, "in
i t s i n s a t ia b l e a p p e t it e s and m oral a n a rch y .
A re tin o g a in ed in h is l i f e t i m e such a r e p u ta tio n a s
a l i b e r t i n e th a t h is name became synonymous w ith v ic io u s
p le a s u r e . In E liz a b e th a n England he was known a s "the
f i l t h y A r e tin e " — and th e r e p u ta tio n h as come down t o t h i s
d a y . Perhaps th e s e n s a tio n a l a s p e c ts o f h is p e r s o n a lity
str u c k th e p o p u la r fa n c y , making him appear an in ca r n a
t io n o f th e im m o ra lity o f th e c in q u e c e n to ; and t h i s
im p ressio n was c e r t a in ly su p p orted by th e sca n d a lo u s
le g e n d s th a t A r e tin o f s enem ies a s s id u o u s ly c ir c u la t e d ,
le g e n d s t h a t he d id n ot a lt o g e t h e r d is c o u r a g e , e n jo y in g
as he d id n o t o r ie t y on any te r m s. A stu d y o f A r e tin o T s
l i f e and w r it in g s , how ever, r e v e a ls th a t such an i n t e r
p r e t a t io n o f him i s f a r to o o n e -s id e d fo r j u s t i c e . I f
he was th e ty p e o f th e I t a l i a n R e n a issa n c e , i t was j u s t
by th e r ic h n e s s and c o m p lex ity o f h is p e r s o n a lit y in
w hich many c o n tr a d ic to r y im p u lses met w ith an eq u al
13De S a n c t is , I I , 95*
! 20
f o r c e . ” . . . t h a t i s th e str a n g e th in g about P i e t r o , ”
sa y s Thomas Chubb a t th e c o n c lu s io n o f h is b iograp hy:
He had so w ide a c h a r a c te r th a t i t i s hard t o l i b e l l
him . Omit d e t a i l s , and e v e r y p o iso n ed word h is |
a d v e r s a r ie s spoke about him d e s c r ib e s him e lo q u e n t ly . ;
But so to o do a l l th e e u lo g ie s o f h is a d m ir er s.
Truth d oes n o t l i e betw een th e two ex tre m e s, but i t
em braces b o th o f them . Not th u s w ith most men t h a t
we read a b o u t. That p rob ab ly i s why he i s th e ty p e i
p erson age o f th e R e n a issa n c e , fo r th a t p e r io d was i
made o f c o n t r a d ic t io n s . That c e r t a in ly i s why he i s
one o f th e m ost am azing on es who e v e r l i v e d .1 4 |
|
A r e tin o had b rea th ed in th e a i r o f paganism t h a t b lew
i
a c r o s s th e R e n a issa n c e . A s, in w r it in g o f th e Son o f ;
God,^-5 i t was h is hum anity t h a t he had e x a lt e d , so in
h is own l i f e i t was h is g lo r y t o l i v e t o th e f u l l e s t
j e x te n t o f a l l h is c a p a c it ie s a s a human b e in g . ”He
c a l le d h im s e lf ,” Ralph B oeder rem arks, ” ’a m ira cu lo u s
I
m on ster o f m ankind1— and was i t n o t tru e? H is lo n -
: i
s t r o s i t y was h is enormous hum anity which made th a t o f
, norm al men seem stu n te d and m ean .”X D He a t t e s t e d t o
h is f a i t h in hum anity by h is w h o leh ea rted , e n t h u s ia s t ic
i
j p a r t ic ip a t io n in l i f e . H is re sp o n se t o a l l th e p le a s u r e s j
o f th e s e n s e s was keen; but h is v i t a l i t y by no means
l^ ch u b b , p . 4 5 1 .
15A retino wrote a book c a lle d The Humanity o f
C h r is t.
l^The Man o f th e R en a issa n ce (New York, 1 9 3 3 ),
p . 511*
21
ex h a u sted i t s e l f t h e r e . I t c h a r a c te r iz e d e q u a lly h is
| em o tio n a l r e s p o n s e s , w hich in any d ir e c t io n were
I im petuous and ex trem e. I f he co u ld be f i e r c e in h is - j
! i
j an ger and r u t h le s s ly v i n d i c t i v e , he was b o u n d less in
!
i
g e n e r o s it y and had a sp o n ta n eo u s, in e x h a u s tib le warmth
! i
o f f e e l i n g f o r e v e r y human b e in g . H is f r ie n d s h ip s , in j
t h e i r com plete c o n fid e n c e and f i d e l i t y , were a r e a l i z a
t io n o f th e R en a issa n ce i d e a l . I f he was j o y f u l l y ,
n o n c h a la n tly ready t o lo v e any and a l l women, he had fo r
i
th r e e women in h is l i f e a d eep , s in c e r e d e v o tio n , and j
f o r one o f them a p a s s io n t h a t n o t in d if f e r e n c e , i n g r a t i- j
tude or b e tr a y a l co u ld ch a n g e. For th e two d a u g h ters |
born to him in h is l a t e r y e a r s he had th e t e n d e r e s t !
i
p a te r n a l s o l i c i t u d e . He shared in th e p a s s io n a te j
i
i n t e l l e c t u a l l i f e o f th e R en a issa n ce , i t s e a g e r n e ss fo r l
t
know ledge, i t s en th u sia sm f o r b ea u ty and th e e x p r e s s io n
o f b e a u ty . He sh a red , t o o , i t s in d ep en d en t s p i r i t ; "a !
f r e e man by th e grace o f God," as he c a lle d h im s e lf , he j
!
f e l t k e e n ly h i s d ig n it y a s an in d iv id u a l and would l e t |
i
no one en croach on h is r ig h t t o th in k , sp eak , and l i v e j
a s he p le a s e d . I t was f o r t h i s th a t h is b i t t e r e s t ;
a tta c k s were d ir e c te d a g a in s t h y p o c r is y , and t h a t he j
p rid ed h im s e lf in sp ea k in g th e tr u th t o everyon e T s f a c e . J
I t was t h i s lo v e o f freedom th a t arou sed h is in d ig n a tio n
22
a t th e d eg ra d a tio n o f human b e in g s in th e s t i l l fe u d a l
c o u r t s , and th e same s p i r i t made him th e champion o f
a r t i s t i c g e n iu s a g a in s t th e ty ra n n y o f c o n v e n tio n .
I t i s t r u e , a s De S a n c tis s a y s , t h a t A re tin o was
a m oral a n a r c h is t; but from h is own p o in t o f v iew — and
th a t o f h i s a g e— he liv e d by th e deep u n reserv ed f a i t h
he had in l i f e .
CHAPTER I I
THE W O RK S OF PIETRO ARETINO
The L e tte r s
1 The major l i t e r a r y works o f A retin o are th e L e tt e r s ,
: i
th e R agion am en ti, th e f i v e co m ed ies, and th e tr a g e d y ,
L 'O r a z ia .^ The L e t t e r s , which c o n s t it u t e A r e tin o 1s m ost
volum inous work, c o n s is t o f s i x v o lu m es, w hich he
p u b lish e d from 1537 t o 1 5 5 7 •2 A re tin o * s l e t t e r s a re an
in v a lu a b le sou rce o f in fo r m a tio n on th e s ix t e e n t h
i ^Among what may be c a l le d th e m inor l i t e r a r y works
are th e fo llo w in g : th e "P asq u in ad es” ; th e " G iu d iz i” *
' ( P r o g n o s tic a tio n s ); th e E r o tic S o n n e ts; th e D ia lo g u e o f I
I th e C ourts and th e D ia lo g u e o f th e Sp eak in g C ards; "the
I u n fin is h e d e p ic s , La M ariT sa, L * A n g elica , LT A s t o lf e id a ;
i th e mock e p ic , L’ OrTandino; th e r e l i g i o u s w orks: The
1 Humanity o f C h r is t , th e G e n e s is , th e L iv es o f th e “T T rgin
j Mary, S a in t C a th e r in e , S a in t Thomas A qu in as; P arap hrases i
o f th e Seven P e n it e n t ia l Psalm s o f D avid . j
1 2 I
^The f i r s t com p lete e d it io n o f th e L e tte r s was i
p u b lish e d in P a r is , 160S-9* A c r i t i c a l e d it io n was j
begun by F au sto N ic o lin i b u t o n ly two volum es have i
j appeared (B a r i, V o l. I , 1913; V o l. I I , 1 9 1 6 ). In th e
I n tr o d u c tio n t o h is b ook , A r e tin o , Uomo L ibero p er
G razia d i D io , A lessa n d ro d e l V ita s t a t e s th a t he has
u nd ertak en th e e d it io n o f A r e tin o T s l e t t e r s , w ith F*
j F lo r a , b ut a p p a r e n tly th e work h as n o t been com pleted*
j An E n g lis h t r a n s la t io n o f a number o f th e l e t t e r s has
| been in c lu d e d by Samuel Putnam in h is t r a n s la t io n o f a
: s e l e c t i o n from A r e tin o T s w orks: P ie tr o A r e tin o — Works
T r a n sla te d in t o E n g lis h (C h ica g o , 19^ 6)— p u b lish e d fo r
s u b s c r ib e r s ” 'o n ly by P. C o v ic i. No com p lete E n g lis h
t r a n s la t io n o f th e l e t t e r s seem s t o have been m ade.
U n le ss o th e rw ise s t a t e d , th e p a ssa g e s c it e d from
th e L e tte r s in t h i s d is s e r t a t io n are my t r a n s la t io n from
th e abovem e'ntioned e d it io n by F . N i c o l i n i .
}
i c e n tu r y . They r e p r e se n t a co rresp o n d en ce, k ep t up over
I
; tw en ty y e a r s , w ith th e most n o ta b le p erso n s o f th e age
in c lu d in g C h a rles V, F r a n c is I , Thomas C rom w ell, Pope
Clement V II, T it ia n , T in t o r e t t o , M ic h e la n g e lo , p r in c e s , j
p r e l a t e s , la d ie s o f th e I t a l i a n c o u r ts — and even th e |
T urkish Solim an and th e p i r a t e , B a r b a ro ssa . Through h is
l e t t e r s A retin o e x e r c is e d an e x tr a o r d in a r y in flu e n c e : he
I
a d v ise d r u le r s o f s t a t e s , m ed iated betw een them , d ir e c te d !
j
in t e r n a t io n a l p o l i c i e s , som etim es tu rn ed th e t id e o f j
I
h i s t o r i c a l e v e n t s . By th e s e l e t t e r s he c a r r ie d on h is
I p e r s o n a l and e x tre m e ly e f f e c t i v e form o f b la c k m a il,
<
i
! e x a c tin g t h e i r t r ib u t e from th e p r in c e s o f th e w o rld ,
j A c tu a lly , A r e tin o f s l e t t e r s were a form o f jo u r n a lism ,
j and th e in flu e n c e th e y e x e r c is e d was due t o h is power
i
| over p u b lic o p in io n , a power com parable to th a t o f a
!
| modern newspaper* E very l e t t e r A retin o w rote was
j p o t e n t i a l l y an open o n e, and i t was h is g i f t f o r e x p r e s s -
J in g what p eo p le th o u g h t, or were ready t o adopt a s t h e i r
th o u g h t, as w e ll as h is u n f a ilin g p o s s e s s io n o f th e
f a c t s , th a t gave w eig h t to h i s words* When, in a l e t t e r ,
he th r e a te n e d t o a tta c k t h i s or t h a t g r e a t p e r so n , th e
i danger was f e l t t o be a r e a l one; and h is p r a is e had
[ p r o p o r tio n a te v a lu e . "He s p e c u l a t e s ,” sa y s De S a n c t is ,
i
” on f e a r . . . . He p u ts a p r ic e on calum ny, s i l e n c e ,
25
and p r a i s e ."3 A retin o h im s e lf a s s e r t e d th a t h is fame
and in flu e n c e came t o him b ecau se he a lo n e in an age o f
h y p o c r isy dared t o speak th e tr u th out lo u d . The words
j th a t in h is o p in io n d e sc r ib e d him w ere " p arla male ma
d ic e i l vero" (he sp eak s e v i l but he t e l l s th e t r u t h ) . ^ j
However th a t may b e , he made h im s e lf so red o u b ta b le t o
th e p o w erfu l men o f h is tim e th a t A r io s to gave him th e
t i t l e o f "Scourge o f P r in c e s ," and he a cq u ired a h o st o f
i l l u s t r i o u s "patrons" who v ie d w ith each o th e r in w in n in g
h is fa v o r by means o f p e n sio n s and c o s t l y g i f t s . In a
l e t t e r o f J u ly 6 , 1 5 4 1 , he d e c la r e s : "I have 600 sc u d i j
o f in com e, b e s id e s a n o th er thousand t h a t I procure m y s e lf j
y e a r ly w ith a sh e a f o f paper and a b o t t l e o f in k ." O n
I a m edal b e a r in g h is e f f i g y he had th e w ords engraved:
"The p r in c e s pay t r ib u t e to t h e i r s la v e ."
1 A few p a ssa g e s from th e l e t t e r s w i l l i l l u s t r a t e
; A r e tin o f s manner o f d e a lin g w ith h i s p a tr o n s . He w r ite s
th u s to th e k in g o f F ran ce, F r a n c is I , about th e lo n g -
i
! prom ised g o ld en ch a in w hich has f i n a l l y a r r iv e d a f t e r
f :
| !
! 3p rancesco De S a n c tis , S to r ia d e lla L e tter a tu ra
I t a l i a n s (M ilano, 1 9 1 7 ), I I , 1 0 0 .
^A l i n e from La T a la n ta . — That F r a n c is I had a
d if f e r e n t o p in io n oT him i s shown in h i s g i f t t o A re tin o
o f a n e c k la c e made up o f r u b y -tip p e d g o ld en to n g u es and
b e a rin g th e in s c r ip t io n : " lin g u a e iu s lo q u e tu r mendacium"
( l e t t e r t o F r a n c is I , King o f F ra n ce, November 1 0 , 1533)*
26 I
I
months o f d ela y :
T r u ly , i f I w ish ed t o p r a is e th e g i f t o f th e n e c k la c e ,
I sh o u ld n ot be sp ea k in g th e t r u t h , f o r one can n ot i
c a l l t h a t a g i f t fo r w hich hope h as consumed i t s e l f !
w ith w a it in g . . . . Were i t n o t t h a t I know your j
g o o d n ess t o be m e a su r e le ss and fr e e o f g u i l t in th e J
m a tte r , so t h a t I am co n v in ced you th ou gh t I had lo n g
ago r e c e iv e d i t , I would u n le a sh a l l th e to n g u es t h a t
are t i e d t o th e c h a in , and make them s e t up such a
clam or t h a t th e r o y a l t r e a s u r e r s would f e e l th e e f f e c t s
o f i t f o r some tim e t o come and would perhaps le a r n t o
send prom ptly what th e k in g g iv e s r e a d i ly . (November
1 0 , 1533)5
In a l e t t e r t o C ard in al C a r a c c io lo , he i n s i s t s on th e
f
|
payment o f th e a r r e a r s on a p e n sio n g ra n ted him by ;
i
C h arles V. He so c o n clu d es: j
B u t, d id I suppose t h a t anyone sh ou ld th in k th a t my J
in s is t e n c e on having t h i s money were due t o th e i
m eanness o f my n a tu r e , I w ould p o in t out to him th a t |
my j u s t r e q u e st w i l l do more t o enhance th e honor o f
him who g ra n ted me th e p en sio n than i t can e v e r do to
r e lie v e th e penury t o w hich f a t e d e s tin e d me on th e
day I was born in a c h a r ity h o s p it a l w ith th e so u l o f
a k in g . (January 7 , 153 7 )6
He w r it e s t o A ntonio da L eva, a p ow erfu l lo r d , t o
rem ind him o f a c e r t a in prom ise made but n ot k ep t:
I have been e le c t e d to pronounce on w hich i s more
u s e f u l f o r one who l i v e s in th e hope o f a n o th e r ’ s !
fa v o r , a prompt "no” or a " y e s” t h a t la g s a lo n g th e
w ay. C e r ta in ly , in m a tte r s o f t h i s s o r t I have had
ev e r y p o s s ib le e x p e r ie n c e , and t h a t b eca u se I am
fo r e v e r h angin g on th e prom ise o f t h i s or t h a t lo r d ,
5 p ie tr o A retin o , L e tte r s , ed - Fausto N ic o lin i
(B a r i, 1 9 1 3 ), I , 43-
6L e tt e r e , I , 102-103
w hich a l l to o o fte n i s fo r g o tte n or sh a m e fu lly d e n ie d .
And my d e c is io n in such a d eb ate i s in fa v o r o f a
prompt " n o ,” b ecau se i t k i l l s a t once and n o t by
j m inute d e g r e e s . . . . What a hard th in g i t i s f o r a
l p a tro n who w ish es to reward a v ir tu o u s man t o sa y :
! "Go and 'g iv e him t h i s t " — I s i t p o s s ib le t h a t w ith a
j s o u l so g r e a t th a t from k n ig h t i t has made you p r in c e ,
j you fe a r t o send me what you have f r e e ly prom ised?
! (May 2 , 1535)7
|
j The w ea lth th a t A retin o e x to r te d in " tr ib u te s " he
j im m ed ia tely sp en t* B e s id e s th e n eed s o f h is own e x tr a v -
! agan t n a tu r e , he had t o fe e d and c lo th e th e innum erable
p r o te g e s t o whom, in a s p i r i t o f b oth g e n e r o s it y and
o s t e n t a t io n , he opened h is h o u se . He d e s c r ib e s th e
con cou rse o f p eo p le who d a ily crowded t o h is door t o
make demands on h is l i b e r a l i t y :
My sta ir w a y i s worn w ith th e p a s s in g o f f e e t , l i k e th e
pavem ent o f th e C arapidoglio by th e w h e els o f triu m p h al
c h a r io t s . Nor do I th in k Rome . . . e v e r saw such a
co n g lo m era tio n o f p eo p le as t h a t w hich crowds t o my
house . . . T urks, Jew s, I n d ia n s , Frenchmen, Germans
; and S p an iard s . . . and you may w e ll im agine i f th e re
j are I t a l i a n s . . . I som etim es th in k I have become th e
| o r a c le o f t r u t h , s in c e everyon e comes t o t e l l me o f
th e wrong done him by t h i s p r in c e and t h a t p r e l a t e ; so
t h a t I have become s e c r e ta r y t o th e w hole w orld . . . .
(November 1 7 , 1537)«
Everyone runs t o me, a s i f I were th e d is p e n s e r o f th e
r o y a l t r e a s u r y . I f a poor woman i s w ith c h i l d , my
house p r o v id e s fo r h er n eed s; i f one i s im p r iso n ed , I
have t o se e t o i t . B a tte r e d s o l d i e r s , woebegone
7Lettere, I, 54-55*
^Lettere Scelte di Pietro Aretino, ed. Guido
Battelli (Lanciano, 1^X3) > P* 47^
zt
pilgrims, knights errant of all sorts, all find their
way to my house. . . . Don’t wonder, then, if I am
always crying out that I die of hunger. (March 20,
1562)9
Aretino insisted that by his life he was an example
that should be taken to heart by all men of merit. He
boasted of the poverty in which he was born in order to
point out the greatness he had achieved solely by his
own energy and talents. By his writings, he claimed, he
had saved virtue from debasement and set her on a
pedestal:
I have written what I have written in defense of that
virtue whose glory was darkened by the avarice of the
great. Before me . . . the virtuous had to beg the
honest comforts of life, and if anyone found refuge
from the torments of necessity, he obtained it as a
buffoon and not as a person of merit. My pen, armed
with its terrors, has forced the doors to open to men
of intelligence . . . Therefore, the good ought to
hold me dear, because to the last drop of blood, I
have always fought for virtue, and it is thanks to me
alone if in our times she dresses in brocade, drinks
from golden cups and goes about adorned with gems.
. . . For he is a villain who does not admit that I
have restored her to her ancient state. (April 3,
1537)10
Aretino’s influence with rulers and leaders was not,
however, solely based on the fear he inspired in them or
the reputation they hoped he would make for them. He
^Lettere Scelte , p. 1 + 8.
l^Lettere, I, 129•
I 29
I
; was also recognized as a sagacious and shrewd adviser
i
i on European affairs. He had not wasted his time at the
court of Some, which was even then the first school of
I intrigue in Europe. He had an innate sense of diplomacy !
: i
J and a fine psychological instinct of the right way to !
deal with people. He was, therefore, constantly called
upon to mediate between princes, to intercede with one
for the other, to gain vantage points by his arts of
persuasion. From his secure and quiet observatory in |
Venice, Aretino watched with keen interest the game J
j which France and Spain were playing for European dominion,1
i i
| and from time to time, with imperturbable confidence, he
I ;
I sent out the letters that would influence the moves of !
i
i
j the players. When, for example, Franeis I threatened to
I make an alliance with the Turks to spite Charles V,
i
! Aretino, seeing the disastrous consequences of such a
i
I step, addressed to the king of France some very bold
i
t
| reproaches:
; '
! Your majesty has heard of the excellent, religious and
magnanimous deliberation taken by the Venetians. You
1 know how, holding as naught their riches in the Orient,
| the treasures they drew from there, the blood that had
! been the eost of them, the unheard of offers made them
by the Turks, they have, together with Peter and with
Caesar, turned their forces of land and sea to the
service of Christ. By reason of which, the world is
put in mind to ask you what power prevails in your
royal breast: the hate you bear to others, or the love
you bear to God. If hate be the stronger, look to
your title of ’ ’ most Christian” ... if love be
I 30
i
greater, then behold the Holy League, which not only
opens its arms to receive you, but with the deepest
respect embraces you. And therefore, recollect your
self, and think that God, who has given you the most
I beautiful of kingdoms, the most generous nature
I breathing, the deepest understanding and the most
lovable grace, does not merit that you should depart
I from his servants to join his adversaries— leaving
the world to think that royal virtue and goodness have
been won over by obstinate perfidy. (September I S ,
1 537)11
A re tin o * s diplom acy was put t o a d i f f i c u l t t e s t when
in 1527 C h arles V*s army o f m erc en a rie s overran I t a l y and
in vaded Home. The N ordic b a rb a ria n sj once u n le a sh e d ,
became u n c o n t r o lla b le . They sacked th e c i t y , d estro y ed
art works, pillaged, burned, plundered. The Pope was
/
forced to retreat to Castel SantTAngelo, where he was
i
held in a state of siege. Charles V himself feared the
danger to Christianity from the destruction of its
capital city, yet knew not how to avert it. Aretino
1
| saw that the only hope lay in an immediate reconciliation
j between the Pope and the emperor. This he brought about
| by means of two letters, so skilfully contrived that he
i
| avoided wounding the pride of either party, but made
I
I
eaeh one see that his virtual triumph lay in an apparent
submission to his antagonist.
To the emperor he wrote, exhorting him to liberate
Clement VII:
l l L e t t e r e , I , 235*
1
31 !
I t i s tr u e th a t f e l i c i t y w axes w ith more v ig o r a s i t
grow s; and th a t i s shown in th e ca se o f your m a je sty ,
in whose power fo r tu n e and v ir t u e have p la c e d th e
l i b e r t y o f th e Pope, even b e fo r e th e d oors o f th e
p r is o n were sh ut from w hich you r escu ed th e k in g
L F rancis 1 3 , t o conquer him w ith com passion a s you
had won him by arm s. I t i s w ith good rea so n t h a t
everyon e p ro cla im s you t o be a c r e a tu r e o f God, whose
go o d n ess makes you e x e r c is e H is clem ency; b eca u se no
one e l s e co u ld p e r s e v e r e in su ch a t a s k , and o n ly you
have a s o u l cap ab le o f r e c e iv in g th e f u l l n e s s o f H is
m ercy, w hich i s l i k e a sco u rg e t o th e h u m ilia te d
p e r v e r s it y o f th e w ick ed , who b eh o ld th e m se lv e s
p u n ish ed by g e n t le n e s s .
But i f such clem en cy , shadow o f th e arm o f God, has
d escen ded in t o you r m ind, who doubts but t h a t th e
P a sto r o f th e Church i s a lr e a d y d e liv e r e d from th e
c a p t i v i t y in w hich he had been p la c e d . . . by H eaven, |
w hich ch ose t o send o v er th e Court a wind o f a d v e r s it y , i
p e r m ittin g th a t w hich Rome h as s u f f e r e d . But l e s t th e |
j u s t i c e o f your m ercy assume th e cou n tenan ce o f
c r u e lt y , may i t p le a s e you now th a t r u in sh o u ld |
p ro ceed no f u r t h e r . B ehold in your power P ity and
th e Pope; r e ta in th e one and r e le a s e th e o th e r . . . . !
Among a l l th e crowns w hich you have won and th o se
w hich God and d e s t in y owe t o th e rem ainder o f you r
i l l u s t r i o u s l i f e , th e r e w i l l n o t be found one more
w orthy o f a d m ir a tio n . (May 2 0 , 1527)12 j
i
To Clem ent V II, he r e p r e se n te d th e em peror a s an J
i
in stru m en t o f God, who v in d ic a t e s h is ch osen by in s c r u
t a b le means:
T h erefo re be c o n so le d in you r a f f l i c t i o n s , s in c e G od's
w i l l has put you under th e a r b it r a t io n o f C aesar, so
t h a t you may a t once e x p e r ie n c e d iv in e m ercy and human
clem en cy . . . n o r doubt t h a t God w i l l uphold th e
r e lig i o n o f H is Church, and t h a t , u p h o ld in g i t He w i l l
l^Lettere, I, 13-14.
32
s u s t a in you and s u s t a in in g , your f a l l i s o n ly in th e
appearance and n o t in fact. . . . Y et i t i s in f a c t
and n ot in appearance o n ly t h a t th e mind o f th e Pope
must p roceed th in k in g o f pardon and n o t o f ven gean ce;
fo r i f you w i l l ch o o se t o fo r g iv e r a th e r th an a v en g e,
you s e t y o u r s e lf an end b e f i t t i n g th e d ig n it y o f your
o f f i c e . And what a c t would be more ap t t o sp read
abroad your name o f Most H oly and Most B le s s e d than
th a t o f con q u erin g h a te w ith p ie t y and p e r fid y w ith
l i b e r a l i t y . . . . To Him who can do a l l , su rr en d e r
a l l , and su r r e n d e r in g , thank Him th a t a s th e emperor
i s th e s u s t a in in g fo r c e o f th a t f a i t h o f w hich you are
th e F a th e r , He h as g iv e n you up t o h i s power so th a t
you may str e n g th e n th e p ap al in t e n t io n s w ith th e
im p e r ia l w i l l , th a t th e g r e a t in c r e a s e o f your honors
may sh in e fo r th in ev e ry p a rt o f th e u n iv e r s e . (May
3 0 , 1 5 2 7) ^
Not a l l o f A r e tin o ’ s l e t t e r s , how ever, are concerned
w ith m a tters o f s t a t e . Many are p e r s o n a l a cc o u n ts o f h is j
d a ily l i f e , fran k and sp on tan eou s e x p r e s s io n s o f h is j
l o v e s , j e a l o u s i e s , a n g e r s , f r ie n d s h ip s — o f h i s p h il o s - j
I
ophy o f th e enjoym ent o f l i f e . I t i s in th e s e l e t t e r s
' e s p e c i a l l y th a t one f e e l s th e warmth and l i f e o f
| A r e tin o ’ s s t y l e . They have th a t q u a lit y o f in tim a c y
w hich Boeder c o n s id e r s A r e tin o ’ s g r e a t e s t :
I t was h is in tim a c y w hich made him im m o rta l. He was
I one o f th e f i r s t t o d is c o v e r th e a p p ea l o f th e
| p e r s o n a l, th e d ig n it y o f th e f a m ilia r and t r i v i a l ,
, th e s ig n if ic a n c e o f th e e v e r la s t in g d e t a i l o f l i f e .
• He opened th e e y e s o f h is re a d e rs t o th e l i t t l e ,
u n c o n sid e r e d , o b v io u s th in g s w hich th e y saw w ith o u t
I s e e in g them . . . Above a l l , h i s z e s t fo r l i f e was
i n f e c t i o u s . . . under th e b l u f f and h o llo w v a in
g l o r i e s o f th e p rop h et he p roclaim ed th a t l i f e was
en ou gh.
1 3 L e tte r e , I , 1 5 -1 6 .
-^R alph R oeder, The Man o f th e R en a issa n ce
(New York, 1 9 3 3 ), p p .’3 0 2 ^ 3 ”
33
i Here i s a l e t t e r t o a fr ie n d in Y e n ic e , in w hich he
| 9
| g iv e s h i s v ie w s on grow ing o ld :
f
I Worthy S ig n o r G ia m b a ttista , T iz ia n o , b r o th e r to me as
j I am t o him , t o ld you th e t r u t h , sa y in g t h a t I le a d a
| l i f e no l e s s gay th an i f th e h a ir o f my beard grew
! ou t o f my ch in as b la c k a s th e h a ir w hich hangs from
! my tem p le s i s w h ite ; I l i v e so b eca u se I have th e
im p r e ssio n th a t in so d o in g I am ta k in g my reven ge o f
tim e , m ocking h is y e a r s , in th e way t h a t I avenge
m y s e lf on fo r tu n e by sc o r n in g h er g r e a t n e s s . I know
w e ll t h a t th e p h ilo s o p h ic t r i b e w i l l brand me w ith
m adness, d e c la r in g t h a t I la c k in decorum . . . but
in sa y in g so th e y are w rong.
He ends th e l e t t e r sa y in g : " I, who n e v er b ore h a tred t o
any man in my y o u th , can n ot p rev en t m y s e lf from lo v in g
a l l women in my o ld a g e .” (Decem ber, 1 5 4 7 ) ^
There i s much lig h t n e s s and charm in th e somewhat
a r t i f i c i a l s t y l e o f th e l e t t e r s a d d ressed t o h is
f
' m is t r e s s e s :
i
; 0 S a r r a , woman im p ressed w ith g e n t le ways and o f
| lo v in g manners composed; i t i s c e r ta in t h a t a s th e
sun i s th e b ea u ty o f th e day and th e jo y o f th e sk y ,
; so you are th e h a p p in e ss o f lo v e r s and th e g ra c e o f
lo v e . (To A ngela S a rra , June, 154$)16
1
1
1 Ever s in c e fame went tru m p etin g about I t a l y t h a t lo v e
had made sad havoc o f me fo r your s a k e , I have alw ays
h e ld such fa v o r in h ig h e ste e m , fo r your ways a re f a r
from a l l d e c e i t . (To A n g io la Z a f f e t t a , December,
153 7 )1 7
15L e tter e S c e l t e , pp. 24-25
l^ L e tte r e S c e l t e , p . 64»
17 L ettere S c e l t e , p . 6 2 .
34
S ig n o ra M arina, i f ev e ry deform ed c r e a tu r e t h a t b ea rs
v ir t u e in i t s e l f i s b e a u t if u l, how s h a ll you be c a lle d
who a re above th e f a i r e s t f a i r and v ir tu o u s beyond th e
e x c e lle n c e o f v ir tu e ? Nor i s i t f i t t i n g m erely as a
j g o d d ess t o a d d ress you but as such t o adore you; and
i so do I a d d ress and a d o r e . (To Marina B asadonna, A p r il,
! 1 5 4 8 )1 ® ]
j j
! The l e t t e r s a d d ressed t o P erina R ic c ia , th e young
j j
• g i r l whom A retin o lo v e d w ith th e d e e p e st p a s s io n o f h is j
i
| l i f e , are o th e rw ise m ovin g. In th e fo llo w in g one in
w hich he a sk s h er t o r e tu r n t o V enice from a so jo u rn in j
th e co u n try th e r e i s a y ea rn in g te n d e r n e s s b en ea th th e j
p la y fu ln e s s :
i
The o ld w iv e s ’ s a y in g , my d a u g h ter, has i t t h a t an ;
h o n e st b a rg a in d oes n o t adm it d e c e i t . S in c e you and I
M aster P o lo , w ith C a te r in a , th e boy and th e m aid, !
asked my p erm issio n t o s ta y in th e co u n try e ig h t d a y s, 1
te n have gone b y . I t seem s t o me t h a t you a re due t o '
r e tu rn home. . . . You w i l l see w heth er th e Gambarare i
seem more w orthy o f este em th an t h i s tow n , o r i f th e
B ren ta be more jocund o f a sp e c t th a n th e Canal G rande.
; To my m ind, one sh o u ld s ta y in th e co u n try one week
i and no m ore, fo r in a b r i e f space o f tim e , th e open
j a i r , th e w ild n e s s o f th e p la c e and th e r u s t ic q u a lit y
i o f th e p eo p le may, w ith t h e ir n o v e lt y , fu r n is h a g r e e -
| a b le fo o d fo r th o u g h t and c o n v e r s a tio n . But upon th e
I e x p ir a tio n o f such a tim e , th e ru d en ess o f th e v i l l a g e
j w ith th e u n co u th n ess o f i t s in h a b it a n t s , tu r n s e v e r y
p le a s u r e in t o n o y a n ce, so th a t one must p e r fo r c e
| r e tu r n to com fort and c i v i l i z a t i o n . T h e r e fo r e , I
J a w a it you , as I f e e l m y s e lf in th e same to rm en t,
h avin g f i v e m ouths l e s s t o f e e d , th a t a c a r d in a l would i
f e e l , b e in g fa ced w ith one m ore. . . . B e s id e s t h i s , |
i your w onted p le a s a n t w ays, my d a u g h ter, are a sw eet
nourishm ent to th e y e a r s t h a t are b eg in n in g n o t t o l e t
me l i v e . . . . (V e n ic e , August 3 0 , 1537)^9
3-^ L e tter e S c e l t e , p . 67*
1 9 L e tte r e , I , 21& -219-
35
There i s a to u c h in g s i n c e r i t y , t o o , in th e l e t t e r s
in w hich A retin o sp eak s o f h is d a u g h te r s. In w r itin g
| to S e b a stia n o d e l Piom bo, th e g o d fa th e r o f h is f i r s t
j c h ild , A d ria , he t e l l s him a l l th e p r e c a r io u s jo y s and j
I |
I th e s o l i c i t u d e s o f a fa th e r : !
; I
I
! I no so o n er b eh eld my s e e d , b ea rin g my sem b lan ce, than
I was so in vad ed by th e te n d e r n e s s o f n a tu re th a t I
f e l t a t t h a t moment a l l th e sw e e tn e ss o f t i e s o f
b lo o d . . . . I d id n o t so o n er send you word, b ecau se
we fe a r e d a t ev ery hour th a t she m ight ta k e f l i g h t to
H eaven. But C h r ist p re se rv e d h er f o r me, t o be th e
s o la c e o f my ta r d y a g e , a s w itn e s s o f th e b e in g w hich
a n o th er t o me and I t o h er g a v e , fo r w hich I thank
Him and pray He may gra n t me t o l i v e u n t i l I s e e h er
m a rried . M eanw hile, I must n eed s become h er p la y th in g ,
! fo r we a re th e clow ns o f our c h ild r e n . In t h e i r
' s im p lic i t y th e y are a t e v e r y moment clim b in g o v er u s ,
| p u llin g our b e a r d s, pum m elling our f a c e s , d is h e v e llin g !
! our h a ir — and th e c o in we are p a id fo r t h i s i s th e
k i s s e s w ith w hich we devour them , th e em braces w ith ;
which we b ind them to u s . There i s no jo y t o eq u a l i
such a o n e, i f th e fe a r o f th e dangers th a t menace
them d id n o t keep our s o u l a t ev ery hour in su sp e n se .
Not a l e a f f a l l s , n o t a h a ir i s borne through th e a i r ,
1 t h a t i t d o es n o t seem a le a d e n w eig h t w h ich , f a l l i n g
I on t h e i r h e a d s, m ight k i l l them; nor d oes n a tu re e v e r
break t h e i r s le e p or c lo y t h e i r a p p e t it e , th a t we do
not f e a r fo r t h e i r h e a lt h , so t h a t th e sw eet i s
s tr a n g e ly m ixed w ith th e b i t t e r , and th e more lo v a b le
th e y a r e , th e sh arp er i s th e f e a r o f t h e i r l o s s . God
p r e se r v e me my d a u g h ter, f o r c e r t a i n l y , from th e
in d e s c r ib a b le gra ce o f h er b e in g , I sh ould c e a se t o
i l i v e were sh e b u t t o s u f f e r h u r t, l e t a lo n e d i e .
J (V e n ic e, June 1 5 , 1537)^ 0
i
J A r e tin o 1s m ost h e a r t f e l t and c o r d ia l fr ie n d s h ip s
were w ith th e a r t i s t s in whose work he took deep i n t e r e s t
and p le a s u r e . H is c l o s e s t f r ie n d s in V en ice were
2C>Lettere, I , 175 •
| S an sovin o and T itia n * In c e le b r a t io n o f t h e i r f r ie n d -
i
s h ip , S an sovin o put th e lik e n e s s e s o f h im s e lf , A r e tin o ,
and T itia n among th e s c u lp tu r e d f a c e s o f th e E v a n g e lis ts
on th e d oors o f th e s a c r i s t y o f S a in t Mark’ s* Here i s
; an in v i t a t i o n to d in n er a d d ressed to T itia n :
1 A p a ir o f p h e a sa n ts and I don’t know what e l s e aw ait
| you a t su p p er, t o g e t h e r w ith Madame A n g io la Z a f f e t ta
i and m y se lf; t h e r e f o r e come, so t h a t by c o n t in u a lly
J ta k in g our p le a s u r e , o ld a g e , th e spy o f d e a th , may
n ev er r e p o r t t o h er t h a t we are o ld ; f o r when we two
d is g u is e age w ith th e mask o f y o u th , i t i s not so
e a s y t o d is c o v e r th e burden o f our y e a r s ; w hich b ein g
m a tu re, tu rn g reen a g a in fo r th o s e who know how t o
l i v e them a g r e e a b ly . (Decem ber, 1 5 4 7 ) ^
A nother t o S an sovin o:
T iz ia n o , A n ich in o and I aw ait you a t su p p er, nor be
d e te r r e d from coming to u s by c o n s id e r a tio n s o f th e
r e s p e c t owed t o L en t, fo r in con sequ en ce o f i t s
t r e a t in g you so b a d ly w ith i t s f a s t s , i t has been
I d ecreed th a t you sh o u ld r a th e r break i t th an t h a t
i t sh ou ld break y o u . T h erefore don’t l e t your
! f r ie n d s la c k your company. (F eb ru ary, 1550 )2 2
i
! In o th e r l e t t e r s , A re tin o sp eak s t o th e a r t i s t o f
J h is work and, d e s c r ib in g a s ta tu e or p a in t in g , t r i e s t o
I
I
g iv e by th e power o f words th e same im p r e ssio n t h a t th e
| a r t i s t has g iv e n by form and c o l o r . W e a re rem inded o f
i
! th e many tim e s S penser and S id n ey were t o a ttem p t th e
j same t h in g , moved a s was A r e tin o by th e im p o s sib le
i
j a s p ir a t io n o f g iv in g to lan gu age th e same power o f v is u a l
2 lL e tte r e S c e l t e , p . 70*
22L ettere S c e l t e , p . 70.
! r e p r e s e n ta tio n a s th e p l a s t i c a r t s : u t p ic tu r a p o e s i s .
i
i
; A r e tin o tu rn ed t o th e v i s u a l a r t s o f th e R en a issa n ce
t
I f o r h is m o d els, fin d in g in them a tr u th and v ig o r in th e
r e p r e s e n ta tio n o f n atu re t h a t th e l i t e r a t u r e o f th e age
; e n t i r e l y la c k e d . In th e work o f th e p a in te r s and s c u lp -
j
t o r s he "was aware o f a d e s ir e to c a r v e , p a in t , b u ild ,
g iv e form t o an e n t ir e w orld whose a s p e c ts elu d ed th e
p r o f e s s io n a l men o f l e t t e r s , ab sorb ed a s th e y were in a
rem ote p a s t t h a t cou ld no lo n g e r liv e ." ^ 3 in h is
com m ents, in t e r p r e t a t io n s , and w o r d -r e c r e a tio n s o f
I
p a in t in g s , A re tin o t r i e d t o ca p tu re t h e i r s e c r e t o f
c o lo r , t o n e , l i g h t , harmony, rhythm , in ord er to b rin g
| th e s e q u a l i t i e s in t o h is s t y l e . A l e t t e r o f November 9 ,
j 1537> t o T itia n p r a is e s h i s p a in t in g o f th e "A nnunciation"
} and r e p a in ts f o r him , in w ord s, th e p ic tu r e a s th e w r it e r
I
j s e e s i t . A re tin o i s e s p e c i a l l y im p ressed by th e v iv id
se n so r y d e t a i l s o f th e p ic tu r e and th e n a tu r a l re n d er in g
o f f e e l i n g by a t t it u d e and g e s tu r e :
j The Holy S p i r i t , surrounded by th e b la z e o f h i s g lo r y ,
j makes u s alm ost h ear th e b e a tin g o f th e w in gs o f th e
dove whose shape he has ta k e n . The rainbow t h a t spans
th e sky o v er th e l i t t l e v i l l a g e b a r e ly illu m in a te d by
th e l i g h t o f dawn i s more r e a l than th e one we se e in
th e ev e n in g a f t e r a sh ow er. But what are we t o sa y o f
G a b r ie l, th e d iv in e m essenger? F i l l i n g e v e r y th in g w ith
23A ntonio F o s c h in i, L *A retino (M ilan o, 1 9 5 1 ),
p p . S 1 -S 2 .
33
l i g h t , and s h in in g about th e room w ith a str a n g e
b r ig h tn e s s , he k n e e ls so g e n t ly , w ith th e a t t it u d e j
o f r e v e r e n c e , t h a t we can n ot but b e lie v e t h a t in j u s t j
such fa s h io n he p r e s e n te d h im s e lf t o Mary. He has a
c e l e s t i a l m a je sty on h i s co u n ten a n ce. . . . H is head
i s tu rn ed a s id e in m o d esty , w h ile a sw eet g r a v it y ;
lo w er s h is e y e s; th e h a ir , c u r le d in d e lic a t e r i n g l e t s j
ap p ears s l i g h t l y d isa r r a n g e d . The ro b e, o f a th in
y e llo w s t u f f , e o v e r s h i s n ak ed n ess w ith o u t c o n c e a lin g
i t . . • and seem s t o p la y w ith th e w in d . Nor were
th e r e e y e r seen w in gs t o eq u a l h i s f e a t h e r s f o r r ic h - |
n e s s and s o f t n e s s . And th e l i l y he b ea rs in h is l e f t I
hand s h in e s w ith a m arvelou s l i g h t and fr a g r a n c e . !
F in a lly , th e mouth t h a t formed th e g r e e t in g th a t was j
our s a lv a t io n , seem s t o e x p r e s s in a n g e lic n o te s : i
"Ave ." 24 j
In a n o th er l e t t e r o f O ctober 2 9 , 1 5 3 7 , sp ea k in g o f
T i t i a n f s S a in t P e te r M artyr, he sa y s o f th e p r o s tr a te
f ig u r e o f th e s a in t in th e fo reg ro u n d t h a t , lo o k in g upon j
him , one rea d s na l l th e l i v i n g t e r r o r s o f d ea th and th e i
I
tr u e sorrow s o f l i f e upon h i s fo reh ea d and h is b ody."
He n o te s w ith wonder th e r e a lis m o f d e t a il: "the co ld
and l i v i d p a llo r th a t ap p ears a t th e t i p o f th e n o se and
th e e x t r e m itie s o f th e body" o f th e d yin g s a in t and "the
w h ite n e s s o f cow ardice and th e p a llo r o f fea r " d e p ic te d
on th e fa c e o f h is f le e in g com panion. And in th e back
ground, "what a q u ie t l i t t l e v i l l a g e , g a th ered up in i t s
n a tu r a l s im p lic ity X What m ossy s to n e s washed by th e j
i
stream th a t g u sh es from th e brush o f th e d iv in e
T iz ia n o ." 2 ^
24 L e t t e r e , I , 272-273*
2^ L e tte r e , I , 259*
j Som etim es, h a v in g th u s serv ed an a p p r e n tic e s h ip to
i
i h i s m a ste r s, A re tin o p a in ts h is own p ic t u r e s in w ords-
! The l e t t e r i s famous in w h ich , h a v in g le a r n e d o f
I M ic h e la n g e lo ’ s in t e n t io n o f d oin g th e ’ ’L ast Judgm ent,”
2 fs
| he g iv e s him in f u l l d e t a i l a p la n fo r th e p ic t u r e . °
I |
j In th e fo llo w in g l e t t e r o f May 1544 to T it ia n ,
I i
I A r e tin o d e s c r ib e s t o him a su n se t w hich he w atched over
i
th e Canal G rande:
Having . . . c o n tr a r y t o my custom , d in ed a lo n e , or ;
more p r e c is e l y , in th e company o f th a t quartan f e y e r
th a t no lo n g e r l e t s me en jo y th e f la v o r o f any fo o d ,
I g o t up from th e t a b le f i l l e d o n ly w ith t h a t d e sp a ir
w ith w hich I had s a t down t o i t ; and th e n , le a n in g my
arms on th e w in d o w -s ill and r e c lin in g upon i t my c h e s t
and a lm o st my w hole body, I gave m y s e lf o v er t o th e
; co n tem p la tio n o f th e f in e s p e c ta c le o ffe r e d by th e |
] innum erable b o a ts , w h ich , f i l l e d no l e s s w ith v i s i t o r s j
than w ith to w n sp e o p le , were r e c r e a tin g n ot m erely th e
s p e c ta to r s but th e Canal Grande i t s e l f . . . . And
a f t e r th e fun o f th e ra ce o f two g o n d o la s , rowed by
c e le b r a te d boatm en, was f in i s h e d , I found much p le a su r e
in th e s ig h t o f th e crowd w h ich , to s e e th e r e g a t t a ,
had stop p ed on th e b rid g e o f th e R ia lt o , on th e bank
o f th e C am erlinghi and th e P e s c a r ia . . . . And when
| t h e s e grou p s w ith happy a p p la u se went on t h e i r way,
J I , l i k e a man who h a s become a burden t o h im s e lf and
!
j
i
I
2 6 se e th e l e t t e r t o M ic h e la n g e lo , Septem ber 1 5 ,
1537- ( L e tte r s ,. I , 2 2 9 -2 3 1 ♦ ) M ic h e la n g e lo ’ s answ er was
r a th e r c r y p t ic : ’’M a g n ifice n t M aster P ie t r o , my lo r d and
b r o th e r , in r e c e iv in g your l e t t e r I e x p e r ie n c e d b oth
h a p p in e ss and p a in . I was happy in th a t i t came from
you who are unique fo r you r v ir t u e in th e w orld ; and I
was g r ie v e d in t h a t , h a v in g f in is h e d a g r e a t p a r t o f my
p ic t u r e , I cannot put in t o e x e c u tio n your c o n c e p tio n o f
i t , w hich i s such t h a t i f th e day o f judgment had a lr e a d y
come and you had p e r s o n a lly seen i t , your words co u ld n ot
b e t t e r have p ic tu r e d i t . ” (Rome, 1537)
; 40
j d o es n o t know what t o do w ith h i s mind o r h is th o u g h ts ,
j tu rn ed my e y e s t o th e sk y , w hich from th e day God
| c r e a te d i t was n ev er adorned by so b e a u t if u l a p la y o f
j l i g h t and shadow; fo r th e a i r was such a s th e y w ould
lo v e t o p a in t i t who envy y o u , n o t b e in g y o u , who can
s e e i t a s I t e l l you o f i t : f i r s t , th e h o u s e s , w hich j
a lth o u g h th e y are o f r e a l s to n e , seemed o f some u n r e a l
' s t u f f , and th en th e a i r . . . in some p la c e s pure and
b r ig h t , in o th e r s tu r b id and p a l e . C onsider th en my
wonder in th e c lo u d s . . . w hich in th e c e n te r w ere, j
some c lo s e to th e r o o fs o f th e b u ild in g s , some fu r th e r j
b a ck , w h ile th e r ig h t hand was a l l o f a vapor g o in g
in t o smoky b la c k . I was amazed a t th e v a r ie t y o f
c o lo r s th e y show ed. The c l o s e s t ones b la z e d w ith th e
fla m in g c o lo r s o f th e su n , and th e f u r t h e s t were o f th e
red glow o f le a d when i t i s n ot y e t a l i g h t . Oh, w ith
what b e a u t if u l s tr o k e s th e b ru sh e s o f n a tu re d is p la c e d
th e a i r , p u sh in g i t away from th e p a la c e s in th e way j
t h a t V e c e llio d is p la c e s i t in making h is la n d s c a p e s! !
There appeared in some p la c e s a b lu e -g r e e n , in o t h e r s , j
a g r e e n -b lu e , t r u ly m ixed by th e whim o f n a tu r e , m a ster !
o f m a sters* With what e f f e c t s o f l i g h t and dark d id j
she n o t b r in g in t o r e l i e f or p lu n ge in to shadow w h at- :
e v e r she p le a s e d t o lig h t e n or o b scu re , so t h a t th r e e
or fo u r tim e s I e x c la im e d , ”0 , T iz ia n o , where are you
i now?” By my f a i t h , i f you had p a in te d what I am t e l l -
j in g you , you would b rin g men in t o th a t amazement t h a t j
overcame me; f o r in th e co n tem p la tio n o f what I have
! t o ld y o u , I fe d my s o u l a s lo n g a s th e wonder o f th e
| p ic t u r e l a s t e d . 27
! A r e tin o ’ s l e t t e r s d e s c r ib in g V en ice may w e ll have
j c o n tr ib u te d , w ith th e ca n v a ses o f th e V en etia n p a in t e r s ,
j t o th e fo rm a tio n o f t h a t c u l t o f V en ice th a t runs through
I
] E n g lis h l i t e r a t u r e . Many E liz a b e th a n p la y s , S h a k esp ea re’ s
j O th e llo and Merchant o f V en ice among them , have fo r t h e i r
!
| background t h i s V en ice th a t A retin o so v i v i d l y p ic tu r e d
in w o rd s. B e sid e s th e one above q u o ted , th e r e are a
2 ? L e t t e r e S c e l t e , p p . 4 3 - 4 4 .
*
number o f A r e tin o T s l e t t e r s in w hich he d e s c r ib e s th e
town he had come t o lo v e . In th e fo llo w in g on e,
a d d resse d t o h is la n d lo r d , he e n t h u s i a s t i c a l l y p r a is e s
j
h is house and th e v iew he h as from h is windows: !
. . . For a s th e Canal Grande i s th e p a tr ia r c h o f !
ev ery o th e r c a n a l and V en ice th e Pope o f ev e ry o th e r ;
tow n, I can say in tr u th t h a t I en jo y th e m ost b e a u ti
f u l s t r e e t and th e m ost jocund v iew in th e w o rld . I
n ever lo o k out from my windows th a t I d on ’t se e a
thousand p erso n s and a s many g o n d o la s . . • . The
p ia z z e on my r ig h t a re th e B e c c a rie and th e P e s e a r ia ; |
on my l e f t are th e b rid g e and p a ssa g e o f th e T ed esch i; j
and fa c in g me I have th e R ia lt o , trod den by men o f i
b u s in e s s . I have game and b ir d s in th e sh o p s; k itc h e n -
gard en s and v in e y a r d s in th e c le a r in g s betw een th e
h o u s e s . Nor do I ca re about meadows w atered by
s t r e a m le ts , when a t dawn I lo o k out upon th e w a ters
covered w ith a l l th e f r u i t s t o be found in s e a s o n .
And how am using t o w atch th o s e who b rin g th e b o a tlo a d s
o f f r u i t s and v e g e ta b le s t o d is t r ib u t e them . . . .
But even th a t i s n o th in g t o th e s ig h t o f th e tw en ty or '
so s a il b o a t s f i l l e d w ith m elo n s, w h ich , h a v in g come «
t o g e t h e r , form a lm o st an is l a n d — and th e crowd runs up
t o t e s t th e m elo n s, s m e llin g them and w eig h in g them in
t h e i r h an d s. Of th e b e a u t if u l b r id e s , r a d ia n t in s i l k
and g o ld and j e w e ls , su p e rb ly en throned in t h e i r
v e s s e l s , I do n ot sp ea k , fo r f e a r o f dimming th e
sp len d o r o f t h e i r pomp. But I can t e l l y o u , I lau gh
t o s p l i t my s id e s when g u ffa w s and c r i e s and th e
w h is t le s o f th e boatmen f o llo w in th e wake o f th o s e
who have th e m se lv e s rowed by se r v a n ts n ot w ea rin g
s c a r le t s t o c k in g s . . • • And what o f th e l i g h t s t h a t
upon th e f a l l o f ev en in g a re l i k e s c a tt e r e d s t a r s ,
where th e t h in g s are s o ld th a t fu r n is h our d in n e r s
and our su p p ers; and what o f th e m usic th a t a t n ig h t
t i c k l e s our e a r s w ith th e concord o f i t s harm onies* !
. . . (O ctob er 2 7 , 1 5 3 7 ) 2&
T ogeth er w ith th e P r e fa c e s to h is dram atic w ork s,
A r e tin o ’ s co rresp o n d en ce c o n ta in s th e sta tem en t o f th o se
2^L ettere, I , 256-253
42
c r i t i c a l p r in c ip le s w hich make up h is l i t e r a r y canon,
and w hich he opposed t o th e l i t e r a r y sta n d a rd s o f h is
d a y . In th e s ix t e e n t h c e n tu r y , th e v ig o r and o r i g i n a l i t y
o f th e I t a l i a n R en a issa n ce were b eg in n in g t o f l a g .
C ultu re ten d ed t o become f ix e d and m e c h a n ic a l. W riters
p a id no a t t e n t io n t o th e l i v i n g , spoken lan gu age but
used an a r t i f i c i a l s t y l e , f i l l e d w ith L a tin e lem en ts
and b ased on th e v o ca b u la ry and p h r a se o lo g y o f B o cca ccio
and P e tr a r c h , who w ere regard ed as m odels o f p e r f e c t io n .
The g r e a t p reo c cu p a tio n was t o f i x th e a ch iev em en ts o f
th e p a s t and t o s e t them up as b a r r ie r s a g a in s t ch a n g e.
In F lo r e n c e , th e Academy La Crusca s e t up i t s v o ca b u la r y ,
b ased on u sage c o n se c r a te d by th e p a st " lik e colum ns o f
H e r c u le s," sa y s Be S a n c t is , "beyond w hich no one sh ou ld
p a s s . ” Bembo was f i x i n g gram m atical form s; th e r u le s
fo r a l l g en re s were e s t a b lis h e d by r h e t o r ic a l t r e a t i s e s
w hich were t r a n s la t io n s or a d a p ta tio n s o f A r i s t o t l e ,
C ic e r o , and Q u i n t i l li a n . That ten d en cy was a t work w hich
i s "a common phenomenon in a l l a g es when p ro d u c tio n i s
ex h a u sted and c u ltu r e g a th e r s i t s e l f in i t s form s and
c r y s t a l l i z e s •
I t was a g a in s t t h i s a r t i f i c i a l i t y , m echanism ,
s t e r i l e im it a t io n — w hich he summed up in th e one abhorred
29De S a n c t i s , I I , 1 0 6 .
43
name o f " p ed an try”— t h a t A retin o d ir e c te d h is r e v o l t .
! He i s an in t e r e s t i n g f ig u r e in l i t e r a r y c r it ic is m b ecau se
i
! he was one o f th e f i r s t to base h is r e v o lt on d e f in i t e
i |
I !
! p r in c ip le s w hich he opposed t o t r a d i t i o n . De S a n c tis !
I :
o b se r v e s:
There i s in him a c r i t i c a l c o n s c ie n c e so d ir e c t and
d ecid e d th a t in t h a t age i t can n ot but seem e x t r a
o r d in a r y . . . . Among so many p e d a n tic works produced
on a r t and w r it in g , h i s a r t i s t i c and l i t e r a r y l e t t e r s
mark th e f i r s t dawning o f an in d ep en d en t c r i t i c i s m ,
w hich g o es beyond books and t r a d i t i o n s and f in d s i t s
b a s is in n a tu r e .3 0
f I
| The c r i t i c a l pronouncem ents in A r e tin o T s l e t t e r s are j
!
I
! in s c a t t e r e d p a ssa g e s th ro u g h o u t th e co rresp o n d en ce, but
!
th e y i l l u s t r a t e a co h eren t v ie w . The two m a in sta y s o f
h i s c r i t i c a l th e o r y are N ature and A r t. These are
i
i c e r t a i n l y n o t new c o n c e p ts , but he gave them a p e rso n a l
i
i
! in t e r p r e t a t io n and e x p r e s s io n . To f o llo w N ature meant
i
| t o be o r i g i n a l , in d iv id u a l, in d e p e n d e n t, s e l f - r e l i a n t *
i
! I t meant lo o k in g a t t h in g s d i r e c t ly and p o r tr a y in g them j
! a s one saw them , n ot a s th e y had been seen and p o rtra y ed
i
I
i by o t h e r s . The p ed a n ts who n ev er g la n ce d up a t th e w orld
I
j around them but spoke o n ly from th e a u th o r ity o f t r a d i-
; |
j t i o n , he c a l le d "the a s s e s o f o th e r p e o p le f s books*"
j Art meant th e stu d y and im it a t io n o f g r e a t works o f U t e r
i '
j a tu r e , b ut th e im it a tio n must be f r e e . Those s la v is h
3 0 p e S a n c t i s , I I , 1 0 6 .
44
f o llo w e r s o f P etra rch who l i f t e d n o t m erely words but
e n t ir e v e r s e s from h is poem s, A retin o c o n sid e r e d n o t
im it a to r s but th ie v e s * The g r e a t m a s te r s , he b e lie v e d ,
sh ou ld be im ita te d in th e s p i r i t and n o t in th e l e t t e r i
\
!
o f t h e i r w orks. Through stu d y in g them , we a cq u ire s k i l l
in th e a r t o f e x p r e s s io n , and e n la r g e our m inds and
s o u ls w ith t h e i r th o u g h ts , but we sh o u ld n ev er su rren d er
our i n d i v id u a li t y and our freedom t o e x p r e s s o u r s e lv e s
and our age in our own w a y . 3 -* -
In a l e t t e r o f June 2 5 , 1 5 3 7 , a d d ressed t o h is
d i s c i p l e N ic o lo F ran co, A re tin o e x p r e s s e s t h e s e id e a s j
w ith v i v a c i t y and f o r c e f u ln e s s and w ith such o r i g i n a l i t y
o f s t y l e t h a t th e l e t t e r m igh t se r v e a s an exam ple o f
th e p r in c ip le s i t a d v o c a te s:
Go u n h e s it a t in g ly a lo n g th e ways th a t N ature opens t o
your s t u d ie s i f you want you r works t o amaze th e v er y
p aper on w hich th e y a re w r it t e n , and th in k sco rn o f
th o s e who rob s t a r v e lin g w ords: f o r th e r e i s a g r e a t
d if f e r e n c e betw een im it a to r s and t h ie v e s — and th e
t h ie v e s I condemn . . . Look now, th e n u rse fe e d s th e
c h i l d , h er ch a rg e , g u id e s h i s f e e t in th e f i r s t s t e p s ,
p u ts h er s m ile s in h i s e y e s , h er words on h i s to n g u e ,
h er manners in h is g e s tu r e s . . . so th a t N a tu re,
i
i
3 1 "For m y s e lf, I can sw ear t h a t I t r y t o form m y s e lf
by what I le a r n and d is c o v e r , but th a t 1 am alw ays m y s e lf
and n e v e r anyone e l s e . . . . I b e lie v e a s much a s anyone
in th e judgment o f th o s e two e t e r n a l s p i r i t s (B o c c a cc io
and P e tr a r c a ) and in so d oin g I a ls o p la c e a l i t t l e f a i t h
in my ow n.” (L e tte r t o A g o stin o R ic c h i, A ugu st, 1549*)
45
in c r e a s in g h is days seem s t o f i l l him w ith h er
a t t it u d e s * But when he has l i t t l e by l i t t l e le a rn e d
t o e a t , w a lk , and t a l k , he b e g in s to form a new s e t
o f m anners, le a v in g th o s e o f th e n u rse fo r o th e r s
which are n a tiv e t o him: so t h a t he becom es t h a t
w hich he i s by l i v i n g , r e t a in in g j u s t so much o f h er
in s t r u c t io n who rea red him , a s th e b ir d s who f l y
r e ta in know ledge o f th e fa th e r and m other who ta u g h t
them . That i s what th e y sh ou ld do who m odel th e m se lv e s
on t h i s or t h a t p o e t: ta k in g from him o n ly th e b rea th
o f h i s s p i r i t but draw ing t h e ir m usic from th e v o ic e
o f t h e i r own o r g a n s.
To t e l l you t r u l y , B o c c a c cio and P e tr a r c a are im ita te d
r i g h t ly by w hoever e x p r e s s e s h is own th o u g h ts w ith th e
sw e e tn e ss and b ea u ty w ith which th e y e x p r e sse d t h e i r s ,
and n o t by th o s e who sack and p i l l a g e them . . . And
f i n a l l y , i f th e d e v il d o es p o s s e s s u s t o d e s p o il some
on e, l e t us t r y to do i t in th e manner o f V i r g i l when
he s tr ip p e d Homer, or Sannazzaro when he f le e c e d
V i r g i l , th a t i s , iH th a u s u r e r f s g a in : and th e n we
may hope t o be fo r g iv e n *
0 e r r in g crow d s, I t e l l you a g a in and a g a in , t h a t
p o etry i s th e f r o l i c o f N ature in i t s g la d n e s s , and
c o n s i s t s in i t s own in s p ir a t io n , w ith o u t w h ich , p o etry
i s a so u n d le ss cymbal and a b e ll- t o w e r w ith o u t b e lls *
For w hich r e a s o n , w hoever w ish e s to w r ite and has not
th e g i f t in him from h is c r a d le , i s l i k e a sau ce th a t
h as become cold * I f anyone does n o t b e lie v e t h i s , l e t j
him c o n s id e r th e a lc h e m is ts who, w ith a l l th e a r t and |
in d u s tr y o f t h e i r p a t ie n t g r e e d , have n e v e r su cceed ed |
in making g o ld , * * • w h ile N atu re, w ith o u t an e f f o r t j
in th e w o rld , b r in g s i t out in th e p u r e st and f a i r e s t
form . W h erefore, ta k e a le s s o n in what I would te a c h
from t h a t w ise p a in te r who, in answ er t o one who asked
whom he im it a te d , p o in te d to a group o f men p a ssin g b y,
w ish in g to in d ic a t e t h a t he to o k h is m odels from l i f e
and t r u t h , even as I do in sp ea k in g and w r it i n g .3 2
3 2 L e t t e r e , I , 1 B 5 -1 B S .
The l e t t e r ends w ith th e c e le b r a te d maxim: "Put your
mind to b e in g a s c u lp to r o f th e s e n s e s , n o t a m in ia t u r is t
in w ords*”
A re tin o b e lie v e d in th e d ir e c t e x p r e s s io n o f th o u g h t
I
and had l i t t l e p a tie n c e f o r th e c ir c u m lo c u tio n s o f th e j
i
C ic e r o n ia n s or th e p ed a n try o f th o s e who sp en t t h e i r tim e
i
f i t t i n g t h e i r id e a s in t o th e a r c h a ic form s o f P etra rch J
i
and B o c c a c c io . He condemned m ost o f th e e r u d it io n o f
l i t e r a r y men o f th e tim e a s sham le a r n in g and h y p o c r is y .
He co u ld n o t fin d enough sco rn f o r " th o se who c a v i l about J
i
th e a r t o f th e Greeks and Romans, p ond ering on e v e r y J
p e r io d and a rg u in g about e v e r y s y ll a b l e . . . making t h e i r
r e p u ta tio n s by th e d is c o v e r y o f th e a cu te a c c e n t on a
v o w e l."33 He mocks th e tim e w a sted by th e a ca d em icia n s
in d e b a te s over what words b elo n g to th e "pure" I t a li a n
la n g u a g e: "Every pedant i s q u ib b lin g about th e Tuscan
la n g u a g e . I f th e s o u ls o f P e tr a r c a and B o c c a c c io are as
torm ented in th e n ex t w orld a s t h e i r works are in t h i s
i
on e, th e y must be read y t o fo rsw ea r t h e i r b a p tis m ."34
In r e a c t io n t o t h i s s o r t o f le a r n in g , A retin o fla u n te d
h is ig n o ra n ce l i k e a banner: "I who went to sc h o o l o n ly
lo n g enough t o le a r n t o make th e s ig n o f th e C ross and j
3 3 L e tte r e , I , 302
3 4 L e tte r e , I , 3 1 .
j 47
j sa y ’Holy S p i r i t h e lp me to l e a r n . ” ’35 E lsew h ere,
I
! however, he says it is not through ignorance of them
(
that he does not copy the accepted models:
j I have not deviated from the ways of Boccaccio and
Petrarca through ignorance, for I know how great they j
are, but in order not to lose my time, my patience j
and my reputation in the madness of trying to change j
myself into them ... knowing it to be an impossible J
thing. It is better to eat dry bread in one ’s own
house than to have it with many dishes at someone
else’s table. I go my own way in the Garden of the
Muses, and there never falls from my lips a word that
has the musty smell of antiquity. I wear my wit
unmasked .... (Venice, December 17, 1537)36 ,
i
! t
I And again he says: f
i * ;
j It is better to drink out of one’s own wooden bowl j
! than another’s golden goblet— a man makes a braver
show in his own rags than he does in the velvet
robbed from someone else. What have we to do with j
stolen goods? (Venice, December, 1546)37
! It would seem, then, that although he recognized j
j
| the merits of the humanist culture with its heritage j
i ;
I from Latin and Greek, Aretino remained attached, by birth
and inclination, to the popular tradition, with its sense !
| of reality and its closeness to life; its crude vigor and
i
j
] spontaneity of feeling and expression. In the literature
j
j of the English Renaissance, the link between the two
^ L e t t e r e , I , 3 0 2 .
36L e t t e r e , I , 363-369*
3 ? L e tte r e S c e l t e , p . 9 2 .
t r a d it i o n s e x i s t e d from th e b e g in n in g , and th e w r it e r s
o f th e age o f E liz a b e th drew f r e e l y from p o p u la r sp eech
and le g e n d . But in I t a l i a n l i t e r a t u r e , A re tin o was one
i
o f th e f i r s t t o show, a g a in s t a l l th e p r o t e s t s o f th e j
p u r is t s and a c a d e m ic ia n s, th e a d v a n ta g es o f such a j
c o n n e c tio n .3^
A r e tin o * s own s t y l e i s a good i l l u s t r a t i o n o f th e
c r i t i c a l p r in c ip le s he a d v o c a te d . I t s most s t r ik in g
q u a lit y i s i t s v i t a l i t y . ”He went n e a r e s t t o l i f e o f
any w r it e r o f h is d a y ,” sa y s H u tton . ”. .. H is work
has th e odour o f l i f e . . . th e l i f e o f th e moment li v e d
f o r th e moment o f w hich he was a p a r t .”39 The q u a l i t i e s
o f A r e tin o f s s t y l e a re d e sc r ib e d in a m a s te r ly way by
Such th e c r i t i c such th e w r it e r . To words he d oes n o t >
g iv e a th o u g h t. He a c c e p ts them a l l w herever th e y may
come from , w h atever th e y may b e: T uscan, l o c a l , fo r e ig n ,!
n o b le , p le b e ia n , p o e t i c , p r o s a ic , h a rsh , s w e e t, hum ble, ,
so n o r o u s. The r e s u lt i s a s t y l e o f w r it in g t h a t i s
s t i l l th e lan gu age spoken everyw here in I t a l y by th e
3&G. S in i g a g lia , E ssa y on A r e tin o , c i t e d in th e
In tr o d u c tio n t o th e C o r tlg ia n a by G. S t i a v e l l i (Rome, !
1& 90), p . v i i .
3^Edward H u tton , P ie t r o A r e tin o , Scourge o f P r in c e s
(London, 1922), p . x v i” See a ls o Samuel Putnam, A r e tin o ,
Works T r a n sla te d in to E n g lis h , I n tr o d u c tio n , I , 12-13:
r tHe was I I . t h e f i r s t w r it e r who dared break away from
th e o ld d ead , d ea d en in g , h id e-b ou n d t r a d it i o n s o f th e
c l a s s i c i s t s and a ca d em icia n s t o w r ite in th e lan gu age o f I
th e p e o p le , th e lan guage o f th e s t r e e t , even t h a t o f th e
b r o t h e l. ”
De S a n c tis
4 9
cultured classes. He abolishes the period, breaks
its Joints, dissolves the periphrase, deflates pompous
and high-flown expressions, smashes every artifice of
that mechanism which was known as literary form; and
he brings style close to natural speech. ... He does
not look for grace: he looks for expressiveness and j
relief. A word is good when it renders the thing as !
it is represented in his mind; and he does not have to j
search for words: the word and the thing present them
selves to him simultaneously, such is the ease he has
in writing. ... He does not strive for magnificence
or vastness of form . . . but for the nervous style
that best fits the quickness of his perceptions ....
His attention is concentrated, not on the outer form
but within: he brushes aside stereotyped techniques,
elaborations and refinements. He has such vigor and
facility of production, such a wealth of concepts and
images that everything rushes out by the straightest j
channel. He is prompt and decisive in his style as i
in his life; never was it more truly said of anyone j
that the style is the man.40 ,
Almost any of Aretinof s letters afford good illus- 1
trations of the qualities of his prose. The passages
already quoted may serve as examples; to these a few more
may be added. The following is an excerpt from a letter
commemorating Antonio da Leva, a captain who had fallen
at Marseilles. It shows the compressed quality which
often characterizes AretinoTs style. A number of
thoughts, telescoped into phrases, are condensed into
two sentences: !
i
I do not know if Alexander, starting from the low
plane from which he [Levyaj started, would have risen
so high. There is no limit in the highest heaven
that his fame has not surpassed; whose image is in the
hearts of his soldiers that, loaded with spoils and
4 0 p e S a n c t i s , I I , 1 0 6 - 1 0 7
50
j d ecorated w ith h on ors, w ith the same p a tie n c e w ith
• which he bore h is la b o r s , have s u ffe r e d h is death;
I which to the in t r e p id h eart o f so g r e a t a cap tain
! was n e ith e r f r i g h t f u l nor grim , f o r accustom ed t o
j s e e in g i t on th e b a t t l e f i e l d and a t every hour, he
had no fe a r o f i t s t e r r o r s . (To S ign or L u ig i da Leva,
i November 1 5 , 1536)^ -
I
I The same c o n c is io n i s in th e fo llo w in g p a ssa g e ,
which has th e e f f e c t o f a w hiplash sm artly brought down:
I t i s c e r t a in , S ir , th a t th e b e n e fa c to r s o f men, in
g iv in g prom ptly, become more g lo r io u s than i s a god
who d e fe r s in g r a n tin g h is g r a c e s, inasmuch as
p rom ises lo n g in f u l f i l l i n g consume th e days w ith
hope o f th o se who w a it , and are more c r u e l than the
obdurate "no" which r e fu s e s to p rom ise. (To Gonzalo
P erez, December 20, 1 5 3 6 )42
| The breaking up o f formal p e r io d ic str u c tu r e g iv e s
i
a q u a lity o f in fo r m a lity t o A r e tin o ’ s s t y l e . I t a ls o
g iv e s i t f l e x i b i l i t y and freedom . In th e fo llo w in g
i
J passage th e se n te n c e s are lo o s e ly co n n ected , one o fte n
i
| growing out o f the p reced in g as a spontaneous added
| r e f l e c t i o n . The r e fe r e n c e s are sometimes vagu e, but the
I movement i s unimpeded, th e s t y le u n fo ld in g w ith the
th o u g h t, n ev er a r r e s t in g or fo r m a liz in g i t . He i s speak
in g o f th o se th e o lo g ia n s who d e str o y f a i t h w ith r a t io n a l
i e x p la n a tio n :
; ^ -3 -L ett e r e , I , 93-94*
| 42i ,e t t e r e , I , 99* On the su b je c t o f c o n c is io n ,
A retin o w r it e s t o F austo Longiano (V en ice, December,
1537): "The th in g i s t o redu ce, as I have done, th e
le n g th o f s t o r i e s and th e tedium o f o r a t io n s , as can
be seen in my l e t t e r s , and as I w i l l do a ls o in a l l th e
o th e r th in g s th a t you w i l l s e e ." ( L e t t e r e , I , 369*)
51
How much good i t would do our s o u ls . . . i f changing
t h e i r n ature and t h e i r s t y l e , th e y would mount th e
p u lp it l i k e p reach ers and n ot s o p h i s t s . For th e good'
and sim ple o f h ea rt w e ll know th a t th e coining o f th e
son o f God was th e r e v e la t io n o f th e m y ste r ie s o f th e
p r o p h e c ie s . So t h a t , whoever b e lie v e s in J e s u s, th e r e ■
i s in fu s e d in t o h is i n t e l l i g e n c e th e co n cep tio n o f th e
V ir g in , th e im m ortality o f th e s o u l, th e r e s u r r e c tio n
o f th e d ead. Whoever does not doubt h is o r ig in i s
cap ab le o f b e lie y in g every most im p o ssib le e f f e c t upon
th e s l i g h t e s t d em on stration . And th e r e fo r e th e reverend
fa th e r s ought not to d is c u s s a t such le n g th from th e
p u lp it s by what manner th e d iv in e Word was in ca rn a ted
in Mary, nor what may be th e nature o f th a t S p ir it
which le a v e s th e f l e s h unim passioned, nor on how the
dust o f f l e s h and bone, s c a tt e r e d t o th e winds or
d isp e r se d in th e s e a , s h a l l come to g e th e r and l i v e j
a g a in . C e r ta in ly , th e te m e r ity o f such arguments seems J
t o reprove C h r is t Ts having remained s i l e n t , who o n ly j
touched upon them not w anting to tak e i t s reward from ;
J f a i t h which recom penses th o se who b e lie v e and do n ot i
I seek fo r p r o o f s . (To A ntonio B r u e c io li, November, j
i 1537)^3 !
' t
The v iv a c it y and sp o n ta n e ity o f A r e tin o ’ s s t y le i s j
p a r tly owing t o i t s dram atic q u a li t y . Persons and e v e n ts !
! are not so much d esc rib ed as made t o l i v e b efo re u s . He !
i !
i i s d e sc r ib in g Giovanni d e lle Bande Mere, fa c in g d ea th , j
! th in k in g o f th e w orld he i s le a v in g and th e m ystery ahead:
! So he began t o t a lk to me, naming Lucantonio w ith g re a t
I a f f e c t io n ; and I s a y in g ,— S h a ll we n o t send f o r h im ,—
| Think y o u ,— he s a i d , — th a t such a man would le a v e war to
se e a s ic k man?— He remembered Count San Secondo, say
i n g ; — I f on ly he were h e r e , he might take my p l a c e . —
Sometimes he sc ra tch ed h is head w ith h is f in g e r s th en
put them in h i s mouth, s a y in g ,— What w i l l be?— and
r e p ly in g to h i m s e l f : - - I n ever d id any v i l e t h in g .
(To M esser d e g li A lb iz z i, December, 1 5 2 6 ) ^
^ L e t t e r e , I , 2 6 $
^ L e t t e r e , I , 6 .
52
The fo llo w in g l e t t e r o f thanks to one who had sen t
him some th r u sh e s ta k e s th e form o f a l i v e l y p ic tu r e o f
! c o n v iv ia l cheer:
I
!
! W hile, S ir , I was th e o th e r day, in th e company of
f r ie n d s , e a tin g some hare se n t me by Captain
. . . and th e p r a is e s o f them were r i s i n g t o th e s k ie s ,
b eh o ld , your th ru sh es appeared brought by your m essen
g e r . . . . They were such th a t our M esser T izia n o ,
upon s e e in g them on th e s p i t and sm e llin g them w ith h is
n o se , having g iv en a look a t th e snow which w h ile the
ta b le was b ein g prepared was f a l l i n g w ith ou t the
s l i g h t e s t ceremony in th e w orld , co m p letely fo rg o t
about a company o f gentlem en who were e x p e c tin g him t o
d in n er— and a l l to g e th e r we gave g r e a t p r a is e to the
b ir d s w ith th e lon g b i l l , which cooked w ith a b i t o f
d ried m eat, a couple o f b a y -le a v e s and p le n ty o f
p epper, we a te fo r your sake and because we lik e d them.
(To Count C o lla lt o , October 10, 1532)45
Another c h a r a c t e r is t ic o f A r e tin o 1s s t y le which
| c o n tr ib u te s t o i t s l i v e l i n e s s i s h is u se o f c o llo q u ia l
I term s, popular e x p r e s s io n s , and the f a m ilia r , in tim a te
i tu r n s o f spoken in te r c o u r s e . He u sed th e s e e x p r e s s io n s ,
j n o t f o r want o f knowledge o f th e more l i t e r a r y term s,
i
i but because th ey b e t t e r served h is purpose, en a b lin g him
i
t o ex p re ss h im s e lf more d r a m a tic a lly , p o in t e d ly , graph
i c a l l y . He has a g i f t fo r c o in in g t e l l i n g p h r a se s, l i k e
j th e fo llo w in g taken a t random from h is l e t t e r s :
j For he i s mad who does not know how t o l i v e in P a r a d ise .
! . . . pedagoguery th a t keeps i t s b u tto c k s f a s t t o the
bench.
4 5 L e tte r e , I , 37*
53
The tim e has come when you m ight have your f i l l o f
g lo r y — i f i t s u f f ic e d you to be im m ortal.
And death b ein g n e c e s s a r y , he chose t o d ie a t the
h e ig h t o f g lo r y , t h i s b e in g a b le s s e d t h in g .
I have become proud, . . . in th e manner o f c e r ta in
p lucked lo r d lin g s when t h e i r m aster p u ts h i s hand j
on t h e i r sh o u ld e r . ■
(
On th e w ea rin ess o f rea d ers w ith th e e t e r n a l im ita tio n s
turned out by w r it e r s , he says:
Copy to the r i g h t , copy t o th e l e f t , e v e r y th in g i s
fo d d er , you m ight sa y , f o r th e com p o sitio n s o f most j
o f them; fo r which reason read ers are l i k e th o se who \
h a te a b stin e n c e and se e th e ta g o f " fast-d ay" pinned j
on t o both F riday and S atu rday. — "Bring us som ething i
e l s e b e s id e s saladJ" shout th o se who are hungry. (To j
F austo Longiano, December, 1537)^6 !
I ' i
j Such p a ssa g es i l l u s t r a t e what A retin o meant when, |
I j
j in w r itin g to Bernardo T a sso , he a t tr ib u te d th e i n e f f e c - j
i j
J t iv e n e s s o f h is { T a sso r s) l e t t e r s to t h e i r " a n g elic |
1 s t y le " and " c e l e s t i a l harm ony"--whieh, though w e ll enough I
|
i in hymns and ep ith alam iu m s, i s not s u ita b le in l e t t e r s ,
i
j "for th e y need the s o li d con tou rs o f in v e n tio n and not
| th e fin e-w ork o f a r t i f i c e . " (O ctober, 1 $ 4 S ) ^
i
J In th e fo llo w in g p a s s a g e s , A r e tin o T s prose i s a t
I
i t s b e s t . There i s an e f f o r t l e s s s im p lic it y in the
e x p r e s s io n , a com plete fu s io n o f thought and form . The
s t y l e r i s e s to a r e s tr a in e d elo q u en ce, which does not
^ L e t t e r e , 1 , 3 69 •
V 7 cited by De S a n c t is , I I ,
54
j depend f o r i t s e f f e c t on r h e t o r ic a l d e v ic e s but only on
I
| th e i n t e n s i t y of f e e l i n g .
He th u s b e g in s th e l e t t e r on th e death o f Giovanni
d e l l e Bande H ere:
i (
| As th e hour drew n ear which th e f a t e s w ith th e con sent j
' o f God had decreed f o r th e end o f our lo r d , he moved i
in h is accustom ed te r r o r towards G overnolo, around |
which th e enemy had s e t up f o r t i f i e d p o s it io n s ; and
w h ile he was a tte n d in g o p e r a tio n s th e r e . . . a l a s , a
m u sk et-sh ot h i t him in th e le g a lr ea d y wounded by the
j harquebus. Nor was th e wound soon er f e l t by him than j
i m elancholy and fe a r f e l l upon th e army; whence daring |
! and high s p i r i t s d ied w ith in th e h ea rt o f e v e r y o n e . !
And each man, f o r g e t t in g h im s e lf , th in k in g o f th e l o s s ,
w ept, bemoaning th a t f a te should th u s b lin d ly have put
t o death so n oble a le a d e r , v a lia n t beyond a l l memory
o f tim e , a t t h i s dawning o f superhuman e v e n ts and in i
th e g r e a t need o f I t a l y . (December 10, 1526)^° j
i
To th e w ife o f G iovan ni, Maria d e f M ed ici, he w r it e s
!
th e f o llo w in g l e t t e r on th e death o f h er husband and h is 1
!. own dear f r ie n d . Note th e co n cen tra ted b it t e r n e s s o f th e j
I |
’ c lo s e :
! i
t
; I w i l l n o t, Lady, contend w ith you in sorrow . Not th a t
1 I should not w in , f o r I g r ie v e th e death o f your husband
! more than any person l i v i n g ; . . . but should my s u f f e r -
! in g y i e l d t o y o u r s, i t would be b ecause o f th e w o r th i-
j n e ss and wisdom th a t f i l l s you, so t h a t th e r e i s g r e a te r
! c a p a c ity fo r t h in g s in you, a woman, than in me, a man;
I and t h i s b ein g s o , th e g r i e f i s g r e a te r where th e
i u nd erstan ding i s s o . But g iv e me th e second p la c e in
j sorrow , which has reached such f u l l n e s s in my h ea rt
j th a t I have no lo n g e r wherewith t o g r i e v e . And I
i should have d ied when I saw him render h i s i l l u s t r i o u s
s p i r i t , and when th e mould o f h is fe a t u r e s was taken
^ L e t t e r e , I , 5-6
55
by G iu lio d i R a fa e llo , and when I m y se lf c lo s e d him in .
th e tomb; but th a t the com fort o f h is undying memory
su sta in e d th e l i f e in me. The fame o f h is v i r t u e s ,
which w i l l be th e je w e ls and ornaments o f your widow
hood, d ried my t e a r s . The s t o r i e s o f h is e x p l o i t s not
o n ly d riv e away my sa d n e ss, but th ey b r in g me j o y . I t
i s food t o me to hear g r e a t p erson s s a y : — He i s dead, j
th e m iracle o f n atu re; he i s gon e, th e model o f a n c ie n t j
f a it h ; he i s no more, th e arm o f b a t t l e . — And c e r t a in ly ,!
th e r e was n ever an oth er who r a ise d so g rea t a hope in j
th e I t a lia n army. He could have no g r e a te r cla im t o
g lo r y , who has been taken from human t h in g s , than th e
remembrance o f King F r a n c is , by whose mouth th e words
have more than once been sp ok en :— I f Signor Giovanni
had not been wounded, Fortune would not have made me
p r is o n e r .— B ehold, h ard ly i s he b u ried than b a rb a ric
p r id e , r a is in g i t s head t o the s k i e s , s t r i k e s t e r r o r
in t o th e b r a v e st; and a lrea d y fe a r has so l a i d i t s
hold on Clement th a t he i s le a r n in g th e f o l l y o f
w ish in g f o r h is death who. l i v i n g , could keep him
a l i v e . (December 1 0 , 1526 J^-9
In th a t co n tro v ersy which took p la c e in a l l European ■
I
l i t e r a t u r e s between th e C icero n ia n , or o r n a te , and th e |
Senecan, or p r a c t i c a l , s t y le o f p r o se , th e one aim ing at
i
; r h e t o r ic a l e f f e c t , th e o th er a t d ir e c t com m unication, ;
| A retin o was, a s we have se e n , on th e s id e o f th e Senecans j
| and may be co n sid ered an i n i t i a t o r o f modern p r o s e . Even j
1 i
i
! h e r e , however, h i s v e r s a t i l i t y comes in t o e v id e n c e , and
i ^ L e t t e r e ^ 1 0 -1 1 . I t i s d i f f i c u l t t o render in
j E n g lish th e economy o f th e I t a l i a n , one means o f which I
j i s th e freq u en t use o f v e r b a l s u b s ta n tiv e s : !
j — "Non che io non v i n c e s s i , per dolerm i l a morte d el
v o s tr o m arito p iu che a persona v i v a .7’ (Plot t h a t I
should not w in , f o r I g r ie v e th e death o f your husband
more than any person” l i v i n g .)
— "E s a r e i morto mentre ho v i s t o e s a l a r g l i lo
i l l u s t r e sp i r i t o . . . e n e l cKiuderXo id ne l a
sepoIburaT" (And I should have died when I saw him render
h i s i l l u s t r i o u s s p i r i t . . . and when 1 m y se lf clo'seci him
in th e tom b.)
56
we fin d him, a t tim e s , ad optin g th e C iceron ian s t y l e and
ca r ry in g i t s d e f e c t s to such f a n t a s t i c extrem es a s t o be
tak en a s a model o f s e ic e n tis m o — th a t h ig h ly a r t i f i c i a l ,
ornate s t y l e , c h a r a c te r iz e d by f a n t a s t i c c o n c e it s , which
in I t a l i a n l i t e r a t u r e flo u r is h e d a t th e end o f the
R en a issa n ce , and which had i t s vogue a l l over Europe
I
under v a r io u s names. !
I
!
The two s t y l e s may be found sid e by s id e in A r e tin o ’s!
I
work, so th a t he may be sa id t o r e p r ese n t both o f two
o p p o site te n d e n c ie s : a form o f w r it in g c lo s e r t o sp ea k in g ,
fr e e from l i t e r a r y e la b o r a tio n s , aim ing a t th e immediate
e x p r e ssio n o f th e in n er meaning— and a baroque s t y l e , now
flo w e r y , now p r e c io u s . De S a n c tis n o te s th a t th e a r t i -
'I
f i c i a l s t y l e p r e v a ils where s i n c e r i t y i s la c k in g , and th a t
i t i s c h i e f l y t o be found in such r e l i g i o u s works as th e
!
l i v e s o f th e s a i n t s , which A retin o w rote t o be in th e
fa sh io n o f th e C ounter-R eform ation, and in th o se l e t t e r s
which are p a n e g y ric s and eu lo g iu m s. nSpeaking w e ll o f
p eo p le was n ot so e a s y f o r him as speaking i l l , " he
*50
comments. The fo llo w in g example o f A r e tin o ’ s baroque
s t y l e i s from a l e t t e r in p r a is e o f the Duke o f Urbino:
Your m e r its b ein g th e s t a r s in th e sky o f g lo r y , one J
o f them, as i t were th e p la n e t o f my g e n iu s , i n c l i n e s
i t t o p o rtra y w ith th e s t y le o f words th e image o f your
I
i
5C>De S a n c t i s , I I , 1 0 S .
57
j s o u l, so th a t th e tru e countenance o f i t s v i r t u e s , so
I d e sir e d by th e w orld , may be seen in every part* But
! th e power o f my g e n iu s , overwhelmed by th e h e ig h t o f
i t s s u b j e c t, though moved by such an in f lu e n c e , cannot
e x p r e ss in what manner th e g o o d n ess, clem en cy, and
str e n g th o f such harmony has bestowed upon you by
I f a t a l d ecree th e tr u e t i t l e o f P r in c e . (December 10,
; 1537)51
Even such p a ssa g e s , however, have a t tim e s v ig o r and
o r i g i n a l i t y o f im agin ation * The fo llo w in g are some o f
th e c h a r a c t e r is t ic t r a i t s o f A r e tin o T s baroque s t y l e of
which we fin d p a r a l l e l s in s ix te e n t h and se v en te en th
cen tu ry E n g lish l i t e r a t u r e :
— The p e r io d ic s e n te n c e , developed by p a r a l l e l
c la u s e s and p h r a se s, and en d ing w ith a coda, rem inding
us o f many se n te n c e s in th e A rca d ia * (He i s speaking
here o f F rancesco S fo r z a ):
. . . Who may be s a id to be happy, b ecau se h e, who
began h i s w anderings b e fo r e he was s i x y ea r s o ld , and
knew e x i l e b efo re he knew h is country; a f t e r so many
c o n f l i c t s o f p e o p le s; a f t e r so many e v e n ts o f war,
; d is e a s e , fam ine; a f t e r so many la b o rs on h i s p art and
j th a t o f h is fo llo w e r s ; a f t e r a l l th e a f f l i c t i o n s which
I th e n e c e s s it y o f th e tim e s brought upon th e p e o p le s
! who obeyed him] in th e most tr a n q u il S ta te t h a t could
! be d e sir e d ; am idst th e warmest lo v e M ilan cou ld bring
| 51 x ,e tte r e , I , 1* De S a n c tis o b serves: " It i s a
i p erio d accord in g to the im ita to r s o f B o c c a c c io , drawn
I out in form and co n c e p t. I t i s not here a q u e stio n o f
| w r itin g t h in g s a s th e y come, but o f fo r c in g what w i l l
not eom e--the r e s u lt i s an emphatic t o n e , f a r - f e tc h e d
c o n c e it s , a language th a t i s p r e c io u s — composed e n t i r e l y
o f p e a r ls , but f a l s e o n es." (De S a n c tis , I I , 109•)
53
him; most assu red in th a t which most m a tte r s, the
f e e l i n g of th e fr ie n d s h ip o f Caesar; having th e fa v o r
o f I t a ly ; b e in g untouched by a g e ; —has rendered h is
s p i r i t t o God who gave i t him; and so w ith ou t s t r i f e ,
w ithou t f e a r , w ith ou t h a te , he has T e ft in h is
s u c c e s s io n th e most j u s t , h ig h , and happy emperor
th a t e v e r was or w i l l b e . (To Count Stampa, November
25, 1535)52
— The use o f p a r a lle lis m and a n t i t h e s i s in th e
manner o f the E u p h u ists:
And o f such a m ista k e , I d eriv ed both p le a su r e and
d is p le a s u r e : I was p le a s e d , because I had from i t your
l e t t e r which I ch e r ish more than th o se from k in g s; and
j I was d is p le a s e d , because I know i t tro u b le d you— not
' t o th in k o f a way t o s a t i s f y th e d e s ir e you thou ght
i m ine, but t o th in k you had n ot a lrea d y done i t . (To
| Monsignor G u id ic c io n e , January 1 5 , 1535)53
The Emperor, whose m ajesty i s guided by God; p r o te c te d
by Fortune; moved by i n t e l l i g e n c e ; and armed by sorrow .
(To A. Leva, May 2 , 1535)54 j
— The arrangement o f p a r a lle lis m s and a n t it h e s e s |
J t o form an i n t r i c a t e p a tte r n :
I I g iv e you now, as a reward fo r alw ays having both
I accompanied and succoured me w ith your i n t e l l i g e n c e , !
I your p erso n , your p o w ers,— th e c o n s o la tio n o f my
! h a p p in e ss, th e cause o f which w i l l now draw as many
; t e a r s from your e y e s by i t s s w e e tn e s s, as my a d v e r s it i e s
j have a lr e a d y drawn from you by t h e i r p i t i f u l n e s s ,
j (To M esser L azzara, October 25, 1537)55
52L e t t e r e ,
I ,
65 •
53L e tt e r e ,
I , 51.
5 4 L e tte r e,
I ,
54.
55L e t t e r s ,
I ,
256.
— The arrangement o f p a r a l l e l elem en ts in a
| p r o g r e ssio n :
I
| The hour has come when your em inent s p i r i t , armed by j
I i t s own judgment, w i l l tea ch th e army how one f i g h t s ; |
j and f i g h t i n g , how one w ins; and w inning, how one I
j triu m p h s. (To A. Leva, June 4 , 1536)56 j
— The use o f c o n c e it s , a s we have seen in th e l e t t e r j
t o th e Duke o f U rbino, above. They e s p e c i a l l y abound in J
th e l e t t e r s o f p r a is e t o t h i s or t h a t p r in c e . To th e J
Emperor C harles V he w r ite s : [
t
The Emperor alone so a rs beyond th e s t a r s on th e w ings !
o f h is h u m ility . j
i i
' and:
i <
!
j . . . th e y say th a t th e pens and th e ton gu es th at' arm
I th e m se lv e s w ith s t e e l and w ith f i r e th a t fo r e v e r c u ts j
and flam es are a s capable o f e n la r g in g the bounds o f i
your fame as your c a p ta in s th e c o n fin e s o f your em p ire.
(June 4 , 1536)57
To Count Rangone:
j
| Had th e Duke o f F errara pinned th e banners o f h is
I c o u r t e s ie s on th e ramparts o f your sublim e s p i r i t ,
w ith ou t a doubt th e b r e a th , which p r a is e would have
| g iv e n h i s name, had u n fu rled them th en t o th e e y e s
j o f th e whole w orld . (January 2 9 , 1535)5®
.
To M ich elan gelo:
You are th e ta r g e t o f wonders in which th e tourney
5^L e t t e r e , I , 75*
5? L e tt e r e , I , 7 6 -7 7 .
5&L e t t e r e , I , 52.
60
o f the favor o f th e s t a r s has sh ot a l l th e arrows
o f t h e i r g r a c e s . (September 1 5 , 1537)59
To th e Doge, Andrea G r it t i:
r a f f e c t i o n in th e f o ld s o f your
To th e Duke o f Mantua:
Your E x c e lle n c y se ek s from me some i d l e g o s s ip t o
use a s a fan i n th e h eat th a t burns up our d a y s .61
The Ragionamenti (D ia lo g u e s)
In d is c u s s in g A r e tin o ’ s s t y l e , I have drawn exam ples
and i l l u s t r a t i o n s from h is l e t t e r s , because in them both
h i s n a tu r a l and h is a r t i f i c i a l v e in are r e p r e se n te d . W e
have from them a f a i r id e a o f A r e tin o T s s t y l e in a l l th e ;
o th e r w orks. B efore ta k in g up a c o n s id e r a tio n o f th e i
in n o v a tio n s in dram atic tech n iq u e shown by A r e tin o T s j
com edies, I s h a ll make a b r i e f m ention o f th e ;
R agionam enti, which has become th e b e s t known o f a l l
A r e tin o ’ s works and upon which much o f h is r e p u ta tio n as
an obscene w r ite r i s b a sed .
The Ragionamenti was p u b lish ed in two p a r ts : Part I
in 1534, Part I I in 1 5 3 6 . I t was p u b lish ed in I t a l i a n
^ L e t t e r e , 229*
6 0 c ite d by De S a n c t is , I I , 10S.
61De S a n c t is , I I , 10S .
61
in England by John Wolf in three parts: Parts I and II
appearing in 15^4, Part III in 15$9« The first English j
translation was published in Paris by Isidore Liseux in j
j
1&&9* The Ragionam enti i s a work in th e t r a d it io n o f th e j
Decameron, in which v a r io u s p ersons d is c u s s a s u b je c t by
i
telling stories and anecdotes. Each of the two parts of
the work are divided into three afternoons. In Part I,
the interlocutors are Nanna and Antonia, two former
courtesans, who sit in the shade of a fig tree and
discuss, on consecutive days, the three possible states
for a woman— nun, wife, courtesan. In Part II, Nanna
instructs her daughter Pippa, on the first afternoon, on
the art of being a courtesan and on the second tells her i
I
of the tricks and betrayals of men. On the last day, j
| Nanna and Pippa listen to a conversation between the nurse
I and the comare (old gossip) about the art of the pro- !
euress. Because of its scabrousness of subject and
outspokenness of treatment, the Ragionamenti has become
! notorious. It did much to create for Aretino that
reputation for indecency by which he was chiefly known
62 i
in Elizabethan England. Modern criticism tends to see I
I
1
I
^In his dedication to the First Book of the j
Ragionamenti, Aretino himself proclaimed his purpose to j
be the chastisement of vice. It was not the ideal of i
religious life or matrimony that he was attacking, he ;
said, but the profanation of them, an all-too common ]
62
in th e work o th e r q u a l i t i e s . I t i s p r a ise d as one o f
th e b e s t e x p r e s s io n s o f A r e tin o ’ s r e a lis m , o f h i s dram atic
p o r tr a y a l o f c h a r a c te r and m ilie u , o f h is modern prose
s t y l e . Thomas Chubb speaks th u s o f th e Ragionamenti in
h i s biography o f A retin o :
. . . i t i s n ot sim p ly as a lewd t r e a t i s e th a t th e se
”f a n t a s t ic and p le a s a n t ” b i t s o f r e p o r tin g are t o be
regard ed . A r e tin o ’ s o b je c t may have been t o t i t i l l a t e
th e corrupt lo r d s ; but th e g rea t a r t i s t th a t la y w ith in
him fo rce d h i s hand . . . he breathed th e b rea th o f
l i f e in t o what under l e s s in s p ir e d hands would have
been a c a ta lo g u e o f d u ll o b s c e n i t i e s . Pippa and Nanna
are v er y r e a l p e o p le . T h eir speech i s r e a l sp ee ch .
I t has the cad en ce, th e vo ca b u la ry , and th e sound and
t a s t e o f th e language o f th e tough p eop le o f h i s day.
. . . The s w if t pace o f t h e i r v a r io u s ad ven tu res
c a r r ie s th e c o n v ic tio n o f e p is o d e s th a t have t r u ly
taken p la c e . The language i s co m p letely outspoken .
. . . Though th e e p is o d e s are B o cca ccia n , th e r e i s
none o f G iovan n i’ s g r a c e fu l p a r a p h r a sin g .63
62 (Continued)
s p e c ta c le in th e age: ”Nanna does not speak o f th e tru e
o b ser v ers o f the vows o f c h a s t it y as she h e r s e l f says to
A nton ia. . . . Indeed, I cou ld not have even dared t o
th in k , l e t alon e w r ite what I have put on paper about the
nuns, i f I d id n ot th in k t h a t th e burning f i r e o f my pen
should p u r ify th e s t a in s th a t la s c iv io u s n e s s has made in
t h e i r l i v e s who should be as l i l i e s in th e gard ens o f the
co n v e n ts, and who have so s o i l e d th e m selv es in th e f i l t h
o f th e w orld th a t H ell i t s e l f i s r e v o lt e d , l e t alone
Heaven. Whence I hope th a t my words w i l l be l ik e th a t
c r u e lly m e r c ifu l in stru m ent w ith which th e s k i l l f u l
surgeon c u ts away th e in f e c t e d lim b, so t h a t the o th e rs
may remain so u n d .” How much o f tr u th th e re i s in t h i s
and how much o f A r e tin o ’ s diplom acy i s a d i f f i c u l t
q u e s tio n .
63A r e tin o , Scourge o f P r in c e s (New York, 1 9 4 0 ),
p . 362.
63
For Edward H utton, t o o , th e Ragionamenti i s T T a m irro r,
though i t may d i s t o r t much in m a lic e ” :
The D ialogu es have th e r o b u stn e ss o f the w orld th e y
d e p ic t • . “ th e y have th e v ig o r o f l i f e , * . . naked
and dram atic • • . th e y expose o b j e c t iv e ly , a t top
v o ic e , th e co rru p tio n o f th e tim e . . • but i t was a
tim e when tr u th could be u tte r e d not w ith s e r io u s n e s s
and grim ness but w ith a shout o f la u g h te r . So in th e
D ia lo g u es: th ere i s a d e v i l i s h g le e . . . a m a lig n ity
and m a lice o f o b se r v a tio n which f in d s e x p r e ssio n in
an exuberance o f s a r c a s t ic p a r t i c u l a r s • 64
A ntonio F o sc h in i says:
In th e d ia lo g u e s o f Nanna and A ntonia; Nanna and Pippa;
th e g o s s ip and th e n u rse— th e re i s a crowded movement
o f f a c t s , p e o p le , p la c e s , t h in g s , a l l d e p icted in a
ra k ish la n g u a g e, h ig h ly -c o lo r e d and s u g g e s t iv e , which
draws from th e p o in te d e x p r e s s iv e n e s s o f Jargon a
n o v e lty o f p h ra se, a l i v e l i n e s s o f r e p a r t e e .6$
The Ragionamenti shows A r e tin o rs prose at i t s b e s t:
n a tu r a l and sp on tan eou s, compressed and v ig o r o u s; i t i s
d r a m a tic a lly tru e t o the v a r io u s speakers and shows an
a s to n is h in g m astery o f a l l l e v e l s o f la n g u a g e .
The Comedies
A retin o wrote f iv e com edies: La C o rtig ia n a (1 5 2 6 ),
! I I M arescalco (1533)* La T alanta (1 5 4 2 ), L’ Ip o c r ito
I ' ' ..
(1 5 4 2 ), I I F ilo s o f o (1 5 4 6 ), and one tr a g e d y , LT Q razia
; (1 5 4 6 ). Four o f the com edies ( a l l but I I F i l o s o f o ) were
64 p ie tr o A r e tin o , Scourge o f P r in c e s , pp. 253, 256*
65 l tAr e t in o , p .
p r in te d in I t a l i a n in London by John Wolf in 15&S•
The com edies o f A retin o are a departure from t h e a t
r i c a l co n v en tio n , j u s t as th e language and s t y l e o f h is
l e t t e r s was a departure from th e accep ted standard o f th e j
a g e . I t a l i a n comedy o f th e s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry was w r itt e n I
I
accord in g to c l a s s i c a l p r e s c r ip t io n : th e f a v o r it e m odels
were P la u tu s and T erence; th e p lo t c o n s is te d o f a p a tte r n
o f w ell-w orn e q u iv o c a tio n s , r e c o g n it io n s , in t r ig u e s ; th e
ch a r a c te r s were th e c o n v e n tio n a l ty p e s o f L atin comedy:
th e c o u r te sa n , th e greed y s e r v a n t, the go-b etw een , th e
p r o d ig a l so n , th e a v a r ic io u s f a t h e r , th e m ile s g l o r i o s u s ,
th e u su rer- A r e tin o , as De S a n c tis s a y s , " entered in to
a l l t h i s mechanism and smashed i t up• He p a id no j
a t t e n t io n t o r u le s - In th e P refa ce t o th e C o r tig ia n a ,
he announce s :
l
I f you see th e c h a r a c te r s appear on th e sta g e more than j
f i v e tim e s , don’t la u g h , because th e ch ain s th a t hold
th e m i l l s on th e stream s would n o t bind th e madmen we
have to d a y . B e s id e s , don’t wonder i f th e s t y l e o f
comedy i s n ot observed w ith th e req u ired s t r i c t n e s s
. . . beeause we l i v e o th e rw ise in Rome than th e y used
t o l i v e in A thens.
What A retin o c h i e f l y aimed a t was l i f e and movement.
W ithout f o r m a l i t i e s , in t r o d u c t io n s , m onologues, h is
com edies open in m edias r e s , p u ttin g on th e sta g e the
c h a r a c te r s from whom th e a c tio n and th e s it u a t io n s a r i s e -
6 6pe S a n c t i s , I I , 109*
j In ste a d o f u sin g th e c l a s s i c t y p e s , he p ortrayed the
I
| p eop le o f th e I t a l y o f h i s tim e , th e w orld o f th e cou rt
and town. His c h a r a c te r s are u n e r r in g ly tr u e t o l i f e ;
i
th e y are sk e tc h e s w ith ou t depth o f p s y c h o lo g ic a l stu d y, !
but th e y are none th e l e s s a l i v e . What th e com edies j
t
b a s i c a l l y la c k i s u n it y . They are sequen ces o f sc en es
which are n ever brought to g e th e r in t o an organ ic w hole—
A retin o lack ed t h i s c o n s tr u c tiv e power: "the t o t a l i t y o f
e f f e c t e lu d e s him; he s e e s th e world p iecem ea l and so j
r e p r e se n ts it .B u t th e g i f t he did have p reem in en tly j
was th a t o f o b s e r v a tio n . In h i s lo o s e ly co n n ected , i
I
h e l t e r - s k e l t e r s c e n e s , we f in d the v a r ie d l i f e o f h is !
day, rendered in th e m in u test d e t a i l , w ith a l l i t s !
i !
I anim ation and i t s tr u e a ccen t and g e s tu r e . Turning away
I
| from th e im ita tio n o f c l a s s i c comedy, A retin o gave t o
i j
! th e I t a l i a n th e a tr e some v ery good exam ples o f th e comedy
i
I o f manners.
I A s a t i r i c a l v e in runs through A r e tin o f s com edies as
! through a l l o f h i s work. The o b je e ts o f h i s s a t i r e
| remain th e same: th e v i c e s and m isery o f th e co u rt; th e
a v a r ic e o f r ic h p a tro n s; th e ign oran ce o f pedants;
h y p o c risy and sham in every form . A r e tin o 's s a t i r e , in
th e com edies as e lse w h e r e , i s d is tin g u is h e d by i t s c lo s e
/
f
6 ?De S a n c t i s , I I , 1 1 0 .
alliance with reality. He was not satisfied to hold up
vice in an abstract or generalized form for chastisement.
He pictured it in its local and contemporary aspect, with
concrete instances, forcing the world around him to see
its image in the glass of his comedies. j
La Gortigiana (Life at Court)
La Gortigiana, the earliest of the comedies, has for
its subject, as the title indicates, the life of the j
j
court. AretinoTs satire in it is at its most biting, and
his references have a merciless precision. One feels in
i
it the author of the "Pasquinades ,t f the man who is I
embittered by his quarrel with Rome and is taking his
revenge. The humor of the piece is far from being a
light-hearted oneThe Gortigiana might be likened to
one of the picture sequences of Hogarth in its wealth of I
detail and incisiveness of style. It has also been
called a parody of Castiglione*s Cortigiano in that, as
the one illustrates the manners and character of the
ideal courtier, so the other tears aside the veils and
points sardonically to the actual courtier and the sordid
reality behind the pompous show of the court. If the
6^Luigi Tonelli, II Teatro Italiano (Milano, 1924)*
pp. 104-105-
comedy may be sa id t o have a c e r t a in u n it y , i t i s in th e
j sen se th a t ev ery d e t a i l o f th e a c tio n c o n tr ib u te s t o t h i s
| t o t a l im p r e ssio n . But o f u n ity o f s tr u c tu r e th e r e i s very
j l i t t l e . The g re a t number o f sh ort sc e n e s in t o which th e
i j
; a c t s are d iv id ed c o n tr ib u te s t o the fragm entary e f f e c t o f j
i th e p l a y . 69 ^e have th e im p ression o f a su c c e s s io n o f J
| p ic t u r e s ra th er than a u n if ie d p l o t . These p ic tu r e s are
t
t
I sim ply stru n g on two p a r a l l e l th r ea d s: th e s to r y o f
M esser Maco, a S ie n e s e , a s o r t o f p r o v in c ia l g u l l come
t o Rome to be made a c o u r t ie r and p o s s ib ly a c a r d in a l,
who f a l l s in to th e hands o f M esser Andrea and i s f le e c e d
and,made a lau gh in g sto c k in to th e b argain ; and th e
amorous adventure o f Signor P arabolano, an u p s ta r t n o b le -
i
J man o f th e cou rt o f Rome, who has a l l th e in s o le n c e ,
c o n c e it , and s e lf - in d u lg e n c e o f h i s c l a s s . Both Maco and j
< Parabolano are in v o lv e d in lo v e a f f a i r s - - S i g n o r Parabolano!
|
J w ith a lad y c a lle d L iv ia , and M esser Maco w ith a c e r ta in \
i *
! C am illa whom he has seen lo o k in g out from a window on a
i
! Roman s t r e e t . Both are le d a w ild -g o o s e ch ase— Parabolano
by h is r a s c a lly serv a n t Rosso and Maco by M esser Andrea—
and both end up u t t e r l y d isc o m fite d and made f o o l s o f .
| Maco’ s adventure i s l i k e a b u rlesq u e o f P arab olan o*s,
I
i
i
69Act I — 23 sc e n e s; Act I I — 22 sc e n e s; Act I I I — 15
sc en es; Act IV— 21 sc e n e s; Act V— 25 s c e n e s .
i 68
| Maco's ignorance and rustic clumsiness of manner and
; speech being a travesty of the mannered refinement of
I the courtier Parabolano.
J
The play opens on the lessons given to Maco by
j Messer Andrea on the art of being a courtier. Under the J
! pretext of teaching his pupil the precepts of courtier- j
! I
ship, Messer Andrea (i.e., Aretino) takes occasion to make
the most cynical observations about the court, which Maco
gravely repeats and learns by heart without understanding
their import:
M. Andrea: The main thing a courtier must know is to
swear, to be a gambler, to be envious, to
whore, to be a heretic, to fawn, speak ill,
be ungrateful, ignorant, an ass ....
i
M. Maco: I think I understand. But how does one j
become a heretic? That's the point.
M. Andrea: When someone tells you there is goodness,
discretion, love, conscience at court, say,
”1 don't believe it."
M. Maco: I don't believe it.
M. Andrea: To sum it up: whoever tells you anything
good of the court, say, "You are a liar."
M. Maco: Why do courtiers swear, Master?
M. Andrea: In order to give themselves an air, and
because of the cruelty of whoever dispenses
court favors who, giving every opportunity
to poltroons and making good servants live
69
in misery, drives courtiers to such a
point of despair that they are all ready
to forswear their baptism- (I.xxii)
The comedy proceeds, adding touch after touch to
complete the picture of court life. We are given a vivid
impression of the arrogance, foppery, and avarice of the
lords of the court in the conversations of the lackeys,
who slyly turn to their advantage the vices they so
closely observe in their masters:
Cappa: Certainly, whoever says that he [the Master] is
not a blackguard lies in his throat; I have j
found out another skinflint habit of his: he i
says to the servants who come to work for him:
you try working for me a month, and I will try
your service a month; then if you like me you
stay; if I don’t like you, you go. At the end 1
of the month he says: you won’t do. '
i
Rosso: I see his drift: in this way he is well served '
and pays no salary. j
Cappa: It’s enough to make you burst with laughter I
and cursing at the same time when, supported j
by two servants, he has his stockings laced, I
and if the laces are not even and the points i
not just right, he eries out to high heaven.
. . . And how I laugh to see him in church
. . . taking the holy water: a page, kissing
his hand, dips it into the font and touches,,
with a most Spanish curtsey, the tip of his
finger, with which the traitor crosses his
forehead .... (I.vii)
We have thus an impression both of the higher levels of
the court and of that shrewd world of the servants’ hall
through whose eyes they are seen.
The denunciation of the vices of the court is most
direct and outspoken in the words of Valerio and Flaminio,
7 0
P arab olan o’ s a tte n d a n ts , whom th e author u s e s as h is
m outhpieces* When a f r ie n d c o n s u lts him about p la c in g
h i s son a t c o u r t, F lam inio lau n ch es in to a b i t t e r
d ia t r ib e in which he to u c h e s on a l l th e v a r io u s m is e r ie s
o f cou rt l i f e which aroused th e a u th o r ’ s in d ig n a t io n .
At c o u r t, he sa y s ,
. . . f i v e or s i x p erson s s le e p in a room ten f e e t lon g
and e ig h t f e e t w ide; whoever does not l i k e s le e p in g on j
th e f l o o r p ro v id es h is own bed . . . h o rse s become
eham eleons, i f we do not p rovid e o a ts and hay fo r them
out o f our own p u r s e s . . . . i f one f a l l s i l l in th e
s e r v ic e o f h is m a ste r, he i s as a g r e a t fa v o r g iv en a j
p la c e in th e c h a r ity h o s p i t a l . . . . B e n e fic e s go to I
th o se who were n ever a t C ourt, or are d iv id ed in to so j
many sh ares th a t we g e t a ducat a p ie c e . . . and we j
would hold o u r s e lv e s happy, i f we d id not have to j
f i g h t te n y e a r s t o g et th e d u c a t. . . . W e se rv a n ts are j
ready t o devour one an oth er, w ith such m utual h atred do j
we a l l s i t around a s in g le l o a f o f bread and one b o t t l e j
o f wine . . . . ( I I . v i ) 7 0
At an oth er tim e , V a le r io t e l l s F lam inio th a t h is
h a b it o f c r i t i c i z i n g i s what has ruin ed h is p r o sp e c ts o f
advancem ent. F lam inio o b je c ts t h a t a l l he w ants i s to
t e l l th e tr u th :
V a le r io : T his t e l l i n g th e tr u th i s what th e y d i s l i k e .
. . . Of th e g r e a t , one must say th a t the
e v i l th e y do i s good. . . . They are allow ed
t o do e v e r y th in g , but we are not p erm itted
t o say e v e r y th in g .
F lam inio: Why should I be ashamed t o say what th e y are
n ot ashamed t o do? j
G rosso’ s le n g th y ou tb u rst on th e h orrors o f the
s e r v a n t s ’ h a ll (V .xv) adds n a t u r a l i s t i c d e t a i l s to t h i s
p i c t u r e .
Valerio: Because the great are the great. (Ill.viii)
Valerio, finding himself for an unknown cause
< i
suddenly in disgrace with his master, thus reflects on
the uncertainty of court favor:
i
How strange is the nature of masters, the life of
servants, the custom of the Court. The master in
everything obeys his impulse; the servantfs destiny
always hangs on the changing humor of another; and
the Court has no greater delight than to torment this
or that one with the sting of envy, which was bora in
the same hour as the Court and will die when the Court
dies* (IV.vii)
i When Parabolano confides to Valerio his desire for
j a lady of the court, Valerio tells him sadly that in
these days such desires are all too easy to satisfy, and
i openly, since "the wars have so corrupted all of Italy
! that no one has a shred of conscience left*" (II.x) The
| low level of court morals is ironically confirmed by the
i
exultation of the lackey Rosso, who finds this world
j
extremely suitable to his system of living at other
| peopleTs expense; for at court, "whoever wrongly accuses
| others, calumnies, slanders ... is believed, and
! whoever is innocent is accused." (IV.xvii)
j
All through the comedy, fiercely bitter comments on
j the court are put into the mouth of this or that person:
It is really incredible, the effrontery of your Court—
it wears the mitre and it is not ashamed. (Ill.vi)
Set your mind at rest— "poltroon" in Rome is a holiday
term. (I.ii)
; 72
j Alvigia: Come, speak— don*t be ashamed.
I Rosso: What— ashamed?— at Court? (I.iv)
i
i
! Perverse, ungrateful, graeeless nature of the Court I
j Is there malignity in the world? Is there deceit in
j the world? Is there cruelty in the world— which does
i not rule in you?'(V.i)
; At the end of the comedy, Signor Parabolano, as a
result of his sad experiences, sees himself in a new
light and realizes his fatuousness in taking it for
granted that all women should be madly in love with him,
and his injustice in mistreating the faithful servant
Valerio to shower his favors on the rascal Rosso, who
pandered to his vices. He has the grace to laugh at
himself and, speaking for the author, resolves all the
accumulated bitterness of the comedy in his laughter:
"Put down that knife," he tells the irate baker, whose
l
• wife he had been beguiled into taking for his paramour,
! "it would be a shame if such a fine comedy were to end
i
; up as a tragedy." (V.xxi)
The main figures of the play are surrounded by types
vividly suggestive of the Roman scene: the aged courtesan
i
Alvigia, who has turned procuress and deals in necromancy;
the faithless shrew Togna, who stands on her right to
betray her husband because he is a frequenter of taverns,
a gambler, and jealous into the bargain; the Jewish
ragman; the politic fishmonger; the newsvendor who goes
73
i
i
| up and down th e s t r e e t s c r y in g h is w ares, th e " s t o r i e s ,
f in e s t o r ie s " he has t o s e l l on th e C ouncil o f T ren t,
!
th e Emperor, th e Sack o f Rome. There are b e s id e s co u n t- I
I
l e s s a l l u s i o n s c a l l i n g to mind th e sh ops, b r o t h e ls , i
*
ta v e r n s , s t r e e t s o f Rome and c r e a tin g a r e a l i s t i c s e t t i n g |
fo r th e a c t io n . !
I I M arescaleo (The M arshal)
I I M a resca lco , w r itte n th r e e y ea rs a f t e r La
i
| G o rtig ia n a (1 5 2 9 ), though p u b lish e d a y ear b efo re i t
(1 5 3 3 ), b e lo n g s a ls o t o th e e a r l i e r p eriod o f th e com edies
and i s in many ways a p a r a l l e l p ie c e t o La G o r tig ia n a .
j
Although th e scen e i s l a i d in Mantua in s te a d o f Rome, th e
o b je c t o f th e au th or*s s a t i r e i s th e same, co u rt l i f e .
i
I And th e s a t i r e has th e same sh arp n ess o f p erso n a l ra n co r.
i
! As in th e C o r tig ia n a , th e a u th o r Ts b i t t e r commentary on
i
th e ways o f th e co u rt runs through th e p la y :
| How much b e t t e r were i t fo r me to have a tten d ed my shop,
I from which I l e t th e c lo u d - lik e v i s i o n s o f th e Court
! lu r e me; I could have l i v e d in s t y l e w ith what I earned,
j and I have chosen r a th e r t o l i v e l i k e a w retch , lo s i n g
i e v e r y th in g ; and y e t I was t o ld t h a t n oth in g but envy
I and tr e a c h e r y i s t o be found in th e s e cursed c o u r t s .
■ ( I . v i i i ) j
i C e r ta in ly I th ou ght t o have d ie d a thousand tim e s on !
my straw at Court, as th e g r e a te r p a r t o f th e c o u r t ie r s
do. ( I . i x )
These lo r d s have stra n g e whims. . . • They are l i k e
women, who pursue th o se who would escap e them, and
7 4
i fly from those who pursue them, and have no other
• pleasure than to drive mad their poor servants.
| (Il.iii)
i
I confess to you that I should be put to a beastly
concern to imitate a gentleman of the Court, because
if I were such a one (which God forbid) I should never
be able to bring myself, as they do, to disregard
faithfulness in servants, benefits of friends, kinship
of blood; nor could I, with all my simplicity touch
even the hem of their, shall I call it, ignorance.
(Prologue)
As in the Cortigiana, the characters are vividly
drawn by a few telling traits that also suggest the local
scene: Giannico, the mischievous stable boy; the
j Marescalcofs old nurse, who has an undiminished relish
i
| for life and is inexhaustible on the theme of the joys
j of matrimony, which she sets forth in pictures of the
| most hearty and unreserved realism; the misogynist,
I
; Ambrogio, who is there to show the other side of the
I medal of married life; the pedant, with his long-winded
j and grotesque Latinisms; the Jewish peddler; the pages
j and attendants, and gentlemen and ladies of the duke1s
i court at Mantua. The action takes place in the square
: between the dukeTs palace and the stables. The
j Marescalco serves as a center around which the other
i characters, singly or in groups, revolve; and their
■ movements, as in turn they approach, withdraw, return,
1 have something of the rhythm of a dance— as if the whole
; piece were in itself the representation of a play, na
75
p la y performed in a town sq u are, as in a p a in tin g o f th e
q u a ttr o c e n to ." ” ' 7'* ' In s p it e o f th e t h r u s t s o f s a t i r e , th e
comedy i s pervaded by a h o lid a y mood, a s i f i t were a
p a rt o f th e en terta in m en t fo r a f e s t i v e season* Perhaps
i t was in t h i s sen se th a t De S a n c tis lik e n e d i t to
Shakespeare *s T w elfth Might *7^
The M arescalco i s th e b e s t k n it o f any o f A r e tin o 1s
com ed ies. The p lo t (th e same th a t Jonson was t o use in
The S ile n t Woman) c o n s i s t s o f a hoax m arriage fo rce d on
a man who h a te s women. In A retin o * s comedy, th e v ic tim
i s th e M arescalco, or head s ta b le -k e e p e r t o th e Cuke o f
Mantua, who i s ordered by h is lo r d t o e n te r in t o a sudden
m a rria g e. He f i r s t h ea rs th e news from h is s t a b le boy,
G ian n ico, who comes t o h is work m a lic io u s ly s in g in g :
My m aster w i l l tak e a w ife ;
My m aster w i l l tak e a w ife t h i s ev e n in g ,
upon t h i s e a r th .
He w i l l ta k e h e r , he w i l l not tak e her;
He w i l l have h e r , he w i l l not have h e r ,
upon t h i s e v e n in g . (I.i)
Upon b e in g q u estio n ed by th e M a rescalco, G iannico
7^Mario A p o llo n io , S to r ia d e l Teatro I t a lia n o
(F ir e n z e , 1 9 5 1 /, pp* 8 o -8 9 *
72See De S a n c t is , I I , 111; a ls o Arthur Symonds, The
R en aissan ce in I t a l y , I I , 269: "This p la y i s conducted
w ith so much sp ir it; th a t we may n ot be wrong in su pp osing
Shakespeare in T w elfth Might and Ben Jonson in E picoene
t o have owed som ething bo i t s humor."
I explains that he is alluding to "the wife my lord is
! giving you."
| Marescalco: Ah, these are jests of the Court.
1
j Giannico: You will see.
; Marescalco: Who told you this nonsense?
f
Giannico: The gentlemen, the pages, the secretaries,
the faulconers, the ushers, and the rug
that is spread on the table. (I•i)
Thereafter, the comedy develops with the increasing
uneasiness of the Marescalco as the realization of his
masterfs seriousness of intention grows upon him. His
torments are exacerbated by ttie merry comments of every
one he meets. His old nurse drives him into a frenzy
by the fond pictures she conjures of his future marital
[
| bliss:
l
j ... the good wife meets you at the head of the
stairs with smiles of love and heartfelt welcome; she
takes your coat and, joyfully ministering to you,
j ... she wipes the sweat from your face with cloths
so white and soft, that to your very soul you feel
comforted.
Then, at the evening meal, the nurse continues, she sets
! before him "such tempting morsels, such delicacies, as
i would tickle the appetite of a dead man"; and at night
i
! she lovingly washes his feet "with water made fragrant
with bay leaf and sage and rosemary." She is to her
husband such consolation "as in Paradise we have from
the angels." When in conclusion the nurse asks fondly,
! "When shall I see yon so married?" the exasperated
Marescalco answers, "On the day of Saint Bindo, whose
feast falls three days after the Judgment.” (I.vij
The nurse’s picture of matrimony is comically
counterbalanced by the one drawn by Ambrogio, a courtier
i whose views on women coincide with those of the
I
i
Marescalco* Giving as many graphic instances as the
nurse had done, Ambrogio descants on the shrewishness of
wives, their gossiping, flirting, vanity, disobedience,
and selfishness. It is a speech like that which Truewit
i
i
makes to Morose (Epicoene II.i) for the purpose of
deterring him from marriage •
The Jewish peddler now enters colorfully upon the
scene, crying his wares:
To whom shall I sell them, my pretty trifles, my lovely
knick-knaeks, to whom shall I sell them ....
j ( I l l . i )
! and is incited by Giannico to exasperate the Marescalco
|
; by pressing trinkets upon him for his new bride. Even
l
| the pedant, with his absurdly high-flown discourses, adds
to the poor man’s agony by citing passages from the
Scriptures in testimony of man’s duty to marry:
Pedante: Bene vivere et laetari: I bring you good
tidings .... His Excellency, His Most
Illustrious Lordship, loves you and, this
evening, laying upon you the matrimonial
bond, joins you to so rare a lady as
might be envied by totum orbem.
78
Do yon speak in seriousness or to try my
patience?
Per Deum Yerum, our lord is giving her to
you in all certainty.
I shall never accept her.
|
Ah, friend, do but call to mind the words j
of Holy Gospel. i
I
Does the Gospel speak against wives?
How, against? Immo, on the contrary . . .
the maker coeli et terrae in the Gospel
says that a tree that does not bear fruit j
shall be cut down and cast into the fire; I
therefore our most magnanimous Duke, in
order that you who are as the tree, may
bear fruit, has elected you to enjoy a
most virtuous consort .... (I.ix) \
Meanwhile, Giannico keeps up the constant pin-pricks j
of his teasing:
I should never have thought that, just because I told
you about your wife, you would wish to kill me. j
Is it so bad a thing to say that you are going to take
a wife?
If you must take a wife, may I not say it as well as
another?
You mustnTt swear, just because of a wife.
The Duke is to blame for your wife, not Giannico . . . .
His Excellency, not the boy, is giving you a wife
. . . . (II.vii)
Marescalco:
Pedante:
Marescalco:
Pe dante:
Marescalco:
Pedante:
i 79 j
| — until the Marescalco is driven out of his mind with
fury, while the duke’s gentlemen stroll across the square
to congratulate him on his good fortune or to assure him
of the duke’s disfavor should he refuse it. The action
precipitates to its climax: the revolution of the char- j
acters around the Marescalco is intensified until all
surround him, and he is dragged into the palace where his
bride awaits and all is ready for the wedding— only to j
discover to his inexpressible joy, that his lord has j
played a joke on him and that the "wife” is only a page
boy. j
I
i
La Talanta
La Talanta has even less unity of structure than the
■ other comedies of Aretino, and gives even more the
I
| impression of a haphazard succession of scenes. The
i
i intrigue is tedious and involved and has no originality,
i It turns on the old device of identical twins (in this
I
• case triplets) who are disguised so that their sexes are
mixed up, and who have been separated and dispersed (two I
of the children, a ’ ’ Saracen boy” and a ’ ’ slave girl,” had
been stolen by the Turks and sold as slaves); and there
is the usual to-do about the recognition and reestablish
ment of the proper sex, relationships, and so on. It is
; S O
| th e o ld s t u f f o f L atin comedy. The r e a l them e, however,
j i s c o u r te s a n s, a s u b je c t in which A retin o f e l t th o ro u g h ly
| a t e a s e , and th e i n t e r e s t o f the p la y i s in th e m a ste rly
i p o r tr a y a l he g iv e s o f th e s p e c ie s in th e h e r o in e , T a la n ta .
f
i
I The comedy i s w r itte n t o g iv e h er an o p p o rtu n ity to
i I
d is p la y a l l h er a r t s and t o p la y th e many s h i f t i n g a s p e c ts !
I
o f h er p e r s o n a lity on h er v a r io u s lo v e r s , each o f whom i t j
i
i s her in t e n t io n t o e x p lo it to th e maximum. i
t
As th e comedy open s, T a la n ta , c h a ttin g w ith her maid,
A ld e lla , e x p la in s to her th e p h ilo so p h y o f h er p r o fe s s io n :
. . . For you must know, s i s t e r , th a t th e p r a c t ic e o f
such as I had i t s o r ig in from th e meanness o f th o se
who fo r c e us t o be m ercenary. . . . So t h a t we are not
good, because th e y were e v i l ; and th e r e fo r e t o do them
th e g r e a t e s t p o s s ib le i l l i s but a c h a r ity t o them. • •
Old age com es, A ld e lla , and when your foreh ead b eg in s
t o w r in k le , p u rses are t ig h te n e d and lo v e s b eg in t o
cool* • • •
i
I She g o es on to d e sc r ib e th e lo v e r s whom we are to
; meet in th e p la y , mocking t h e i r f o i b l e s , o f which she
ta k e s such shrewd advantage:
T alanta: But what do you say o f th e Captain? How can
you keep from dying o f la u g h te r when he t e l l s
about th e order o f h is b a t t l e s , h u r lin g him
s e l f about and b ra n d ish in g h i s arms as i f he
were th ere?
A ld e lla : He and th e V en etian ought t o be gran ted fr e e
en tra n ce: th e y are such fun t o have in th e
h o u se .
T alanta: There i s an oth er one I How I lo v e t o torment
him when he swears to me th e r e i s not an oth er
SI
in th e w orld as b e a u t if u l a s I , and I pretend
t o be angry, as i f t o say t h a t he i s mocking
me. . . . And what sp o rt i t i s when th e good
man ask s i f he speaks Tuscan c o r r e c t ly ,
a ffir m in g he has kept a F lo r e n tin e w ith him
fo r two y e a r s in order to p e r f e c t h im s e lf in
th e la n g u a g e .
A ld e lla : I wonder h is serv a n t or t h a t o f th e Captain
d o e sn ’t appear t o b rin g you some message and
make O r fin io grow hot and c o ld . . •
T alanta: He i s f o o lin g h im s e lf i f he th in k s th a t one
thousand would s a t i s f y me, l e t alon e one; I
speak from a p r a c t ic a l s t a n d p o in t .
A ld e lla : S t i l l , O r fin io lo v e s you.
T alanta: O r fin io lo v e s n ot me, but h is p astim e; and '
spends not fo r me, but f o r h i s p le a su r e : J
h ere i s a g lu tt o n who buys a d e lic a c y not j
fo r th e lo v e he b ears i t but fo r th e d e s ir e j
he has t o e a t i t ; so he e a t s me in th e |
p le a su r e he d e r iv e s from what I am. ( I « i ) j
The lo v e r s are more f u l l y p ortra y ed in th e fo llo w in g !
s c e n e s , each b ein g h ig h lig h te d in tu rn in h i s r e la t io n s h ip
t o La T a la n ta . M esser V ergolo, l i k e M esser Maco o f La
C ortigian ai, i s th e str a n g e r in Rome, who b r in g s w ith him
a l l th e p e c u l i a r i t i e s o f h is own region * V ergolo i s a
V en etia n . He w alks th e Roman s t r e e t s sig h in g f o r the
c a n a ls o f V e n ic e . When, w ith c o n sid e r a b le d i f f i c u l t y ,
he i s mounted on a m ule, he h an d les i t a s i f i t were a
g o n d o la . Gazing on th e monuments and m arvels o f Rome,
he has alw ays a t h is f in g e r t ip s V enetian com parisons
which su rpass them:
& 2
V ergolo: What a f in e column t h a t i s t
Ponzio: Trajan had i t e r e c te d -
V ergolo: There are two on our P ia zza which would n ot
y i e l d t o i t .
Ponzio: Pause here and look a t th e Arch o f S e p tim iu s,
under which he p assed w ith h i s trium phant
h o s ts -
V ergolo: I t i s superb, v ery superb— th e B u ein to ro ,
t o o , i s a m arvelous t h in g . ( I - i i i )
M esser V ergolo, as i s not unusual in a m iddle-aged
b u rgher, i s s tin g y : in Rome he h ir e s o n ly one mule and
makes h is serv a n t walk behind wearing th e spurs ("So i t
w i l l seem th a t you are r id in g ” ) . When M esser V e r g o lo T s
mount g e t s lo o s e and s tr a y s away w h ile h is serv a n t s le e p s ,
M esser P onzio i s concerned fo r th e d isg r a c e o f h is
f r i e n d f s p red icam en t. V e r g o lo ’s a t t it u d e i s more
p r a c t ic a l:
P onzio: W ill you th in k more o f th e f i f t y scu d i t h a t
th e mule c o s t you than o f th e mockery o f so
lo s in g i t ?
V ergolo: Mockery i s m ockery, and a mule i s a m ule.
( I - v i )
O r fin io i s an im p u lsiv e and p a ssio n a te y o u th , who
s e e s th e madness o f h is lo v e f o r T alanta but cannot f r e e
h im s e lf o f i t :
I th in k th a t th e s p i r i t , m o tio n s, and th o u g h ts and
s e n s e s , t o g e th e r w ith what e l s e makes up th e l i v e s
o f lo v e r s are a l l composed o f q u ic k s ilv e r , so th a t
Cupid would lo s e more tim e in t r y in g t o stop them
S3
i than th e a lc h e m is ts w aste in t r y in g t o f r e e z e th a t
| e le m e n t. I speak s o , becau se I m y se lf cannot sta y
I one f r a c t io n o f a moment w ith ou t s e e in g T a la n ta . ( I . i i )
! T alanta p la y s a s k i l l f u l game o f f a s t and lo o s e w ith
| j
O r fin io . In th e fo llo w in g s c e n e , she lu r e s him back j
I j
I a f t e r having m o r tifie d him and c a s t him o f f . The c y n ic a l !
i !
j
comments of P i z i o , who wants t o d issu a d e h is f r ie n d from
h i s in f a t u a t io n , come in to th e d ia lo g u e w ith a co u n ter
p o in t e f f e c t :
C e r ta in ly , O r fin io i s a f o o l , i f he th in k s
t o f i g h t w ith o u t h is h ea rt and t o win me
who h old i t p r is o n e r .
Donft l e t her tak e away your courage in j
order to fr ig h te n you w ith i t . |
!
S in ce th a t i s how i t i s and g o e s— so l e t j
i t go and l e t i t b e . >
The words o f my O r fin io so d e lig h t me t h a t
I seem s t i l l t o hear them.
Cursed woman.
W ell m et, dream o f my slu m bers.
I l l f o r him who c r o s s e s your p a th .
W ill you not answer me, haven o f my hopes?
How should I answer? With th e b o ld n e ss th a t
you g iv e me, s in c e th e fa v o r I have from you
so fa r ov erto p s a l l o th e r s , th a t even your
p rid e must y i e l d to me.
There was no wrong.
i
She speaks t r u e , fo r u n t i l she has you
c r u c i f i e d , she h o ld s ev e ry o th e r wrong
as n o th in g . ( I . x i i i )
T alanta:
P iz io :
O rfin io :
i
! T alanta:
i
i
i
j P iz io :
t
j T a la n ta :
j P iz io :
j
j T alanta:
! O r fin io :
i
T alanta:
P iz io :
8k
Soon, T alanta has won back O r fin io and h is con sen t
t o a l l her w ish es:
T alanta: My h e a r t , s h a ll I have my way?
O r fin io : How sh ould you n ot have i t ?
T alanta: But answer me.
O r fin io : I f you w ish t o make a t r i a l o f th e lo v e I
b ear you , ask me f o r th e th in g s th a t are
in my power t o g i v e . and not fo r th o se t h a t
are a lr ea d y y o u r s. ( I . x i i i )
C aptain Tinea i s th e typ e o f th e m ile s g l o r i o s u s ,
but th e r e i s a Spanish f la v o r to h is oaths and in h is
cerem onious o s t e n t a t io n . In an I t a l y more and more
dom inated by th e Spanish in f lu e n c e , th e Roman m ile s had
tak en on some o f th e mannerisms o f th e new m a s te r s .
Tinea i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a l l y sure o f h is power over
T a la n ta , and h is p a r a s it e Branca does n o th in g to d e f la t e
h i s i l l u s i o n s . Here i s Branca g iv in g h is m aster an
e x a lte d account o f T a la n ta ’ s r e c e p tio n o f th e s la v e g i r l
th a t T inea had se n t her as a g i f t :
Tinea: So th e g i f t r a v ish e d her s o u l, did i t ?
Branca: I co u ld n ’t b eg in t o t e l l you .
Tinea: And th o se w retch es who brought o th e r t h in g s ,
were c u r sin g t h e i r lu c k , ah?
Branca: You may w e ll say s o .
Tinea: What thanks d id she render to th o se o th e rs
who gave h er p r e s e n ts?
S5 !
i
Branca: The same th a t th e T iber would rend er t o
th o se who e a s t a tr e a s u r e in h is w a te r s .
Tinea: M agnifying on ly my m a g n ific en t m a g n ific e n c e , 1
eh? !
i
Branca: M aster, y e s . ( I l l . x i i ) ;
I
T alanta th u s p r a c t ic e s her se d u c tio n s on T inea, !
i
i
ad ap tin g her manner o f speech to h i s , w h ile Branca com- j
ments on th e s t y l e o f both:
Here i s th e Captain coming to me . . • i
W ell m et, 0 D urlindane o f your Orlando I
A tr u e m ilit a r y s a l u t a t i o n .
i
What hoJ h elm et o f my head , armor o f my body, j
c u ir a s s o f my t h ig h , and cap a riso n of my j
s t e e d l j
From now on I am goin g to carry my inkhorn !
w ith me, fo r i t i s a shame th a t such f in e j
e x p r e s s io n s should be l o s t .
j
You don’t r e p ly , t a s s e l o f my sta n d a r d s. 1
\
I am submerged in th e sea o f your c o n c e i t s . 1
( I l l . x i i i )
I t i s T a lan ta*s aim, by p la y in g h er lo v e r s one
a g a in s t th e o th e r , t o o b ta in from V ergolo th e Saracen
boy, from Tinea th e s la v e g i r l , from an oth er Roman
i
gentlem an th e means t o support b o th , and from O r fin io |
I
h is p a tie n c e and forb earan ce u n t i l she has gain ed her
ends w ith th e o t h e r s . Her way o f c a r ry in g out a l l t h i s
makes a d iv e r tin g s p e c ta c le and shows her te c h n iq u e .
There i s an amusing scen e ( I l . v i i ) when th e se r v a n ts o f
T alanta:
Tinea:
Branca:
Tinea:
Branca:
Tinea:
T a la n ta :
S 6
the lovers all arrive at the same time at Talanta’s door
with their masters’ presents. They argue as to who has
precedence, and Talanta appears on the balcony:
Talanta: What is all that chattering and noise down
there?
Pizio: It’s us, with the presents.
Talanta: Who’s there?
Pizio: Fora, Raspa, Branca, and Pizio, whom I should
have mentioned first.
Talanta: What have you got? What are you bringing me?
Pizio: • • . the necklace, the money, the Saracen
boy, and the slave girl.
Talanta: Oh . . . Where are they?
Pizio: Here it ist
Here t
Look at him I
Branca: See her I
Talanta: We shall deign to accept the gifts.
Branca: The door opens • • •
Pizio: With your kind permission • • .
Fora: Let’s go in--it doesn’t matter who goes
first. (Il.vii)
Talanta is told by Biffa that her lovers Orfinio
and Armileo have fought a duel on her account and are
both wounded. She laughs:
Biffa: So, you drive men to cut themselves to
pieces, and then you laugh?
& 7
Talanta: What is it to me, if they are mad? And is
it the fault of my beauty that they are
jealous? It would be pretty if those who
make themselves drunk with wine should
pretend to be restored by it.
Biffa: My hearti
Talanta: Did they really draw blood?
Biffa: He is a traitor who embroils himself with
you I (Il.xiv)
Later, when Costa brings her the news of his master
Orfinio1s sad state as a result of the duel, Talanta
pretends not to believe it, and to take it as a bad joke
Orfinio is playing on her:
I for one am not of those who swell and strut on hearing
swords clash for their love and are never so happy as
when they see people being hacked up. Certainly, I like
quiet natures, and it does me good to see peace among
my friends; so commend me to Orfinio and tell him I
rejoiee he should so amuse himself at the expense of my
simplicity. (II.xv)
Talanta uses anger as well as suavity as her weapon.
When the theft of her two slave children is discovered,
she bursts into a spectacular rage:
Run, find Tinea, find the old man, find the plague to
take them— yell, swear, threaten, spread it about they
have only given us gifts to take them again— but make
a clamort (IH-xiiiJ
When poor Messer Vergolo falls into her hands, he gets
a rough shaking up:
Vergolo: Talanta, my mistress, lady, and queen . . •
Talanta: Fine things t
Vergolo: Very fine . . .
88
i
To give and take againt
I have given you my heart and I am not the
man to take it back again, though I should
be dying for lack of it; now, consider what j
you say. j
!
What do I care for your hearts; I am a woman
not a bird of prey; but for the Saracen I did
eareI And I kept him because I was worthy
the gift and to spread abroad your liberality.
J
By this holy sign of the Gross, I have given J
him to you Venetianly and irrevocably. !
Have you no soul? Look into your breast.
I look, but find none because you are she.
I neither am nor wish to be. And if you so
much as pass by my house again I will teach
you to cheat me I What do you think of me?
I have power with such a one that could
avenge me over ten princes— now go, toothless,
decrepit carcassI (IV.vii) I
When Talanta sees that there is little more to be [
gained from her other lovers, she begins to consider the j
advantages of security and prepares the way for making a !
permanent settlement with Orfinio. As might be expected,
she takes a roundabout way, broaching the matter to Pizio,
but as if she were thinking regretfully of breaking with
Orfinio:
I
Talanta: It is not that I bear him a grudge, or
remember the injury he had done me in breaking
into my house, but I must begin to think of
marrying and ... ;
Pizio: This is all we needed.
Talanta:
Vergolo:
Talanta:
Vergolo:
Talanta:
Vergolo:
Talanta:
8 9
I t i s no sm all g a in t o fr e e o n e s e lf a t once
o f blame and s in ; no lo n g e r t o have t o s le e p
or wake a t a n oth er*s b id d in g . Look— i f I am
n ot alw ays o f t h a t humor o f which one cannot
alw ays b e , he s a y s , i f i t were such and such
a one you would be ready enough; i f I am
d ressed in my b e s t , he comments: you are
r ig h t to make y o u r s e lf s le e k t o p le a s e I know
whom; i f I happen t o be p le a sa n t a t h is
ex p en se , he b e g in s t o blow and swear . . . so
th a t I can and w i l l no lo n g e r put up w ith him* |
J
Where th e r e i s no je a lo u s y th e r e i s no lo v e
. . . . I may t e l l him, th e n , th a t p eace i s
d eclared ?
I have no q u a rrel w ith anyone . . . ( V . x i i i ) ;
Of cou rse she wins h er p o in t , and th e f i n a l word o f
th e p la y i s P i z i o f s: "Since th e t r a v a i l s o f t h i s s to r y
have been brought t o a happy c l o s e , i t may be c a lle d a
i
i m a tter o f comedy." |
i
!
t
j LT I p o c r ito (The H yp ocrite)
I Like La T alan ta, LT I p o c r ito i s a lo n g p ie c e w ith a
i
1 t e d io u s ly in v o lv ed s t o r y . Again th e d ev ic e o f tw in s i s
used: L iseo and B r iz io , se p a r a te d in in fa n c y and lo n g
l o s t t o each o th e r , are f i n a l l y brought to g e th e r by th e
j chance retu rn o f B r iz io to h i s n a t iv e town o f Milan w here,
i ' i
j unknown t o him, h is b ro th e r r e s i d e s . The sim u ltan eou s j
j p resen ce o f both tw in s in Milan g iv e s r i s e t o a l l s o r t s
J o f qu id - pro- quos u n t i l th e scen e o f r e c o g n itio n ta k es
; p la c e . The s it u a t io n i s t h a t used by P la u tu s in th e
Menaechmi and by many o th e r s a f t e r him . But th e e r r o r s
Talanta:
P izio :
Talanta:
r 9 0
and misunderstandings, that arise in Aretinofs comedy
have an original and irresistibly comic quality, due to
i
| the personalities involved, who are themselves in no way
artificial.
In the Ipocrito, unlike the Cortigiana and the
Talanta, the scene is not court or town life in general,
but a middle-class Milanese household. The action
j centers around the affairs of Liseo, the henpecked
husband, his Shrewish wife, Maia, and his five lively
daughters. The play opens on the preparation of festiv-
i
j ities for the imminent marriages of two of the daughters. .
j
| The house is in a bustle: Liseo is frantic; Maia is <
i ;
! rushing about doing errands and delivering invitations; !
| the servants are talkative and waste time with a great
j
air of business. Everything is thrown into a state of
i '
| worse confusion by the arrival in Milan of the twin
! brother Brizio, who is everywhere taken for Liseo, so
! that messages and objects are misdelivered with consequent
i !
j domestic turmoil. Liseo and Maia almost come to blows ;
j
| over a necklace which Maia, unwittingly, has handed over
! to the twin brother:
Liseo: But I deserve this and more, since I suffered
! you to wear the pants which I should be wear-
I ing.— Where did you say you gave me the pearls
| and the chain?
j Maia: In the street, in the presence of these two.
9 1
That i s t r u e , s i r .
You are ly in g a thousand tim es in your
t h r o a t .
You may say what you l i k e . i
j
Remember, you had an oth er servan t w ith |
you . . .
The p lagu e take y ou I
Most c e r t a in ly you d id .
T hieves I
I
DonT t you remember th a t Madonna, h ere , j
in g iv in g them t o you t o ld us t o go ■
a lo n g w ith her? !
i
T r a ito r s I
E ith e r we are mad or e l s e we have gone
out o f our m in d s. ( I l l . i x ) I
L iseo i s in a co n sta n t s t a t e o f a g it a t i o n over h is j
fa m ily p rob lem s. Like a t y p ic a l b o u r g eo is he i s m is e r ly
and sure th a t h is se r v a n ts w ith t h e i r l a z i n e s s are goin g
t o ru in h im :^
Do you suppose th a t among so many th a t are robbing me
o f t h e i r s a l a r i e s th e r e i s anyone by? Whoever wants
t o be b a d ly served has o n ly to keep a number o f
s e r v a n ts , f o r co n n iv in g w ith one a n o th er , th e y make
t h e i r m aster th e v ic tim o f t h e i r p o ltr o o n e r y ! ( I . i )
The s i t u a t i o n o f h i s l o s t tw in b ro th e r p rey s upon him—
"Since I have taken i t in to my head t h a t he i s a l i v e , I
73The se r v a n ts have th e p ic tu r e sq u e names o f j
M alanotte (bad n i g h t ) , P er d e lg io rn o (w aster o f d a y lig h t ) , ;
G uardalbasso (hangdog lo o k ) , e t c .
P erd elg io rn o :
L iseo:
M a la n o tte:
Maia:
L iseo :
P er d e lg io rn o :
L iseo :
M a la n o tte:
L iseo :
Maia:
' 92
consider myself lost, for to tell you the truth, I would
be ruined having to divide the property with him."
Moreover, the matrimonial activities of his daughters are
always getting out of hand. There are constantly
intrigues in course— "music by night and gaiety by day."
Matters have reached a critical point:
The eldest daughter, married to a man who, "stung
by some frenzy" abandoned her after the wedding, is
tonight, upon the expiration of the prescribed period of
time, to be married to another— unless the husband should
suddenly return.
The second daughter, affianced to "a young gallant
who loves her as his eyes," is also to be married, unless
by a great mischance her former suitor should arrive, to
whom she had pledged herself, on condition that he bring
her the feathers of the Phoenix bird from "Araby." The
term of his quest, too, expires tonight.
Frantic with anxiety, Liseo seeks aid and moral
support of Don Ipocrito, a man who "speaks deliberately
and with thought . . . who is something between the
priest and the friar . . . wears a little black thread-
bare mantle that fastens in front . . . tall and thin
. . . with his head poked forward and a breviary under
his arm." Liseofs servant, finding him, thus addresses
him:
93
Guardalbasso: I was just looking for Your Reverence.
Ipoerito: Well met.
Guardalbasso: The master would like to speak to you.
Ipoerito: Gladly.
Guardalbasso: He is just over the way.
Ipoerito: In nomine Dei.
Guardalbasso: See him, at the door.
Ipoerito: So much the better.
Guardalbasso: Here he comes.
Ipoerito: Like an arrow flying. (I.iii)
id Liseo appeals to him:
Liseo: Welcome and greetings.
Ipoerito: Charity be with you.
Liseo: May your goodness forgive me if I
interrupt your devotions.
Ipoerito: The good of our neighbor comes before
prayer; and charity has precedence over
fasting.
Liseo: Now ... I who do not know how to swim,
find myself in such waters, that if your
aid does not become a vessel for me, I
will sink to the bottom. (I.iii)
In the name of charity, Ipoerito proceeds to get every
thing possible out of Liseo, from eating his meals and
enjoying his goods to pandering for his daughters. His
counsel to Liseo is to take a nonchalant attitude towards
the caprices of Fortune, fortifying himself by the con
sideration of the universal nullity of things: the
94
philosophy suras itself up in the Spanish formula— "todos
es nada." Liseo embraces this doctrine so wholeheartedly
I
{ that he undergoes a remarkable transformation. Hence-
j :
forth, he is unmoved by the most catastrophic occurrences.!
; He stands impassive in the most furious domestic storms,
!
imperturbably repeating "todos es nada.” This gives rise
to some very diverting scenes.
His wife Maia announces to him the escape from home
of two daughters. Liseofs answers are in a tone of
complete detachment. The conversation is rendered droller
by the interpolated remarks of the servant Guardalbasso,
who agrees with each of the speakers in turn:
In the end your daughters were wise to
get away from you.
And that is no Joke.
If you consider them so, well, and if
you do not consider them so, well.
You are admirable.
So, you donft give any thought to getting
them back?
It’s no use talking to him about it.
The door which they found open to leave,
they will find open to return. If they
want to come, let them come; if they
don’t want to come let them not come.
I will have to see to it myself.
That is clear.
Maia:
Guardalbasso:
Liseo:
Guardalbasso:
Maia:
Guardalbasso:
Liseo:
Maia:
Guardalbasso:
95
Liseo It’s up to you if you want to see to
it, and up to you if you don’t want
to see to it.
Guardalbasso: Solomon himself.
Maia: Add madness to the strangeness of a
husband and sign yourself the wife.
Guardalbasso: I really pity you. (IV.vi)
The last minute return of Artico, the vanished
husband of the eldest daughter, just at the moment of
her remarriage, leaves Liseo equally unruffled. ’ ’The
same concern I have had up to this day for his not return
ing, I have now in his return.” (IY.vii)
The epilogue, pronounced by Liseo, is a humorous
apotheosis of Ipoerito’s philosophy:
Kind sirs, since he who made the comedy has always been
of the same mind as I intend to be from now on, I know
that I do him a great favor in telling you that if the
fable has pleased you, he is very happy; and if it has
not pleased you, he is very happy; since in its pleasing
you he shows his little concern for it; and in its not
pleasing you his less concern, for ’ ’ todos es nada,” and
everything being nothing, he weighs blame equally with
praise; for certainly, ”todos es nada,” and therefore
who dies, let him die, and who is bom let him be born,
and, without taking more account of the sun than of the
rain, who goes to ruin let him go to ruin, and who holds
firm let him hold firm, for ’ ’ todos es nada.” But since
’ ’ nada es todos” except God who is all, I shall go and
see the nuptial madness.
Ipoerito is the central figure in the play and is a
very original character portrayal. Like Moliere’s ]
Tartufe who was to follow him, he has the elements of a j
sinister character. He introduces himself with these
n 9 6
i
: /»
j cynical words:
| Who does not know how to feign, does not know how to
j live, because pretense is a shield that blunts every
weapon, rather a weapon that breaks every shield and,
availing itself of an apparent humility, turns religion
into craft and takes over the goods, the honor, and the
souls of others. (I.ii) j
He goes on to glory in his skill in evil doing: "Under
the cloak of goodness, I avail myself of every vice. One
j must admit it is a great talent of the devil’s to make
himself adored as a saint." He is proud of the fact that
i
his method is not that of gross flatterers:
Certainly I don’t raise my arms in wonder at my patrons,
exalting the stupidity of their words with that long
"Oht" that adds emphasis to admiration. But I praise
them for their pious works, their virtue, their life of
charity. And to reassure them in their vices, their
; pleasures, and usuries, I shrug my shoulders slightly j
| and, with a tolerant smile, speak of the frailty of the \
| flesh . . . for who does not show himself a friend to
vice becomes the enemy of man. (I.ii)
; The dark tones of the portrait are not deepened, however,
j and the comic note is maintained in the contrast between
j the evil Ipoerito would do and the good that comes out of
i
j it despite his best intentions. In the case of Liseo,
Ipoerito’s counsels, given from nothing but the most
dubious motives, seem to bring about the happy solution
j
i of all Liseo’s problems: the daughters are happily
j married, all the suitors are satisfied, the lost jewels
I X .
j are recovered, and even the missing twin brother, when
he turns up, is found to be fabulously rich.
! LTIpoerito has a particular interest among Aretino's
|
i comedies. Mot only is it, like the others, a transition
from classical comedy to the comedy of manners; it also
I
j
represents, to a certain degree, a transition to romantic :
' |
I comedy. The plot consists partly of errors arising from j
! *
| the conventional device of mistaken identity, but it also ;
I
I c o n ta in s elem en ts o f lo v e and adventure which are in q u it e |
i
a romantic strain. Such, for example, is the story of j
i
Prelio, the suitor of Porfiria, who is sent to far lands j
on a fabulous quest and returns just at the expiration of
| the time allotted to find Porfiria about to marry a rival.(
j Porfiria, who will be true to her pledged word to Prelio J
in spite of her love for Corebo, and who, in order to be !
!
j faithful to both, decides to poison herself before giving t
: herself to Prelio, is a romantic heroine. Corebo,s j
i ;
i determination to die with his intended bride; Preliofs |
generosity in giving up Porfiria and contenting himself
with a single kiss— all this is in a romantic vein that
contrasts with the dry, satiric spirit of Latin comedy.
The source from which Aretino drew such themes was
popular tradition, the store of folklore and legend from
which the novellieri had already drawn. Mario Apollonio,
in his introduction to the Ipoerito says:
i i
. . . th e M arescalco and th e C o rtig ia n a abounded in j
s a t i r i c a l e x p r e s s io n s and p o in te d r e fe r e n c e s t o p erson s j
and t h i n g s • Here e v e r y th in g i s p la c e d in a rem ote,
9 #
vague atm osphere; a s i f M ilano, where the a c t io n ta k e s
p la c e . . . were a t an incommensurable d is t a n c e . . . •
Comedy fo r A retino. tu rn s t o Romantic themes . . . opens
i t s e l f to f a n t a s t i c a d v e n tu r e s.74.
The in tr o d u c tio n o f p op u lar in s p ir a t io n in to
h u m an istic comedy p o in ts th e way t o th e E liza b eth a n
th e a tr e and t o such rom antic com edies as th o se o f Dekker,
G reene, and S h akespeare.
I I F ilo s o f o (The P h ilo so p h e r)
I I F i l o s o f o i s a r e l a t i v e l y s h o r te r and more compact
comedy. I t cannot be s a id t o have any more u n ity than th e j
o t h e r s , becau se th e p lo t i s s p l i t in t o two p a r ts th a t are I
n ever r e a l l y jo in e d t o g e t h e r , so th a t th e r e seem t o be two !
sep a ra te com edies running alon g s id e by s i d e . The theme
i s th e s a t i r e o f p e d a n ts. P l a t a r i s t o t i l e , whose name j
s u g g e sts a compound o f th e p h ilo s o p h ic a l s c h o o ls , i s th e j
r e p r e s e n t a tiv e o f th e s e c t . He i s lo n g -w in d ed , a rr o g a n t,
c o n c e it e d , and i n t o l e r a n t , and u s e s an a b s tr u s e , e r u d ite
jargon t o d is c u s s th e most everyday m a tte r s, w ith a
grotesq u e e f f e c t . He i s more, however, than j u s t a
c a r ic a t u r e . He has an in d iv id u a l c h a r a c te r , th e comedy
o f which a r i s e s from th e c o n tr a s t between h is enormous
e r u d it io n and th e f o o lis h n e s s th a t i s alm ost th e
i
i
i
i
74commedia I t a l i a n a , da C ie lo d ’ Alcamo a G oldoni
( M i l a n o T l W ) , p" 2 0 3 " . ' --------------------------------------------------
9 9
in e v it a b le consequence o f i t . So in g r a in e d in him i s
th e p h ilo s o p h ic a l h a b it o f p ro ceed in g from th e p a r t ic u la r
f a c t t o th e a b s t r a c t io n , t h a t he i s fo r e v e r lo s i n g s ig h t
o f p r a c t ic a l r e a l i t y . The a c t io n o f th e comedy b r in g s
about h is com ical r e t r ib u t io n . As L u igi T o n e lli p u ts i t :
Primum p h ilo so p h a r i . . . t h a t i s th e p r in c ip le o f
P l a t a r i s t o t i l e , who f o r g e t s h i s m atrim onial d u t ie s ,
l e t s " h im self be hoodwinked by h is ir r e p r e s s ib le w ife
T e ssa , and having one day su r p r ise d her w ith h er lo v e r ,
l o s e s so much p rec io u s tim e th in k in g about th e nature j
o f h i s proposed ven g ea n ce, th a t when he f i n a l l y a c t s , !
he f in d s in th e p la c e o f th e lo v e r a b rayin g a s s . 75 j
P l a t a r i s t o t i l e e n te r s on th e scen e pronouncing a !
i
s e r i e s o f maxims on th e c h a s t it y o f w iv e s . H is s e r v a n t, .
S a lv a la g li o , who i s , much more th an h is m a ster, inform ed j
i
on what goes on in th e h o u se, p u n ctu a tes ev ery o b ser v a tio n !
i
?
I
w ith an i r o n i c a l compliment on th e wisdom o f th e p h il o s -
i
, opher, who i s so deep in th e o r y and so w o e fu lly la c k in g
! in p r a c t ic a l knowledge:
| P l a t a r i s t o t i l e : Woman i s th e gu id e to e v i l and the
j te a c h e r o f i n i q u i t y .
S a lv a la g lio : Who knows i t l e t him n o t speak i t .
P l a t a r i s t o t i l e : The h ea rt o f woman i s composed o f
d e c e i t .
S a lv a la g lio : Sad i t i s fo r him who has not found
i t o u t •
7 5 T o n e l l i , p . I l l
1 0 0
Plataristotile: Only she is chaste who has not been
tempted•
Salvalaglio: That I readily believe.
Plataristotile: As the moth consumes the wood so the
fractious wife consumes the husband.
Salvalaglio: So said Aesop.
Plataristotile: Who supports the perfidy of his wife
learns to suffer the injuries of his
enemies -
Salvalaglio: Fine recipe for poltroons.
At last, unwittingly, the philosopher touches on the
very source of his own troubles:
Plataristotile: Those husbands who do not indulge
their wives in the pleasures of
marriage do but give them license
to satisfy themselves with others.
Salvalaglio: I was waiting for you to come to
thatl (I.v)
The contrast between philosophical abstraction and
concrete reality is brought out with an even greater
comical effect in a Molieresque scene of reductio ad
absurdum: the philosopher is meditating cosmically on
the subject of generation, comparing the act in man to
that of the seven planets who generate the seeds of the
world— while, at the same moment, his wife in the next
room plans a practical application of his theories with
her lover Polidoro.
The hero of the second plot is Messer Boccaccio,
who is, once again, the provincial in the big city, whom
1 0 1
misadventure awaits. Boccaccio is a Perugine and, like
Maco and Yergolo, middle-aged and amorously inclined.
Though he is mercilessly gulled, he is no fool, and he
never loses his mercantile shrewdness in a bargain. The
comedy of Boccaccio’s adventures is largely in his
reactions of a comfort-loving bourgeois, lacking in
heroism and well supplied with human frailties, who is
moreover endowed with a picturesquely direct way of
expressing himself in the popular language of his region.
Hardly has he arrived in town than he falls into the hands
of Tullia, a formidable courtesan. This is the way
Tullia’s messenger, Lisa, with exquisite art, lures him:
Lisa: Worthy gentleman, is this the apartment of
a Perugian merchant from Perugia?
I am he, my daughter.
Dear sir, her ladyship, my mistress, who is
rather in appearance a goddess than a
woman, begs that you will deign hear four
little words from her, four and no more.
If I knew where she lived I would say: go,
I will come; but not knowing, my pretty
puss, if you don’t mind, I will go with you.
Far from minding, I beseech you to do so.
Let’s go then.
What a man I
What cause moves your lady to wish to
speak to me who am a stranger here?
Perhaps it is the grace that is in you;
my faith, yes, it is indeed.
Boccaccio:
Lisa:
Boccaccio:
Lisa:
Boccaccio:
Lisa:
Boccaccio:
Lisa:
U n iv ersity of
S o u th e r n C a lifo r n ia U b r » 9
1 0 2
icaccio:
Li sa:
Boccaccio:
Lisa:
Boccaccio:
You are pleased to flatter.
May I perish if she is not agonizing to
speak to you . . . When you see her you
will consider as nothing the beauty of
every other woman.
Is it truly so?
Don’t make me speak of it.
And some people never want to go out and
see the world I • • •
Lisa:
Boccaccio:
Lisa:
Boccaccio:
Lisa:
Stop . * . look now at the sun, the moon
and the star that rise there upon that
doorway i
Oh, brave apparitioni .
the man she seeks . • •
• Provided I am
You cannot doubt it.
Sometimes names are mistaken.
Yours is so sweet it clings to the lips
Look how she runs to meet you. • . .
(Il.xiii)
The radiant vision is of brief duration, however,
and Boccaceio soon finds himself on the street in his
nightshirt, minus five hundred golden ducats, and further
mortified by a fall into the open sewer. He is full of
bloody thoughts of vengeance, but the appearance at the
window of Tullia’s man, Gacciadiavoli, puts them to sudden
flight. He makes his retreat, thus vindicating his honor
as a Perugian:
1 03
Being without a shred of a weapon, in my shirt, in an
unknown place, makes my Perugine nature shrug its
shoulders and turn bastard ... which otherwise God
knows, is able enough to take care of itself. (Ill.ix)
Boccaccio is next caught up by a couple of grave-
I
! stealers, who first lower him into a well to wash him and
next into the vault where a bishop is buried whom they
mean to rob of his Jewels. Though terrified by both
experiences, he has still the presence of mind to conceal
the largest jewel for himself. Having secured the loot,
l
the thieves close him in the vault, from which he is only J
i
by chance delivered by a second company of grave-stealers.j
Upon finding himself in the open air again, Boccaccio j
I
breaks out into a ludicrous hymn of jubilation: |
i ... And now for a gambol in honor of my resurrexit et ;
non est hie. Boccaccio, poor devil, although it was i
high time, I did not think you would get out before the j
; third day. . . . But, I said to myself, while the fear j
i of death drove from my heart the other fear that I had
| of the dead man: was it I who sharpened the arrows,
teeth, and knives that transfixed, harrowed and flayed
I Saint Bartholomew, Saint Blaise, and Saint Sebastian?
I The sewer into which I fell through folly, and the well
into which I was lowered through necessity, were but a
treat in comparison to the vault. . . . But because the
i comedies scholars make sooner or later end in gaudeamus,
I I, telling myself valete and plaudite, congratulate
| myself, (v.i)
<
Besides Plataristotile and Boccaccio, the comedy has
a number of vigorously drawn types. One of the most
fully delineated is the dandy and fop, Polidoro, who makes
t
' love to the philosopher^ madcap wife, Tessa. He is
j described by his servant who knows him well:
1 0 4
Who gave my master the name of Polidoro knew what he
was about* Certainly no other man, however handsome
i is worth a pistachio beside him, and there is no bride
r who did not suffer a loss in not getting him. The very
I mirror is ready to split in seeing how he practices in
I it half smiles, full smiles, wise looks, grave demean-
| ors, and the art of making himself up most courtesan-
j like. There is no stork that can raise his feet up
| with the majesty that he raises them, nor, if he were
j setting them down in cotton-wool would he set them down
I more delicately. He speaks gravely, in slices. . . •
I But what is most astonishing is the fury into which he
I is driven by whoever does not address him as "Your
! Lordship.” . . • (I.iii)
j Both Plataristotile and Polidoro are always accom-
j
| panied by their servants Salvalaglio and Radicchio, who
j act as foils and bring out in greater relief the
i
| peculiarities of their masters1 characters. Here is a
i
j typical dialogue between Polidoro and Radicchio:
I Polidoro: Is it evident that I am sprinkled and
j sprayed with fragrant waters and powders?
f
1 Radicchio: Even those afflicted with the severest
! cold could testify to it.
Polidoro: What think you of the divine and super
celestial image of my desires?
Radicchio: She is all right.
Polidoro: Have you noted in her creamy cheeks that
delicate flush that comes not of shame but
of amorous desire?
Radicchio: I did not look so closely. (I.iv)
And again, speaking of PolidoroTs conquests:
Polidoro: You saw it yourself . . .
Radicchio: I thought surely she would throw herself
upon you from the balcony.
1 0 5
P o lid o ro : I f you w i l l remember to take n ote o f i t ,
you w i l l see any number o f o th e r s lo s e
t h e i r heads because o f th a t grace th a t in
t h e i r good n ess th e heavens have bestow ed
on me. . . . How many are near t o f a in t in g
in th e ch u rch es, and how many a t the b a l l s
. . . And my dancing a t weddings i s th e
p a ssio n o f th e f a i r e s t , s in c e . . . I move
through th e s t e p s w ith such lig h t n e s s and
a g i l i t y o f my m ost slim and handsome person
. . . th a t from th e c h o ir o f th e f a i r th o se
s ig h s go up o f " alas" and "alack" t h a t s la y
w ith ou t k i l l i n g .
R adicch io: J u st as s le e p and hunger draw th e yawns
from th e mouth t h a t would lik e t o e a t or
s le e p , so th e cap ers and gambols o f your
g a lla n t r y draw burning d e s ir e from the
e n t r a i l s o f th e f a i r ones in v e lv e t and
th e nymphs in b ro ca d e. ( I l . i v )
There i s a ls o th e im p lacab le m o th e r -in -la w , Mona
Papa, and her g o s s ip , Mona D ruida, who h old a m arvelous
c o n v e r sa tio n on th e s in s o f husbands, i l l u s t r a t i n g each
by a l i v e l y dram atic s k e tc h . And th e r e i s th e group o f
townswomen who surround M esser B o cca ccio as t h e i r
le g it im a t e prey: L is a , Mea, B e tt a , th e cou rtesan T u lli a .
The opening l i n e s o f the p la y , a c a su a l d ia lo g u e between
Mea and B e tta , g iv e a w onderful im p ressio n o f t h a t world
o f ten em en ts and c i t y s t r e e t s in to which th e u n su sp e c tin g
B occaccio has stra y e d :
Mea: Wherefrom and where t o , 0 B etta?
B e tta : From l e t t i n g a room t o C ien cia who i s , though
I h a te t o say i t , as b ig a s th e w o rld .
Mea: Can i t be so?
B e tta : Would i t were n o t .
106
And yet she goes to sermons, and fasts.
Every cat has its season, sister.
Now tell me how you are doing with the rooms
to let?
... as well as may be; only yesterday one was I
taken by a merchant of precious stones and j
Jewelry, who, by the Cross, is well lined with 1
money, and I know because at every other word
he slips from his sleeve as fat a purse as you
would care to see.
Let him take care of pickpurses . . • (I*i)
a final observation on AretinoTs comedies, here i
is the comment of Luigi Tonelli: |
t
All told, Pietro Aretino is an excellent writer of
comedies. He has the sense of dramatic movement, draws
largely from reality and the popular tradition, does
not recognize the authority of a priori rules, and makes;
but little use of the intrigues of Latin comedy. What j
is more, he creates, or re-elaborates, giving them new j
color, a large number of characters: Maso, Parabolano,
Alvigia, Marescalco, Talanta, Ipoerito, Liseo,
Plataristotile, Boccaccio. . • . What was lacking in
his work to make it a masterpiece? Two things: the j
spirit of synthesis by which to fuse into a unity j
characters and action; and psychological depth. Though
Aretino can sketch and paint magnificent portraits, he
cannot represent them, that is make them live and act
with the same lyrical impulse. ... He seems^artis-
tically closer to a La Bruyere than to a M o l i e r e . 7 6
L’Orazia
I shall make only brief mention of the Orazia,
AretinoTs one attempt at tragedy. Among the last of his
Mea:
Betta:
Mea:
Bet-ta:
Mea:
7 6 T o n e l l i , p p . 112-113*
1 0 7
works, it shows the artist’s increasing concern for
perfection of form and expression* It far surpasses
the comedies in solidity of structure, but the tendency
to reflection and restraint, and an increasing self-
consciousness deprive the style of Aretino’s usual
spontaneous vivacity. The subjeet, drawn from Roman
history, concerns the conflict between the Orazii and
the Curiazii in the early heroic days of Rome. The poet
has chosen for treatment a single climactic episode:
Orazio, returning in triumph to Rome after the defeat
of the Curiazii, is moved to anger by his sister Celia’s
grief for the death of her husband, one of the Curiazii
and her brother's enemy, slain in battle. Violently
indignant at Celia’s refusal to rejoice in the victory
of Rome, Orazio kills her and is consequently, by the
laws of Rome, condemned to death for fratricide. The
prayers of Publio, his father and a noble citizen of
Rome, finally win the Roman people to absolve Orazio,
but only at the price, terrible to him, of bowing in
humility and admitting his fault. The simple grandeur
of the theme emerges unspoiled from the drama, which is
written with a classical economy of style unusual in
Aretino. The spirit of ancient Rome vibrates throughout
the play. It is in Orazio’s exalted pride in the great
ness of Rome, which makes him smother the sentiment of
! iog
b r o th e r ly lo v e in h i s h ea rt; in th e n ob le a b n eg a tio n o f
i Publio, who rejoices in the victory Rome has gained
| - - - - - - • • ^
j through his son Orazio, though the victory has cost him
i
th e l i v e s o f h is o th e r c h ild r e n ; and in th e a u ste r e i
p a tr io tis m o f th e Roman p e o p le , t h e i r e x a l t a t io n o f |
v ir t u e b u i l t on th e r e s p e c t fo r law .
The O razia r e p r e s e n ts one o f th e f i r s t a tte m p ts, in
I R en aissan ce tr a g e d y , a t th e rep ro d u ctio n o f h i s t o r i c a l
| i
j characters and setting. Luigi Tonelli thus sums up the |
| i
m e r its o f th e p la y : j
I
The tr a g e d y i s n ot w ith o u t a number o f d e f e c t s : lo n g 1
and te d io u s p a s s a g e s , u n in sp ire d r a t i o n a l i z a t i o n s , j
o b s c u r i t i e s , and a r t i f i c i a l i t i e s ; but i t has as many j
m e r its o f form: absence o f m onologues, e x c lu s io n o f
th e chorus and th e m essen gers from th e a c t io n . . . j
i and, what i s o f g r e a te r v a lu e , i t p r e s e n ts th r ee
j c h a r a c te r s who are t r u l y a l i v e : C e lia , p a s s io n a te ,
im p u ls iv e , s in c e r e , f o r g e t f u l o f e v e r y th in g ex cep t
j her lo v e ; O razio, sp le n d id in h is p r id e and in h is
! an ger, in h is contempt o f death and lo v e o f country;
| P u b lio , c i v i s - romanus and f a th e r — c h a r a c te r s which
j are l i v i n g , even i f roughly hewed, w ith o u t p s y c h o l o g i c a l !
refinement; and skilfully set in the Roman environment,
! surrounded by th e Roman p e o p le . The Roman popu lace
I i t s e l f i s e x c e l l e n t l y c o n c e iv e d , w ith e s s e n t i a l , i f n ot
! form al f i d e l i t y t o h is t o r y . . . . The s t y l e , by i t s
I b old and v ig o r o u s im ages, o fte n alm ost t o t a l l y str ip p e d
! o f sonorous q u a li t y , assumes a stro n g r e l i e f and r i s e s
| t o th e h e ig h t o f i t s argum ent.77
I
\
j W e have th u s fa r made a b r i e f a cq u ain tan ce w ith one
o f th e most e x tr a o r d in a r y p e r s o n a l i t i e s o f th e I t a lia n
c in q u e c e n to , P ie tr o A retin o* W e have made a rap id survey
7 7 T o n e l l i , p p . 1 7 7 - 1 7 $ .
1 0 9
of his most important literary works— the Letters, the
Ragionamenti, the comedies, the Orazia— noting some of
his characteristics as a writer, and his departures, both
{
in literary style and dramatic technique, from the j
j
classic standards of his age. We have also glanced at j
the critical theories which were at the basis of the j
innovations in AretinoTs work. We shall now turn to
sixteenth century England to see, first, how well known
Aretino was, as a man and a writer, to Englishmen of j
this period; and next, whether his influence can be }
i
traced in any of the writers of the English Renaissance. I
I
i
i
CHAPTER I I I
THE K NO W LEDG E OF ITALIAN IN RENAISSANCE ENGLAND
No E n g lish t r a n s la t io n o f A re tin o * s works seems t o
have been made b efo re th e n in e te e n th c e n tu r y , when an
E n g lish e d it io n o f th e Ragionamenti was is s u e d in London
by Isod ore L iseu x (lS S 9 )* ^ On th e o th e r hand, fo u r o f
th e com edies (La C o r tig ia n a , La T a la n ta , LT I p o e r i t o , I I
M a r ese a lco ) were p u b lish e d in I t a l i a n in London during
th e s ix t e e n t h c e n tu ry , as were a l l th r e e p a r ts o f the
R agionam enti. I t would seem reason ab le t o su p p ose,
t h e r e f o r e , th a t th e s e and p o s s ib ly o th e r works o f A retin o
must have been known to Englishm en o f t h i s age in t h e i r
o r i g in a l la n g u a g e . At t h i s p o in t th e q u e s tio n becomes
p e r t in e n t , how w idespread was th e knowledge o f th e I t a l i a n
language in R en aissan ce England?
I n t e r e s t in I t a l y , which had s u ffe r e d a d e c lin e in
England a f t e r th e tim e o f Chaucer, was r e v iv e d during th e
r e ig n o f Henry V II. Among th e f a c t o r s th a t co n tr ib u te d
t o the new im portance I t a l y assumed fo r Englishm en were
th e comm ercial t r e a t i e s con cluded w ith th e g r e a t I t a l i a n
^The Ragionam enti or D ia lo g u es o f th e D iv in e P ie tr o
A r e tin o T T ite r a lly t r a n s la t e d in t o " E n g lis h . A ccording t o
Edward Hutton ( P ie tr o A r e tin o , Scourge o f P r in c e s
[London, 1922] ,"^T™^4T7— a n n E n g T IsE tra n sla t io n o f a
p a rt o f th e Ragionam enti was p u b lish ed in England in
156d under th e t i t l e o f The C rafty Whore. No such work
i s l i s t e d , however, by P o lla r d ana R edgrave.
I l l
j m e r c a n tile c e n t e r s , V enice and Genoa; th e in f l u x o f
I
I I t a l i a n b an k ers, who s e t t l e d in such numbers in London
| t h a t Lombard S tr e e t was named f o r them; th e p r a c t ic e ,
i
■ f i r s t adopted by Henry VII and fo llo w e d by Henry V III,
I . . .
| o f em ploying I t a l i a n s as d ip lo m a tic a g e n ts . With the
growth o f humanism in England in th e f i f t e e n t h c e n tu r y ,
I t a l y became in th e e y e s o f s c h o la r s th e c e n te r o f
I
c u ltu r e and c i v i l i z a t i o n , th e g r e a t source o f the r e d i s
covered t r e a s u r e s o f th e a n c ie n t w o rld . From t h i s tim e ,
th e I t a l i a n in flu e n c e on th e developm ent o f th e E n g lish
| R en aissan ce was p rep on d eran t.
j Henry V III h im s e lf was a lo v e r o f I t a l y and e v e r y
th in g I t a l i a n . He in v it e d hum anist p o e ts from I t a l y —
S i l v e s t r o G ig lio , Adrian de C a s t e llo , Ammonio, and
j o th e r s — t o r e s id e at h is co u rt where th e I t a l i a n language
i
j was in c r e a s in g ly c u l t i v a t e d . Speaking o f the c u l t f o r
| I t a l y t h a t th u s r a p id ly d eveloped in England a t th e end
I
! o f th e f i f t e e n t h and during th e s ix t e e n t h ce n tu ry , Mary
Augusta S c o t t s a y s , " It i s r e a l l y w onderful how f a m ilia r
I t a l y and th in g s I t a l i a n were in Tudor t im e s . C on sid erin g
i t s fa r -r e a c h in g and profound e f f e c t on E n g lish l e t t e r s ,
i
no fo r e ig n vogue b efo re i t e v e r took such a hold on
E n g lis h s o c i e t y ."2 R. G. S im o n in i, J r . s t a t e s , " I t a lia n
^E liz a b e th a n T r a n s la tio n s from th e I t a l i a n
( Cambridge, 1 9 1 6 ), p . x x x v i i i .
112
c u ltu r e soon formed a v i t a l p art o f th e e d u c a tio n a l
atmosphere o f th e T u d o rs.” And o f th e knowledge o f the
I t a l i a n language in th e cou rt o f Henry V I I I , he sa y s
fu r th e r :
King Henry h im s e lf knew I t a l i a n a s d id o th e r d i s t i n
gu ish ed members o f th e cou rt in c lu d in g Lord Rochford,
Lord M erely, th e E arl o f S u rrey, th e E a rl o f W ilts h ir e
S ir Thomas W yatt, and th e P r in c e s s e s Mary and
E liz a b e t h .3
That S ir Thomas Wyatt and th e E a r l o f Surrey knew
I t a l i a n i s e v id e n t from t h e i r t r a n s la t io n and im ita tio n
o f P etrarch and o th er I t a l i a n R en aissan ce p o e t s . Regard
in g them as th e a p o s t le s o f I t a l i a n p o e tr y in E ngland,
John Berdan q uotes Richard Puttenham:
In th e l a t t e r end o f th e same k in g f s r e ig n sprang up
a new company o f c o u r tly makers o f whom S ir Thomas
Wyatt th e e ld e r and th e E arl o f Surrey were th e two
c h i e f t a i n s who h aving t r a v e l le d in t o I t a l y and th e r e
t a s t e d th e sw eet and s t a t e l y m easures and s t i l e o f
I t a l i a n p o e tr y , a s n o v ic e s new ly c r e p t out o f th e
sc h o o ls o f D ante, A r io s to , and P etrarch th e y g r e a t ly
p o lis h e d our rude and homely manner o f v u lg a r p o e sie
from what i t had been b e f o r e , and f o r th a t cause may
be j u s t l y s a id th e f i r s t reform ers o f our E n g lish
m eter and s t i l e .4
By th e E liz a b e th a n a g e, I t a l i a n had become th e
second language o f th e E n g lish c o u r t . nThe knowledge o f
3 I t a l i a n S ch o la rsh ip in R en aissan ce England
( Chapel m i , 1 W )T '-P * 1'9T "-----------------------------------
— -Art o f E n g lish P o e tr y , A rb erts R e p r in t, p .— 77,
quoted in E a rly Tudor P oetry (New York, 1 9 2 0 ), p . 456*
! 113
!
I t a l i a n was w idespread . . . ," says Lewis E in s t e in ,
I "and th o se who had not some sm a tter in g o f i t were
J e x c e p tio n s ." He c i t e s th e testim o n y o f th e V en etian
1 envoy in v it e d by W illiam C e c il t o a d in n er where th e j
J i
1 f
I e n t ir e P riv y C ouncil was p r e s e n t, and th e c o n v e r sa tio n j
was c a r r ie d on c h i e f l y in I t a l i a n W i l l i a m Thomas, who j
p u b lish e d th e f i r s t I t a l i a n grammar and d ic tio n a r y in ^
England (1 5 5 0 ), remarks in th e p r e fa c e t o t h i s work t h a t ,
j
in h i s e s tim a t io n , I t a l i a n was coming t o be co n sid ered
by Englishm en on an equal plane w ith L a tin and Greek:
I . . . fo r b e s id e s th e a u cto u rs o f t h i s tyme (w hereof
I th e r e be manie w o o r th ie ) you sh a l alm oste fin d e no
I p a r te o f th e s c ie n c e s , no p a rt o f e lo q u e n c e , nor any
i p a rt o f , f i n e p o e s ie , th a t ye have not in th e I t a l i a n ;
; t o n g u e .6
i
I Among th e d is tin g u is h e d p erso n s o f E liz a b e t h ’ s cou rt
who spoke I t a l i a n , Sim onini m entions B u rgh ley, Walsingham,
! Robert C e c il; th e E a r ls o f R utland, L e ic e s t e r , and
Southampton; th e p o e ts S p e n se r, S id n ey , D a n ie l, and L y ly .
He q u otes a statem en t o f W illiam H arrison c i t e d in
| H o lin sh e d ’ s C h r o n ic le s , 1577:
T ruly i t i s a rare th in g w ith us now t o hear o f a
c o u r t ie r which hath but h i s own la n g u a g e. And t o
5The I t a lia n R en aissan ce in England (New York, 1 9 0 2 ),
pp. •
^ Q u o ted b y S i m o n i n i , p . 4 3 •
114
say how many gentlewomen and la d i e s th e r e a r e , th a t
b e s id e s sound knowledge o f th e Greek and L a tin ton gu es
are th e r e t o no l e s s s k i l l f u l in S p a n ish , I t a l i a n and
French, or in some one o f them i t r e s t e t h n ot in me.7
Of Queen E liz a b e t h ’ s p r o f ic ie n c y in I t a l i a n , th e
t e s t im o n ie s are num erous. F ir s t o f a l l , the w ell-know n
one o f Roger Ascham in The S ch o lem a ster:
I t i s your shame ( I speak t o you a l l , you young
gentlem en o f England) th a t one maid should go beyond
you a l l in e x c e lle n c y o f le a r n in g and knowledge o f
d iv e r s ton gu es . . . . Yea, I b e lie v e t h a t , b esid e
h er p e r f e c t r e a d in e s s in L a tin , I t a l i a n , French and
S p a n ish , she re a d e th here now a t W indsor more Greek
ev e ry day than some prebendary o f t h i s church doth
read L a tin in a w hole week.
In th e same work, Ascham e x p r e s s e s h is own p a r t i a l i t y to
I t a l i a n , d e s c r ib in g i t as ”a tongue which n e x t to Greek
and L a tin . . . I l i k e and lo v e above a l l o th e r .
Paul H entzner, a s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry German t o u r i s t in
E ngland, a ls o a t t e s t s t o E liz a b e t h ’ s m astery o f I t a lia n
as w e ll as o f o th e r la n g u a g e s. He i s d e s c r ib in g th e
queen’ s p r o g r e ss from th e p resen ce chamber to the ch ap el
fo r Sunday morning p ra y ers:
As she went along in a l l t h i s s t a t e and m a g n ific e n c e ,
she spoke v ery g r a c io u s ly , f i r s t t o one, th en t o
an oth er (w hether fo r e ig n m in is t e r s , or th o se who
a tte n d f o r d if f e r e n t rea so n s) in E n g lis h , French and
7 p ta lia n S ch o la rsh ip in R en aissan ce E ngland, p . 2 0 .
^The E n g lish Works o f Roger Aschaip. (Cambridge
U n iv e r s ity P r e s s , 1 9 0 4 ), pp. 219, 223.
1 15
I t a lia n ; f o r b e s id e s b ein g w e ll s k i l l e d in Greek,
L a tin and th e lan gu ages I have m ention ed, she i s
m is t r e s s o f S p an ish , S cotch and D u tch .9 j
Mary Augusta S c o tt c i t e s th e sta tem en t o f P ie tr o B iz a r i, j
th e h i s t o r i a n - p o e t , reg a rd in g Queen E liz a b e th th a t "she j
i s a p e r f e c t m is t r e s s o f our I t a l i a n tongue in th e
le a r n in g o f which S ign or C a s t ig lio n i was her p r in c ip a l
m a s te r ."10 And John F lo r i o , sp eak in g o f th e I t a l i a n
language in th e E n g lish c o u r t, sa y s th a t "the b e s t speak
i t b e s t , and her m a jesty none b e t t e r .
Of th e g r e a t p o e ts o f th e E liz a b e th a n p erio d who
were f a m ilia r w ith I t a l i a n , we m ight m ention S idn ey and j
Spenser a t th e b e g in n in g , and M ilton a t th e end o f th e ,
a g e . S ir P h ilip Sidney sp en t some months in I t a l y in j
i
i
th e course o f a two y e a r s T sojou rn on th e c o n tin e n t j
gran ted him by th e queen f o r th e purpose o f a t t a in in g
th e knowledge o f fo r e ig n la n g u a g e s. From November 1573
t o J u ly 1574 he was a t V enice and Padua, g e t t in g a
knowledge o f astronom y and m u sic, from what h is l e t t e r s
t e l l u s , and fr e q u e n tin g th e h ouses o f th e V en etian
9 T r a v els in E ngland, quoted by John Dover W ilson in
L ife in S h ak esp earef s England (London, 1 9 4 9 ), p« 245*
*
^ E liz a b e th a n T r a n s la tio n s from th e I t a l i a n ,
p . x x x v i i i .
U p r e f a c e to Second F ru tes (1 5 9 1 ), c it e d by
S im o n in i, p . 2 0 .
! 116
j n o b i l i t y . ^ "He began t o a c q u ir e ,” sa y s A. L ytton
I S e l l s , "an e x te n s iv e knowledge o f I t a l i a n ." And he adds:
j He must have ste e p e d h im s e lf in P e tra r ch , Sannazzaro
i and T asso and read many o f th e I t a lia n l y r i s t s and
I n e o - L a t in is t s o f th e q u a ttr o c e n to and c in q u e c e n to . . . . j
| I t was a p p a r en tly during th e I 7~ • months he sp en t a t
1 Padua th a t he acq u ired th e e x tr a o r d in a r y knowledge o f j
; I t a l i a n p o e tr y which ap pears throughout h i s w ork.13 '
I
S p e n se rT s knowledge o f I t a l i a n i s ev id en ced as e a r ly |
as 1569 when, a t th e age o f s e v e n te e n , he t r a n s la t e d and
t
p u b lish ed anonymously th e seven so n n e ts e n t i t l e d
i
"P etrarch*s V is io n s ." S p e n se r T s most im portant I t a l i a n j
m odels fo r th e F a er ie Queene were th e e p ic romances: j
I '
! B o ia rd o T s Orlando Innamorato; A r io s t o T s Orlando F u rioso; j
----------------------- i
| |
| T a s so Ts Gerusalemme L ib era ta ; T r is s i n o T s Lf I t a l i a
i I
i L ib era ta d ai G o ti. As none o f th e s e works appears to ;
have been t r a n s la te d in t o E n g lish b e fo r e th e f i r s t books
! o f th e F a erie Queene were p u b lish ed (1 5 9 0 ), S penser must
! 1 L
i have known them in th e I t a l i a n . ^ M oreover, th e s t u d ie s \
i t
i \
th a t have been made o f the I t a l i a n in flu e n c e s on S p e n se r* s
j l^ s e e F red erick J . B oas, S ir P h ilip S id n e y ,
j R e p r e se n ta tiv e E liz a b e th a n (London, 1 9 5 5 ), P* 31*
! l^ The I t a l i a n In flu e n c e in E n g lish P o etry ( Indiana
j U n iv e r s ity P r e s s , 1 ^ 5 5 ), P* 132.
| l^The Orlando F u rio so was t r a n s la t e d in t o E n g lish |
in 1591; th e Qrlando innam orato in 159$; th e Gerusalemme i
L ib e r a ta in l 6 0 4 . j
j 117
i
j F a erie Queene p o in t out in s t a n c e s o f p a r a lle lis m s and
i " "
| d ir e c t t r a n s la t io n from th e I t a l i a n so u r c e s which would
le a v e no doubt th a t Spenser worked from th e o r ig in a l
I t a l i a n t e x t s . Thus R. E . N e il Dodge in th e a r t i c l e
e n t i t l e d " S p en serf s I m ita tio n s from A r io s to ” sa y s:
I w ish t o d is c u s s th o s e s p e c i f i c im it a tio n s o f the
F u rio so which are t o be found in th e F aerie Queene
and in d ic a t e how Spenser made d i r e c t use o f h is
o r i g i n a l .15
And A. L ytton S e l l s p o in t s out how, in Book I I o f th e
F a e r ie Queene, S p en ser, h aving
. . . en rich ed a s to r y taken from th e I t a l i a L ib era ta
[ T r is s in o ] w ith d e t a i l s t h a t had stru ck him when
rea d in g th e Orlando Innamorato and th e Orlando F u r io s o ,
improved th e p ic tu r e by t r a n s la t in g some o f th e b e s t
sta n z a s in T a sso Ts r e c e n t romance . . . .
The same w r ite r c o n c lu d e s, " It seems c le a r th a t
Sannazzaro was f a m ilia r to S id n ey , and B oiard o, A r io sto
; and T asso t o S p en ser, b e fo r e any o f them appeared in
! E n g l i s h .
i John M ilton was one o f th e group o f p o e ts who had
made th e " I t a lia n jo u r n e y .” From 163& t o 1639 he sp en t
^ p u b lic a tio n s o f th e Modern Language A s s o c ia t io n ,
1 2 :1 5 2 , 1847* S e e a l s o H. H. B lanchard, "Spenser and
B oiard o," P u b lic a tio n s o f th e Modern Language A s s o c ia t io n ,
4 0 :£ 3 0 -8 3 1 , 192$; and " Im ita tio n s from Tasso in th e
F a e r ie Queene," S tu d ie s in P h ilo lo g y , 2 2 :1 9 £ -2 2 1 , 1925*
A lso S e l l s , pp. 1 5 3 -1 7 6 .------------------
16«phe I t a l i a n In flu e n c e in E n g lish P o etry ,
p p . i 7 i 7 " n ^ ------------------------- -------------------------------------------------
U S
s ix t e e n months in I t a ly * He was a t Rome, N a p les,
F lo r e n c e , V enice; v i s i t e d G a lile o in p r is o n , a s s o c ia t e d
w ith I t a l i a n men o f l e t t e r s , w inning t h e i r fr ie n d s h ip
and e s te e m .17 That he cou ld con verse w ith h i s I t a l i a n
f r ie n d s e a s i l y in t h e i r own tongue i s a t t e s t e d by
numerous t r ib u t e s from them t o h i s s k i l l in la n g u a g e s.
Among such t r i b u t e s , which M ilton e i t e d in th e p refa ee
t o th e L atin Poems (1 6 4 5 ), b ein g u n w illin g , as he s a id ,
t h a t th e ex tr a o r d in a r y good w i l l o f such em inent men
tow ards him sh ou ld remain unknown, i s th e fo llo w in g from
th e "Ode t o M ilton" by A ntonio F r a n c in i, a F lo r e n tin e
gentlem an: " . . . you, from whose l i p s not England o n ly ,
but S p a in , France, Tuscany, G reece, and Rome hear each
h er n o b le s t idiom . . and an oth er from a l e t t e r
from C harles D a ti, a F lo r e n tin e p a tr ic ia n :
To th e p o ly g lo t , in whose mouth lan gu ages th a t are
dead r e c o v e r such l i f e th a t a l l id iom s are inadequate
f o r h i s p r a is e ; and who i s so a c c u r a te ly v ersed in
them a l l t h a t he comprehends th e u tte r a n c e s o f
ad m iration and applause evoked among th e n a tio n s by
the wisdom which he alon e p o s s e s s e s . 19
^ M e n tio n sh ould be made, t o o , o f M ilto n ’ s f r ie n d
sh ip w ith C harles D io d a ti, begun from t h e i r boyhood days
at S t . P a u l’ s S c h o o l. Though reared in E ngland, D io d a ti
was o f I t a l i a n d escen t and background.
l^John M ilto n , P arad ise R egain ed , The Minor Poems,
and Samson A g o n is te s , e d . M e r r itt I1 .H u g h e s (New York,
T 9 T 7 T 7 " P ~ 9 .
! 9 p . 1 3 .
1 1 9
M ilto n T s I t a l i a n Journey, in d e ed , on ly p e r fe c te d a
knowledge o f the I t a l i a n language th a t he had a lr ea d y
a cq u ire d , probably in e a r ly y o u th , through the c a r e f u l
I
j
e d u c a tio n p rovid ed him by h is f a t h e r . In The Reason o f i
Church Government, M ilton s a y s , :
I had from my f i r s t y e a r s , by th e c e a s e l e s s d ilig e n c e j
and care o f my f a th e r , . . . been e x e r c is e d to the i
to n g u e s, and some s c ie n c e s , as my age would s u f f e r , ;
by sundry m asters and t e a c h e r s , b oth a t home and a t !
t h e s c h o o l s . 2 0 .
And in th e L a tin poem "Ad Patrem ," in which he pays a I
t r ib u t e o f thanks to h i s fa th e r f o r th e g i f t o f le a r n in g
so l i b e r a l l y bestow ed on him, M ilton a ls o speaks o f h i s
i n s t r u c t io n in la n g u a g e s, w hich, b eg in n in g w ith "the '
g r a c e s o f Latin" and "the l o f t y sp eech o f th e m agniloquent
G reeks," went on t o in c lu d e "the flo w e r which France ;
b o a sts" and th e "eloquence" o f th e modern I t a l i a n - 2^
M ilto n was probably th in k in g o f h i s own s t u d i e s , i n the
e s s a y "Of E d u cation ," in w hich, h aving o u tlin e d a
form idab le program o f rea d in g s in L a tin and Greek, he
recommended th a t th e s tu d e n t, "in an odd hour" should
^ C om p lete P oetry and S e le c te d Prose o f John M ilto n ,
Modern L ibrary E d itio n (New York, n . d . ) , p . 535 •
2- * - P arad ise R egain ed , The Minor Poems, and Samson
A g o n is te s ,~ p . 2STY
1 2 0
le a r n th e I t a l i a n t o n g u e . 22 M ilto n T s m astery o f I t a lia n
i s , o f c o u r se , ev id en ced by h i s so n n ets in th a t la n g u a g e,
i which M e r r itt Hughes, on th e a u th o r ity o f J . S . Smart,
a s s e r t s t o "have been w r it te n c e r t a in ly b e f o r e , and
i j
J p rob ab ly lo n g b efo re th e I t a l i a n journey and [ t o show] ;
< i
how a r t i c u l a t e M ilton w as, perhaps w h ile s t i l l an under- j
g ra d u a te, in th e form al language of P e t r a r c h ."23 M ilton j
h im s e lf t e l l s , in The Reason o f Church Government, how, j
"in th e p r iv a te Academies o f I t a l y . . . some t r i f l e s
which I had in memory, composed a t under tw en ty or t h e r e - j
about . . . met w ith a ccep tan ce above what was look ed
fo r . • ."24 |
i
| To spread th e knowledge o f I t a l i a n in s ix t e e n t h j
i 1
cen tu ry England, th e r e appears t o have been no la c k o f j
t e a c h e r s . The m easures o f th e Counter R eform ation and j
i e s p e c i a l l y th e I n q u is i t io n , e s t a b lis h e d in 1542, s e n t I
numerous I t a l i a n r e fu g e e s t o E ngland, many o f whom found j
i
i
j employment as te a c h e r s o f t h e i r n a tiv e to n g u e . The f i r s t
|
| one t o make a r e p u ta tio n f o r h im s e lf was M ich elan gelo
| 22 comp ie t e P oetry and S e le c t e d Prose o f John M ilto n ,
p . 6 7 0 .
23n In tro d u ctio n t o th e Minor Poems," P arad ise i
| R egain ed , The Minor Poems, and Samson A ^ o n is te s ,
p . x v i i i • The r e fe r e n c e i s t o th e e d it io n by John S«
j Smart, o f The Sonnets o f John M ilto n , Glasgow, 1 9 2 1 .
! 24com plete P oetry and S e le c t e d Prose o f John M ilto n ,
! p . 535*
I i
121
i .
J Florio (father of John Florio), who was appointed
!
preacher in the Italian church in London about 1554, and
who also taught Italian, numbering among his pupils such
celebrities as Henry Herbert, Earl of Pembroke and Lady !
j
Jane Grey. ;
I
During the reign of Elizabeth many private language
schools were set up by foreign tutors in London, chiefly
in the section around Saint Paul*s. Simonini mentions
i
among the many teachers of French, Italian, and Spanish
who were located at Paulfs, Claudius Hollyband (who had
his school "at the sign of the golden bell"); G. de la
Mothe (who taught under "the signe of the helmet"); j
{ Robert Fontaine, Jacques Bellot, John Love, John Minsheu, j
! j
j and William Stepney (who speaks of his classes being held j
! "in the Church of Sainct P a u l e " ) . 2 ^ Until the end of the
| i
Stuart period, modern foreign languages were not part of
the curriculum of the public schools or the universities.
At both Oxford and Cambridge, howeyer, foreign languages
seem to have been widely studied by means of private
tutors. This was especially true of Oxford; Simonini
j says that among the students during the late sixteenth
! century, interest in living languages was so great that
an active group of tutors in French and Italian attached
2 ^ I t a lia n S ch o la rsh ip in R en aissan ce E ngland, p . 35*
j
I 1 2 2
I
I t s e l f t o th e u n i v e r s i t y . Some o f th e se t e a c h e r s , both
j f o r e ig n e r s and n a t i v e s , accompanied young noblemen to
j
| Oxford a s t u t o r s ; some in d e p e n d en tly e s t a b lis h e d p r iv a te
I
j s c h o o ls fo r language in s t r u c t io n a t th e u n i v e r s i t y .
John F lo r io , fo r exam ple, was t u t o r in I t a l i a n and
French a t Magdalen C o lle g e , Oxford, about 1576* Although
fo r e ig n language t u t o r s were l e s s encouraged a t Cambridge
than a t Oxford, c o n sid e r a b le i n t e r e s t in modern lan gu ages
p r e v a ile d th e r e , a l s o . In a l e t t e r o f G ab riel H arvey’ s
t
from Cambridge we read t h a t stu d e n ts
. . . have d e se r te d Thomas Acquinas and th e whole
rabblem ent o f schoolm en f o r modern French and I t a l i a n
works . . . . You cannot step in t o a s c h o lla r s stud ye
b u t (te n t o on) you s h a l l fin d e open e i t h e r Bodin
de R epublica or Le Royes e x p o s it io n uppon A r i s t o t l e s
“ P o l i t i q u e s , or some o th e r l i k e French or I t a l i a n
F o lit iq u e D is c o u r s e s .26
' The churches which were e s t a b lis h e d in London f o r
i
|
i fo r e ig n e r s a ls o became c e n te r s fo r the le a r n in g o f
! fo r e ig n la n g u a g e s. They were a tten d ed n ot o n ly by the
! p erso n s o f th e p a r t ic u la r n a t i o n a l i t i e s f o r which th ey
were m eant, but a ls o by Englishm en who went th e r e t o
h ear sermons and p ra y er s in a fo r e ig n language in ord er
t o p e r f e c t t h e i r p r o n u n c ia tio n . Roger Ascham, in th e
S c h o le m a ste r , p r o te s te d a g a in s t t h i s unholy u se o f th e
| Lord’ s s e r v ic e by I t a l i a n a t e Englishm en ’’who cum t h i t h e r
i
j
2 6 Q u o t e d b y S i m o n i n i , p . 33*
123
t o heare th e I t a l i a n tongue n a t u r a lly spoke, not heare
j Godt s d o c tr in e tr e w ly p rea ch ed ." 2?
One o f th e g r e a t e s t in c e n t iv e s fo r le a r n in g I t a l i a n ,
i
as w e ll as th e most p op u lar way o f doing i t , was t r a v e l j
in I t a l y . !
The e a r ly E n g lish hum anists t r a v e l le d to I t a l y fo r
sc h o la r sh ip and le a r n in g and were f o r th e most p a rt
in t e r e s t e d in c l a s s i c a l la n g u a g e s. However, co n ta c t
w ith th e g r e a t body o f l i t e r a t u r e produced by I t a ly
during th e R en aissan ce and th e g e n e r a l h ig h l e v e l o f
c u ltu r e in t h a t country soon made i t d e s ir a b le fo r
t r a v e l l e r s t o le a r n modern I t a l i a n . 2$
The p o p u la r ity o f t r a v e l in I t a l y i s a t t e s t e d by th e
! number o f t r a v e l books p u b lish ed in England a t t h i s tim e ,
and by th e freq u en t a l l u s i o n s in E liz a b e th a n l i t e r a t u r e j
i
(
t o th e " I t a lia n journey" w ith i t s d e lig h t s and i t s p e r i l s ,!
| i
! and t o th e " I ta lia n a t e Englishm an” th a t was one o f i t s j
i r e s u l t s . !
I ,
| The i n t e r e s t in I t a lia n in R en aissan ce England i s i
a ls o shown by th e number o f books p u b lish ed fo r le a r n in g
th e la n g u a g e . Sim onini l i s t s tw e lv e I t a l i a n grammars and
language manuals and fou r d ic t io n a r ie s t h a t appeared in
i England between 1550 and 1 6 5 7 * ^ The manuals ta u g h t by
2?Quoted by S im o n in i, p . 37*
2^ S im o n in i, p p. 38-39 •
1
2 9 p P . 1 1 0 - 1 1 4 .
! 1 2 4
th e " c o n v e r sa tio n a l method"— th e y co n ta in ed d ia lo g u e s
on v a r io u s s u b j e c ts , g iv e n both in th e fo r e ig n language
and in E n g lis h , and fu r n ish e d th e stu d en t w ith the proper j
voca b u la ry and p h r a seo lo g y f o r d if f e r e n t o c c a s io n s in j
l i f e . The f i r s t I t a l i a n language manual was p u b lish e d
j by th e French te a c h e r C laudius H ollyband, who fo llo w e d
in i t th e model o f h i s French m anuals, which had met w ith
s u c c e s s . The most n o ta b le o f th e I t a l i a n language books
were John F l o r i o T s: j
— F lo r io h i s F ir s t e F ru tes: which y e e ld e f a m ilia r
sp ee ch , m erle P ro v erb es, w i t t i e S e n te n c e s, and
g o ld en s a y in g s . A lso a P e r fe c t In d u ctio n t o th e
I t a l i a n and E n g lish to n g u e. (1578)
i
• — F lo r io h i s Second F r u te s , t o be gath ered o f tw e lv e
' f r e e s o f d iv e r s but d eligh tsom e t a s t e s t o the
j ton gu es o f I t a l i a n s and E nglishm en. (1591) !
j
| To th e Second F ru tes was a tta c h e d th e "Gardine o f j
! !
j R e c r e a tio n ," a c o l l e c t i o n o f s i x thousand I t a l i a n |
i p ro v er b s, which the au th or b e lie v e d t o be most u s e f u l in
!
i le a r n in g th e id io m a tic use o f th e la n g u a g e . Sim onini
I
! g iv e s a d e t a ile d d e s c r ip t io n o f F l o r i o T s Second F r u te s ,
| which he c o n sid e r s p a r t ic u la r l y i n t e r e s t i n g fo r i t s
|
| m a n y -sid ed n e ss. I t was a manual o f s t y l e w hich , in
| con fo rm ity w ith the cu rren t vogue o f P etrarch ism ,
fu r n ish e d p o e ts w ith th e e p i t h e t s and f ig u r e s t h a t th e y
would n e e d . I t was a ls o a c o u r te sy book, which aimed
a t g iv in g E n g lish re a d e rs an I t a l i a n p o l i s h , n ot o n ly !
1 2 5
in t h e i r d isc o u r se but a ls o in t h e i r m anners. The
d ia lo g u e s in i t are m o stly concerned w ith c o u r tly l i f e
and th e i n t e r e s t s o f th e g e n t i l i t y . There are a number
o f a l l u s i o n s to contem porary p eop le and happenings at
c o u r t, which g iv e th e book a t o p i c a l , j o u r n a l i s t i c char
a c t e r . "The Second F r u te s , " sa y s S im o n in i, "can stand
w ith th e Nashe, Harvey and Greene pam phlets as one o f th e
e a r l i e s t p ie c e s o f jo u r n a lis m ."30 John F lo r io a ls o wrote
an I t a lia n - E n g lis h d ic t io n a r y o f about s i x hundred p ages:
A Worlde o f Wordes or The most cop iou s and e x a c t D ic-
t i o n a r i e in I t a l i a n and E n g lish c o l l e c t e d by John F l o r i o .
(1 5 9 8 ). Lewis E in s t e in o b serv es t h a t "the f a c t th a t so
im portant a work should have been com piled a t th a t time
in d i c a t e s th e demand fo r s im ila r w ork s."31
That works o f I t a l i a n l i t e r a t u r e were t o a con
s id e r a b le e x te n t read in th e o r i g in a l language in
! E liza b eth a n England may be concluded from th e number o f
I
! books th a t were p r in te d in I t a l i a n in London. John W olf,
| who had been t o I t a l y , was the' c h i e f p u b lis h e r o f such
j
! ■ b o o k s. The f i r s t work t o appear in I t a l i a n in England
|
| was th e Opusculurn Plane Divinum by John Clerk (1 5 4 5 )j
30- ita lia n S c h o la r sh ip in R en aissan ce E ngland,
p p . 6 0 - 6 4 " .
33-The I t a l i a n R enaissan ce in E ngland, p . 99*
which was p r in te d in L a tin , French and I t a l i a n . In
' 15&1 appeared La V ita d i C arlo Magno by U b a ld in i. In
j th e p r e fa c e th e au th or announced* "You w i l l be a b le
! t o have o th e r such w orks, by th e p r in t e r John W olfe."
j Among th e "oth er such works" t h a t fo llo w e d were
! !
C a s t ig lio n e T s Una E so r ta z io n e a l l ’Amor d i Dio and th e
Aminta o f Tasso and th e P a sto r Fido o f G uarini (which
' .
appeared in one volume in I t a l i a n a t l e a s t e le v e n y e a r s
b e fo r e th e r e s p e c t iv e t r a n s la t io n s o f th e se works were
m ade). Giordano Bruno’s S p a ccio d e lla B e s tia T r io n fa n te ;
~ ' ' ■ '' 1 " ' [
| and D e g li E r o ic i F u rori were p r in te d fo r th e f i r s t tim e !
| in London in 15&4 and 15&5, a s w e ll as th e Cena d e l l e
C eneri (15& 4), in which Bruno g iv e s h i s im p r e ssio n s o f
London and th e E n g lish c o u r t j n 15$^ appeared a
1
; c o l l e c t i o n o f I t a l i a n m a d r ig a ls, p r in te d by N. Yonge.
* . . 1
| W e have a lr ea d y m entioned (pages 63 and 64 above) John j
W o lf’ s p u b lic a t io n o f fou r o f A r e tin o ’ s com edies in
I t a l i a n (15&B); he a ls o p r in te d th e com plete Ragionam enti
^G iordan© Bruno went to England in 15$3 t o escap e
j th e I n q u is it io n and r e s id e d two y e a r s a t th e E n g lish
c o u r t . He le c tu r e d a t Oxford and was th e fr ie n d o f
Fulke G r e v ille and S id n ey , t o whom he d e d ic a te d the
I f i r s t two works above m en tioned .
j 1 2 7
i
j (P a r ts I and I I in 1588, Part I I I in 1 5 8 9 ) -33 Even a
; book w r itte n in E n g lis h , such a s th e D iscou rse o f Royal
Monarchy by C harles Merbury, was p u b lish ed w ith a p r e fa c e
in I t a l i a n and concluded w ith a c o l l e c t i o n o f I t a l i a n
, p r o v e r b s, t o p le a s e " a ll c o u r t ie r s and gentlem en con- ;
v e r sa n t in I t a l i a n . "3
B e sid e s such I t a l i a n books a s were a c t u a lly p r in te d
in London, many o th e r s were brought in t o E ngland. In
th e p r e fa c e t o h is D ic tio n a r ie John F lo r io g i v e s , a s one j
j o f th e r e a so n s f o r le a r n in g I t a l i a n , the i m p o s s i b i l i t y ,
w ith o u t knowing th a t language th o r o u g h ly , o f rea d in g
A re tin o or D oni, or even u n d ersta n d in g C a s te lv e tr o or j
Caro. This would seem t o in d ic a t e t h a t , in c u ltu r e d i
.
| c i r c l e s , acq u ain tan ce w ith such I t a l i a n w r it e r s was j
! co n sid e r e d an im portant p a rt o f o n e T s e d u c a tio n , and th a t [
I
: i t was n ot co n sid er ed unusual t o read such works in
t
I t a l i a n . G. Gregory Sm ith, in E liz a b e th a n C r it ic a l
E s s a y s , s t a t e s t h a t "the E n g lish e s s a y i s t - c r i t i c s show
I
! an acq u ain tan ce w ith even th e l e s s e r known I t a l i a n p o e ts
j
j »
33se e A. W. P o lla r d and G. R. Redgrave, S h o r t- T it le
C atalogue o f Books P rin ted in E ngland, S c o tla n d , ancT"
Irelan d T " " and o f E n g lish Booli' P r in te d Abroad, 1475- 1640
(London, 19267T
3 ^ - E i n s t e i n , p . 106*
128
and p rose w r it e r s '^ 5 whose works th e y alm ost s u r e ly
must have been o b lig e d t o read in th e o r i g i n a l .
It seems clear from the foregoing brief examination
that, from the time of Henry VIII, the literature and
language of Italy were cultivated with some enthusiasm
at the English court, that works of Italian literature
were easily available to English readers, and that,
among the cultured classes, such works were commonly
read in Italian.
Returning now to Pietro Aretino, how well known
were his books in England and how did the Elizabethans
regard the man and his works?
3 5 ( O x f o r d , 1 9 0 4 ) , p . 2
CHAPTER IV
I
THE REPUTATION OF ARETINO IN
RENAISSANCE ENGLAND
We have seen how Aretino had become one of the best
known figures of sixteenth century Europe. His person
ality, in its various aspects, was as familiar as the
Renaissance itself, whose multiple impulses he seemed to
reflect: Aretino, scourge and counsellor of princes,
patron of arts, goad of avaricious patrons, champion of
| virtue, and exponent of a life lived unrestrainedly,
| magnificently, lavishly.-*- As the man was known, so his
i
I writings were celebrated, in and out of Italy. Thomas
I
| Chubb says:
i
I
! In Italy his books had an amazing popularity. . . .
They were sought by the most celebrated persons. • • .
In spite of Aretinofs often expressed contempt for the
! "masters of literature" various academies, Siena,
! -%e have seen how A r e tin o f s correspon den ce a t t e s t s
! t o th e v a r ie t y and sp len d o r o f h is European c o n n e c tio n s .
| B e sid e s th e s i x volum es o f h is own l e t t e r s , A retin o
j p u b lish e d two volum es o f L e tte r s W ritten t o A retin o
{ which fu r th e r b rin g out h is r e la t io n s wit'FT’a l l th e
j n o ta b le s o f E urope. Arthur Symonds sa y s o f them: "They
i came from fo r e ig n k in g s and p r in c e s , from c a r d in a ls and
! b is h o p s , from I t a l i a n dukes and noblem en, from i l l u s t r i o u s
l a d i e s and g r e a t a r t i s t s and from th e m ost d is tin g u is h e d
men o f l e t t e r s o f h is day. . . . One and a l l p r a is e him
; a s th e most p o w e rfu l, th e most v ir tu o u s , th e w i t t i e s t ,
j th e w i s e s t , o r , t o use t h e i r f a v o r it e p h r a se , th e
I ’d i v i n e s t ’ man o f h i s c e n tu r y ." (The R en aissan ce in
’ I t a l y (New York, 1 9 3 5 ), I I , 3 9 6 , n723.1
! 130
!
I Padua, F lo r e n c e , e l e c t e d him a s member. Even h i s
r e l i g i o u s w orks, P sa lm s, G e n e s is , L iv es o f S a in ts
. . . f o r a l l t h e i r o v e r -w r itin g and e x a g g e r a tio n s ,
were so p opular t h a t , when a f t e r A r e tin o 1s death
th e y were p la ce d under p ap al ban, th e y were brought
out under an oth er name " P arten io E tir o " [anagram
! fo r P ie tr o A r e t in o ] .2
I '
I Regarding th e fame o f A r e tin o f s r e l i g i o u s w orks, d e l V ita 1
I confirm s t h a t "the p r in t in g p r e s s e s put them out in
j re p ea ted e d i t i o n s , throughout I t a l y and E urope." Of
| A r e t in o ^ com edies he sa y s th a t th e y were " e a g er ly j
\ |
a w a ited , and perform ed and p r a is e d a l l over I t a ly ; and ;
!
t h e i r com plete s u c c e s s added enorm ously t o h is fame and
! p o p u la r it y ."3 A retin o was p op u lar in Hungary, P olan d,
i
| th e N eth e rla n d s, Germany. When C harles V, on h i s v i s i t
l
j, t o I t a l y in 1543» honored A retin o w ith h is s p e c ia l fa v o r , !
i ' [
| he t o l d him: "Every man in Spain knows your w r it in g s . I
| read e v e r y th in g o f you rs as f a s t as i t i s p r i n t e d .” His
I works were t r a n s la t e d in t o French, th e f i r s t p a r t o f th e |
: Ragionam enti b ein g p u b lish e d in P a r is b e fo r e i t s p u b lic a - |
’ i
j t i o n in I t a l y .^ Confirm ing A r e tin o f s p o p u la r ity in |
| F ran ce, Samuel Putnam says t h a t he was "alm ost a householdj
^Thomas C« Chubb, A r e tin o , Scourge o f P r in c e s
| (New York, 1 9 4 0 ), p . 3 4 ^ -
i
3A lessan d ro d e l V it a , L *A retino— "Uomo L ibero p er
G razia d i D io" (A rezzo, 1 9 5 4 ), pp* 22, 14#*
| 4 c h u b b , p p . 3 4 4 , 3 6 5 *
1 3 1
a u th o r” t h e r e , and he q u o tes from a l e t t e r w r itte n t o
A retin o from France by Giuseppe H orloggi: "I do n o t go !
in t o a p la c e where I do not fin d some o f your works on j
I
th e table. . . . I can show you th e L ife o f th e V ir g in I
Mary, S a in t C ath erin e, th e Humanity o f C h r is t , P salm s, j
G en esis t r a n s la t e d in t o t h i s l a n g u a g e . ”5
The fame o f A r e tin o , o f c o u r s e , spread t o E ngland.
Henry V III became one o f h is p a tr o n s, sendin g him, in
|
1538, a t r ib u t e o f two hundred crow ns. When A r e tin o , in
acknowledgm ent, d e d ic a te d th e second volume o f h i s
l e t t e r s (1542) t o Henry V I I I , p r e fa c in g i t w ith a th r e e
t
1
page e u lo g y o f th e E n g lish k in g , he made him an oth er
g i f t o f th r e e hundred crow ns.^ R eferen ces t o A retin o \
i
in th e E n g lish l i t e r a t u r e o f th e s ix t e e n t h and seven teen th j
c e n t u r ie s are v ery num erous. Edward Meyer, in h i s stu d y j
M a c h ia v e lli and th e E liz a b e th a n Drama, c a l l s A retin o
"the most c it e d and calum niated au th or in E liz a b e th a n
l i t e r a t u r e , ” and s t a t e s th a t he h as counted f iv e hundred
r e f e r e n c e s and a l l u s i o n s t o him .? E v id e n tly th e r e p u ta -
^The Works o f A retin o T ra n sla ted in t o E n g lish
(C h icago, 1 9 2 6 ), ~ T , 261 IT, 2 8 4 *
^Thomas N ashe, in th e U nfortunate T r a v e ll e r , r e f e r s
t o t h i s g i f t a s T ,a p en sion o f 400 crowns y e a r ly ." Works,
e d . Ronald McKerrow (London, 1 9 1 0 ), I I , . 264*
? ( W eim ar, 1 & 9 7 ) , I n t r o d u c t i o n , p p . i x - x x i i .
1 3 2 |
J j
j t i o n A re tin o had made fo r h im s e lf in England was on a
| par w ith th a t he had in o th e r p a r ts o f E urope. What
! I
| was th e n atu re o f h is E n g lish r e p u ta tio n ? j
I Meyer sa y s th a t ’’A retin o became as t y p ic a l o f
i
s e n s u a lit y a s M a c h ia v e lli o f v i l l a i n y t o the
$
E liz a b e t h a n s .”0 Edward H utton, co n firm in g th e number
o f tim es A retin o i s m entioned by E liz a b e th a n w r it e r s ,
o b ser v es th a t th e a l l u s i o n s are a l l o f a kind: ’’They
t r e a t him as a g r e a t exem plar o f th e o b scen e. . . . T o
make a l i s t [ o f th e r e fe r e n c e s ] would be p r o f i t l e s s and
m onotonous. ”9 J . B . F le t c h e r , in L ite r a tu r e o f the
I t a l i a n R e n a issa n c e , says t h a t in e a r ly se v e n te e n th
j !
cen tu ry E n g lish l i t e r a t u r e A r e tin o ’ s name was te le s c o p e d
1
w ith M a c h ia v e lli’s in t o ”M ach-A retine”- - t h e v ic io u s man
c o m p l e t e . J
W e may conclude th a t most E liz a b e th a n s used th e
j name o f A retin o as l o o s e l y as th e y d id th a t o f
i
| M a c h ia v e lli, and w ith as l i t t l e r e a l knowledge o f him.
!
! ’’A r e tin o ” was t o them a byword— a symbol fo r s e n s u a lit y
i !
i
i .
^ In tr o d u c tio n , p . x . ;
i ^ P i e t r o A r e tin o , Scourge o f P r in c e s (London, 1 9 2 2 ),
| p . 267"
1 0 (New York, 1 9 5 4 ), p . 274-
and all that was horrifying and fascinating in the
Italian Renaissance. They spoke glibly of "the filthy
Aretine." In this sense Gabriel Harvey, wishing to
allude to Greene1s looseness of life, calls him "an
abominable Aretinist." In another place, he condemns
Aretino, fiercely— and vaguely— as "a hell-hound
incarnate
The literary association most commonly made with
the name of Aretino was that of his "Erotic Sonnets"
written to match the famous engravings of Marcantonio
Raimondi on the postures of love. Sir Epicure Mammon,
in JonsonTs The Alchemist, for example, hopes to buy
such voluptuous pictures with his gold that they will
surpass AretinoTs images of love:
And then mine oval room
Filled with such pictures as Tiberius took
From Elephantis, and dull Aretine
But coldly imitated. (Il.ii)
Marston, in his second satire, mentions Aretinofs
sonnets:
Aretine pictures some strange luxury
And new-found use of Venice venery.
Allusions of this sort, which probably make up a
great part of MeyerTs list of five hundred, do not
l^Works, ed. A. B. Grosart (London, 1BB4), I, 190,
2 9 0 .
in d ic a t e a profound knowledge o f th e man or h is work.
There are E n g lish w r it e r s o f th e s ix t e e n t h and se v e n te e n th
c e n t u r ie s , however, whose r e fe r e n c e s t o A retin o g iv e th e
im p r essio n o f a d ir e c t knowledge o f th e l i f e and p erso n - i
a l i t y o f th e man, a s w e ll as an a p p r e c ia tio n o f h is j
j
l i t e r a r y s i g n i f i c a n c e . One such i s W illiam Thomas, th e j
au th or o f th e f i r s t I t a l i a n grammar in England ( see page
113 a b o v e ). Thomas, who l i v e d in I t a l y from 1544 t o
154& and wrote a H is to r ie o f I t a l i e p u b lish ed in 1549, j
w rote a ls o in I t a l i a n a d efen se o f Henry V III in d ia lo g u e
form , which was p u b lish ed in V enice in 1552 under the
t i t l e o f _I1 P e lle g r in o I n g le s e (The P ilg r im ) . D e d ic a tin g !
!
t h i s work t o P ie tr o A r e tin o , he showed h is r e c o g n itio n o f j
A r e tin o ’s e s s e n t i a l q u a lit y as a w r it e r , c a l l i n g him ”a
r ig h t n a tu r a l p o et whose v ir t u e c o n s is t e t h in n atu re
I
w ith o u t any a r t ." ;
Two o th e r E liz a b e th a n s who spoke a g r e a t d e a l o f
A re tin o and g e n e r a lly n ot in a c o n v e n tio n a l way were
G ab riel Harvey and Thomas N ashe. Nashe i s th e g r e a t
E liz a b e th a n champion o f A r e tin o . In The U nfortunate
T r a v e lle r (1 5 9 4 ), he im agin es th a t h is h e r o , Jack W ilto n , !
f
t o g e t h e r w ith h is m aster has reached V en ice , and t h a t , j
in consequence o f some amorous i n t r i g u e , both have been
thrown in t o p r is o n . A re tin o i s ap pealed t o , a s ’’c h i e f
se a r c h e r and in q u is i t o r t o th e C o lle g e o f C u r tiz a n s ,”
and he promptly brings about their release. He is also
}
| instrumental in delivering to Jack Wilton his Venetian
! paramour, once she has been providentially widowed. At
I
j this point, Nashe interrupts his story:
, ! Before I goe anie further, let me speake a word or
two of this Aretine.
He then bursts into a eulogy of Aretino, exalting his
genius as a writer and his virtues as a man. He notes,
first of all, the marvelous effectiveness of Aretinofs j
I
style: I
j If out of so base a thing as inke there may bee
! extracted a spirite, hee writ with nought but the !
I spirite of inke, and his stile was the spiritualitie !
! of artes, and nothing else; whereas all others of his |
| age were but the lay temporaltie of inkehorne tearmes.
| For indeede they were meere temporizers, and no better. ;
His pen was sharp pointed lyke a poinyard; no leafe i
he wrote on but was lyke a burning glasse to set on
| fire all his readers. With more than musket shot did j
he charge his quill, where hee meant to inueigh. No
| houre but hee sent a whole legion of deuils into some j
| heard of swine or other. . . . nere a line of his but
I was able to make a man dronken with admiration.
(Works, II, 264)
Though Nashe writes with his usual extravagance,
he picks out quite accurately those qualities of style
t
! which Aretino himself upheld in his critical pronounce-
| ments and which, as we have seen, distinguished his
i writings from the stereotyped and lifeless productions
of his contemporaries: their incisiveness and directness;
' their at times terrible intensity and vigor; above all,
the life that informed them.
13 6
Nashe e x p r e s s e s h is ad m iration o f A r e tin o 1s s t y le
in o th e r works b e s id e s The U nfortu nate T r a v e lle r * In
Lenten S t u f f (1 5 9 9 ), in th e " d e d ic a tio n t o h is R eaders,"
he p r a is e s th e f u ll-b lo o d e d v ig o r o f A r e tin o , d e c la r in g
t h a t he has chosen him t o be h is m odel. He speaks w ith I
th e same warmth and en thu siasm a s in The U nfortunate
T r a v e lle r :
Of a l l s t i l e s I most a f f e c t and s t r iu e t o im ita te
A r e tin e s , not ca r in g f o r t h i s demure, s o f t m ediocre
g en u s, t h a t i s l i k e w ater and wine m ixt t o g it h e r ;
but g iu e me pure wine o f i t s e l f and th a t b e g e ts good
b lo u d , and h e a te s th e b ra in th orow ly: I had as le a v e
haue no sunne as haue i t sh in e f a i n t l y , no f i r e , as
a sm othering f i r e o f sm all c o a l e s , no c lo a th e s r a th e r
th en weare l i n s e y w o ls e y . (Works, I I I , 152)
In P ie r c e P e n ile s s e H is S u p p lic a tio n t o th e D e v il (1 5 9 2 ), j
I
Nashe b o a s ts o f th e extem poraneousness o f h is own s t y l e : :
(
"quidquid in buccam v e n e r i t , as f a s t as horse can t r o t j
• . and ". . . i f you knew, how ex tem p o ra ll i t were j
I
a t t h i s in s t a n t and w ith what h a ste i t i s w r it • . . *"
(Works, I , 195) He seems t o be lo o k in g back co m p la cen tly j
i
t o h i s model A r e tin o , who a l s o p rid ed h im s e lf on h is '
a b i l i t y as an im p ro v iser:
I used t o w r ite f o r t y sta n z a s i n one morning; in |
seven m ornings I composed th e P salm s; . . • in t e n ,
th e C o rtig ia n a and th e M arescaleo ~ * • .1*
- * - 2P ie tr o A r e tin o , L e t t e r e , e d . F austo N ic o l in i
(B a r i, 1 9 1 3 -1 9 1 6 ), I , l W ~*
1 3 7
C ontinuing h i s eu lo g y o f A retin o in The U nfortunate
T r a v e lle r , Nashe adm ires him f o r having a ch ie v ed the
p o s it io n he did in s p i t e o f th e sh ortcom in gs o f h is
e d u c a tio n , f o r , he s a y s , "most o f h is le a r n in g he g o t by
h ea rin g th e le c t u r e s a t F lo r e n c e . . . By th e " le c tu r e s
a t F lorence" Nashe may, w ith c h r o n o lo g ic a l n o n ch a la n ce,
be a llu d in g t o th e sermons Savonarola was d e liv e r in g at
th e tim e o f A r e tin o f s c h ild h o o d . At any r a t e , Nashe
shows h is a p p r e c ia tio n o f th e e x tr a o r d in a r y e x t e n t t o
which A r e tin o , w ith ou t form al e d u c a tio n , by h i s in te n s e
r e e e p t iv e n e s s to a l l th e v a r ie d m a n ife s ta t io n s o f the
new le a r n in g around him, absorbed th e c u ltu r e o f h is a g e .
I
Nashe*s n ex t sta tem en t shows h i s a p p r e c ia tio n o f j
j
[ one o f A r e tin o Ts e s s e n t i a l q u a l i t i e s as a w r it e r , h is
I a b i l i t y to con d en se, t o put th in g s in th e fe w e st t e l l i n g
I
! w ord s:
j I t i s s u f f i c i e n t t h a t le a r n in g he had, and a c o n c e it
' ex c ee d in g a l l le a r n in g t o quin-tescence e v e r ie th in g
! which hee h eard . (Works, I I , 265)
I
j W e are reminded o f A r e tin o f s words in h is l e t t e r to
j
| F austo Longiano (December 1 5 3 7 )J
The th in g i s to red u ce, a s I have done, th e le n g th o f
s t o r i e s and th e tedium o f o r a t io n s , as you can see in \
my l e t t e r s , and as I w i l l do a ls o in a l l th e o th e r
th in g s th a t w i l l be s e e n .13
1 3 l e t t e r e , I , 3 6 9
13d
Nash th en comes to A r e tin o ’ s p e r so n a l m e r its a s the
champion o f v ir tu e and th e ex p o ser o f v ic e : '’His s ig h t
p ie r c e d in t o th e e n t r a i l s o f a l l a b u s e s ,” he sa y s; and
he e s p e c i a l l y commends th a t q u a lit y which A r e tin o , a t
l e a s t , had alw ays lik e d to c o n sid e r supreme in h im s e lf:
h is courage to t e l l th e tr u th t o e v e r y o n e ’ s fa c e :
He was no tim erou s s e r u i l e f l a t t e r e r o f the
commonwealth w herein he l i n e d . His tongue and
h is in u e n tio n were foreb orn e; what th e y th o u g h t,
th e y would c o n f id e n t ly u t t e r . P r in c e s hee spard
n o t , th a t in th e l e a s t p o in t t r a n s g r e s t . His l y f e
he contemned in com parison o f th e l i b e r t i e o f sp e e c h .
In c o n fir m a tio n o f t h i s , Nashe p o in ts to the famous g i f t
made t o A retin o by F ra n cis I (s e e page 2 5 fo o tn o te 4
a b o v e):
The French King F ra n cis I he k ep t in such awe t h a t
t o chaine h i s tongue he se n t him a huge chaine o f
g o ld e , in th e forme o f ton gu es fa s h io n e d . (Works,
I I , 265)
U ndertak ing, th e n , th e d efen se o f A retin o * s moral
c h a r a c te r , Nashe g iv e s an im p r e ssiv e enum eration o f
A r e tin o 's r e l i g i o u s works:
S in g u la r ly hath he commented o f th e hum anitie o f
C h r is t. B e sid e s as Moses s e t f o r t h in h is G e n e sis,
so hath hee s e t fo r th h is G en esis a l s o , in c lu d in g
th e c o n te n ts o f the whole B ib le . A n o ta b le t r e a t i s e
hath he com piled c a lle d I S e t te Psalm i P a e n e t e n t i a r i i ;
a l l Thomases have cause to lo v e him because hee hath
d i la t e d so m a g n ific e n tly o f th e l y f e o f S a in t Thomas.
There i s a good th in g t h a t hee hath s e t fo o r th La
V ita d e lla V irg in e M aria, though i t somewhat sm e ll o f
1 3 9
s u p e r s t it io n ; w ith a number m ore, which here fo r
te d io u s n e s s I su p p r e sse . (Works, I I , 2 6 5 -2 6 6 )1 4
%
As t o th e n o to r io u s r e p u ta tio n o f th e I t a l i a n w r it e r ,
Nashe m a in ta in s th a t sla n d e r has ex a g g era ted the
m agnitude o f A r e tin o f s v i c e s : j
i
I
I f l a s c i u i o u s he w ere, he may answere w ith Ovid:
"V ita verecunda e s t , musa jo c o s a e s t" ; My l y f e i s
c h a st though wanton be my v e r s e . T e ll mee, who i s
t r a u e lle d in h i s t o r i e s , what good p o et i s or eu er
was t h e r e , who hath not hadde a l y t t l e s p ic e o f
w antonnesse in h is dayes . . . .
He ends w ith a warm ap ostroph e to h i s hero:
| I n eu er thought o f I t a l y more r e l i g i o u s l y than
England t i l l I heard o f t h e e .
--a n d w ith th e v i s i o n o f A r e tin o T s " in d e f in it e s p i r i t " —
"penning d i t t i e s t o a rch a n g els in an oth er w o rld ." (Works, j
I I , 2 6 6 )1 5 |
!
F i n a l l y , in The U nfortunate T r a v e lle r , Nashe r e f e r s
| t o A r e tin o f s "epitaph"— p r o t e s t in g in d ig n a n tly th a t I
!
j Too much g a l l dyd th a t wormwood o f G ib e lin e w i t t e s
put in h i s in k , who in grau ed t h a t rubarbe E pitaph
on t h i s e x c e ll e n t p o e ts tom b ston e. (Works, I , 265)
The r e fe r e n c e may be t o an epigram w r itte n a g a in s t
A re tin o by one o f h is en em ie s, p robably B e r n i, but which
14The f a c t th a t Nashe g iv e s th e t i t l e s o f many o f
th e s e works in I t a l i a n m ight seem a n oth er argument in
I fa v o r o f h is having known th e works o f A retin o in t h e i r
j o r ig in a l la n g u a g e .
I
15Nashe a ls o s a y s , in th e same p la c e , "Aretyne as
lo n g as th e w orld l i v e s thou s h a lt l i v e . T u lly , V i r g i l ,
O vid, Seneca were n ev er such ornaments t o I t a l y as thou
h a st b een ."
14-0
was never, of course, actually engraved on his tomb.
The verses ran thus:
Qui giace lTAretin, poeta Tosco:
Di tutti disse mal, fuori che di Cristo
Scusandosi col dir: , f Non lo c o n o s c o . ”1 6
As we have seen (page above), Aretino claimed
that with the T , terrors of his pen” he forced patrons to
recognize and reward men of merit. In a passage in
Pierce Penilesse, Nashe exalts this power in him. He
is enumerating for the devils benefit the unpunished
capital sins that walk the streets of London and, coming
to avarice, finds it supremely exemplified in the
niggardliness of court patrons. Then he thinks of the
one man who could make them ehange their ways:
We want an Aretine here among us that might strip
these golden asses out of their gaie trappings, and
after he had ridden them to death with railing, leaue
them on the dunghill for carion. But I will write to
his ghost by my carrier, and I hope hele repaire his
whip, and use it against our English peacoekes. (Works,
I, 242)
In two of his works Nashe speaks of Aretinofs comedy
La Cortigiana in a way that indicates a real knowledge
of the play. In the ”Epistle to the Reader” before
Strange News of the Intercepting of Certain Letters, he
■^Here lies Aretino, Tuscan poet
Whose evil tongue spared none excepting Christ
And that only because he did not know him.
1 4 1
is speaking of the commentators of Pierce Penilesse who
distort the meaning of the work with their glosses, and,
very appropriately, he quotes the words of Aretino in
the prologue to La Cortigiana, applying them to his own
case. His rendition of the Italian is both accurate and
vivid:
Aretine, in a Commedie of his, wittily complaineth
that upstart Commenters, with their Annotations and
gloses, had extorted that sense and Morall out of
Petrarch, which if Petrarch were aliue, a hundred
Strappadoes might not make him confesse or subscribe
too; So may I complaine that rash heads, upstart
Interpreters, haue extorted and rakte that unreuerent
meaning out of my lines, which a thousand deaths
cannot make mee ere grant that I dreamd off. (Works,
I, 259-260)17
In Summer1s Last Will and Testament, Nashe mentions
Aretine of late in Italie
Whose Cortigiana toucheth bawdes their trade.
(Works', III, "277)
The reference again is accurate and shows NasheTs
familiarity with Aretino*s comedy as a whole. In La
Cortigiana, one of the most picturesque characters is
the superannuated courtesan Alvigia, who has turned
procuress to make a living and, in some poignant passages,
compares her present with her past. A good part of the
comedy is concerned with the intrigues of Alvigia, who
■^The Italian is n. . . i crocifissori del Petrarca,
i quali gli fanno dir cose con i loro comment! che non
gliene fariano confessare dieei tratti di corda."
1 4 2
tricks Parabolano while pretending to satisfy him in
his desire for Livia.
The conclusion that I believe one may draw from
these citations is that Nashe did have a direet knowledge
of Aretino1s works and that he must have known them in
the original. If we consider Nashers admiration for
Aretino (repeatedly expressed) and AretinoTs fame (which
had not waned at the time Nashe was writing), nothing
is more probable than that Nashe should have been tempted
to peruse AretinoTs books. That these books were easily
available we have seen, as some (four comedies and the
Ragionamenti) were actually printed in London in 15&3
and 15&9, and the others could not but have been among
the great number of books brought into England from Italy
at that time, if one considers the fact that Aretinofs
works were on a level of popularity with the reading
public comparable to that of the "best sellers" of today.
Since no English translation of Aretino was made
before the nineteenth century (see page 110 above), we
must suppose Nashe to have read Aretinofs works in the
Italian. That he could have known them through excerpts,
translated and included in Elizabethan collections seems
improbable, firstly, because there is no indication of
the existence of any such excerpts, and, secondly, because
Nashe*3 familiarity with Aretino is such that it could
i not be accounted for by the reading of a few isolated
fragments in an anthology- And indeed, it is difficult
to conceive that Nashe should not have been sufficiently
»
familiar with Italian to read Aretino’s works in their
original language. As we have seen, Italian was almost
* i
a second language at the court of Elizabeth, was taught j
in numerous schools in London, and was cultivated at j
the universities. At a time when practically no one with !
i
a certain degree of culture did not understand and speak
it, it is difficult to believe that Nashe, a university
i
j man and one with an extraordinarily alert and inquisitive
mind, should have been an exception by ignoring a language j
that would have given him the key to the newest trends
and fashions in literature - j
■ Moreover, the quality of Nashers comments on Aretino,j
i l
i which we have considered above, makes it difficult to
I !
I dismiss them as mere repetition of literary hearsay. J
| There is in them a warmth and enthusiasm which we have
[
i no reason not to accept as genuine, and which could
| spring only from a personal contact with Aretino*s per-
1
! sonality through his writings. He shows an awareness of
the complexity of Aretino’s personality that distinguishes
him from those who knew "the Aretine" only through his
j
reputation and could only add to the store of horrified I
I comments on his obscenity and iniquity. Nashe appreciates
1 4 4
. the existence of much that was great along with much
that was regrettable in Aretino: his passion for freedom,
his fearlessness to speak his mind, his devotion to art,
his courageous defense of its rights and its dignity.
In sp eak in g o f A r e tin o 1s s t y l e (a s in th e p assage j
from The U nfortunate T r a v e lle r quoted on page 135 a b o v e ) ,
Nashe a n a ly z e s i t s q u a l i t i e s in th e d e f i n i t e , e x p l i c i t
way o f one who has h is t e x t a t hand, or c l e a r l y in m ind.
i
And he describes the effects of Aretino^ style as one !
who has experienced them himself: the poniard-like
thrust of the pen; the condensed heat "lyke a burning
glasse"; the violence of the invective, charged with
"more than musket-shot"; the power "to make a man dronken
with admiration." Nashe admires the qualities that made
Aretino original in his time and distinguished his
writings from those of his contemporaries: his power to
render life through words, as if he wrote with "nought
but the spirite of inke"; his faculty for cutting
straight to the heart of a matter, the "conceit to
quintescence euerie thing."
In view of the accuracy and soundness of all his
remarks on them, it would seem unreasonable to deny that
Nashe did have a direct knowledge of Aretino*s works.
The question that is much more difficult to answer is
that of the extent to which Aretino might have influenced
145
j Nashe. We might broaden the scope of the question and
j ask whether Aretino, as the nfirst journalist,” had any
j influence on the group of Elizabethan pamphleteers of j
i
i I
j which Nashe was one and which ineluded also Robert Greene,j
I ;
1 Thomas Lodge, and later, Thomas Dekker. In its general j
t i
character, the style of all of these writers has this !
connection with AretinoTs: it marks in English prose the
change that Aretino had brought into Italian prose; the
change from artificiality to the naturalness and direct- j
i
ness of the spoken word. C* S. Lewis points out that, i
i
within the last decade of the sixteenth century, there j
i
occurred in each of the Elizabethan journalistic writers j
i - i
| a departure from the rhetoric of Euphuism to a more ;
colloquial, spontaneous styleLewis attributes the I
1 change to the Anti-Martinist controversy which engaged ;
I *i d
! J -°”GreeneTs career can roughly be divided into a
! rhetorical period and a period beginning in 1591 in
j which he attempts a more colloquial style. Lodge . . .
i though revealing a command of the colloquial style as
i early as 15&4 does not venture to exploit it fully until
| 1596. Nashe, who was toying with a kind of serai-
j euphuism in 15$9, achieves his own unmistakable manner
1 in 1592. Thus, very roughly, we may distinguish
stylistically an earlier period when formal rhetoric
dominated the pamphlet and a later period in which the
illusion of extempore speech is attempted. The dividing
line comes somewhere about the year 1590.” English
Literature in the Sixteenth Century (Oxford, 1954)*
pp"; W4-TU5"---------------------
146
these writers from 1566 to 1590, forcing them to use
a prose more direct and popular in its appeal. This
does not exclude the possibility that they might have
found the model for a new type of writing in Aretino,
whose vigor and forcefulness of style Nashe so often
extols. Upon examining the prose of the English writers,
however, one concludes that, as far as particular simi
larities to the prose style of Aretino are concerned, one j
might apply to them all McKerrow1 ^ observation about
(
Nashe: "It may be that Nashe, in setting him [Aretino] up J
as an exemplar to be followed meant no more than that he 1
wished his own work in English to have something of the ,
I
vivacity and force of AretinoTs in Italian.”^9 j
It is true that the style of the Elizabethan !
pamphleteers has a colloquial flavor, a raciness, an
immediacy and "extemporaneousness” which they might have
in a measure learned from Aretino, but the resulting
i
product of these elements in the Italian writer and in j
the English ones is quite different. The prose of :
Aretino has a Latin lucidity, a clear-cut, lapidary J
quality that the English writers entirely lack. It has
I
the concentration that Nashe discerned and admired but j
1
I
1
l^Ronaid McKerrow, ed., The Works of Thomas Nashe, 1
Introduction, V, 26-29* i
1 4 7
j co u ld n o t im it a t e . I t has c o n t r o l. There i s n o th in g
|
j o f th e v io le n c e and madcap w ild n e s s o f Nashe about i t ,
| or th e w h im sical d ig r e s s iv e n e s s o f Dekker, or th e
! lo o s e n e s s and fo r m le ss n e ss o f G reen e's " p la in ” s t y l e .
|
| The im ages in A retin o are alw ays th e f u l l y l i g h t e d ,
c l e a r l y o u tlin e d forms o f r e a l i t y . The E n g lish w r it e r s
ten d t o obscure o u t l i n e s , tran sform and d i s t o r t im ages
by f a n c i f u l a s s o c i a t i o n s . The s u n l i t , noon-day w orld o f
A re tin o i s a t an immense d is ta n c e from th e n igh tm arish
w orld o f Nashe, made up, as C* S . Lewis s a y s , o f "images
o f somewhat lu d ic r o u s and som etim es f r i g h t f u l in co h er en ce
; b o i l i n g up from a dark v o i d . "20 The in flu e n c e o f
A re tin o * s s t y l e on Nashe and th e o th e r p a m p h leteers,
t h e r e f o r e , i f i t was e x e r te d a t a l l , does not seem to
j have gone beyond the e x e m p lif ic a t io n o f a more in fo rm a l
i
I typ e o f w r it in g . "Some' d oub t," sa y s C. S. L ew is,
"whether in cla im in g t o f o llo w A r e tin e * s ' s t i l e * Nashe
I
! meant an yth in g more d e f i n i t e than t h a t he aimed a t th e
! g r e a t e s t p o s s ib le v io le n c e .-21 I f th a t was th e c a s e ,
[
! he had more c a p a c ity to d isc e r n th e e s s e n t i a l q u a l i t i e s
!
i
; o f A re tin o * s p ro se than power to im it a te them.
20E n g lish L ite r a tu r e in th e S ix te e n th C entury,
p . 416*
2 1 P . 4 1 1 *
1 4 3
Considering Greene, Lodge, Nashe, Dekker as
j s a t i r i s t s , th e in flu e n c e o f A retin o m ight be tr a c e d
| in th e d ir e c t io n taken by t h e i r s a t i r e , which in every
I case turned from academ ic m odels and c o n v e n tio n a l themes j
! |
i t o th e o b se r v a tio n o f contem porary l i f e . In t h i s sen se i
| j
| A retin o m ight be co n sid er ed t h e i r p r e c u r so r , s in c e i t j
j was he who in I t a l i a n l i t e r a t u r e com pleted th e lib e r a t i o n
o f s a t i r e from c l a s s i c con v en tio n and s e t i t f r e e t o d ea l
d i r e c t l y w ith th e e v i l s o f th e t i m e s .22 A gain, however,
i
, th e in f lu e n c e i s a g e n e r a l and remote one, s in c e th e I
! i
E liza b eth a n w r it e r s had more immediate E n g lis h p r e c u r so r s !
in r e a l i s t i c s a t ir e *
The name o f A re tin o e n te r s f r e q u e n tly in th e "paper
war” t h a t was waged between G a b riel Harvey and Thomas
I Nashe between 1592 and 1595* The works through which
! th e "war” was fough t were th e fo llo w in g :
22See G* S t i a v e l l i , ed * , La C o r tig ia n a , In tr o d u c tio n ,
; pp. x v i i - x v i i i : " [ S a tir e ] t r e a t e d by him assumed new
, form s, was a m p lifie d and in v ig o r a t e d . L im ited in the
i fo u r te e n th and f i f t e e n t h c e n t u r ie s t o tu r n s o f w it or
j p le a s a n t t a l e s , i t broke out in th e s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry
w ith A r io s to , F olengo and B e m i t o open w a r fa r e . But i t s
form remained s t i l t e d and i t s ty p e s . . • g e n e r a liz e d .
. . . There was need o f an e n e r g e t ic t a le n t th a t having
seen where th e e v i l l a y , should so s t r ik e i t w ith th e
scourge o f la u g h te r , a s t o make th e example p la in to a l l .
Such a t a l e n t was A r e tin o T s ."
149 n
i
Nashe— P ie r c e P e n ile s s e (1592) j
Harvey— Four L e tt e r s and C ertain S onn ets (1592)
Nashe— Strange News o f th e I n te r c e p tin g o f C ertain
L e tt e r s (1593)
Harvey— P ie r c e 1s S u p ererogation (1593)
New L e tte r o f N otable C ontents (1593)
Nashe— Have With You to S a ffro n Walden (1595)
The a l l u s i o n s made t o A retin o in t h e s e works g iv e
th e im p ressio n o f a r e a l knowledge o f him, f o r th e most
j
p a r t, alth ou gh the f a c t s are o fte n b en t t o s u i t th e j
p u rp oses o f th e argum ent. Perhaps b ecau se Nashe p r a is e s j
A retin o in P ier ce P e n i l e s s e , th e work w ith which he |
i
e n te r e d th e q u a r r e l, Harvey c o n s ta n t ly a s s o c i a t e s Nashe
w ith A re tin o 2^ and in v o lv e s them both in one condemna- j
t i o n . A retin o (and a lw a y s, by im p lic a t io n Nashe a l s o , !
|
a s h i s adm irer, d i s c i p l e , and s u c c e s s o r ) i s denounced i
by Harvey as an u n p r in c ip le d s a t i r i s t whose impudent and
f
sh am eless " r a ilin g " o v e r ste p s a l l bounds o f human d ecen cy,
l
I
23 I t was n o t , how ever, o n ly Harvey who a s s o c ia t e d t
Nashe w ith A r e tin o . Nashe was g e n e r a lly known (and by
h i s own d e c la r a t io n ) a s th e d i s c i p l e o f A re tin o : "the
E n g lish A r e tin e ." Dekker, fo r in s t a n c e , s a id o f him: j
"Thou in t o whose so u l ( i f e v e r th e r e were a Pythagorean !
m etem psychosis) the r a p tu r e s o f th a t f i e r c e in c o n fin a b le I
I t a l i a n s p i r i t were b o u n te o u sly and b o u n d le s s ly in fu s e d -
. . •" Quoted by A. G ro sa rt, ed » , The Works o f G abriel
H arvey, I n tr o d u c tio n , I I I , x x x i i i .
150
and as th e c r e a to r o f an im p o s sib ly ex a g g e r a te d ,
f a n t a s t i c a l , h y p e r b o lic a l s t y l e .
In th e second o f th e Four L e tte r s (ad d ressed to
Master Christopher Bird), Harvey sweeps together Tully,
H orace, A r c h ilo c u s , A risto p h a n es, L u cian, J u lia n , and
A re tin o — and brands them a l l as "a venomous and v ip er o u s
brood o f o ld and new R aylers" f o r t h e i r abuse o f the
weapon o f s a t i r e . (Works, I , 1 6 4 ) In th e th ir d l e t t e r ,
r e f e r r in g to N ashe’s a tta c k on h i s b r o th e r Richard in
P ie r c e P e n i l e s s e , Harvey a c c u se s Nashe o f b e in g the
w orst o f r a i l e r s a f t e r A retin o : "Had not A retin e bene
Aretine, when he was, undoubtedlie thou hadst beene
A r e t in e .” (Works, I , 201) N ashe1s a tta c k on Richard
Harvey had begun w ith t h e s e words:
Put case . . . some t i r e d lad e b elo n g in g t o the
P r e s s e , whom I neuer wronged in my l i f e , h ath named
me e x p r e s s e ly i n P r in t . . ♦ and accused me o f want
o f le a r n in g , u p b ra id in g me fo r r e u iu in g , in an
e p i s t l e o f m ine, th e reu e re n t memory o f S ir Thomas
Moore . . . . To shewe how I can r a i l e , th u s would
I b e g in t o r a i l e on him. (Works, I , 195)
And H arveyf s fu r io u s comment was:
^In the third letter (I, 190) Harvey calls
Greene ”a desperate Luciahist, an abhominable Aretinist,"
probably with the same reference, to Greenets violence
in satire— though by "Aretinist” he may be referring to
the lewdness of Greene's life with which he also charges
him.
1 5 1
God, or good Order, c ir cu m cise the Tongues, and
P ennes, th a t s la u n e r w ith o u t c a u se , and r a i l e w ith ou t
e f f e c t , even in th e s u p e r la t iv e degree o f r a v in g .
A retin e and the D i v e l ’ s Oratour m ight v e r y w e ll bee
spared in C h r is tia n , or p o l i t i c k e Commonwealth.es. ;
(Works, I , 203) |
Of N asheT s in v o c a t io n to A retin e in P ie r c e P e n i l e s s e , j
in which he e x h o r ts him to b rin g h is whip t o b ear a g a in s t
E n g lish p a tr o n s, Harvey, c o n s id e r in g Nashe as th e s e l f -
ap p oin ted s u c c e s s o r t o A r e tin o , says in d ig n a n tly :
A f r o lic k e mind, and a brave s p i r i t e t o bee employed
w ith h i s s t r ip p in g in stru m e n t, in supp ly o f th a t
o n e ly want o f a d iv in e A r e tin e , th e g r e a t r id e r o f
g o ld en A s s e s . (Works, I I , 54)
Of A retin o h im s e lf , Harvey sa y s in P ie r c e 1s Supereroga- !
t io n : ’’Whom d u rst he not appeach, r e v i l e or b la sp h em e.” j
(Works, I I , 270) j
""■n"" n r . " " " '. '' " * [
One wonders why Harvey, in a l l th e w r it in g s connected
w ith th e q u a r r e l, i n s i s t s on s e e in g A retin o under the
s in g le a sp e c t o f a v ic io u s ’’r a i l e r . ” Perhaps i t was
because Nashe had invoked A retin o a s h i s p a tro n in the
work in which he had in s e r te d th e n o to r io u s r a i l i n g
p assage a g a in s t Richard H arvey. But .w hile A retin o j
|
e x e r c is e d a g r e a t power through h i s w r it in g s , v io le n c e ,
o f s t y l e was not th e o n ly sou rce o f t h i s power, which ;
la y r a th e r , a s we have se e n , in a manner th a t cou ld be
in e x o r a b le but was above a l l s u b tle and f l e x i b l e , j
s k i l f u l i n ad ap tin g i t s e l f to p erson and circu m sta n ce , !
i
w ith a keen se n se o f th e r ig h t word a t th e r ig h t t im e .
1 5 2
A retin o owed h is fame t o a consummate diplom acy r a th e r
than t o r a i l i n g in a " s u p e r la tiv e d eg re e." I t i s t r u e ,
A re tin o had had h is own "paper w ars." He had b i t t e r j
i
p e r so n a l en em ies, among them N ic o lo Franco, who, h aving j
i
j been h is s e c r e ta r y and p r o te g e , turned a g a in s t him and !
! !
p u b lish e d a defam atory L ife t h a t was r e s p o n s ib le fo r j
much o f th e scandal th a t spread abroad about A re tin o ;
and D oni, an oth er d i s c i p l e who a tta c k e d him v i c i o u s l y
in a work c a lle d Terrem oto. The language o f in v e c t iv e
; used in th e s e q u a r r e ls , sa y s Arthur Symonds, " o r ig in a tin g
w ith A re tin o and improved upon by Doni and Franco, became
th e model o f v it u p e r a tiv e s t y l e in E u r o p e . P e r h a p s
i
i t was w ith t h i s a sp e c t o f A r e t in o ^ w r itin g in mind,
t h a t Harvey m agn ified him a s a " r a ile r ."
The o th e r p o in t about A retin o th a t Harvey s t r e s s e s
! in th e Four L e t t e r s , New L e tt e r o f N otable C o n te n ts, and
j P ie r c e * s S up ererogation i s th e h y p e r b o lic a l q u a lit y o f
| h i s s t y l e — which in t h i s r e s p e c t a ls o he a s s o c i a t e s w ith
| N ashet s . In P ie r c e T s S u p e r e r o g a tio n , he a c c u se s Nashe
i
j o f su r p a ssin g even A retin o in th e bom bastic v e in :
i
! "A retine . . . th a t bestow ed th e su rm oun tlngest a m p lif i
c a tio n s a t h i s p le a s u r e , and was a meere Hyperbole
i
I
25The R en aissan ce in I t a l y (New York, 1 9 3 5 ), I I ,
4 0 7 .
j 153
: in c a r n a t e .” (Works, I I , 55) L ater in th e same work, he
| comments on A r e tin o ’ s w r itin g : ”1 n ev er read a more
su r p a ssin g h y p e r b o lic a ll s t i l e . ” (Works, I I , 270) And,
sp eak in g o f th e "impudent h y p e r b o lic a ll s t i l e ” o f N ashe’ s i
|
I P le r c e P e n i l e s s e , h i s S u p p lic a tio n t o th e D e v i l , Harvey j
s a y s :
Good Lorde what f a n t a s t i c a l l pages are th e s e ? Who
e v e r en d ig h ted in such a s t i l e but one d iv in e A retin e
in I t a l y and two h ea v en ly T a r leto n s in England— the
1 s o le p la tfo r m e r s o f odd E lo c u tio n and o n ly s i n g u l a r i t i e s
o f th e p la in e w o r ld e . (Works, I , 2 1 7 ) 2®
i
W e have seen t h a t , c h i e f l y in h is p a n e g y r ic a l w r it in g s , J
i
A retin o did u se a h ig h ly a r t i f i c i a l s t y l e , abounding in j
c o n c e i t s . T his i s prob ably what Harvey had in mind in !
j
sp eak in g o f A r e tin o fs " h y p erb o les”—w h ich , however, d if f e r !
c o n sid e r a b ly from N ash e’s w ith which he i n s i s t s on com-
i p a rin g them.
[ In A New L e tte r o f N otable C o n te n ts, Harvey,
j
| d e liv e r in g h i s judgment o f A r e tin o ’ s c h a r a c te r , pronounces
him an a r c h -d is s e m b le r . He i s sp eak in g o f c e r t a in peace
o f f e r s which Nashe had made him, p rob ab ly a t f i r s t in a
t \
! p r iv a te l e t t e r , th en in th e " E p istle t o th e Reader” b e fo r e |
i
C h r is t ’s Tears over Jeru salem . Harvey r e p l i e s t h a t i f j
| ^^Richard T a r leto n was a clow n ish com edian, very
| popu lar in th e E liza b eth a n age and famous f o r h i s a b i l i t y
; t o im p rovise d o g g e r e l.
1 5 4
Nashe i s s in c e r e in h i s peace o f f e r s , he ought to show
i t by r e d r e s s in g h i s " p u b lic and p r iv a te e n o r m itie s" ;
i t i s here th a t he b r in g s in A r e tin o - -a s th e supreme
exem plar o f d u p lic it y :
I would be l o t h , He should be an A retin : th a t
Paraphrased the in e stim a b le bookes o f M oses, and
d isc o u r se d th e C a p ricio u s D ia lo g u es o f ra n k est
Bawdry: th a t penned one Apology o f th e d i v i n i t y o f
C h r is t, and an oth er o f P e d e r a s t ic e , . . . th a t
p u b lish e d th e L ife o f th e b le s s e d V ir g in , and th e
Legende o f th e Errant Putana: t h a t recorded the
h is t o r y o f S* Thomas o f Aquin, and forged th e most
d e t e s t a b le B lacke-booke de t r ib u s im p o sto rib u s
mundi . . . . (Works, I , 2 3 9 -2 9 0 )2 7
And Harvey ends w ith th e h a lf-a d m ir in g e j a c u la t io n : "0
m onster o f e x tr e m ity e s ; and 0 abom ination o f o u tr a g io u s
w i t t . I t was h is g lo r y , t o be a h ellh ou n d e in c a r n a te ."
Thomas Nashe, ta k in g up h i s own d efen se a g a in s t
H arvey’ s Four L e t t e r s , w ith Strange News o f th e
2? 0 f th e works m entioned in th e p a ssa g e , the
"Apology o f P e d e r a stic e " and th e "B lacke-booke de t r ib u s
im p o sto rib u s mundi" are not i d e n t i f i a b l e among A r e tin o ’s
w r i t i n g s . Of th e l a t t e r , Nashe, probably w ith a g la n ce
a t Harvey, sa y s in The U nfortu nate T r a v e lle r ( I I , 2 65):
"Whereas some d u ll b rain e m a lig n e r s o f h i s accu se him o f
t h a t T r e a t is e , de t r ib u s im p o sto rib u s Mundi, which was
neuer c o n tr iu e d w ith o u t a g e n e r a ll c o u n s e ll o f d e u i l s , I
am v e r i l y perswaded i t was none o f h is ; and o f my minde
are a number o f th e most i u d i c i a l I t a l i a n s . One rea so n
i s t h i s , b ecause i t was p u b lish e d f o r t i e y e r e s a f t e r h is
d e a th , and hee neuer in h i s l y f e tim e w rote a n ie th in g
in L a tin ." The Errant P uttana (La Puttana E rran te) i s
by one o f A r e tin o 1s " d is c ip le s " Lorenzo V eniero (s e e
A. d e l V it a , L’A r e tin o , Uomo L ibero p er G razia di D io,
p . 4 3 2 ) .
! I n te r c e p tin g o f C erta in L e tte r s (1 5 9 2 ), u n d ertak es a ls o |
i — — — — — — — —— |
| th e d efen se o f h i s f e llo w - v ic t im , A r e tin o . He p o in ts i
! out to Harvey th e s e l f - c o n t r a d i c t i o n in h i s a t t a c k s , i
i !
? |
] s in c e a t one tim e he adm ires A retin o f o r th o se q u a l i t i e s i
I
fo r w hich, when i t s u i t s h i s p u rp ose, he condemns him: j
* 1
on th e one hand, in th e Four L e t t e r s , Harvey c a l l s
A r e tin o , w ith J u lia n , L u cian, and o t h e r s , "a venemous
and v ip e r o u s brood o f r a i l e r s ” b e c a u se , Nashe s a y s ,
I
"they have brought in a new kind o f a quick f i g h t which j
your d e c r e p it slow -m oving c a p a c ity cannot fadge w ith ”—
b u t, Nashe triu m p h a n tly p r o c e e d s, in "the f o r t i e one p age,
l i n e tw o” o f " E p is tle s to C olin C lo u t ,” Harvey had sa id : !
"I l i k e your fDreamesT p a ssin g w e ll and th e r a th e r b ecause!
th e y savour o f t h a t s in g u la r e x tr a o r d in a r y v a in e o f
: in v e n tio n which I e v e r fa n c ie d most and in a manner
I
j admired on ly in L ucian, P e tr a r c h , A retin e and P a s q u il."
i
I Nashe comments:
J I cannot se e how th e D octours may w e ll bee r e e o n c ild ,
one w h ile t o commend a man because h i s w r it in g s sauor
o f t h a t s in g u la r e x tr a o r d in a r ie v a in e which he o n ely
admired in L u cian, P e tr a r c h , A r e tin e , P a sq u il: and
then in an oth er booke a fterw a rd , t o come and c a l l
th o se s in g u la r e x tr a o r d in a r ie admired men, a venemous
and v ip e r o u s brood o f r a i l e r s . . . . (Works, I , 284)
Nashe h im s e lf , however, i s not above s e l f - c o n t r a d i c t i o n .
L ater on in th e same pam phlet, when i t s u i t s him t o
!
assume th e r o le o f d efen d er o f th e f a i t h , he g r a v e ly
pronounces th e fo llo w in g d en u n cia tio n :
1 5 6
L u cian , J u lia n , A r e tin e , a l l th r e e adm irably b l e s t in
th e abundant g i f t e s o f a r t and n a tu re: y e t R e lig io n ,
which you sought t o r u in a t e , hath ru in a te d your good
names, and th e opposing o f your e y e s a g a in s t th e
b r ig h t sunne, hath causd th e w orlde condemne your
s ig h t in a l l o th e r t h i n g e s . I p r o t e s t , were you
ought e l s e but abhominable A th e is te s I would o b s tin a te ly !
d efende you , o n e ly b ecau se Laureate G a b r ie li a r t i c l e s I
a g a in s t y o u . (Works, I , 265)
Y e t, ”in an oth er booke” w r itt e n on ly two y ea r s l a t e r ,
The U nfortunate T r a v e lle r , Nashe g iv e s the glow in g
accoun t we have n oted ( s e e page 13& above) o f A r e tin o ’ s
r e l i g i o u s w orks, and f a r from c o n sid e r in g A re tin o an
a t h e i s t , e n v is io n s him penning ’’d i t t i e s to a r c h a n g e ls ,” ;
1
and a s s u r e s h is s p i r i t : "I neuer thought o f I t a l y more |
r e l i g i o u s l y than England t i l l I heard o f t h e e . ” (Works, 1
j
I I , 266) |
I f Nashe had a b a s is f o r c o n sid e r in g A re tin o an
a t h e i s t , o th e r than sim p ly th e n o to r io u s r e p u ta tio n which
caused every i n i q u i t y t o be a t t r ib u t e d t o him, i t must
have been th e a tta c k s o f en em ies— such as B e r n i’ s
s a t i r i c a l ’’e p ita p h ” m entioned in The U nfortunate
T r a v e lle r (se e page 139 a b o v e ). Though A retin o f r e e l y
a tta c k e d th e Pope and e c c l e s i a s t i c a l lo r d s , and th e
v ic e s o f th e V atican c o u r t, he n ever w rote a n y th in g th a t
i
co u ld in any way be c a l le d a t h e i s t i c a l . He was s in g u la r j
( or perhaps very r e p r e s e n t a t iv e o f h is a g e ) in th e way
he r e c o n c ile d th e a m o r a lity o f h i s l i f e w ith a v er y warm
and h e a r t f e l t p i e t y and a com plete a lle g ia n c e t o th e
1 5 7
Church. He w as, in f a c t , th e arch enemy o f Luther and
th e " s c ism a tic s" and co n sid ered h im s e lf very s in c e r e ly
a d efen d er o f th e tr u e f a i t h .
^ ■ n Strange News, N ashe, l i k e Harvey, term s A retin o
a " r a ile r ," but he does not by any means u se th e term j
in a d ero g a to ry s e n s e . On th e c o n tr a r y , p e r f e c t io n in
t h i s a r t i s h is id e a l and g o a l:
Thou s a i s t I p r o f e s s e th e a r t o f r a i l i n g : thou s h a lt
not sa y so in v a in e , fo r i f th e r e bee any a r t or depth
in i t , more than A retin e or Agrippa haue d isco u ered or
d iu ’d i n t o , lo o k e th a t I w i l l sound i t and search i t
t o th e u tte r m o s t. (Works, I , 320)
And a g a in : j
I f I s c o ld i f I r a i l e , I do but cum r a tio n e in s a n ir e ; j
T u lly , Ovid, and a l l the old e P o e ts , A grippa, A r e tin e ,
and th e r e s t are a l l s c o ld s and r a i l e r s . . . I doe
no more than t h e i r exam ples do w arrant mee. (Works,
I , 324) ---------
O utside th e q u arrel w ith N ashe, Harvey (a s Nashe
i
p o in ted ou t) does not alw ays speak dam ningly o f A r e tin o .
A r e fe r e n c e to A retin o in th e M a rg in a lia r e c o g n iz e s h is
m erit o f independence and o r i g i n a l i t y :
[ I t was] A r e t in e f s g lo r y , t o be h im s e lf; t o sp ea k e,
and w r ite l i k e h im s e lf: t o im ita te none, but him s e l f e
od
^ H a r v e y , t o o , f o llo w s th e g e n e r a l tren d in sp eak in g
o f A retin o a s an a t h e i s t , in Four L e t t e r s . A d visin g
Nashe not t o tamper w ith d iv in e s u b j e c t s ( a s in the
s u p p lic a tio n t o th e d e v il in P ie r c e P e n i l e s s e ) , he b id s
him ta k e a warning from the example o f A retin o "th at so
w antonly p la y ed w ith the h ig h e s t and d e e p e st s u b ie c t e s
o f s p i r i t u a l l con tem p lation " and has, now gone t o h is
judgm ent. (Works, I , 217)
and e v e r t o raaintaine h is own s i n g u la r it y v e t e v e r
w ith commendation, or com passion o f o t h e r .29
This comment seems also to indicate an awareness of
A r e tin o ’ s d o c tr in e o f fr e e im ita tio n : t h a t one may be
molded by what one le a r n s from o th e r s but sh ou ld r e ta in
one’s essential character intact. There is in Harvey’s
words an echo o f A r e tin o ’ s , quoted e a r l i e r ( s e e page 44
footnote 31 above):
For m y s e lf, I can swear t h a t I tr y to form m y s e lf by
what I le a r n and d is c o v e r , but th a t I am alw ays m y se lf
and n ev er anyone e l s e .
In several places, Harvey speaks in praise of
A r e tin o ’s co m ed ies. In a l e t t e r t o Spenser w herein he
i s t r y in g t o persuade h is f r ie n d t o engage h im s e lf in
t h a t g e n r e , he sa y s:
You know, i t hath bene th e u su a l p r a c t is e o f th e m ost
e x q u is it e and odde w i t t e s in a l l n a t io n s , and
e s p e c i a l l y in I t a l i e r a th e r to shewe and advance
th e m se lv e s in th a t way [b y w r itin g co m e d ie s], than
any oth er: as namely th o s e th r e e n o to r io u s d y sco u rsin g
h ea d s, B ib ie n a , M achiavel and A re tin e . . . w ith th e
g r e a t a d m ira tio n , and wonderment o f th e whole cou ntrey:
b e in g indeed© rep u ted m atchable in a l l p o in t s , b oth fo r
con ceyt o f w it t e and elo q u en t decyphering o f m a tte r s,
e i t h e r w ith A ristop h an es and Menander in Greek, or w ith
P la u tu s and Terence in L a tin , or w ith any o t h e r , in any
o th e r to n g . (Works, I , 95)
In the Marginalia, he commends the way Aretino sustains
th e elem en ts o f s u r p r is e and su sp en se in h is com edies:
2^Ed. C. G. Moore Smith (Stratford, 1 9 1 3 ), P* 156
159
To coosen e x p e c ta t io n , one n o ta b le p o in t in a Comedie:
and one o f th e s i n g u l a r i t i e s o f Unico A retin o in h is
c o u r tin g I t a l i a n Comedies.
i
j And fu r th e r he sa y s: j
| U nicus A retin u s e r a t s c r i p t o r i s h yperb ole e t a c t o r i s i
i paradoxum. I l l i u s a f f e c t a t i s s i m a f o e l i c i t a s f u i t , i
! omnia s c r i p t i t a r e h y p e r b o lic e , s in g u la a c t it a r e ex j
i in o p in a to * i
| — t h i s tim e ending on a n ote o f e n t h u s i a s t i c p r a is e : j
i Qui v e l i t Unicum v in c e r e , eum o p o r te t e s s e miraculum I
J e lo q u e n tia e , oraculum p r u d e n tia e , solem in d u s t r i a e .30
In an oth er l e t t e r to S p en ser, in which he i s p r o t e s t in g
| about some w r it in g s o f h is which h is f r ie n d s have h u s tle d J
through th e p r e s s w ith o u t h i s know ledge, Harvey g la n c e s
a t A r e tin o f s fame as a com edian. He t e l l s S p en ser, who
I
i has been so s o l i c i t o u s o f H arveyT s fame a s t o send o f f j
i
j t o th e p r in te r h i s s c r ib b le d v e r s e s , th a t he supposes
i
n ex t he w i l l send him a trou pe o f com edians fo r an
I
| I n te r lu d e — T T . . . by cause perad venture thou im a g in est
l
i
| Unico A re tin o and th e p le a su r a b le C ardinal B ib ien a t h a t
i
j way e s p e c i a l l y a t t r a y n ’d t o be so s in g u la r ly fam ou s.”
' (Works, I , 125)
i
S t i l l w r itin g t o S p en ser, Harvey acknow ledges
A r e tin o T s European c e l e b r i t y and h i s in flu e n c e over
m onarchs:
3°Pp. 1 6 5 , 1 9 6
1 60
| Who but knowes A retyn e, was he n ot h a lfe P rin ce
| t o th e P rin ces?
| W e are reminded o f A r e t in o ^ proud en graving on h i s
medal: ,T The P r in c e s , who are p aid t r ib u t e by th e p e o p le ,
j
pay t r ib u t e t o t h e i r s l a v e . ” F in a lly , in th e M a r g in a lia , j
j i
Harvey speaks a d m ir in g ly , i f n o t a p p r o v in g ly , o f
A r e tin o f s p o l i t i c a l g e n iu s , co u p lin g i t w ith M achia-
v e l l i T s:
M a c h ia v e lli and A retin o knew f a s s h io n s and were
a cq u a in ted w ith ye cunning o f ye w o rld . M a c h ia v e lli
! and A retin o were n ot to le r n e how t o p la y t h e i r p a r te s
but . . . knew ye le s s o n s by h a rt and were n ot to
seeke how t o u se ye w icked w orld , ye f l e s h and ye
D iv e l. They had le r n e d cunning enowgh: and cowd and
woold u se b o th , w ith advantage enowgh. Two c u r t is a n
p o l i t i q u e s .31 |
I should say t h a t , on th e w h o le, HarveyT s a llu s io n s
t o A r e tin o , e x c e p t when he i s m erely u sin g him as a
! means o f condemning Nashe, show both a s c h o la r ly knowledge
! o f A r e tin o T s w r itin g s and an a p p r e c ia tio n o f th e s in g u la r
j r o le he p la y ed in th e h is t o r y o f h i s a g e . Harvey m ight
i
j v er y e a s i l y have read A r e tin o 1s works in I t a l i a n . That
i
! h i s knowledge o f th e lan guage was q u ite s u f f i c i e n t i s
|
! a t t e s t e d by th e many comments in I t a l i a n s c a tt e r e d
through h i s works and p a r t i c u l a r l y found in th e ;
i
M a r g in a lia .
3 1 p . 1 4 7
! CHAPTER V
t
SHAKESPEARE AND ARETINO
Did Shakespeare know A re tin o * s p la y s? As one reads
th e com edies o f A r e tin o , one i s stru ck by a number o f
!
p a ssa g e s which awaken Shakespearean e c h o e s . John L o th ia n ,j
I
in an a r t i c l e e n t i t l e d "Shakespeare*s Knowledge o f
A retin o * s Plays,"-*- p o in t s out p a r a l l e l p a ssa g e s in th e
i j
works o f A retin o and Shakespeare t o show how Shakespeare j
m ight have d e r iv e d i d e a s , s i t u a t i o n s , and d e v ic e s from
I
th e p la y s o f A r e tin o . The q u e stio n o f Shakespeare *s j
r e la t io n s h ip t o A r e tin o , however, i s o n ly one a sp e c t o f i
a la r g e r problem , in v o lv in g th e r e la t io n s h ip o f E l i z a - ;
| bethan comedy, and t h a t o f Shakespeare in p a r t ic u la r , to J
!
I th e comedy o f th e I t a l i a n R e n a issa n c e . I t w i l l be b e t t e r
!
j t o c o n sid e r Shakespeare *s p o s s ib le c o n n ectio n w ith
i A retin o w ith in th e framework o f t h i s la r g e r problem .
i
! I t a l i a n comedy o f th e cin q u ecen to i n i t i a t e d th e
i
tra n sfo r m a tio n o f th e c l a s s i c comedy t r a d it i o n ; th u s i t
gave to th e modern European th e a tr e i t s e a r l i e s t m odels,
' and had an in flu e n c e on E liz a b e th a n drama t h a t i s b ein g
t
j
in c r e a s in g ly r e c o g n iz e d . In th e in tr o d u c tio n to
i R e p r e se n ta tiv e E n g lis h Com edies, C. M. Gayley speaks o f
!
-^-Modern Language Review, 2 5 :4 1 5 -4 2 4 , 1930.
1 6 2
the influence on Elizabethan plays of romantic intrigue
of the Italian romantic comedies which at the end of the
fifteenth century succeeded the Latin eomedy of the
humanists. R. Warwick Bond* in Early Plays from the
Italian, points out "the great importance of Italian
I
Renaissance Comedy in handing on the classical form and j
substance to modern Europe, while introducing considerable
modifications of it”; and he adds: "to Latin comedy the
English stage owes a direct debt the full extent of which
is hardly recognized; it also owes an indirect debt,
through the medium of Italian work."3 }
2{London, 1 9 0 3 -1 9 0 6 ), I , x v i i - x v i i i .
3 (O xford, 1 9 1 1 ), I n tr o d u c tio n , p . i i i . W in ifred
Sm ith, a t th e opening o f h er e s s a y on " I ta lia n -a n d
E liz a b e th a n Comedy,” Modern P h i lo lo g y , 5 :5 5 5 -5 6 7 , A p r il,
190&, sa y s: ”1 w ish t o g iv e a few f a c t s th a t go t o prove
th a t t h i s co n n ectio n between E n g lish drama and I t a l i a n
i s f a r more fundam ental and fa r -r e a c h in g than has h it h e r t o
been su p p o se d .” (p . 555) D r. F u r n e ss, r e f e r r in g t o th e
v i s i t o f th e I t a l i a n p la y e r s in England in 1573, remarks
t h a t i t i s e v id e n c e o f "an in tim a te r e la t io n s h ip a t th a t
e a r ly d ate between th e E n g lish and th e I t a l i a n sta g e o f
which to o l i t t l e account i s made by th o s e who w ish to
e x p la in S h ak esp eare1s knowledge o f I t a l i a n manners and
n am es.” (Much Ado About N o th in g , Variorum e d . , I n tr o
d u c tio n , p . x x v I I *1 Mario A p o llo n io in S to r ia d e lla
Commedia d e l l t Arte (Roma, 1 9 3 0 ), speaks o f th e form ative
in flu en ce" -© !''Ita lia n comedy on E liz a b e th a n drama: "In
England [ t h e Commedia d e l l 1 A r te ] serv ed t o g iv e v ig o r
t o th e s t i l l s c a t t e r e d - anH co n fu sed elem en ts o f th e g r e a t
E n g lish drama; i t prob ably had a p a r t in form ing or
reform ing p op u lar t a s t e . . . ( p . 315)
163
Along what l i n e s d id th e tr a n sfo r m a tio n o f th e
m a te r ia l from c l a s s i c so u rc es proceed in I t a l i a n
R en aissan ce comedy?^ C h ie f ly , i t was by th e in fu s io n
o f elem en ts from th e popular and n o v e l i s t i c t r a d i t i o n s j
as w e ll as by a c l o s e r co n n ectio n w ith contemporary l i f e , j
I
Two d iv e r g e n t ways were thus opened f o r th e developm ent
o f modern comedy: th e in flu e n c e o f th e n o v e l l e , w ith
t h e i r atmosphere o f s tr a n g e n e s s , t h e i r v a g a r ie s o f tim e
and p la c e , t h e i r f a n t a s t i c a d v en tu re s, le d comedy towards
rom anticism ; th e w it t y and s a t i r i c a l p o r tr a itu r e o f
r e a l i t y p o in ted towards th e modern comedy o f m anners.
At th e same tim e , and e s p e c i a l l y w ith th e im p r o v isa tio n s
o f th e Commedia d e l l ♦ A rte, th e r e en tere d in to comedy a
v e in o f popular humor th a t was rude and i n a r t i s t i c but ;
f u l l o f v ig o r . The t r a d i t i o n a l ty p e s o f L a tin comedy
were m o d ifie d , in I t a l i a n R en aissan ce comedy, t o r e f l e c t
new c o n d itio n s o f p o l i t i c a l , s o c i a l , and d om estic l i f e ,
and some new c h a r a c te r ty p e s were added. This tr a n s
form ation o f th e t r a d i t i o n a l ty p e s o f comedy was r e a liz e d
most f u l l y in th e Commedia d e l l ’ A r te , which e v e n tu a lly
d eveloped i t s own c o n v e n tio n a l c h a r a c te r ty p e s or ’’m a sk s.”
i
i
4-In sp eak in g o f I t a l i a n R en aissan ce Comedy, I s h a ll
u se th e term s, Commedia E r u d ita , or w r it t e n comedy, and
Commedia d e l l ’ A r te , Im provised comedy.
1 6 4
Thus, the classic type of the miles gloriosus, while he
retained his basic character, lost his military rudeness
in Italian comedy, to acquire the ceremoniousness of
speech and manner and the fantastic flamboyance of Italy’s!
Spanish conquerors* In the Commedia dell’ Arte, he was
"Capitan Spavento,” who had a notable precursor in
Capitan Tinea of Aretinofs La Talanta, and whose traits
have been discovered in Armado of Love’s Lab our’s Lost,
and in Parolles of All’s Well that Ends Well.^ In Rosso ;
of Aretino’s La Cortigiana, we have seen the intriguing
servant of Latin comedy localized and transformed into a '
!
lackey of the sixteenth century Roman court; and in the j
Commedia dell’ Arte, the type evolved into Zanni, who was j
^See 0* J* Campbell, ’’L ove’ s Labour’ s L ost Re
s t u d i e d , ” S tu d ie s in S h ak esp eare, M ilton " and Donne,
U n iv e r s ity o f M ichigan P u b lic a t io n s , V o l• I (Hew York,
1 9 2 5 ), p . 22; Mario P raz, "Sh akespeare’ s I t a l y , ”
Shakespeare S urvey, No. 7 (London, 1 9 5 4 ), p* 9o; Joseph
Spencer Kennard, Masks and M a r io n ette s (New York, 1 9 3 5 ),
p . 36* W in ifred Sm ith, in H I t a l i a n and E liz a b e th a n
Comedy,” p o in t s out th a t Thomas Kyd prob ably d e r iv e d th e
name and model fo r B a s i l i s c o , th e b raggart and coxcomb
o f Soilm an and P ersed a, from the b ra g g a rt B a s i l i s c o o f
an o ld I t a l i a n s c e n a r io p u b lish e d in 1619 as G li Amorosi
In g a n n i. She s u g g e s ts th a t the p la y had very l i k e l y
been g iv e n as an im p rovised comedy in London and seen
by Kyd; and she ad ds, " B a s ilis c o a s a new v a r ia t io n o f
th e m ile s i s a foreru n n er o f Armado and P a r o l l e s . ”
165 i
i
som etim es a s lo w -w itte d clown and som etim es a ro g u ish
s e r v a n t, th e comic c o n tr a st between th e two ty p e s
becoming one o f th e Commedia* s t r a d i t i o n s .^ One o f the
most p opular c h a r a c te r ty p e s in tro d u ced by I t a l i a n comedy j
was t h a t o f th e p ed an t, a f ig u r e produced by th e new
le n a is s a n c e le a r n in g . At f i r s t , the pedant rep r ese n ted
th e m ed ieval s c h o l a s t i c p h ilo s o p h e r , who had become a
b u tt f o r the r i d i c u l e o f th e h u m an ists, but l a t e r , the
t r a i t s o f the hum anists th e m se lv es were s a t i r i z e d in him-
The pedant was th en r e p r ese n ted a s a man whose z e a l fo r
le a r n in g had made him a f a n a t i c , who had l o s t touch w ith
i
p r a c t ic a l l i f e through sh ee r d ev o tio n t o a b s tr a c t stu d y . j
I
An e a r ly r e p r e s e n ta tio n o f th e typ e i s P l a t a r i s t o t i l e in !
A r e tin o T s I I F i l o s o f o . The pedant was a ls o one o f th e
t y p i c a l f ig u r e s o f th e Commedia d e l l 1 A r te , where he was
known as th e T f D o t t o r e ,,T and h i s d i s t i n c t i v e t r a i t s were
"an ig n o ra n t p r e te n s io n t o le a r n in g , s tu p id e ty m o lo g iz in g ,
g ro tesq u e m isp ro n u n cia tio n o f w ords, and th e b u ffo o n ery
^0* J . Campbell, "The Two Gentlemen o f Verona and
I t a l i a n Comedy,” S tu d ie s in S hak esp eare, M ilto n and
Donne, p . 6 0 . To th e rustfTc type o f Zanni"^ Campbell
t r a c e s C ostard and Launce o f L oveT s Labour*s L ost and
The Two Gentlemen o f Verona; and t o th e c l e v e r in t r ig u in g
t y p e , Moth and SpeeH o f th e same co m ed ies.
1 6 6
o f L a tin q u o t a tio n s . Many o f th e s e t r a i t s are a lr e a d y
in th e pedant o f A r e tin o ’ s I I M a r ese a lco , who lo v e d
n o th in g more than t o d is p la y h is le a r n in g in long-w ind ed
sp ee ch es and t o m y s tify h i s h ea re rs w ith h is g ro tesq u e
L a tin . The "D ottore" o f th e Coxnmedia has been seen as
th e p ro to ty p e o f S h a k esp ea re’ s H o lo fe r n e s.^ A nother j
m o d ific a tio n o f a c l a s s i c model in I t a l i a n comedy i s
P a n ta lo o n , th e type e i t h e r o f th e d e c e iv e d f a th e r or the
duped husband. He i s , sa y s W in ifred Sm ith, !
. . . a d i s t i n c t v a r ia t io n o f th e c l a s s i c sen ex and i s
f a i r l y co n sta n t in I t a l i a n comedy both w r itte n and
im p r o v ise d . He i s o ld , s tu p id , a v a r ic io u s , amorous,
and J e a lo u s , and . . . i s alw ays the dupe o f th e young
lo v e r s and t h e i r a l l i e s * 9
One o f th e I t a l i a n ty p e s which became u n iv e r s a lly p op u lar !
I
in R en aissan ce comedy was th e h ero in e who put on male
d is g u is e t o f o llo w her l o v e r . She was a p ro d u ct, as
Campbell e x p la in s , o f th e s o c i a l custom s o f the I t a l i a n
c in q u e c e n to :
The male d is g u is e o f th e g i r l was the a u th o rized
s o lu t io n o f a u n iv e r s a l problem o f sta g e r e a lis m . The
?L u igi R a si, I Comici I t a l i a n i (F ir e n z e , 1 6 9 7 ), I ,
4 0 7 - - c it e d by CampFell in ! T Love ’ s'~Tabour ’ s L ost Re
s tu d ie d ," p . 4 0 .
^See "L oveT s Labour’ s L ost R e -stu d ie d ," p p . 4 0 -4 2 ;
P raz, "Sh akespeare’s I t a l y , * ’ p . 98* N
^ ’’I t a l i a n and E liz a b e th a n Comedy," p . 565*
; 167
i
;
j scen e o f a l l th e a c tio n in I t a l i a n comedy, both
; le a r n e d and p r o f e s s i o n a l, forbade th e appearance
j o f a r e s p e c ta b le c i t i z e n ’ s daughter on th e s t r e e t
I w ith th e men. I f th e g i r l , t h e r e f o r e , was t o have
! any s o r t o f exten d ed speech w ith th e men in t h e s e
1 com ed ies, she had e i t h e r to t a lk w ith them from a
; window or b a lc o n y , or t o assume some s o r t o f male
' d i s g u i s e . C on seq u en tly, a l l R en aissan ce comedy i s
f i l l e d w ith th e s e s i t u a t i o n s . To b rin g th e g i r l
j in t o in tim a te r e la t io n w ith th e lo v e i n t r i g u e , she
was o fte n d is g u is e d as a page a tta c h e d t o one o f
I th e am orosi— som etim es th e one she l o v e d .10
i - - - - - - - - - - - -
j Often a s s o c ia t e d w ith th e h eroin e in R en aissan ce comedy
| i s th e n u r se — an ou tsp ok en , p opular ty p e , o f r a th e r
co a r se h o n esty and m o r a lit y , y e t p o s s e s s in g a c e r ta in
e a r th y wisdom and a measure o f d e v o tio n . The nurse in
A r e tin o ’ s I I M arescalco i s an example o f th e t y p e , which
Shakespeare im m ortalized in th e nurse o f Romeo and
J u l i e t ♦
The d egree o f o r i g i n a l i t y in th e trea tm en t o f
t r a d i t i o n a l them es and c h a r a c te r ty p e s v a r ie d w ith th e
in d iv id u a l au th ors o f th e Commedie E r u d it e . Although
most had th e in te n t io n o f c r e a tin g a modern typ e o f
comedy, in many t h i s in t e n t io n d id not go beyond th e
d e c la r a t io n s in the p r e f a c e s , or was e v id e n t o n ly in a
' s u p e r f i c i a l m o d if ic a tio n o f th e c l a s s i c m o d e ls.
i
j A c tu a lly , i t was in th e Commedia d e l l ’ Arte th a t the
i
! c o n v e n tio n s o f c l a s s i c drama were most d e c id e d ly broken
!
i
I
I
1 0 ”The Two Gentlemen o f Verona and I t a l i a n Comedy,”
p • 56.
16S
down. The p e c u lia r te c h n iq u e , in tro d u ced by th e
Commedia d e l l * A r te , o f im p r o v isin g a c t io n and d ia lo g u e
on th e b a s is o f a s k e le to n s c e n a r io , brought a cu rren t
o f fr e s h n e s s and sp o n ta n e ity in t o comedy. The con
v e n t io n a l in t r ig u e l o s t im p o rta n ce, e x c e p t as a th read
t o bind th e a c t io n , and th e em phasis was on th e l i v e l i n e s s ;
i
o f s in g le sc e n e s tak en from l i f e . The m asks, which j
!
recurred in a l l th e Commedie, adapted th e c l a s s i c m od els, j
i
as we have s e e n , t o th e l o c a l manners and custom s o f the *
v a r io u s towns o f R en aissan ce I t a l y ; and th e **lazzi*’
( f a r e i c a l t r i c k s ) c h a r a c t e r is t ic o f th e Commedie arose
-FI"™"'!™"""""' -" " M i" ‘ ■imi
1
out o f th e p op u lar comic i n s t i n c t , whose e x p r e s s io n s in j
m im icry, parody, fa r c e are o f a l l a g e s . The Commedia ,
d e l l * Arte began w ith th e form ation o f th e f i r s t p ro - I
f e s s i o n a l com panies o f a c to r s in s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry I t a l y .
A lthough th e o r ig in s o f i t s te c h n iq u e ,1 are co n sid ered t o
be very r e m o t e , c e r t a i n l y i t s im mediate p rec u r so rs
were th o se w r it e r s o f I t a l i a n R en aissan ce com edies who
in trod u ced th e sp eech and a c t io n s o f l o c a l p eop le in to
th e framework o f th e c o n v e n tio n a liz e d c l a s s i c p l o t s .
I
Foremost among t h e s e by th e n ature o f h i s comic th eo ry j
H-K. M. Lea, in I t a l i a n Popular Comedy, A Study in
th e Commedia d e l l * Arte 15^3- 1620 ( Oxford, 19T4) , I ,
2’ 2’ if, speaks o f th e r e l a t i o n s o f th e Commedia d e l l * Arte j
t o th e mimes o f A sia and Europe and t o th e popu lar comedy ;
o f Rome in th e t h ir d and fo u r th c e n t u r ie s . i
169
. IP
J and p r a c t ic e was, as we have se e n , P ie tr o A retino*
j H is com ed ies, w ith t h e i r lo o s e n e s s o f s tr u c tu r e and
j
i
j t h e i r em phasis on th e l i v e l i n e s s o f a c t io n and d ia lo g u e
i
w ith in th e in d iv id u a l s c e n e s , were a lr e a d y a developm ent
o f th e tech n iq u e o f im p rovised comedy* Comparing A retin o j
f i
w ith th e o th e r w r it e r s o f Commedie E ru d ite in th e i
— — — — — — i
s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry , R. Warwick Bond sa y s o f him:
A retin o i s th e most independent o f them a l l . . . •
His im p atien ce o f s tr u c tu r e and r e s t r a i n t , h is
unbounded flo w o f d ia lo g u e , h is v a r i e t y o f a l l u s i o n ,
produce alm ost a new t y p e , fu sin g th e Commedia E r u d ita
1 w ith th e popular extem pore Commedia d e i l T A r te *T3
A nother c r i t i c o b se r v e s, " I f A retin o d id not advance fa r i
on th e new road, a t l e a s t he s e t fo o t on i t and marked
i t out f o r o t h e r s . A n t o n i o F o s c h in i, who c o n sid e r s
A re tin o an im portant p rec u r so r o f th e Commedia d e l l ’
J Arte says:
-^ In t h i s r e s p e c t A re tin o in flu e n c e d both h is
con tem p oraries and h is s u c c e s s o r s who sought t o escap e
from a s la v i s h im it a t io n o f th e c l a s s i c s * H is in flu e n c e
has e s p e c i a l l y been p o in te d out in th e freedom and frank
n e ss o f Giordano Bruno’ s s a t i r i c a l comedy I I C and elaio—
se e A ntonio F o s c h in i, LT A re tin o e I Ragionam enti (M ilano,
1951). PP» 99-100; Arthur Symonds, The R en aissan ce in
I t a l y (New York, 1935), II, 732.
13E arly P la y s from th e I t a l i a n , I n tr o d u c tio n ,
p . x x i .
l^-Nunzio M acarrone, ed*, Te'atro d i P ie tr o A retin o
(L an eian o, 1 9 1 4 ), Introd u zione" T.
1 7 0
The c h a r a c te r s o f th e A retin esq u e comedy surge up
w ith such buoyancy t h a t a new m a tter h e n cefo rth
ta k e s p o s s e s s io n o f th e s t a g e s and sq u a r e s. . . .
The old d e c r e p it s c e n a r io s crumble . . • and from th e
d u st a r i s e s , w ith ardor and warmth o f l i f e and
v i v a c i t y o f p o in ted d ia lo g u e , th e company o f th e m asks,
which w i l l g l o r i f y th e Commedia d e l l * A r t e .15
I t would n o t, t h e r e f o r e , be to o much t o say t h a t , in so
f a r as th e Commedia d e l l T Arte was an in flu e n c e on J
Shakespeare and h i s co n tem p o ra ries, we may tr a c e through j
t
i t th e d ir e c t in flu e n c e o f A r e tin o .
Having se en how th e comic t r a d i t i o n o f th e c l a s s i c '
th e a tr e was renovated in I t a l i a n R en aissan ce comedy, we
have s t i l l t o ask how w e ll known was t h i s I t a l i a n comedy
in E liz a b e th a n England and how r e a l was i t s in flu e n c e on
E liz a b e th a n p la y w rig h ts? F i n a l l y , what was th e r e la t io n
o f Shakespeare t o I t a l i a n comedy and t o th e com edies o f
A retin o? The e v id e n c e s o f th e p o p u la r ity o f I t a l i a n
R en aissan ce comedy in s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry England are
numerous. An i n t e r e s t i n g p ie c e o f te stim o n y i s the
in d ig n a n t p r o t e s t o f Stephen Gosson a g a in s t I t a l i a n p la y s
i n The S ch ool o f Abuse. The d e v i l , Gosson s a y s , in
ord er t o corrupt E nglishm en, f i r s t gave them wanton
I t a l i a n books t o rea d , but "not c o n te n te d w ith th e number
he had corru p ted w ith I t a l i a n bawdry, b ecau se a l l cannot
re a d , p r e se n te d us w ith com edies cut by th e same
1 5 l * A r e t i n o , p . 1 0 2 .
171
p a t t e r n .” And he c o n tin u e s , "Compare London t o Rome
and England t o I t a l y . You s h a l l fin d th e t h e a t r e s o f
1 £
th e on e, th e ab uses o f th e o th e r to be r i f e among u s . ”
An im portant means by which Englishm en were
fa m ilia r iz e d w ith I t a l i a n R en aissan ce comedy were th e
/
perform ances g iv e n in England by th e tr o u p e s o f th e
Commedia d e l l * A r te , whose r e p e r t o r ie s in clu d ed both
! w r itt e n and im p rovised com ed ies. A fte r 1570, th e s e
i
tr o u p e s were banned from I t a l y as a r e s u l t o f th e Counter
R eform ation, and many took re fu g e in France; th e y e s ta b -
!
lis h e d th e m se lv e s in P a r is and from th e r e v i s i t e d v a r io u s
c o u r ts o f E urope. In h er stu d y on th e Commedia d e l l ’
A rte, K atherine M. Lea l i s t s v a r io u s t e s t im o n ie s t o th e
p resen ce o f I t a l i a n p la y e r s in England in th e s ix t e e n t h
i
| c e n tu r y . The e a r l i e s t r e fe r e n c e t o them i s in th e
| Cham berlainT s account fo r 1546-1547 in Norw ich. The
| r e v e ls a cco u n ts fo r 1573-1574 a ls o r e f e r s to the " I ta lia n
I p la y e r s th a t fo llo w e d th e p r o g r e ss and made p astim e f i r s t
i
! a t Windsor and th e n a t R ea d in g .” In 1576, an oth er e n tr y
j
r e f e r s t o th e p resen ce o f th e I t a l i a n p la y e r s a t c o u r t,
c o lla b o r a tin g w ith F erra b o sco , th e q u een ’s B olognese
-^ C ite d by Campbell in "L oveT s LabourT s L ost
R e - s t u d ie d ,” p . 29*
1 7 2
m u s ic ia n . ^ And 0 . J* Campbell n o te s th e fo llo w in g
en try in th e A cts o f th e P rivy C o u n c il, X. 1 4 4 , fo r
January i d , 157$:
The Lord Mayor o f London t o g iv e ord ers th a t one
D rousian o, th e I t a l i a n , a commediante, and h is
companye may p la y w ith in th e C i t t i e and th e
l i b e r t i e s o f the same between t h i s and th e f i r s t
weeks o f L e n t.l$
Both K. M. Lea, in I t a l i a n Popular Comedy, and
W in ifred Sm ith, in h er a r t i c l e ’’I t a l i a n and E liz a b e th a n
Comedy,” p o in t out a llu s io n s by E liz a b e th a n w r it e r s to
th e Commedia d e l l ’ A rte and i t s t y p i c a l m asks, showing
th e f a m i l i a r i t y o f au th ors and a u d ie n c es w ith th e I t a lia n
com ed ies. Thomas Kyd, fo r exam ple, has th e fo llo w in g
d e s c r ip tio n o f th e I t a l i a n p la y e r s:
The I t a l i a n tr a g e d ia n s were so sharp o f w it
That in one h o u r’ s m e d ita tio n
They would perform an yth in g in a c t io n .
(Spanish T ragedy, V .ij
In M iddleton and R ow ley’s The Spanish Gypsy, th e r e i s th e
fo llo w in g r e fe r e n c e to th e Commedia d e l l ’ A r te :
The s c e n ic a l sc h o o l
Hath been my t u t o r lo n g in I t a l y . ( I l l . i )
And a q u ite a ccu ra te e x p la n a tio n o f th e method o f th e
’’s c e n ic a l s c h o o l” f o llo w s :
-*-7I t a l i a n Popular Comedy, I , 3 5 1 -3 5 2 .
• ^ ’’L ove’ s Labour’ s Lost R e - s t u d ie d ,” p p. 2 7 -2 $ .
There is a way which the Italians and the
Frenchmen use,
That is, on a word given or some slight plot,
The actors will extempore fashion out
Scenes neat and witty. (IV.iv)
There are frequent allusions in Elizabethan plays to
’ ’Zany” (Zanni), the eomic servant, often also the clown, I
!
of the Commedia dell * Arte. Several such references are
found in Jonson, as in CynthiaTs Revels where Mercury
I
describing Asotus, the worshipping follower of Amorphus, j
says of him:
The other gallant is his Zany
And doth most of these tricks after him.
( I I . i ) 1 9
or in Every Man Out of His Humor, where Maeilente says j
of Brisks attempts to emulate courtiers:
He’s like a Zany to a Tumbler
That tries tricks after him, to make men
laugh. (IV.i)20
Thomas Heywood, in The General History of Women, speaks
of
Some Zanie with his mimick action,
To breed mirth and laughter . . .
Harlequin, another well known Commedia dell’ Arte type,
is mentioned in The Isle of Gulls:
Incited by Smith, pp. 559, 564*
20Cited by Lea, II, 3 7 9 .
1 7 4
W h ilst I , l i k e H arlakenes in an I t a l i a n
comedy,
Stand making f a c e s a t both t h e i r f o l l i e s .
( I I . i ) 2 1
And M arston, in The M a lco n te n t, a llu d e s t o "the French
H arlak en e ," 22 Shakespeare r e f e r s s e v e r a l tim e s to
P antaloon o f th e Commedia: in The Taming o f th e Shrew,
L u cen tio d e s c r ib e s Grumio as "Old P a n ta lo o n ," a llu d in g
to th e o ld man’s je a lo u s y in lo v e 5^^ and Jago, in
O th e llo , i s s u g g e s tin g th e same th in g when he r e f e r s
to B rabantio as th e "Old M agnifico" (a n o th er term fo r
P a n ta lo o n ).2^ In Heywood’ s I f You Know n ot Me You Know
N o th in g , Robson speaks o f h is a p p r e n tic e s t h a t "peepe
l i k e I t a l i a n P antelow nes behind an a r r a s ." 2 5 Jonson in
Volpone ( I l . i ) b r in g s to g e t h e r in one r e fe r e n c e Pantaloon
and two o th e r f ig u r e s o f th e Commedia d e l l ’ A rte— the
amorous se rv a n t g i r l , F ra n ceseh in a , and th e lo v e r ,
21C ited by Lea, I I , 3 7 4 , 3^0.
22Sm ith, p . 564* The e p it h e t "French" i s e x p la in e d
by th e e sta b lish m e n t o f th e I t a l i a n tro u p e s in France
a f t e r 1 5 7 0 .
23Lea, p . 391* W inifred Sm ith, in " I t a lia n and
E liz a b e th a n Comedy," p . 565, sa y s: "Grumio, in The Taming
o f th e Shrew, i s a d ir e c t t r a n s c r ip t o f th e I t a lia n
'Pantaloon o f th e S u p p o s it i."
2^Smith, p . 565*
2 5 L e a , I I , 3^5*
175
Flaminio. Volpone, disguised as a mountebank and
attended by his Zany, Nano, is performing under Celia*s
window, when her husband Corvino furiously breaks in on
the scene and drives off the would-be lover with shouts
and blows: J
i
Spight o* the devil, and my shamet Come
down, here;
Come down;— No house but mine to make your
scene?
Signior Flaminio, will you down, sir? down?
What, is my wife your Franciseina, sir? ;
No windows on the whole Piazza, here, j
To make your properties but mine? but mine? j
HeartI ere to-morrow I shall be new-christn’d, j
And call*d the Pantalone di Besogniosi, J
About the town. j
i
The scene itself, Winifred Smith remarks, is a typical
Commedia dellT Arte o n e . 2 ^
Another sign that Italian Renaissance comedies were
well known is the use that Elizabethan writers made of
them as source material. Winifred Smith states that
"many an English play which has been traced to a novella
goes back more directly to an Italian play founded on
the novella,” and she mentions seven English comedies
which have been traced to Italian originals as transla-
I
tions or adaptations and suggests that the full indebted- j
f
ness of Elizabethan to Italian playwrights is only [
2^ S m i t h , p . 5 6 3 .
1 7 6
beginning to be appreciated»2? In Italian Popular
Comedy, K. M. Lea confirms the influence of Italian
comedy, especially Commedia dell ’ Arte, on Elizabethan
playwrights, but decides that the influence of the
tradition as a whole rather than of the single comedies
was important. , T The improvising comedians," she states,
"kept in circulation a stock of dramatic material richer
and in a more convenient form than anything found in
collections of n o v e l l e This material, moreover,
showed, as we have seen, a new combination of the old
traditional elements with romanticism and realism,
satire and popular humor. Traces of the Commedia dell*
Arte are everywhere in Elizabethan comedy, K. M. Lea
says further. At times its influence can be seen in the
tendency towards symmetry and pattern, which was a
tradition of the Commedia; or in the use of certain
themes and devices; or in peculiarly Italian character
2?Pp. 565-567* The com edies m entioned are th e
fo llo w in g : G a sco ig n e’ s Supposes and The Taming o f th e
Shrew from A r io s t o ’ s I S u p p o s it i; The Bugbears from
G r a z z in i’ s La S p i r i t a t a ; Munday*s The D eceiptfs o f Two
I t a l i a n Gen^Temen ( ancT7 i n d i r e c t l y , The Two Gentlemen o f
Verona) from E id e le and F o r tu n io ; T w elfth N ight from
G1fIn g a n n a ti o f P ic c o lo m in i; ChapmanT s May 'Day from
P ic c o lo m in i’ s A le ssa n d r o ; Abumazar by Tomkis from d e lla
P o r ta ’ s L ’A s tr o !o g o .
z S I I , 4 5 3 •
! 177
i
t r a i t s th a t cannot be accou n ted fo r by th e n a tio n a l or
c l a s s i c t r a d i t i o n s . B ut, ex c ep t in se c o n d -r a te p la y s ,
where th e h a ste or p o v erty o f id e a s o f th e p la y w rig h t
!
made him u se th e I t a l i a n s c e n a r io s w ith ou t tra n sfo rm in g |
I
them, th e in flu e n c e o f th e Commedia, ra th e r than in any t
" i
p a r t ic u la r elem en t, r e s id e s m ain ly in "an e l u s i v e j
I t a l i a n f la v o r which p r e v a ils in s p i t e o f th e E n g lish
d e t a i l s o f manner and s e tt in g " ; and in "broad l i n e s o f
a c tio n tr a c e a b le not to any one s c e n a r io but to th e j
I t r a d it i o n e s t a b lis h e d by m a n y . " 2 ^ jp i s in t h i s form ,
| m a in ly , t h a t th e in flu e n c e o f th e Commedia can be tr a c e d
j
i in S h ak esp eare.
!
I
I A number o f s t u d ie s have been made r e l a t i n g the
j
i com edies o f Shakespeare to th e Commedia d e l l 1 A r te .
i K. M. Lea fin d s e v id e n c e s o f such r e la t io n s h ip in The
!
I Merry W ives o f W indsor, The Comedy o f E r r o r s , and The
i Tem pest.3 9 In The Merry Wives she p o in ts out p a r a l l e l s
t o a Commedia s c e n a r io e n t i t l e d Li Tre B e e c h i; t h a t th e
I t a l i a n a t e m a te r ia l in t h i s comedy o f S h a k e sp e a r e ^ i s
o n ly h a l f absorbed by th e E n g lish s e t t i n g she a t t r ib u t e s
t o th e f a c t t h a t i t was h a s t i l y w r it t e n . In A Comedy o f
E r r o r s, on th e o th e r hand, th e resem b lan ces are n ot to
i ----------- > *
I
29 i i , 4 1 0 -4 1 1 , 431•
3 ° I I , 431-453*
178
any one sc e n a r io but r a th e r show the in flu e n c e o f the
Commedia t r a d i t i o n as a w h o le . This in flu e n c e i s seen
c h i e f l y in th e a m p lif ic a t io n s o f th e Maenechmi theme:
i n th e a d d itio n o f th e tw in se r v a n ts who g iv e r i s e to j
i
fu r th e r c o m p lic a tio n s o f m isu n d er sta n d in g s, m is d e liv e r ie s
o f l e t t e r s , and so f o r t h , and who are much more th e
Zannis o f th e Commedia th a n th e s la v e s o f L a tin comedy;
and in th e a d d itio n o f th e two p a r e n ts , whose appearance
p ro v id es f o r th e c l o s in g scen e o f fa m ily re u n io n , which
i s co m p letely in th e Commedia d e l l 1 Arte t r a d i t i o n .
R e fe r r in g t o th e stu d y o f P r o fe s s o r Ferdinando N e r i, J
S c e n a r ii d e l l e Maschere in A rcadia, K. M. Lea p o in t s out ,
' 1 — f
th e r e la t io n s h ip betw een The Tempest and a p a s to r a l type
o f Commedia s c e n a r io s :
t
The c e n tr a l s i t u a t i o n o f The Tempest . . • th e shipwreck
o f two groups o f s tr a n g e r s on an enchanted is la n d where
a m agician r u l e s , and th e dram atic p o s s i b i l i t i e s o f
su pp osin g a r e la t io n s h ip betw een th e s tr a n g e r s and the
m agician . . . were p r e c i s e l y the dram atic m a te r ia ls o f .
th e p a s to r a l t r a d i t i o n o f th e Commedia d e l l 1 A r te .31 j
0 . J . Campbell a ls o a g r e e s w ith P r o fe s s o r N e r iT s
i
c o n c lu s io n s : !
!
I t has r e c e n t ly been shown th a t th e s to r y o f The i
Tempest and many o f i t s d i s t i n c t i v e t h e a t r i c a l fe a tu r e s .
are undoub ted ly d eriv ed from a rom antic type o f Commedia1
d e l l * A r te . A group o f f i v e s c e n a r io s , w r it t e n down
f i r s t in 1622 but r e p r e s e n tin g much o ld e r t r a d it i o n s o f
31! ! , 444-
1 7 9
i th e masked p la y e r s , c o n ta in s p r a c t i c a l l y a l l o f th e
! c o n s tr u c t iv e and d i s t i n c t i v e h i s t r i o n i c f e a t u r e s o f
I The Tem pest, in a com bination th a t makes th e ev id e n c e
■ f o r t h e ir in flu e n c e upon Shakespeare a b s o lu te ly
j c o n v in c in g .3 2
! Selma Guttman, in The F oreign S ou rces o f S h ak esp eare’ s
j Works, an an n otated b ib lio g r a p h y o f th e commentary
w r itte n on th e su b je c t between 1904 and 1 9 4 0, l i s t s a
number o f s t u d ie s o f th e Commedia d e l l T Arte as a sou rce
i
i o f The Tempest .33
I — — .......... -S ... . . . . . . . . . . .
3 2 "L ove * s Labour’ s L ost R e -stu d ie d ," p* 31 • See j
a ls o Praz] "Shakespeare ’ s I t a l y ," p . 104: "The Tempest I
h as been c o n v in c in g ly tr a c e d by Ferdinando N eri t o a j
group o f s c e n a r io s o f th e Commedia d e l l ’ A r te . Even th e j
| clo w n s, who as a r u le are p o rtra y ed a s E liz a b e th a n ■
I Londoners in S h ak esp eare’ s o th e r p la y s , h ere seem t o |
J have been borrowed from a N ea p o lita n fa r c e ." And !
! A p o llo n io , S to r ia d e l l a Commedia d e l l ’ A r te , p . 315: j
"[The Commedia d e l l ’ ArteJ may have su g g e ste d t o f
Shakespeare some o f h i s most famous th em es, and a l s o , in
j The Tempe s t , th e v er y a r c h ite c tu r e o f th e drama."
33(New York, 1 9 4 7 ), p p. x i i f f . The s t u d ie s '
m en tion ed , b e s id e s th o se o f K. M * Lea and 0 . J . Campbell,
are th e fo llo w in g : H. D- Gray, "The Sources o f The
Tem pest," Modern Language N o te s , 35 (1 9 2 0 :3 2 1 -3 3 0 )j
M. J . WolfT^ "Shakespeare und d ie Commedia d e l l ’ A-rte,"
Jahrbuch der D eutschen Shakespeare G e s e l l s c h a f t , 46
{1 9 1 0 :1 -2 0 ); W. V o llh a r d t, "Zur Q uellenkunde von
S h ak esp ea re’ s Sturm," B e ib la t t Zur A n g lia , 37 (1 9 2 6 :3 3 7 - j
3 4 2 ) . The fo llo w in g s t u d ie s deny the in flu e n c e o f th e
Commedia d e l l ’ Arte on Shakespeare: E. K. Chambers,
f*The I n t e g r it y o f The Tem pest," Review o f E n g lish
S tu d ie s , pp. 129-15U; 0 . P. h enn eb erger, Proxim ate
Sources f o r th e I t a lia n a t e E lem ents in Shakespeare
TTTTTno i s7™l^T7) “
ISO
0 . J- Campbell, in "Love *s LabourT s Lost
R e - s t u d ie d ,"34- n o te s p a r a l l e l s betw een th e ch a ra c te r
»
ty p e s o f th e Commedia d e l l T A rte and th e group o f com ics
in L ove1s LabourT s L o s t ; and in "The Two Gentlemen o f
Verona and I t a l i a n Comedy," he makes a d e t a ile d stu d y o f
th e d e v ic e s and s t r u c t u r a l elem en ts o f th e comedy in
ord er to show th a t " p r a c t ic a lly a l l i t s im portant
s t r u c t u r a l elem en ts are p a tte r n e d a f t e r re c u r r e n t
fe a t u r e s o f I t a l i a n Comedy." He co n clu d es th a t:
Shakespeare must have e i t h e r m odeled The Two Gentlemen
on a th o r o u g h ly I t a l i a n a t e Comedy, or u sin g th e th rea d
o f " F e lix and Felism ena" from Montemayor, s D ian a, he
must have made a l l h is a d d itio n s t o i t from d e v ic e s
chosen from th e w id esp read t r a d i t i o n s o f I t a lia n
comedy.35
W in ifred Smith f in d s t y p i c a l Commedia d e l l 1 Arte sc e n e s
in The Taming o f th e Shrew: in I l l . i , where L u c e n tio ,
d is g u is e d as a p ed a n t, makes lo v e t o B ianca under
p reten ce o f rea d in g h er a L a tin le s s o n ; and in I . i i ,
where Grumio p reten d s n o t t o u nd erstan d P e tr u c c h io ’ s
command t o knock: "W hom s h a l l I knock s ir ? " — and th e
scene ends w ith GrumioT s r e c e iv in g h is m a ste r 1s b lo w s,
34-Pp. 1-47*
3 5p . 5 3 ; se e a ls o P raz, pp. 97-95
a s in a t y p i c a l Commedia ”lazzo.”36 For T w elfth Night
a number o f so u rces have been s u g g e s te d , in c lu d in g a
n o v e lla by B a n d e llo , i t s French t r a n s l a t i o n by
B e l l e f o r e s t , and i t s A n g lic iz e d v e r s io n in Barnabe
R ic h ’s ’’A polonius and S i l l a . ” The most d ir e c t so u r c e ,
however, has been found in a s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry I t a l i a n
comedy G1T In gan n ati by A lessandro P ic c o lo m in i from which
a l l th e o th e r works m entioned were d e r iv e d .37
The g e n e r a l c o n c lu sio n th a t may be drawn from a l l
th e s e s t u d ie s i s th a t Shakespeare not o n ly was f a m ilia r
w ith I t a l i a n comedy, but a l s o , l i k e h i s co n tem p o ra ries,
showed g r e a t i n t e r e s t in i t , s in c e he used i t s s i t u a
t i o n s , d e v ic e s , and c h a r a c te r ty p e s in a number o f h is
p la y s . I t d oes not appear im p o s s ib le , t h e r e f o r e , t h a t
he sh ou ld have had some knowledge o f th e com edies o f
A r e tin o . These com edies w ere, a s we have s e e n , among
th e most l i v e l y o f th e Commedie E r u d ite , and th e y were
s t i l l so popular ( in s p it e o f th e f a c t th a t th e Index
had condemned A r e tin o ’ s works in I t a l y ) t h a t John Wolf
3 6 ”I t a l i a n and E liz a b e th a n Comedy,” p p. 5 6 1-562,
565.
3 7 se e Henry R. A nders, S h ak esp eare’ s Books (B e r lin ,
1 9 0 4 ), p« 6 & ; W in ifred Smith"^ ’’I t a l i a n and E liz a b e th a n
Drama,” p . 5o6; F u r n e ss, In tr o d u c tio n t o Tw elfth N ig h t,
New Variorum e d . (London, 1 9 0 1 ), X I I I , x i x - x x .
1S2
thought it worth while to print four of them in Italian
in London* Shakespeare may have seen the comedies of
Aretino performed by the Italian players in London; or
he may have read them either in the editions published
by Wolf or in others brought into England. Perhaps, as
R* C. Simonini, Jr. suggests, John Florio was the channel
by which Shakespeare was brought into contact with
Aretino’s comedies as with other works of Italian litera- j
ture. That Shakespeare was probably acquainted with |
Florio, Simonini infers from the commonly accepted j
j
belief that both were in the household of the Earl of 1
i
Southampton as poet and tutor, respectively, from 1591 i
to 1594, and that they had many friends in common* ;
I
Through his acquaintance with Florio, Shakespeare might
have had access not only to the many works of Italian
literature in FlorioTs library, but also to his help in
interpreting them.3& Mario Praz also speaks of a
»
i
possible connection between Shakespeare and Florio. 1
i
He notes the similarity between the Italian sentences
!
that occur in the Taming of the Shrew and the phrases
—. . . " j
in FlorioTs Italian language manuals, First Frutes
(157&) and Second Frutes (1 5 9 1 ), and remarks that Florio, :
J
3<alian Scholarship in Renaissance England
(Chapel Hill, 1952), pp. 99rl0T l ;
: 133
I who "was c a lle d T th e a id o f h is M uses1 by Ben Jonson • • *
j
| p rob ably would have d eserved a s im ila r a p p e lla t io n from
i
| S h ak esp ea re."39
| The q u e stio n th a t n a t u r a lly a r i s e s here i s th e
i
| m uch-debated one o f S h a k e sp e a r e ^ knowledge o f I t a l i a n .
Although th e q u e stio n has n ever been s e t t l e d , we may
ap p ly t o Shakespeare as we d id to Nashe what we have
a lr e a d y s a id reg a rd in g th e g e n e r a l knowledge o f I t a l i a n
in s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry England (se e p ages 110-115 a b o v e),
and we s h a l l f in d i t e q u a lly im probable th a t Shakespeare
| sh ould n o t have had some knowledge o f a language so
| g e n e r a lly c u lt iv a t e d in th e s o c ie t y o f h i s tim e . More-
f
I o v er , s t u d ie s o f S h ak esp eareT s l i t e r a r y so u rces have
| shown t h a t , though g e n e r a lly , in drawing from works o f
I t a l i a n l i t e r a t u r e , he had reco u rse t o E n g lis h t r a n s la -
i t i o n s and i m it a t io n s , th e r e are c e r t a in c a s e s in which
! no E n g lis h v e r s io n o f h i s sou rce has been found to e x i s t .
I have a lr e a d y m entioned the p o s s ib le d e r iv a tio n o f The
Tempest from Commedia d e l l T Arte s c e n a r io s (pages 173-179
ab ove) and th e I t a l i a n p la y G1T In g a n n a ti as th e most
39nshakespearef s I t a l y ," pp. 104-105 • See a lso
Frances Y ates, John F lo r io (1 9 3 4 ), fo r examples o f
Shakespeare *s f a m il ia r i t y w ith F l o r i o ^ d ic t io n a r ie s .
1 S 4
j d ir e c t sou rce o f T w elfth N igh t (page 181 a b o v e ). The
! . — — —
! Merchant o f V enice has i t s u ltim a te source in a n o v e lla
! by G iovanni F io r e n tin o , in c lu d e d in a c o l l e c t i o n c a lle d
! I I Pecorone (137$) f o r which no E n g lish t r a n s la t io n i s
known p r io r to 1755• Though i t has been supposed th a t ‘
Shakespeare le a r n e d the s to r y from an e a r l i e r E n g lish
p la y , no such p la y h as been f o u n d .^ Of th e sou rce o f
O t h e llo , Selma Guttman sa y s: T ,No E n g lish v e r s io n has been
j found which could have serv ed in p la c e o f C in th io t s t a l e ,
S the se v en th o f th e t h ir d decade o f th e H ecatom m ithi.
Mario Praz n o te s th a t th e l i n e s in O th e llo in which Iago
e x p r e s s e s h is jo y in ta k in g O th e llo and Desdemona in h is
s n a r e :
Thus cred u lou s f o o l s are caught
i And many worthy and c h a ste dames even th u s ,
; A ll g u i l t l e s s meet rep ro a ch .
; reproduce alm ost l i t e r a l l y C in th io 's words in th e m oral
o f h i s sto r y :
^ T u c k e r Brooke, J . W. C u n lif f e , Henry McCracken,
In tr o d u c tio n t o S h ak esp eare1s P r in c ip a l P lays (New York,
1935)* P» 165* ri. F u rn ess, The Merchant o f V en ice , New
Variorum e d . (1$&$), p p. 297, 31TJ c o n sid e r s Il~ F ecoron e
a s th e sou rce o f th e Bond s to r y in th e Merchant oT
V enice and th e G esta Rom an or urn as th e sou rce o f liEe
s to r y o f th e c a s k e t s .
^ T h e F oreign Sources o f Shakespeare *s Works,
p . x i i .
185
A w ie n e t a lo r a c h e , sen za c o lp a . f e d e le e t am ore v o le
donna, per i n s i d i e t e s e l e da animo m a lv a g io , e t per
le g g e r e z z a d i c h i p iu crede che non b iso g n e r e b b e , da
f e d e l m arito r ic e v e m o rte.
( I t som etim es happens t h a t , w ith ou t g u i l t on her p a r t,
a f a i t h f u l and lo v in g woman, through a d e c e it en gin ed
by an e v i l s o u l , and th e f o l l y o f some c r ed u lo u s ;
p erso n , i s k i l l e d by a l o y a l husband.) j
i
Praz co n clu d es: ’’T his alm ost l i t e r a l t r a n s la t io n o f
C in th io f s moral could be . . . one o f th e p r o o fs th a t
Shakespeare knew I t a l i a n ."4-2 Although Measure fo r
M easure, based on th e f i f t h t a l e o f th e tw e n ty -e ig h th
decade o f C in th io T s H ecatom m ithi, has i t s immediate
sou rce in George W hetstone *s Promos and C assandra, some
d e t a i l s which are in Shakespeare and n ot in W hetstone
have been tr a c e d t o C in th io f s p la y E p it ia , based on h is
own s t o r y . ^3 o f S h ak esp ea re’ s p o s s ib le knowledge o f
I t a l i a n , Mario Praz remarks:
The c o n c lu sio n can h a rd ly be r e s i s t e d t h a t Shakespeare
not o n ly had an acq u ain tan ce w ith I t a l i a n t h in g s but
t h a t he a c t u a lly knew I t a l i a n - • . - S in ce I t a l i a n
^•^’’Shakespeare ’ s I t a l y , ” p . 103*
4-3gee Guttman, The F oreign Sources o f Shakespeare * s
Works, p . x i . See a ls o P raz, p . 104: ”IrT"Measure f o r
Measure . . • Shakespeare must have taken th e id e a o f
th e s u b s t it u t io n o f th e b o d ie s from C in th io ’ s drama
E p i t i a , s in c e t h a t s u b s t it u t io n d oes n ot occur in th e
s to r y o f th e Hecatommithi . . . o f which E p it ia i s a
dram atic v e r s io n • N e ith e r does i t occur in W h etston e's
re h a n d lin g o f C in th io ’ s s t o r y . ”
186
books were w id e ly read i n th e s o c i e t y in whose m id st
Shakespeare l i v e d , th e r e i s n o th in g e x tr a o r d in a r y in
h i s acq u ain tan ce w ith I t a l i a n l i t e r a t u r e ; r a th e r the
co n tra ry would be s u r p r is in g .44
And John L oth ian th u s sums up th e c a se : i
j As t o th e . . . h y p o th e s is th a t Shakespeare knew
I t a l i a n , i t i s d i f f i c u l t to d is c o v e r what kind o f
p r o o f th e o b je c to r s would l i k e . I t i s ad m itted th a t
Jonson, Chapman, D a n iel and many o th e r s knew I t a l i a n ;
t h a t th e r e were many I t a l i a n s i n London, and th a t
I t a l i a n was one o f th e lan gu ages p r a c t is e d a t cou rt;
t h a t Shakespeare h im s e lf u ses many I t a l i a n and
I t a l i a n a t e words and p h rases; and t h a t he shows
knowledge o f I t a l i a n works o f w hich , so fa r as i t i s
p o s s ib le fo r us t o know, t r a n s la t io n s in t o E n g lish
had not been made when he was w r i t i n g . The c o n c lu sio n
from th e above-m entioned ev id en ce would appear to be j
t h a t — so fa r a s i t i s p o s s ib le f o r u s to know—
Shakespeare knew I t a l i a n . 45 j
W e may now turn to th e c o n s id e r a tio n o f p a r a l l e l j
{ p a ssa g es in Shakespeare and A r e tin o . L oth ian compares J
th e scen e i n The Two Gentlem en o f V erona, in which J u lia |
: r e c e iv e s P r o t e u s T l e t t e r from L u c e tta , to th e passage in
, th e p rologue t o th e M arescalco in which H is t r io imper
so n a te s a f f e c t e d coyn ess in "Madonna S c h ifa i l Poco."
i
A retin o * s b r i e f dram atic sk etch i s th e fo llo w in g : j
• As soon a s th e s a id bawd should have put th e l e t t e r in ,
! my hand, I would lo o k a t h e r , f i r s t i n t h i s way, and !
th e n i n t h a t , and th e n , c u r sin g her fo r an o ld h ag, I ,
would t e l l h e r , h id in g my fa c e in my h an d s, " I , I — seem !
44«shakespearers I t a l y ," p . 104*
45ngj1akespeare T s Knowledge o f A retino*s P la y s, "
p. 415*
to you to be such a one?— Old witch I corrupter of
children I worse than a devil I"— And having tom up
the paper and stamped on it, I would push the old^
woman down the stairs— and as soon as I had got rid
of her, taking up the pieces, I would fit them
together and, having conceived their import, I
should take the course that wise women take.
In The Two Gentlemen (I.ii), Lucetta tells her mistress
that she has accepted a letter from Proteus for her;
Julia flies into a pretended rage and accuses her maid
of being a bawd:
Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker!
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and conspire against my youth?
Now, trust me, *tis an office of great worth
And you an officer fit for the place.
She sends Lucetta away, but soon recalls her, admitting
to herself her duplicity:
How angerly I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforced my heart to smile!
After some skirmish of wits on the subject of love notes,
Julia, in a fit of perversity, picks up the letter and
tears it to pieces. As soon as Lucetta has departed,
however, she picks up each several piece, embroidering
every word with loving and fanciful lamentation:
0 hateful hands, to tear such loving words 1
0 injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey,
And kill the bees, that yield it, with your
stings I
Look, here is writ, "kind Julia.” Unkind
Julia!
As in revenge of thy ingratitude,
1S 3
I throw th y name a g a in s t th e b r u is in g s t o n e s ,
Tramping contem ptuously on th y d is d a in .
And here i s w r it "love wounded P r o te u s” :
Poor wounded name l My bosom, a s a bed
S h a ll lo d g e t h e e , t i l l th y wound be th ro u g h ly
h e a l'd ;
And th u s I se a rch i t w ith a so v e r e ig n k i s s ,
But tw ic e or t h r ic e was " P ro teu s” w r it t e n down.
Be calm good wind, blow not a word away,
T i l l I have found each l e t t e r in th e l e t t e r
Except mine own name: t h a t some w hirlw in d b ear
Unto a ragged , f e a r fu l-h a n g in g r o c k ,
And throw i t th en ce in t o th e r a g in g s e a .
And she ends by f o ld in g h er name to g e t h e r w ith P r o te u s1:
"Now k i s s , em brace, con ten d, do what you w i l l . ” L othian
o b s e r v e s :
Shakespeare was supposed t o have ta k en th e in c id e n t
and th e o u t lin e o f th e p lo t from Montemayor's Diana
Enamorada (YongeT s t r a n s l a t i o n ) . He m ight e q u a lly
w e ll have tak en t h i s s i t u a t i o n from A r e tin o , and th e re
are c e r t a in d e t a i l s , such as th e t e a r in g and p ie c in g
t o g e t h e r o f th e l e t t e r t h a t are not i n Montemayor.
He c o n c lu d e s, " It seems probable th a t both Shakespeare
and Montemayor knew t h i s [ A r e tin o f s ] p a s s a g e .”4-6 i f t h i s
i s t r u e , S hak esp eare, o f c o u r se , to o k from A retin o o n ly
some id e a s fo r th e a c t io n and th e b eh a v io u r o f J u l i a .
He tran sform ed , a s he alw ays d id , h i s source m a te r ia l by
th e in d e s c r ib a b le power o f im a g in a tiv e s u g g e s tio n he
gave to h i s l i n e s . W e n o te , a l s o , th a t Shakespeare u se s
th e same d e v ic e s i n an e n t i r e l y d i f f e r e n t c o n t e x t .
^ " S h a k e s p e a r e1 s Knowledge o f A r e tin o T s P l a y s ,”
p . 417-
! 1&9
i
Aretino1 s ’ ’ Madona" is a consummate courtesan and
cynically wears the disguise of feminine modesty; whereas
j in Julia, Shakespeare gives one of the first of his
i
j charming portrayals of youthful love, with its self-
| c o n t r a d ic t io n s , h e s i t a t i o n s , tr a n sp a r e n t d i s g u i s e s , and
i
its consuming ardor.
Another of the types impersonated by Histrio in the
^ prologue to the Marescalco is the T , Assassinato d’Amore”
| (Vietim of Love), who describes how he would woo his
i
| lady:
! . . . I should come in t o th e f i e l d fo llo w e d by my page
i and w earing th e c o lo r s g iv e n me by my g o d d ess— and a t
I ev e ry s te p . . . v a i l i n g my banner, w ith m elan choly
| v o ic e , c i r c l i n g h er w a l l s , I would chant: "Each p la c e
j i s a d e s e r t where I do n ot se e h e r . n I should have
j m a d rig a ls w r it t e n in h er p r a is e and Tromboncino t o s e t
I them t o m u s ic .47
i
i
Lothian finds an echo of this in Viola’s famous answer
■ to Olivia:
Oli: Why, what would you?
I
| Vio: Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
j And call upon my soul within the house;
i Write loyal cantons of contemned love
I And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
I Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
And make the babbling gossip of the air
j Cry out ”OliviaX” . . . . (I.v)
4 7 « . . . v e r r e i i n eampo c o l p aggio d ie t r o , v e s t i t o
d e i c o l o r i d onatim i d a lla d iv a , . . . e squassando i l
p en nacch io con voce sommessa aggirandom i in to r n o a l l e sue
mura b is c a n t e r e i: ’Ogni lu ogo mi a t t r i s t a ove io non
v e g g i o t ’ F a re i fa r e m a d r ig a li i n sua laude e d a l
Tromboncino componervi su so i c a n t i."
190
Three passages in Aretino’s comedies are reminiscent
of Falstaff’s lines in Shakespeare, both in the attitude
expressed and, to a certain extent, in the form of the
expression. In the Talanta, Vergola and Fora appraise,
from the unheroic point of view, the advantages of honor:
— What does the heart do when the clash of battle
is at hand?
— Forebodes.
f
— In what way?
— How do I know?
— And when they see the spear points turned their way,
| what do the legs think about?
— Surrendering, since he who loses is as much pointed
' at as he who wins; and there is one wisdom of shame
: that stays alive and another of honor that dies-
(Il.xvi)
Falstaff, on seeing the body of Sir Walter Blunt on the
' field, has much the same reflections:
i
i
Sir Walter Blunt: thereTs honour for you!
here’s no vanity!
I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter
I hath: give me life .... (I Henry IV, V.iii)
In the Ipocrito, the following dialogue takes place
| between Liseo and Guardabasso on woman’s virtue:
i
— What is honesty, what shape has it, what is its
> office at court?
— None.
— Therefore it is nothing .... (V.vii)
1 9 1
I t i s a b r ie f e r v e r s io n o f F a l s t a f f ’ s argument on the
s u b je c t o f honor ( I Henry IV ), rea ch in g th e same con
c lu s io n by a s im ila r ca tech ism :
. . . Can honour s e t t o a le g ? no: or an arm? no: or
take away th e g r i e f o f a wound? n o. Honour h ath no
s k i l l in su rg ery , th en ? n o. What i s honour? a word.
What i s in t h a t word honour? What i s th a t honour?
a i r . A trim reck o n in g t Who hath i t ? he th a t d ied o f
Wednesday. Doth he f e e l i t ? n o. Doth he h ea r i t ? no.
’ T is i n s e n s i b l e , th en ? Y es, to th e d ead . But w i l l i t
not l i v e w ith th e li v i n g ? n o . Why? d e t r a c t io n w i l l
n ot s u f f e r i t . T herefore I T 11 none o f i t . Honour i s
a mere scu tch eon : and so ends my c a te c h ism . (V « ii* 1 3 1 -
140)
j In th e F i l o s o f o , P l a t a r i s t o t i l e ’ s s e r v a n t,
i S a l v a l a g l i o , in a s o li lo q u y , e la b o r a tin g on th e t e x t
’’everyon e who sa y s so does not know how to d r in k ,”
| d e s c r ib e s th e jo y o u s p ro g re ss o f wine through th e body,
a ro u sin g th e org a n s, e n liv e n in g th e speech and outward
; a sp e c t:
1 . . . a s ip b e in g ta k en w ith th a t smacking o f th e l i p s ,
p u r sin g o f th e mouth, and r a is in g o f th e brows t h a t
b eto k en s th e so le m n ity o f th e d r in k , and one h a l f th e
g l a s s th en em p tied , f o r such m ir a c le s are not performed
on a sm a ll s c a l e , th e p a la te i s r e fr e s h e d , th e gums
s p r in k le d , th e t e e t h washed, w h ile the to n g u e, d a rtin g
in t o th e l i t t l e p o o l th a t i s not sw allow ed su d d en ly ,
i c o n g r a tu la te s i t s e l f w ith the t e e t h , th e gums and th e
p a la t e . . . . At which d e l i g h t , th e stom ach, th e lu n g s ,
th e l i v e r , th e s p le e n and th e b o w e ls, sp rea d in g th e
alarm , r i s e t o th e su r fa c e ; whereupon th e s e n s e s o f the
s p i r i t s and th e s p i r i t s o f th e se n se s make th e fa c e o f
J th e d r in k e r ru b icu n d , stea m in g , gay, proud, s le e k ,
s e r e n e , and l u s t y . By th e same grace th e tongue i s
lo o s e n e d , th e e y e s s p a r k le , th e b reath q u ic k e n s, th e
v e in s s w e l l, th e p u ls e s b o i l , th e sk in smooths i t s e l f
and th e n erv es are in v ig o r a t e d . (IV .v)
1 9 2 i
One is inevitably led to think of Falstaff’s famous
apology for sack (II Henry IV):
A good sherris-saek hath a two-fold operation in it.
It ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the
foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it;
makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of
nimble fiery and delectable shapes; which, deliver’d
o’er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth,
becomes excellent wit. The second property of your
excellent sherris is, the warning of the blood; which
before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale,
which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice; but
the sherris warms it and makes it course from the
inwards to the parts extreme: it illumineth the face, j
which as a beacon gives warning to all the rest of this j
little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital J
commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to ;
' their captain, the heart, who, great and puff’d up j
with this retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this j
valour comes of sherris. (IV.iii) ,
i
j <
j Behind Shakespeare’s imagery is the conception of man as I
a microcosm, which does not seem to enter into Aretino’s
i :
| description. On the whole, however, we find in the two <
passages much the same raw material, though in Shakespearej
. it has undergone a much greater imaginative transforma- '
I -u • :
1 txon.
: In the first scene of the Talanta, the courtesan j
S and her maid, Aldella, discuss Talanta’s various suitors, !
their appearance and idiosyncrasies (see pages SO-Bl i
above). The scene might be taken as a prototype of those j
in the Two Gentlemen of Verona and The Merchant of Venice i
i
in which Julia and Portia, in similar fashion, name over 1
and comment on their suitors with their maids, Lucetta '
193
and N e r is s a .
Two o th e r exam ples o f p a r a lle lis m n oted by L oth ian I
i
I
are worth m en tio n in g , though th e p a ssa g e s are n ot drawn j
t
from A r e tin o ’s com ed ies, but from h i s tra g ed y L ’ O razia. !
i
The f i r s t r e f e r s t o th e famous l i n e s o f P o r tia i n The i
Merchant o f V e n ic e :
And e a r t h ly power doth th en show l i k e s t God’ s
When mercy sea so n s j u s t i c e . ( I V -i)
The l i n e s in th e O razia compared t o th e s e are th e i
fo llo w in g :
! i
i Perche a Dio s i a v v ic in a n o i
C olor che ogni hor p i e t o s i !
! S i r iv o lg o n o in v e r so i f a l l i a l t r u i ,
! Tal che c h i s t a n e l a t t o d i perdono
D’uom d iv e n ta D io . (V )4° j
The concept o f both p a ssa g es i s th e same, t h a t o f man
I becoming g o d lik e in th e a c t o f pardon. !
!
* l
: The second example r e f e r s to S h ak esp eare’ s d e s c r ip -
1 t i o n o f th e s t a l l i o n and mare in Venus and Adonis:
But l o , from f o r t h a cop se th a t n eigh b ou rs by, '
A b reed in g j e n n e t, l u s t y , young, and proud, I
A d o n is’ tra m p lin g c o u r se r doth e s p y ,
And fo r th she r u sh e s, s n o r t s , and n e ig h s aloud;
The s tr o n g -n e c k ’ d s t e e d , b ein g t i e d u nto a tr e e ,!
B reaketh h is r e i n , and to h er s t r a ig h t g o es h e . i
4*&For th e y approach t o God
Who a t ev e ry hour w ith mercy
Turn towards th e f a u l t s o f o th e r s ,
Such th a t whoever pardons
From man tu r n s v ery God.
194 i
i
Im p erio u sly he le a p s , he n e ig h s , he bounds,
And now h i s woven g i r t h s he breaks asunder;
The b ea rin g e a r th w ith h i s hard h o o f he wounds,
Whose h o llo w womb resou n d s l i k e h ea v en ’ s
thunder;
The ir o n b i t he cr u sh eth ’tween h i s t e e t h ,
C o n tr o llin g what he was c o n t r o lle d w ith . <
I
H is e a r s u p -p r ic k ’d; h i s b raid ed h anging mane I
Upon h i s com pass’ d c r e s t now stand on end;
H is n o s t r i l s drink th e a i r , and fo r th a g a in , !
As from a fu r n a c e , vapours doth he send: :
H is e y e , which s c o r n f u lly g l i s t e r s l i k e f i r e ,
Shows h i s h o t courage and h i s h ig h d e s i r e .
(L in es 259-276)
Sometimes he scuds far off,“and there he stares;
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;
To bid the wind a base he now prepares,
And whe’r he run, or fly they know not whether;
For thro’ his mane and tail the high wind sings,;
Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather’d
wings. (Lines 301-306)
The passage compared to this occurs in the Orazia,
where Public is pleading for his son and holding out his
youth and rashness as extenuation of his crime. To
bring out his point, he compares his son’s youth to a
stallion in the following lines, which in the descriptive
details and general spiritedness of the picture do bear
a striking resemblance to Shakespeare’s:
La gioventu furor della natura
Che in l’esser suo un animal fiero sembra
Dai legami disciolto in un bel prato
Che in se ritroso la giumenta vista
Nei campi aperti, alza su i crini folti,
Le nare allarga, e la bocca disserra,
1 9 5
Fremita, ringe, calcitra, vanneggia.
Poi dopo alcuni salti e forti e destri
Mosso il gagliardo e furioso corso,
Ne preciptio u traboccar si possa,
Ne tronco dove dar di petto debbia, , _
Ne sasso o altro ivi in suo danno guarda. (V)^
Although these parallelisms are interesting and at
times striking, it is difficult to establish on such a
basis any definite conclusion as to Shakespeare*s
indebtedness to Aretino. Perhaps the only definite
statement we can make regarding AretinoTs influence on 1
i i
J Shakespeare is that AretinoTs comedies were important j
| in forming the comic tradition from which Shakespeare ;
! undoubtedly drew. Still, from what we have seen of the j
general knowledge of Italian Renaissance comedy in
i
' Elizabethan England, the widespread influence of Italian
comedies, and Shakespeare^ own knowledge of them, it is j
j
I
I quite possible that Shakespeare knew the plays of j
^Youth, wild frenzy of nature
That in its being like a proud horse seems,
Set loose in a fair field,
That with disdainful eye the jennet seeing
In open space, his thick mane does uprear,
And open-mouthed, nostrils wide,
Trembles, snorts, stamps, and uprears.
Then after many bold and vigorous leaps
Starts forth upon a wild and joyous race,
Nor precipice in which himself may hurl,
Nor tree to stop his course,
Nor stone or harmful obstacle he sees.
1 9 6
A retin o and t h a t , i n some o f th e p a ssa g es m entioned
above, he may a c t u a lly have been ech o in g some passage
th a t had remained in h i s m ind. Although th e resem b lan ces
m entioned are f o r th e most p a rt i n c i d e n t a l , th e y are
in t e r e s t i n g as p o s s ib le a d d itio n s t o our knowledge o f
I t a l i a n and E liz a b e th a n r e la t io n s h ip s during t h i s period*
i
CHAPTER VI
THE HUMOR PLAYS OF BEN JONSON AND
THE COMEDIES OF ARETINO
A reading of Jonson*s early comedies of humor
(Every Man In His Humor, Every Man Out of His Humor,
CynthiaTs Revels) brings to mind many parallels with the
comedies of Pietro Aretino which we have discussed.
j Jonsonfs intention was to bring something new into
| English comedy, to revive the classic genre, yet to
j
i transform it, making it a reflection and a criticism of
contemporary life. With these views, it is not surpris-
, ing that he should have looked back not only to classic
!
i comedy, but also to the comedy of the Italian Renaissance
which was based on it, and to the comedy of Aretino which
afforded an example in Italian literature of the trans
formation of classic comedy by the realistic portrayal
! of manners that Jonson was attempting in English litera
ture .
To speak of Jonso^s sources is to touch on a
i
difficult and much disputed question. Jonson borrowed
much, yet he so converted to his own use what he borrowed
; as to stand as a champion for both the upholders of
imitation and of originality. As C. R. Baskervill
observes, Jonson drew from many sources to produce an
19$
o r i g in a l work.-*- Or, a s Dryden p u ts i t , ,T He in vades
au th o rs l i k e a monarch, and what would be t h e f t in o th e r
p o e ts i s o n ly v ic t o r y to h im .”2 Jonson o fte n drew on
many d if f e r e n t l i t e r a t u r e s o f many a g es f o r a s in g le j
i
p la y ; som etim es h i s b a s is i s L a tin or I t a lia n ; o f te n a
c l a s s i c or f o r e ig n sou rce i s d eriv ed from a more r e c e n t
E n g lish one in which th e f o r e ig n t r a i t s have a lread y
become c o n v e n tio n a liz e d ; he " se iz e d upon id e a s and
methods t h a t had been alm ost u n c o n sc io u sly i n E n g lish j
l i t e r a t u r e and gave them c o n sc io u s n e ss and th e d ig n it y
I o f a t y p e . "3 I t would seem e v id e n t th a t Jonson, in
{ e s t a b l i s h i n g h i s new ty p e o f E n g lis h comedy, would n ot
! be unaware o f I t a l i a n R en aissan ce comedy as one o f i t s
j backgrounds. His f i r s t humor p la y , Every Man In His
i
Humor, w as, i n i t s f i r s t v e r s io n , " s u p e r f i c i a l l y an oth er
. I t a l i a n comedy. "I- The names o f th e c h a r a c te r s were '
i !
i
i i
- ^ - E n g lis h Elem ents in Jonson*s E a r ly Gomedy (A u stin , :
T exas, A p r il, 1 9 1 1 ), p .“T3 •
i
j pryden, "Essay o f Dramatic Poesy" i n L ite r a r y j
' C r itic is m , P la to — t o Dryden, e d . A lla n H* G ilb e r t (Mew |
I YorIT,_T9T'0 )T T ^ ~ 6 J 9 . !
i _ I
^ B a s k e r v ill, p p . 6 , 144-145• j
1-Tucker Brooke, "The R en aissan ce" in A L ite r a r y J
H isto r y o f England, e d . A lb ert C. Baugh ( New 'York,' 1 9 4 $ }, i
P- 559-
. 1 9 9
I t a l i a n , th e s e t t i n g v a g u ely F lo r e n tin e - In Every Man
Out o f H is Humor th e c h a r a c te r s r e t a in t h e i r I t a l i a n
nam es.5 In p a r t ic u la r , i f one reads th e humor com edies
o f Jonson in c o n ju n c tio n w ith th e com edies o f A r e tin o ,
one i s stru ck by s i m i l a r i t i e s , both o f in t e n t io n and
e x e c u tio n , and by such p a r a lle lis m s o f c h a r a c te r and
s i t u a t i o n a s m ight le a d one to th in k t h a t Jonson had
A r e tin o T s com edies in m ind.
As t o th e means o f Jonson*s f a m i l i a r i t y w ith I t a l i a n
R en aissan ce comedy, A. C. S im o n in i, J r . s u g g e s t s th a t
th e in te rm ed ia ry may have been John F lo r i o , whose lib r a r y
com prised a wide assortm en t o f I t a l i a n R en aissan ce
w orks.^ "There are s e v e r a l docum ents," Sim onini s t a t e s ,
^These names are s e m i - a l l e g o r i c a l , d eriv ed from
a d j e c t iv e s and r e t a in in g th e o r ig in a l c o n n o ta tio n s — e . g .
"M acilente"— le a n , m eager, barren; "Puntarvolo"— n ic e ,
coy, s e l f - c o n c e i t e d ; " D eliro " — d o te d , ra v e d , become a
f o o l; " S a v io lin a " — s e l f - c o n c e i t e d , p u lin g , coy; "Sordido"
— n ig g a r d ly , m is e r ly , co v e to u s; "Fungoso"— spongy, l i g h t
as a mushroom; " S ogliard o" — s lo v e n ly , s l u t t i s h , h o g g ish ;
e t c . The a d j e c t i v e s , m o stly a r c h a ic , are in F lo r io * s
, d ic tio n a r y The Worlde o f Wordes, where Jonson found them.
^These were l i s t e d in th e b ib lio g r a p h y a t th e end
o f The Worlde o f W ordes. They com prised over two hundred
b o o k s, in c lu d in g works by C in th io , B a n d e llo , B o c c a c c io ,
da P o rto , M a c h ia v e lli, A r io s to , Sannazzaro, C a s t ig lio n e ,
as w e l l as A r e tin o . I t a l i a n S c h o la r sh ip i n R en aissan ce
England (Chapel H i l l , 1 9 5 ^ ), p . 1O4 .
2 0 0 |
"which in d ic a t e th a t a c lo s e fr ie n d s h ip e x is t e d betw een
Jonson and F lo r io ." E vidence o f such a f r ie n d s h ip i s
Jon son f s i n s c r ip t io n in a p r e s e n ta tio n copy o f V olp on e;
To h i s lo v in g F ath er & w orthy Freind
Mr John F lo r io :
The ayde o f h is M uses.
Ben: Jonson s e a le s t h i s testem on y
o f F re in d sh ip & Love.
Sim onini s u g g e s ts t h a t "Jonson may have gone t o F lo r io
t
f o r a id i n rea d in g th e I t a l i a n c r i t i c s o f th e R e n a is s a n c e !
i
or I t a l i a n p la y s . In t h i s , F lo r io may have been the
T ayde o f h i s M usesT." And he ad d s, "W e may have h ere
an e x p la n a tio n o f Jonson*s f ir s t - h a n d knowledge o f
I t a l i a n comedy and e s p e c i a l l y th e Commedia d e l l * A r t e ♦" j
i !
j As a fu r th e r in d ic a t io n o f th e f r ie n d s h ip o f Jonson and
| F lo r i o , Sim onini n o te s t h a t both began t h e i r cou rt
j s e r v ic e a t the same tim e , about 1 604, F lo r io as groom,
i 1
| read er in I t a l i a n , and p r iv a te s e c r e ta r y to th e queen; !
; Jonson as p o et and producer o f p la y s and m asques. They J
I ;
had many fr ie n d s in common, such as th e C ountess o f j
B edford , th e C ountess o f R utland, th e E a r l o f Pembroke. j
i :
| Sim onini a ls o p o in ts out s e v e r a l p a r a lle lis m s betw een j
1 !
1 1
! p a ssa g e s i n Jonson1s com edies and F lo r io * s I t a l i a n j
i I
d ia lo g u e s in th e Second F r u te s , in d ic a t in g Jonson*s j
1
f a m i l i a r i t y w ith t h i s work as w e ll as w ith The Worlde j
1
o f W ordes*7
Another way i n which Jonson may have become f a m ilia r
w ith I t a l i a n R en aissan ce com edies and p o s s ib ly th o se o f
A retin o was s e e in g them p layed by th e tro u p e s o f the
Commedia d e l l T Arte w hich, as we have s e e n , v i s i t e d
England a t v a r io u s tim e s in th e s ix t e e n t h and e a r ly
s e v e n te e n th c e n tu r ie s (s e e pages 171-172 a b o v e ).
Let us r e tu r n , however, t o th e com edies o f A retin o
and t o a c o n s id e r a tio n o f th e s i m i l a r i t i e s in th eo ry and
p r a c t ic e betw een th e s e and th e humor com edies o f Ben
Jonson. W e have s a id th a t A retin o * s comedy rep r ese n ted
an in n o v a tio n i n th a t he changed th e c o n v e n tio n a l type
o f h u m a n istic comedy, w r it t e n on th e p a tte r n o f P la u tu s
and T erence, in t o a modern comedy o f m anners, r e a l i s t i
c a l l y and s a t i r i c a l l y p o r tr a y in g th e l i f e o f th e day.
When Jonson in 159$ w rote Every Man In H is Humor, he
p roceeded t o ren ovate E n g lish comedy alo n g th e same
l i n e s . He tu rn ed h i s back on th e c o n v e n tio n a l a b s u r d itie s
o f rom antic comedy and s e t h im s e lf t o make a l i v i n g
p ic tu r e out o f:
Deeds and language such a s men do use
And p erso n s such as comedy would choose
When she would show an image o f th e tim e s .
^ I t a lia n S c h o la r sh ip in R en aissan ce England,
pp. 10IFIU9"------------------------------------------------------- ------------
2 0 2
A r e tin o , in h i s com ed ies, was tu r n in g away from a
f o s s i l i z e d c la s s ic is m ; Jonson was r e tu r n in g t o c l a s s i c
t r a d i t i o n a s an a n tid o te a g a in s t an e q u a lly f o s s i l i z e d
rom anticism . They met on th e common ground o f a
c l a s s ic is m r e v i t a l i z e d by c o n ta c t w ith a c t u a l l i f e . Of
J on son 1 s Every Man In H is Humor, E ric L in k la te r s a y s , ”I t
was a m a g n ific e n t ach iev em en t. Comedy, th e C in d e r e lla o f
th e s t a g e , was brought out o f h er k itc h e n anti g iv e n a
language and a t t i r e o f h er own: w ith n o th in g behind but
t e n t a t i v e exp erim en t, r e a lism emerged whole and triu m -
p h an t." Jonson d id , o f c o u r s e , have behind him th e
Commedia d e l l * Arte w hich , though i t d evelop ed i t s own
c o n v e n tio n s , in tro d u ced a new freedom in t o a c t io n and
d ia lo g u e , and a c e r t a in t r u th t o l i f e in th e p o r tr a y a l
o f contem porary m anners• And behind th e Commedia d e l l *
A r te , a s we have se e n , was th e r e v o lt o f A retin o and th e
example o f h i s com ed ies.
Like A r e tin o , Jonson was c l e a r l y c o n sc io u s o f th e
in n o v a tio n he was b r in g in g about in comedy. Both wanted
comedy t o be a r e f l e c t i o n o f l i f e , not a mere e x e r c is e
on a c l a s s i c them e. "W e l i v e o th erw ise in Rome than
t h e y used t o l i v e in A th e n s,” A retin o had sa id in th e
^Ben Jonson and King James (New York, n . d . ) ,
pp. 5K^55.
203 |
i
i
p rologue t o La G o rtig ia n a ; and Jonson, in th e in d u c tio n j
i
t o Every Man Out o f H is Humor, demanded th a t comedy h old J
up a m irror to the tim e s- As the p rologu e t o Every Man
In had in tro d u ced Jonson’s new comedy, so th e in d u c tio n
t o E very Man Out, th e second comedy in th e new manner,
gave a fu r th e r e x p o s it io n o f Jonson*s t h e o r ie s and
i
i n t e n t i o n s . A sper, th e spokesman fo r th e au th o r, exp lain s!
! !
; th a t th e comedy w i l l n ot o n ly p resen t r e a l i t y in i t s tr u e 1
I
! a s p e c t, b ut a ls o p o in t out d e f e c t s and f la w s . I t i s a j
i s p e c ia l m irror t h a t th e author i s p la c in g b efo re the '
| au d ien ce: 1
|
' . . . a m irror I
As la r g e as i s th e s ta g e whereon we a c t J
Where th e y s h a l l see th e t im e f s d eform ity i
Anatomised . . . j
Speaking in a w fu r o r p o e tic u s " — Jonson*s mood— Asper j
d e c la r e s th a t no one can se e th e v i c e s o f th e w orld and
remain s i l e n t ; t h e r e f o r e , he has ta k e n h i s d e c is io n :
. . . w ith an armed and r e so lv e d hand
I T 11 s t r i p th e ragged f o l l i e s o f th e tim e 1
Naked as a t t h e i r b i r t h .
j Nor w i l l he sto p at th e exposure o f f o l l i e s , but
. . . w ith a whip of s t e e l , !
1 P r in t wounding la s h e s in t h e i r ir o n r i b s . ;
The exp osu re o f f o l l y and v i c e and th e v in d ic a t io n o f
th e r ig h t order o f t h in g s through th e punishment o f
wrong, a l l t h i s i s in clu d ed in Jonson*s c o n ce p tio n o f
th e fu n c tio n o f comedy.
2 0 4 ^
The s e r io u s m oral concern in Jon son T s comedy
d is t in g u is h e s i t from A r e tin o T s . A retin o had a sharp
c r i t i c a l i n t e l l i g e n c e which s e iz e d u n e r r in g ly on
d is c r e p a n c ie s — he saw th e immoral as r id ic u lo u s and
g r o te s q u e . I t aroused h i s c r i t i c a l s e n s e , i t in s p ir e d
him t o s a t i r i c a l rem on stran ce, but alw ays from th e
i n t e l l e c t u a l v ie w p o in t. A r e tin o fs age was on e, as
Edward Hutton s a y s , when " tru th could be view ed not w ith
s e r io u s n e s s and grim n ess b ut w ith a sh out o f l a u g h t e r ."9
Laughter i s r a r e ly ab sen t from A r e tin o f s s a t i r e . "How
th e r a s c a l en jo y s a l l th e r o g u e r ie s th a t he p u ts on th e
! in
I sc e n e ," De S a n c tis e x c la im s . u I t i s tr u e t h a t even in
i
! C o r tig ia n a , where A r e tin o T s s a t i r e i s th e h a r s h e s t ,
I
j we cannot rea d , fo r exam p le, th e sc e n e s in which th e
I
! la c k e y s Rosso and Cappa d e s c r ib e th e f o p p e r ie s o f t h e i r
j m aster and o f c o u r t ie r s in g e n e r a l, nor th o s e i n which
| M esser Maco makes h im s e lf a b ig g e r and b ig g e r f o o l i n
th e p u r s u it o f g e n t i l i t y , w ith o u t f e e l i n g th e g le e o f
, th e a u th or i n th e lu d ic r o u s n e s s o f th e p ic t u r e he i s
I
i
i
9 p ie t r o A r e tin o , Scourge o f P r in c e s (London, 1 9 2 2 ),
, 2 5 3 >
-^ F ran cesco De S a n c t is , S to r ia d e l l a L e tte r a tu r a
I t a l i a n a (M ilano, 1 9 1 7 ), I I ,
2 0 5
painting. Throughout the play, as we have noted,
caustic observations on the court are made, and the
tone rises at times to angry denunciation (as in the
speeches of Valerio and Flaminio), but even then,
Aretino’s anger is rather the expression of a personal
resentment than moral indignation. Aretino remains an
intelligent critic, without ever being, like Jonson, a
’ ’censor morum”— for this he lacks the necessary basis
of principle. This accounts for a great difference of
| tone in their comedies. If Aretino shows us the eastiga-
i
| tion of vice, his satisfaction is evidently in the
j ingenuity by which the punishment is brought about and
in the ridiculous spectacle of the discomfited victims.
, He is hardly interested in the wider moral application
of the lesson— as Jonson is always. The play in which
Jonson comes nearest to Aretino’s moral nonchalance is
Every Man In His Humor, where the final arbiter, Justice
Clement, is a ”mad merry fellow,” who is willing to
forgive all Brainworm’s tricks in view of ’ ’ the wit of
! the offence,” and who lets off the sham poet and soldier
with an evening’s fast, and the rest of the humorous
crowd simply with the admonition to ’ ’ put off all dis
content” and be merry in good harmony.
In Every Man Out of His Humor and Cynthia’s Revels,
however, Jonson introduces judges who are much more
2 0 6
rigorous to pronounce on folly. The humors of the
various characters are not only mercilessly exposed, but
thoroughly whipped out of them. Jonson makes it clear,
as he had announced in the induction of Every Man Out,
that the presentation of humors is one half of his
program— the other half being their castigation. In
Every Man Out of His Humor, the characters are caught
one by one in the mesh of their folly: Puntarvolo, of
his whimsicality; Fastidious, of his vanity; Lady
Saviolina, of her conceit; Carlo Buffone, of his evil
tongue; Fallace, of her snobbish discontent; Shift, of
his fraudulent swaggering; Fungoso of his foolish worship !
i
i
of fashion. Though the punishments come as a logical and :
appropriate consequence of the follies, the author has j
provided an instrument of justice in the person of ;
Macilente, a caustic, malevolent being who is eager, out I
of his envy, to lash the follies of others. Macilente !
has none of the mellow tolerance of Justice Clement, and I
vice at his hands does not escape easily. Macilente is
himself in the end punished for his tyranny and made to ;
speak a piece of humility, by way of epilogue, to the
i
audience, but none the less, Jonson does not hesitate in j
the play to use his vitriolic humor as well as Buffone*s i
i
barbed tongue to carry out AsperTs program of scourging
!
folly. j
2 0 7 ;
In Cynthia’s Revels, the moral ideal behind the
i
distorted mask of humors in Jonson*s comedy has its
clearest revelation. The spokesman for the author is
i
Grites, the just man, in whom all humors are mingled in
harmony and proportion. Crites is with Arete (Virtue)
appointed by Cynthia to punish the follies of the sham
courtiers who have intruded into her revels. In this
i
role, Crites voices Jonson*s indignation at the vanities ,
and frivolities that usurp the minds of men, making them !
oblivious of what is highest and most divine in their j
i
natures. Crites, like Asper, speaks in a "furor
poeticus"— he vents ’ ’ the Aetna of his fires” to inflame
men with a "worthier love" than of "outward and effemi- |
i
nate shades" so that the time may come when !
i
... these vain joys, in which their wills 1
consume ■
Such powers of wit and soul as are of force !
To raise their beings to eternity,
May be converted on works fitting men:
And, for the practice of a forced look,
An antic gesture, or a fustian phrase,
Study the native frame of a true heart,
An inward comeliness of bounty, knowledge, ;
And spirit that may conform them actually
To God’s high figures, which they have in 1
power;
Which to neglect for a self-loving neatness, ;
Is sacrilege of an unpardon*d greatness. (V.ii) I
The punishments dealt by Crites are not malevolent, like !
those of Macilente; but if the sentence passed on the
courtiers is not cruel it is drastic, comporting nothing
less than the restoration in each one of his true and I
2 0 8
higher self. Chanting the confession of their faults
in the Palinode, they are made to march, in a penitential
procession, to the well of Helicon—
Where, purged of your present maladies,
Which are not few, nor slender, you become
Such as you fain would seem . . . (Y.iii)
JonsonTs method for the castigation of folly is
governed by the theory of humors, which he thus rapidly
sums up, in its physiological and psychological implica
tions :
. . . in every human body,
The choler, melancholy, phlegm, and blood,
By reason that they flow continually
In some one part, and are not continent,
Receive the name of humors- Now thus far
It may, by metaphor, apply itself
Unto the general disposition:
As when some one peculiar quality
Doth so possess a man, that it doth draw
All his affects, his spirits, and his powers,
In their confluctions, all to run one way,
This may be truly said to be a humor.H
A humor being a deformity of character, a disproportion
in the elements that compose the "general disposition,”
its punishment, according to Jonson, is brought about
through its own excess, causing it to fall into ridicule
and discomfiture. The norm is always vindicated, for
only what is in true proportion and conformity with the
ideal order of things can endure. Though AretinoTs
^ E v e r y Man O ut o f H i s H um or, I n d u c t i o n .
209 ]
comedies preceded JonsonTs theory of humors, their j
characters seem governed by the same formula, and often
we find "humors” in them punished according to Jonson*s
precepts. In La Cortigiana, for example, Parabolano’s
fatuousness and blind conceit make him an easy dupe to
Rosso*s flattering deceits, until he is involved in so
absurd an affair that he is forced at last to see himself
as laughable. Maco*s ignorance, with his infatuated
worship of courtiers, makes him run a parallel course,
to his final discomfiture. The Hypocrite is ironically
' punished by having his would-be evil intents, his pre- f
! ' i
tended goodness and benevolence, turn to good indeed, in
! !
j spite of him. In II Filosofo, Plataristotile*s conceit j
i of his own wisdom so blinds him that his wife betrays !
I I
I him under his very nose, while he theorizes on the j
! !
! faithlessness of women— -until reality forces him to '
j recognize himself as a learned fool- i
I There is a coincidence of the objects of satire in j
\ i
the comedies of Jonson and Aretino. Both attack the j
i
j follies of town and court in general, but reserve their
, sharpest arrows for hypocrisy, sham, vanity, affectation
— for whoever in his own eyes or in the eyes of the
world substitutes pretense for truth. For both Jonson
i
i and Aretino, "humor” is, above all, what Cash defined
i
; it: "a gentleman-like monster bred ... by affectation
I !
2 1 0
I
and fed by f o l l y . • . The s o c i a l environm ents from |
i
which Jonson and A retin o drew m a tter fo r t h e i r s a t i r e i
were e s s e n t i a l l y s im ila r , in s p i t e o f the d if f e r e n c e o f j
co u n try , and th e cen tu ry th a t la y between them. A r e tin o , |
i
a t th e b e g in n in g o f the s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry , found h im s e lf J
I
i n th e d e c lin e o f th e I t a l i a n R en a issa n ce , am idst th e j
i
i n j u s t i c e s , s e l f i s h n e s s , and c o r r u p tio n o f th e degenerated!
Roman c o u r t . Jonson, in th e London o f th e l a t t e r s i x - !
te e n th c e n tu r y , b reath ed in much th e same atmosphere: th e ;
1
d is illu s io n m e n t th a t a tten d ed th e end o f E liz a b e th * s !
i
i
r e ig n ; th e thousand i n j u s t i c e s o f a s o c ie t y c h a r a c te r iz e d 1
by u n sc ru p u lo u sn ess, r u t h le s s a m b itio n s, greed; and a l l ;
th e a f f e c t a t i o n s , f r i v o l i t i e s , and e x c e s s e s th a t were th e :
* i
le g a c y o f th e d egen erated I t a l i a n R e n a issa n c e . I t m ight '
i
alm ost be s a id th a t Jonson wore th e s a t i r i c a l clo a k th a t
dropped from th e sh o u ld ers o f A r e tin o .
R ela ted t o th e c o in c id e n c e o f s a t i r i c a l in t e n t io n
in th e com edies o f Jonson and A retin o i s the corresp on d - ;
ence i n the ty p e s o f c h a r a c te r s through which i t f in d s
i
e x p r e s s io n . In b o th , we have b ra g g a rt s o ld ie r s who b u ild I
i
a r e p u ta tio n on e x p l o i t s th ey have not performed and ;
i
v a lo r th e y do not p o s s e s s ; ng u lls " who would be g a lla n t s
I
i
i
i
3-^E very Man In H is Humor, I l l . i i .
2 1 1
and th in k to acq u ire b reed in g a t an e a s y r a t e , or who
sim u la te i t by a few t r i c k s o f m anners, some o a th s , and
a s u i t of c lo t h e s ; c o u r t ie r s whose se n se o f v a lu e s does
n ot r i s e above th e f r i v o l i t y o f t h e i r l i v e s . Many o f
th e s e ty p e s d eriv e from L a tin comedy, but both Jonson
and A retin o have tran sform ed them, and both alon g the
same l i n e : by g iv in g them th e manners and t r a i t s th a t
r e f l e c t contem porary s o c i e t y and ca rry out th e a u th o r ’ s
s a t i r i c a l i n t e n t io n . The fo llo w in g d e s c r ip t io n o f
j Jon son Ts c h a r a c te r s m ight e q u a lly w e ll ap p ly to th o se
o f A r e tin o ’ s com edies:
Jonson d e p ic te d ty p e s but w ith a d i f f e r e n c e . . . .
H is c h a r a c te r s ten d to be sim ple and on one plane
b ecause h is mind saw men as a c o l l e c t i o n o f grou p s,
s e iz e d c h a r a c te r under one a s p e c t, n e g le c t in g the
c r o s s - p la y o f im p u ls e s , i n c o n s is t e n c i e s and c o n f l i c t s ,
th e m ingled s tr e n g th and weakness o f which th e y are
j norm ally composed. His o b se r v a tio n was p r o d ig io u s ly
a c t iv e and a cu te; but i t s energy was sp en t i n accumu-
; l a t i n g i l l u s t r a t i o n s o f a s in g le dominant t r a i t , not
in d is t in g u is h in g f in e sh a d e s. The v a s t com plexes o f
; d e t a i l which h i s v e r a c io u s eye c o l l e c t e d and h i s
unsurpassed memory r e ta in e d grouped th e m se lv es about
a few n u c le i o f lu d ic r o u s c h a r a c te r . ♦ . . But Jonson
did not p o rtra y a b s tr a c t moral t y p e s . H is p o r tr a y a l
o f c h a r a c te r i s based upon th e in d iv id u a l l i f e about
him . . . . He may have had in mind c l a s s i c a l t y p e s ,
but he drew from th e w e lt e r o f Jacobean London l i f e ,
w ith th e crowd o f men in i t s s t r e e t s and ta v e r n s — so
th a t he g iv e s a p a r t ly t y p i c a l , p a r t ly in d iv id u a l
p r e s e n ta tio n o f c h a r a c t e r .13
13c . H. H erford, P. Sim pson, The Works o f Ben Jonson
( Oxford, 1 9 2 5 ), I n tr o d u c tio n , I , 33#*
2 1 2
In A r e tin o ’s c h a r a c te r s , t o o , th e e s s e n t i a l q u a lit y i s
a com bination o f th e in d iv id u a l and t y p i c a l . As w ith
Jonson, th e c h a r a c te r i s sk etch ed in around i t s dominant
t r a i t ; th e p o r t r a it i s n ot co m p le te ly f i l l e d in ; th e r e
i s no profound i n t e r i o r stu d y o f i t s c o m p le x itie s and
sh a d es, but th e sharp o b se r v a tio n and re p ro d u ctio n o f
outward d e t a i l s g iv e th e sk etch an u n fo r g e tta b le v i v i d
n e s s . The author T fs e i z e s th e g ro tesq u e or com ical j
i
a t t it u d e s o f th o se th a t p a ss b e fo r e h i s ey e s and f i x e s i
l
them w ith a few e f f e c t i v e s t r o k e s ."14 T r a its o f sp ee ch , j
manner, a t t it u d e serve a t once to, in d iv id u a liz e th e !
*
i
: c h a r a c te r and s e t him in a r i c h l y l o c a l i z e d background. j
! Like Jonson, A retin o had "an eye f o r in d iv id u a l and l o c a l
I
i t r a i t s and th e v e r y h a b it o f mind and body in which each
i i
man l i v e d . ,f^5 !
i
C. R. B a s k e r v ill s u g g e s ts v a r io u s so u rc es fo r j
Jenson*s humor co n ce p tio n o f c h a r a c te r — some drawn from
i
I
c l a s s i c a l , some from E n g lish t r a d it i o n : th e R en aissan ce [
1 c r i t i c a l p rec ep t o f decorum, which s t r e s s e d tr u th to !
: t
I ty p e r a th e r than in d iv id u a l t r a i t s ; the- ty p e s o f L a tin j
= comedy th a t were ru led by i t ; th e Theophrastan c h a r a c te r !
I I
I
! I
l^N unzio M accarrone, e d . , T eatro d i P ie tr o A retin o
(L an ciano, 1 9 1 4 ), In tr o d u z io n e , I , i x . !
l ^ H e r f o r d a n d S im p s o n , I n t r o d u c t i o n , I , 3 4 $ • j
2 13 I
sk e tc h , w ith i t s one dominant t r a i t u n d er ly in g a number
o f d e t a i l s ; th e p e r s o n if ie d a b s tr a c t io n s o f m ed ieval
a lle g o r y , n o ta b ly th o se o f th e m o r a lity p la y s t h a t in
E n g lish l i t e r a t u r e su rv iv e d in to th e R en aissan ce p eriod ;
and th e ch a r a c te r s k e tc h e s o f th e E n g lish s a t i r i s t s o f
th e end o f th e s ix t e e n t h cen tu ry — D a v ies, M arston, H a ll,
G u ilp in , Lodge, Donne, in v e r se ; Nashe, G reene, Lodge,
in p r o se —who modeled on the Theophrastan c h a r a c te r s and
on th e works o f th e Roman s a t i r i s t s , t h e i r b r i l l i a n t I
p ic t u r e s of London l i f e . ° Among th e p o s s ib le so u rces ;
i
i
o f c l a s s i c a l o r ig in we might in c lu d e A r e tin o T s com ed ies, j
in which Jonson cou ld have found, a lr e a d y developed and j
in the framework o f s a t i r i c a l , r e a l i s t i c comedy, char
a c te r s h avin g d i s t i n c t i v e f e a t u r e s o f h i s humors, and
w hich, d eriv ed from c l a s s i c a l t y p e s , were m o d ified and 1
i
p a r tly in d iv id u a liz e d by t r a i t s drawn from contemporary
I
l i f e . 1
I
On c o n s id e r in g th e p a r a lle lis m s o f c h a r a c te r and i
s i t u a t i o n i n th e humor com edies o f Jonson and th e ;
com edies o f A r e tin o , i t i s i n t e r e s t i n g t o n ote how
ch a r a c te r s which d e r iv e a s i m i l a r i t y from t h e i r common [
i
sou rce and from th e corresp on d in g s a t i r i c a l in t e n t io n s |
o f th e au th ors have n e v e r th e le s s become s t r o n g ly [
I
I
^E n g lish Elem ents in Jonson* s E a r ly Comedies, p . 26 * j
2 1 4 ~~]
localized, each in his society and age. !
From the Latin comedy type of the miles gloriosus, j
Aretino derived Captain Tinea in La Talanta; Jonson,
Bobadil in Every Man In His Humor. Both Captain Tinea
and Bobadil are prodigious talkers and boasters in a
language of great vigor. Btobadil’s speech has an
l
unmistakably English flavor, as in the following lines
in which he delivers his opinion of Downright: i
i
Hang him, rookX he t Why he has no more judgment than j
! a malt horse: By Saint George, I wonder you’d lose a
thought upon such an animal; the most peremptory
absurd clown of Christendom ... I protest to you,
j as I am a gentleman and a soldier, I ne’er changed :
words with his like. By his discourse, he should eat
nothing but hay. . . . (I.iv) i
i
He tries, however, to give himself a gallant, traveled i
I air by a lavish use of Spanish and Italian terms from j
: the duel: the ’ ’ passado," the ’ ’ bastinado,” the ’ ’stoccata,”
! ’ ’imbroccatoCaptain Tinea tries to give his equally
i boisterous Italian a flair by a use of far-fetched
conceits in the Spanish manner (the Spanish being at
the time virtual masters in Italy and arbiters of j
; elegance): he addresses Talanta as ’ ’ helmet of my head”; j
’ ’ armor of my body”; ’ ’ cuirass of my thigh”; ’ ’caparison of ;
my steed”; ’ ’chariot of my triumph ..." (Ill.xiii). j
Both Bobadil and Tinea are given to imagining l
extraordinary feats of arms in which they have covered
themselves with glory: Bobadil astonishes Stephen with j
i
i
2 1 5
his account of the beleaguering of Strigonium, "where
in less than two hours, seven hundred resolute gentlemen
as any were in Europe lost their lives," and where
Bobadil was the first man that entered the breach*
(Ill.iii) Captain Tinea*s phantasy, still more airy,
imagines metaphorical combats in which he descends upon
his enemies with an army made up of his warlike disposi
tions (his servant Branca interpolates the usual ironical
comments):
Tinea: To begin with, the curses that I shower on
him ... shall rise up in arms.
Branca: A good beginning.
I
Tinea: My boiling wrath will be the drums.
Branca: Well.
Tinea: The banners I fly are the rights which incite
me to battle.
Branca: One could imagine nothing better.
Tinea: The standard-bearers are the angry passions
that beat in my breast . . . armed men will
spring from the formidable thoughts of my
brain. . . . (V*ii)
B ob ad il i s capable o f m ilit a r y p r o j e c t s th a t are e q u a lly
fantastic, but he clothes them in the sober garb of
m athem atical te r m in o lo g y , as when he e x p la in s h i s p la n
for the defense of Her MajestyTs kingdom, against all
enemies whatever, by himself with nineteen more,
2 1 6
"gentlemen of good spirit" and trained by him in the
"special rules":
. . . say the enemy were forty-thousand strong, we
twenty would come into the field the tenth of March,
or thereabouts; and we would challenge twenty of the
enemy; they could not in their honor refuse us:
Well, we would kill them; challenge twenty more, kill
them; twenty more, kill them . . • too; and thus we
would kill every man his twenty a day, that’s twenty
score; twenty score, that’s two hundred; two hundred
a day, five days a thousand; forty thousand; forty
times five, five times forty, two hundred days kills
them all up by computation. (IV.vi)
Both Bobadil and Tinea assume on occasion an air of
impressive dignity and deal with lesser mortals in a
lordly fashion. Bobadil thus presents himself to Edward
Knowell:
Sir, I must tell you this, I am no general man; but
for master Wellbred’s sake (you may embrace it at
what height of favor you please,) I do communicate
with you, and conceive you to be a gentleman of some
parts; I love few words. (Ill.i)
Tinea, upon being informed that a wealthy Signor has
asked the hand of his daughter, thus replies:
Tinea: Certainly the fame of my exploits must have
reached his ears, though I marvel how in so
great a request he has not said that my glory
is sufficient dowry.
Branca: Perhaps he will say so upon your consenting.
Tinea: We shall reflect upon it, for the wisdom of
the captain cannot be so hastily resolved.
(IV.xvi)
Both Aretino and Jonson preserve the core of the
miles gloriosus in their characters by giving them a
2 17 ;
hair-raising truculence in the absence of danger. Tinea
thus vents his rage on the empty air, upon hearing of
the escape of his daughter and her maid:
Alive, alive, I want to roast the servant, and as for J
her whom I do not even wish to call my daughter, I i
shall tear her to shreds; and should I find the wretch,
let no one attempt to deliver her from me, for I with
the ruthless soul with which I enter into battle, am
disposed to deal punishment to her; nor shall I shed
her blood otherwise than if she were a pagan; and if
my wife utters a word of protest, I shall cut the veins
of her throat. . • . (IV.xx)
I
i
In similar manner, Bobadil rails magnificently against j
the harmless Gob, who has lucklessly uttered some dis- j
t
j paraging remarks on tobacco: j
i !
; A whoreson filthy slave, a dung-worm, an excrement I j
I Body of Caesar, but that I scorn to let forth so mean i
‘ a spirit, ITd have stabbed him to the earth. (Ill.iii)
j Both Bobadil and Tinea, however, are suddenly subdued
upon the least sign of a challenge. Bobadil allows
himself to be disarmed and beaten by the plain citizen I
j Downright, without a gesture of protest. (TV.v} And
! i
Tinea is so appalled when Messer Vergolo accepts his
challenge to battle that he promptly dismounts from his
!
i mule and takes flight. (IV-iv)
Aretino has departed further than Jonson from the j
• classic pattern in giving Captain Tinea the role of a
lover and suitor to Talanta. Jonsonfs two milites :
gloriosi, Bobadil and Shift, remain simply the traditionalj
2 1 $ ,
swaggerers and men on the town. Shift, however, is a J
variation in that he is not exclusively a soldier, but !
lays claim rather to. be a "tall man." He brags of
robberies and cheats as well as military exploits, and j
i
wins his reputation by skill in smoking and tricks at j
cards as well as by vaunted deeds of arms.
The intriguing servant is another type that both
i
Jonson and Aretino took from Latin comedy and transformed i
into a local and contemporary figure. The best examples
i are Rosso of Aretinofs La Cortigiana, and Brainwom of |
! i
Every Man In His Humor. In Rosso we have a lackey of l
! the Roman court in the Italian cinquecento, and Brainworm
is the right-hand man of an English country squire of a i
I
i |
century later; they have, however, many points in common. I
i
Both are equipped with an admirable readiness of wit and |
i !
an incredible skill in weaving intrigues. Both are the
! moving powers of the machinery of their respective plays.
^ i
Rosso, in La Cortigiana, disguises himself as his
i
I master and, with the aid of the unwitting sacristan of
j
! Saint Peterfs, tricks a fishmonger out of a quantity of
j lampreys; next he steals a robe from a Jewish clothes
; dealer, having first persuaded him to put on a friarTs
tunic— so that when the poor man calls "Stop thieft"
after Rosso, he is himself arrested for contempt of the
Church. All this is done out of the effervescence of
2 1 9
R o sso ’ s In v e n tio n and as a g a r n ish t o h i s main e n t e r
p r is e : an e la b o r a te p l o t , w ith th e a id o f th e p ro cu re ss
and h a lf - w it e h A lv ig ia , to ta n g le up h i s m a ste r ’ s lo v e
a f f a i r s and b e g u ile him in t o spending a n ig h t w ith th e
b a k e r ’ s w ife Togna in s t e a d o f th e haughty and d iv in e
L iv ia fo r whom he la n g u ish e s*
Brainworm’s d e sig n to f o llo w the e ld e r Knowell in
d is g u is e t o London and keep him from in t e r f e r i n g w ith
h i s son grows by p r o p itio u s circu m stan ce and Brainworm’ s
own r e a d in e s s t o welcome c o m p lic a tio n s , u n t i l f i n a l l y he
! has drawn in t o h i s p lo t the j e a lo u s husband K it e ly and
i
! h i s w i f e , th e w a te r - c a r r ie r Cob w ith T ib, th e g u l l s
i Stephen and Matthew and C aptain B o b a d il, th ereb y becoming
i
j th e means fo r th e c a s t i g a t i o n o f th e humors and the
; r e s o lu t i o n o f th e p i e c e .
! Both Brainworm and Rosso are m otivated by t h e i r
; sh eer d e lig h t in in t r ig u e and in hoodwinking t h e i r
■ f e l l o w s , q u ite ap art from th e ends t o be g a in e d . Upon
th e s u c c e s s o f h i s f i r s t d e c e it p r a c tic e d on o ld K now ell,
I
j Brainworm th u s g l e e f u l l y c o n g r a tu la te s h im s e lf:
; 0 th a t my b e l l y were hooped now, fo r I am ready to
j b u r st w ith la u g h in g t Never was b o t t le or bagpipe
i f u l l e r . ’S l i d , was th e r e e y e r se en a fo x in y ea r s
t o b e tr a y h im s e lf th u s I . . . l e t the world th in k me
a bad c o u n t e r f e it , i f I cannot g iv e him th e s l i p a t
an in s t a n t : . . . . 0 , how I lo n g t o be employed 1
( I l . i i i )
2 2 0 j
i
In th e end, brought b e fo r e J u s t ic e Clem ent, he d e c la r e s :
I f y o u 1 1 11 pardon me o n ly . I ’l l g lo r y in a l l th e j
r e s t o f my e x p l o i t s . ( V .i) j
R o sso fs g le e i s no l e s s ir r e p r e s s ib le upon th e s u c c e s s f u l '
i
coming o f f o f h is p la n s . D eparting from th e l u c k l e s s j
fish m on ger, he m eets M esser Andrea: j
I
Ha, h a, h a ,— a d iv in e j e s t — a fish m on ger • . . h a, ha,
. . . I w i l l t e l l you a t l e i s u r e — I must hurry to
d e p o s it th e s e lam preys you see me c a r r y in g , h a l f to
whom th e y are d e s t in e d , h a lf fo r me in th e ta v e r n .
F a r e w e ll. ( I .x x ) ;
N e ith e r Brainworm nor Rosso i s b oth ered by any e x c e s s o f ;
s c r u p le s ---”th e w orld i s f o r whoever can ta k e i t . ” !
Brainworm, m e d ita tin g on how t o b e g u ile th e e ld e r Knowell
i n order t o h e lp th e younger, th u s c o o lly d e f in e s h is
m o tiv e s: j
W ell, th e tr o th i s , my o ld m aster in te n d s to f o llo w my !
young m a ster, d r y fo o t, over M o o r field s to London, t h i s
morning; now, I knowing o f t h i s h u n tin g-m atch , or
ra th e r c o n sp ir a c y , and to in s in u a te w ith my young :
m aster (fo r so must we th a t are b lu e w a it e r s , and men
o f hope and s e r v ic e do, or perhaps we may wear m otley
a t th e y e a r T s end, and who wears m o tle y , you know),
have g o t me a fo r e i n t h i s d i s g u i s e . . . . e t c - ( I l . i i )
Rosso has no more h e s i t a t i o n i n c o n sp ir in g a g a in s t h is
I
m aster and b r in g in g th e in n ocen t and f a i t h f u l V a le r io
in to d isg r a c e fo r t r e a s o n th an he has in c h e a tin g the
fishm onger and th e Jewish c lo t h e s p e d d le r . H is j u s t i f i -
i
c a t io n i s th a t i t i s the way o f th e co u rt: ”At cou rt ,
whoever wrongly cen su r es . . . i s b e lie v e d and whoever
i s in n o cen t i s a c c u s e d .” ( I V .x v ii) The main d if f e r e n c e j
221
between the two is that Brainworm, with his background
of English country-house life, is a lighthearted,
irresponsible rogue, while in Rosso there is a bitterness
bred of his long experience with the injustices of the
court, which gives to the triumphs of his wit the added
zest of vengeance.
Both Jonson and Aretino are obviously charmed with
the wit of the rogues they have created, so that neither
Brainworm nor Rosso is punished for his mischief.
Brainworm saves himself from commitment to prison by
relating all his enterprises to the delighted Justice
Clement, after which the sentence is— a cup of sack
drunk in his honor and the verdict: "Thou hast done or
assisted to nothing but deserves to be pardoned for the
wit of the offense." (V.i) When Parabolano, at the end
of La Cortigiana, discovers all the contrivances of his
lackey, Rosso, he cannot help laughing, despite the
damage he has suffered from them. Pronouncing judgment
on the assembled characters, as Justice Clement does at
the end of Every Man In His Humor, Parabolano forgives
Rosso for the same reason that Clement does Brainworm:
I forgive you, Rosso, because being a Greek, you have
acted with the astuteness of one. As for you, Valerio,
be content to make your peace with Rosso, since I have
forgiven him, and because he was witty enough to lead
me the merry chase I will tell you of. (V.xxv)
222 ;
I
i
A favorite object of Jonson’s satire is that of
’ ’ gulls” or would-be gallants* They are either rustics
i
or provincials who worship gentility and are the dupes j
of those who claim to teach it by a few magic rules; or J
they are less naive pretenders who have become adept at
simulating gallantry by ”a silver-hilted sword, a few
picturesque oaths, a ’melancholy’ silence.”"^ The gull
j is represented in each of the comedies of Jonson of which |
; j
J we have spoken: Stephen and Matthew in Every Man In His j
j Humor, Fungoso and Sogliardo in Every Man Out of His j
I Humor, Asotus in Cynthia’s Revels * All of them have i
traits in common with that gigantic ’ ’gull” of Aretino’s
i Cortigiana, Messer Maco, and these traits are often j
■ brought out in similar situations. Of course, the ■
affectations Jonson’s gulls assume are peculiar to
manners in the late Elizabethan period, while Messer Maco
' is satirically trained in the yiees of the Roman court of
1 the cinquecento. >
i
Stephen, the country cousin in Every Man In His >
1 ,
Humor, is convinced that being a ’ ’ gentleman” is a matter i
!
of satisfying a few practical requirements, one of the
most important being that of keeping a hawk. He explains •
i
I
■^Herford and Simpson, In tr o d u c tio n t o The Works o f I
1 Ben- Jonson, I , 347*
223
his views to his not too sympathetic uncle:
Step: Uncle, afore I go in, can you tell me, an he
have e’er a book of the sciences of hawking
and hunting; I would fain borrow it.
Know: Why, I hope you will not a hawking now, will
Step:
Know:
Step:
your
No, wusse; but I’ll practise against next year,
uncle. I have bought me a hawk, and a hood,
and bells, and all; I lack nothing but a book
to keep it by.
0, most ridiculous!
Nay, look you now, you are angry, uncle:— why,
you know an a man have not skill in the hawking
and hunting languages nowadays, I’ll not give a
rush for him: they are more studied than the
Greek, or the Latin. He is for no gallants
company without them; . . . ’Slid, a gentleman
mun show himself like a gentleman. Uncle, I
pray you be not angry; I know what I have to do,
I trow, I am no novice. (I-i)
Stephen’s attitude is similar to that of Messer Maco in
La Cortigiana, when he eagerly accepts the proposal of
Andrea to make him a courtier by giving him lessons out
of a book:
Andrea: The truth is one must first be a courtier,
then a Cardinal. I am a master of courtier-
ship. I have made Monsignor de la Storta,
the most reverend Baccano, the Patriarch of
LaMagliana, and a thousand others ... and,
with your consent, I can make a courtier out
of Your Worship, because you have an air of
great promise.
Maco: When will you begin?
Andrea: Today, tomorrow, when it will please Your
Worship.
Maco: It will please me now-
Andrea: Well. I will go and get the book that j
teaches how to be a courtier, and I will !
fly back to Your Worship. (I.ii) ■
Being a Sienese burgher and not an English squire, Messer
Maco does not think, like Stephen, of keeping a hawk,
but he is fully persuaded by Andrea of the infallibility j
of another device— the special form into which one enters
to be moulded into a gentleman: ”. . . for Your Worship
i
will consider that even cannons, bells and towers are j
i
made in moulds.” (Ill.ix) Both Stephen and Matthew, in !
Every Man In His Humor, are like Messer Maco in their j
cultivation of poetry as one of the appurtenances of j
i
gallantry. Messer Andrea gleefully discovers MacoTs j
}
sonnets to Camilla Pisana:
i
Sorrow itself would laugh to hear him burst into ,
song . . .he has composed some of the most rascally !
verses you have ever heard. (Il.xi) i
He goes on to quote from the prose of MacoTs love letters,
I
which is jewelled with Petrarchan conceits, most strangely;
transformed: I
Hail queen, ... be merciful to me, for your ;
odoriferous eyes and marmorean brow, distilling '
mellifluous manna slay me, even as your scattered
gold and pearls subdue me to your love .... (I.xii) i
i
There is something of the same ”f?etrarchism” in the
poetry (”a toy of mine own in my nonage ... the 1
i
infancy of my muses”) which Matthew reads to Bobadil. ,
225
( I . i v } S teph en, t o o , c o n fe s s e s t h a t he ”lo v e s such
t h in g s out o f m ea su re,” and K n ow ellf s comment, ”1*f a i t h ,
b e t t e r th an in m easure, 1*11 u n d e r ta k e ,” i s borne out
by th e sample Stephen g iv e s o f h i s v e r s e . ( I l . i i ) There
are p a r a l l e l sc e n e s in A re tin o * s C o rtig ia n a and Jonson*s
Every Man In H is Humor, in which th e would-be p o e ts
r e c i t e v e r s e s which are im m ed iately reco g n ized a s having
been s t o le n from w e ll known a u th o r s. In La C o r tig ia n a ,
Maco’s r e c i t a t i o n o f some L a tin v e r s e s which he g iv e s
out as h i s own, cau ses Andrea to jump up sh o u tin g :
Andrea: S top t S top t T h ie ft T h ie ft
Maco: Why do you shout f o r h e lp l i k e th a t?
Andrea: Because a mad h e r o ic p oet has s t o le n your
v e r s e s I ( I . x x i i )
In Every Man In His Humor, Matthew reads some l i n e s to
M istr e ss B r id g e t, p r o t e s t in g m od estly t h a t he wrote them
”in a humor” :
Rare c r e a tu r e , l e t me speak w ith ou t o ffe n c e
Would God my rude words had th e in flu e n c e
To r u le th y th o u g h ts, as th y f a i r lo o k s do mine
Then sh o u ld st thou be h i s p r is o n e r , who i s
t h i n e . ( I . i v )
Knowell im m ediately r e c o g n iz e s th e l i n e s from Hero and
Leander, and a f t e r h ea rin g some fu r th e r sam ples, b u r s ts
out w ith : ”W ell, 1*11 have him f r e e o f th e w itb r o k e r s,
f o r he u t t e r s n oth in g but s t o l e n remnants . . . . A
f i l c h i n g rogu e, hang him I— and from th e deadi I t T s
2 2 6 j
w orse than s a c r i l e g e . ”
i
The co u n terp a rts t o Matthew and Stephen in Every j
Man Out o f His Humor are th e g u l l s S o g lia r d o and Fungoso. J
S o g lia r d o i s ”an e s s e n t i a l clow n, y e t so enamored o f th e !
f
name o f gentlem an th a t he w i l l have i t though he buys >
*
i t ”— who ”comes t o town t o tak e to b a cco and se e new I
i
m o tio n s .” Fungoso i s ”one th a t has r e v e lle d in h i s tim e
and fo llo w s th e fa sh io n a fa r o f f lik e a sp y . He makes
i t th e w hole b en t o f h i s endeavors t o w ring s u f f i c i e n t i
means from h is w retched f a th e r t o put him in th e
c o u r t i e r ^ cut a t which he e a r n e s t ly aim s. • . . ”1 ^ j
I '
| Carlo B u ffo n e ’ s in s t r u c t io n s t o S o g lia rd o on th e a r t o f ;
i b ein g a c o u r t ie r remind one again o f M esser AndreaT s t o (
, Maco (page 6& a b o v e ). Both the m asters are mocking t h e i r ! '
p u p ils , who tak e t h e i r i r o n i c a l p r e c e p ts in a l l s e r io u s
n ess and w ith utm ost d o c i l i t y . B u ffo n ers in s t r u c t io n s i
are more le n g th y and d e t a ile d than AndreaT s ,^ 9 but in j
both th e re i s th e same s a t i r e o f th e manners o f the
co u rt ( o f which th e p u p ils are o f course unaw are). Here
-^From th e "Character o f th e P erson s” p r e fix e d to
th e p la y . I
; '-^The p r e c e p ts B u ff one g iv e s to S o g lia r d o are i
d eriv ed from Erasmus1 C o llo q u ie s , but Jonson has ;
adapted them t o th e s p e c i f i c s o c i a l and economic
c o n d itio n s o f th e England o f h is t im e .
2 2 7 |
i s a sample of B u ffo n e T s in s t r u c t io n s on how an
E liz a b e th a n g a lla n t c o n v e r se s , p la y s ca r d s, sw ears,
goes t o p la y s:
B u ffo n e: S o g lia r d o , i f you a f f e c t t o be a gentlem an
in d e ed , you must observe a l l th e rare
q u a l i t i e s , humors, and com plim ents o f a
gen tlem an .
S o g lia r d o : I know i t , S ig n io r , and i f you p le a s e t o
i n s t r u c t , I am not to o good t o le a r n , I ’l l
a ssu re you .
F i r s t , t o be an accom p lished gentlem an,
t h a t i s , a gentlem an o f th e tim e , you must
g iv e over housekeeping in the co u n try , and
l i v e a lt o g e t h e r in th e c i t y amongst
g a lla n t s ; w here, a t your f i r s t appearance, j
’tw ere good you t u r n ’ d fo u r or f iv e
hundred a c r e s o f your b e s t lan d in t o two i
or th r e e tru n k s o f a p p a r el— you may do i t
w ith ou t goin g t o a c o n ju r e r — and be sure
you mix y o u r s e lf s t i l l w ith such as
f l o u r i s h in th e sp r in g o f th e fa sh io n . . .;
le a r n t o p la y a t prim ero and p a ssa g e, and
ev er (when you lo s e ) have two or th r e e !
p e c u lia r oath s to swear b y, th a t no man !
e l s e sw ea r s. . . .
i
0 adm irable rare I He cannot choose but j
be a gentlem an th a t has th e s e e x c e l l e n t ;
g i f t s : more, more, I b e se e c h you .
You must endeavor t o fe e d c le a n ly at your
o rd in a ry , s i t m elan ch oly, and p ick your
t e e t h when you cannot speak: and when you
come t o p la y s , be humorous, look w ith a \
good s t a r c h ’ d fa c e and r u f f l e your brow !
l i k e a new b o o t, lau gh a t n o th in g but your |
own j e s t s , or e l s e as th e noblemen la u g h . j
T h at’ s a s p e c ia l grace you must o b se r v e . j
1 warrant you , s i r .
B u ffo n e :
l
t
i
I
I
S o g lia rd o :
i
B u ffo n e :
i
S o g lia rd o :
i
t
2 2 & '
Buffone: Ay, and sit on the stage and flout,
provided you have a good suit. . . . (I.i)
In Cynthia’s Revels, Jonson brings on the scene a throng j
" 1 t
of ”false” courtiers and gallants— ’ ’ the strangest j
pageant fashioned like a court”--whose fopperies, i
conceits, and affectations are detailed to the minutest
degree of folly. Corresponding to the gulls of Every
Man In and Every Man Out, is Asotus, a hanger-on of
\ courtiers and tireless pursuer of fashion. He also takes ,
! instructions in gallantry from the courtier and traveler •
! Amorphus. What distinguishes these lessons from Andrea’s
to Maco and Buffone’s to Sogliardo is that Amorphus,
! Asotus’ master, is a convinced courtier and has no idea
I
of mocking either his pupil or the court in the precepts !
he gives. The satire is there, but it comes of Jonson’s i
irony, of which in this case both master and pupil remain j
quite unaware. Here is Amorphus’ explanation of how ;
I
courtiers develop the art of conversations
Amorphus: ... as your ears do meet with a new
phrase, or an acute jest, take it in: a ,
I quick nimble memory will lift it away, and,
j at your next public meal, it is your own. !
j ... It is your shifting age for wit, and, !
I assure you, men must be prudent. After i
this you may to court, and there fall in,
first with the waiting-woman, then with the j
lady. Put case they do retain you there, j
as a fit property, to hire coaches some j
pair of months, or so; or to read them ;
asleep in the afternoons upon some pretty
pamphlet, to breathe you; why, it shall in ;
229
time embolden you to some farther
achievement: in the interim you may fashion
yourself to be careless and impudent.
Asotus: How if they would have me to make
verses? ...
Amorphus: Why, you must prove the aptitude of your ;
genius; if you find none, you must hearken J
out a vein, and buy; provided you pay for i
the silence as for the work. . . . (Ill.ii) j
i
Amorphus stresses the importance for the courtier of j
i
learning to assume the proper expression of face: j
I
For, let your soul be assured of this, in any rank or 1
profession whatever, the more general or major part j
of opinion goes with the face and simply respects
nothing else. (Il.i)
In Scene iii, Act III, Asotus is made painstakingly to
practice the art of accosting and addressing a lady, with 1
all the proper mincing nicety of phrase and gesture.
Throughout, Jonson1s irony suggests the inanity of
courtly practices, which Grites openly and vigorously
denounces:
. . . such cobweb stuff
As would enforce the commonTst sense abhor
Th’Arachnean workers. (Ill.ii)
. . . mere lunacy. For would any reasonable !
creature make these his serious studies and j
perfections, much less, only to live with 1
these ends? (V.ii) I
s
^ • n Cynthia1 s Revels and Every Man Out of His Humor, j
there are many reflections of the arrogance, conceit,
230
v a n it y , and fa tu o u s n e ss o f c o u r t ie r s , such as we have
seen them e x e m p lifie d in A r e tin o ’ s Parabolano ( La
C o rtig ia n a ) and P o lid o ro ( I I F ilo s o f o ) — (s e e pages 69-,104
i
a b o v e ). The c o u r t ie r P untarvolo o f Every Man Out i s , j
l i k e Parabolano, im perious and high-handed w ith h is
se r v a n ts:
S ir r a h , tak e my cloak ; and you, s i r knave, fo llo w me
c l o s e r . I f thou l o s e s t my dog, th ou s h a lt d ie a d o g ’s
death; I w i l l hang t h e e . ( I l l . i )
Compare Cappa’ s and R o sso ’ s d e s c r ip t io n o f t h e i r m a ste r ’s
lo r d ly ways (La C o r tig ia n a , I . v i i — se e page 69 a b o v e ).
Like P arabolano, P untarvolo i s v a s t l y c o n c e ite d , b e in g ,
Jonson t e l l s u s , ”so p a lp a b ly a f f e c t e d to h is own p r a is e ]
I
9 0
th a t fo r want o f f l a t t e r e r s he commends h i m s e l f .”*
What d is t in g u is h e s P un tarvolo i s a c e r t a in q u ix o t ic v e in ,
m a n ife s tin g i t s e l f in an a f f e c t a t i o n o f k n ig h t-e r r a n tr y ,
as when he r id e s up t o the door o f h i s cou ntry house as j
1
i f i t were a c a s t l e g a t e , sounds h is horn, c a l l s f o r the
lo r d o f th e c a s t l e , and pays cou rt t o h i s w ife as i f she !
were a la d y never b e fo r e encou ntered ( I l l . i i ) ; or in a
lo v e o f b iz a r r e e n t e r p r is e s , such as t h a t o f making a
0*1
to u r o f th e world on a wager w ith a dog and a c a t -
^O charaeter sk e tc h e s p r e fix e d t o th e p la y .
21 I
*-*-Herford and Simpson note th a t " t r a v e llin g upon a
v e n tu r e ” was ”a s in g u la r form o f in su ra n ce on fo r e ig n 1
t r a v e l ” common a t th a t tim e , but P u n ta r v o lo ’ s p a r t ic u la r
a p p lic a t io n o f i t i s none th e l e s s w h im sic a l. The Works
o f Ben Jonson, IX, 439-
231
P arabolano, though he adopts a Spanish extravagan ce o f
cerem o n ia l, shows no such f a n t a s t i c w h im s ic a lit y .
F a s tid io u s B risk o f Every Man Out o f H is Humor
r e c a l l s in many ways th e v a n it y and foppery o f A r e tin o T s
g a lla n t , P o lid o r o . Im peccably fa sh io n a b le and m eticu lo u s
in h is d r e s s , he i s termed by Buffone "Nymphadoro in the
w h ite v i r g i n boot"; he i s mannered and a f f e c t e d , and
pp i
" p r a c tis e th by h i s g la s s how to s a lu t e ." * A ll t h i s i s !
v ery l i k e th e d e s c r ip tio n o f P o lid o ro g iv e n by h is man j
I
R ad icch io in I I F i l o s o f o : |
The v ery m irror i s ready t o s p l i t se e in g how he
p r a c t ic e s in i t h a l f - s m i l e s , f u l l s m ile s , w ise lo o k s , '
grave dem eanors, and th e a r t o f making h im s e lf up i
most c o u r t e s a n - lik e . There i s no sto r k th a t l i f t s J
up i t s f e e t w ith th e m a je sty th a t he l i f t s them, n or, j
were he ste p p in g on c o tto n w ool- would he s e t them |
down more c ir c u m s p e c tly . ( I . i i i )23 !
i
The a f f e c t a t i o n s o f th e c o u r t ie r and t r a v e l e r , Amorphus,
• * - n C y n th ia T s R evels are s im ila r ly d esc rib ed :
. . . He walks most commonly w ith a c lo v e or p ic k -to o th
in h i s mouth, he i s th e v er y m int o f com plim ent, a l l i
h is b e h a v io r s are p r in te d . . . . He sp eak s o f a l l
cream-skimmrd, and more a f f e c t e d than a dozen w a itin g -
women. ( I l . i )
22f»character o f the P erso n s."
23jJote a ls o in Cynthia * s R ev els ( I l . i ) th e d e s c r ip
t i o n o f A sotus: "His ey es and h i s raim ent co n fe r much
to g e th e r as he goes down th e s t r e e t . He tr e a d s n ic e ly
l i k e th e f e llo w th a t walks upon r o p e s , e s p e c i a l l y th e
f i r s t Sunday o f h i s s i l k s to c k in g s ; when he i s most n eat
and new, you s h a l l s t r i p him w ith com m endations.”
232. j
Amorphus h a s, however, i n a d d it io n , th e p e c u lia r ly I
E liz a b e th a n a f f e c t a t i o n s o f the " tr a v e lle d gentlem an": I
I
. . . a t r a v e l l e r , one so made out o f th e m ixture o f j
sh red s and form s, t h a t h im s e lf i s t r u ly deform T d . !
( I l . i )
F a s tid io u s B risk has a ls o P o lid o r o T s fa tu o u s con
v i c t i o n o f h i s power over women. P o lid o ro d e s c r ib e s t o
R ad icch io the havoc h i s g r a c e fu ln e s s wreaks a t b a l l s and
th e f a t a l e f f e c t o f h i s mere appearance at Mass ( see ;
{
pages 104-105 above). B r is k Ts c o n v e r sa tio n h a b it u a lly !
I
runs on th e same theme: 1
There was a co u n te ss gave me h er hand to k iss to d a y , !
i fthe p resen ce: did me more good by th a t l i g h t than— i
and y e s t e r - n ig h t sen t h er coach tw ic e t o my lo d g in g ,
to in t r e a t me accompany h e r , and my sw eet m is t r e s s ,
w ith some two or th r e e nam eless la d ie s more: 0 , I have ;
been graced by them beyond a l l aim o f a f f e c t i o n . . .
( I I . i i )
Upon P u n ta r v o lo ^ a sk in g him whether he knows "Madona
S a v io lin a " :
F a s tid io u s : 0 Lord, Sir, my m is tr e s s ? ;
P untarvolo: I s she your m is tr e s s ? i
F a s tid io u s : F a ith here be some s l i g h t fa v o r s o f h e r s ,
s i r , th a t do speak i t ; as t h i s s c a r f ,
s ir , or t h i s ribbon in my e a r , or so; I
t h i s fe a t h e r grew in h er sw eet fa n some- |
tim e s , though now i t be my poor fo rtu n e ;
t o wear i t , as you see, s i r : s l i g h t , i
s l i g h t , a f o o lis h t o y . ( I l . i ) j
B u ffo n e Ts s a r c a s t ic comment on B r is k 's account o f h i s j
)
e x a l t e d c o n n e c t i o n s — !
233
T h ere’ s n e ’ er a one o f th e se but m ight l i e a week on
th e ra ck , ere th e y cou ld b rin g fo r th h i s name; and
y e t he pours them out as f a m il ia r l y , as i f he had seen
them stand by th e f i r e in th e p r e se n c e , or t a ’en
to b a cco w ith them over th e s t a g e , in the l o r d ’ s room.
( I l . i )
—- is r e m in isc e n t o f th e more v e ile d mockery o f R a d io eh io ’s
in t e r p o la t io n s i n h i s m aster P o lid o r o ’ s l y r i c a l account
o f h is co n q u ests:
P o lid o r o :
R adicchio:
P o lid o ro :
You saw i t y o u r s e lf . . . .
I thou ght sure she would throw h e r s e l f
upon you from th e b a lc o n y .
I f you w i l l remember t o take note o f i t ,
you w i l l see any number o f o th e r s lo s e
t h e i r heads because o f th a t grace th a t in
t h e i r good n ess the heavens have bestowed
on m e. . . . How many are near to f a in t in g
in th e ch u rch es, and how many at the b a l l s
. . . . I move through th e s t e p s w ith th a t
l i g h t n e s s and grace o f my most slim and
handsome p erson • • • t h a t from th e ch o ir
o f th e f a i r th o se s ig h s go up o f ’’a l a s ”
and ’’a la c k ” th a t s l a y w ith o u t k i l l i n g .
Ju st as s le e p and hunger draw th e yawns
from th e mouth th a t would l i k e to e a t or
s le e p , so th e capers and gambols o f your
g a lla n t r y draw burning d e s ir e from th e
e n t r a i l s o f th e f a i r ones in v e lv e t and
th e nymphs in b rocad e. (La C o rtig ia n a ,
I I . i v )
W e are a ls o reminded o f P o lid o ro by Amorphus o f Cynthia T s
R e v e ls , w ith h is t a l e o f th e Lady Annabel, ’’n ie c e to
th e empress and s i s t e r to th e King o f A rragon ,”
. . . who h avin g n ever b efo re eyed me, but on ly heard
th e common rep ort o f my v ir t u e , le a r n in g , and t r a v e l ,
f e l l in to th a t e x tr e m ity o f p a s s io n fo r my lo v e , t h a t
she th e r e im m ediately swooned: p h y s ic ia n s were sen t
R adicch io:
f o r , she had t o h er chamber, so t o h er bed; w here, j
la n g u is h in g some few d ays, a f t e r many tim e s c a l l i n g j
upon me, w ith my name in her l i p s , she e x p ir e d . (IV.i) |
And in La C o r tig ia n a , Parabolano i s accu sed by A lv ig ia J
o f equal fa tu o u s n e ss: j
Oh, he i s a g r e a t b o a ste r 1 . . . Do you know what
s u r p r is e s me most? . . . That he who p r o f e s s e s t o
d ie f o r L iv ia should b e lie v e th a t sh e , h ard ly h aving
seen him, should a l s o be dying f o r him .
Upon which Rosso r e p l ie s :
I
That should not su r p r is e you, fo r such a lo r d • * , * * ,
most a b s o lu t e ly b e lie v e s th a t a l l th e w orld adores '
him, and . . . he i s ready to blame h im s e lf f o r h avin g j
look ed lo v in g ly on L iv ia , f o r t h a t t o h is mind makes :
i t im p o ssib le fo r h er not t o la n g u ish f o r him, as we •
have le d him t o b e lie v e th a t she d o e s . ( I l l . v i )
A ll th e " f a ls e c o u r t ie r s ” o f Cynthia ’ s R e v e ls ,
Hedon, A naid es, Amorphus, resem ble Parabolano and
P o lid o ro in c o u r tly a f f e c t a t i o n s . T h eir t r a i t s are
summed up by Mercury (who w ith Cupid i s a d is g u is e d
ob server a t C y n th ia f s co u rt) in sh a rp ly drawn sk etch es
th a t are anim ated by th e same s a t i r i c a l s p i r i t towards |
i
t
th e cou rt a s A r e tin o ’ s C o r tig ia n a . Here are th e p o r t r a it s1
o f two o f the c o u r t ie r s :
(Hedon): I
Such a one as . . . I dare not a ffir m to be an yth in g i
l e s s th an a c o u r t ie r . So much he i s during t h i s open !
tim e o f r e v e l s , and would be lo n g e r , but th a t h is j
means are t o le a v e him s h o r t ly a f t e r . . . a g a lla n t
w h o lly co n secra ted t o h is p le a s u r e s . . . . He i s ;
th ou ght a very n e c e ssa r y perfume fo r th e p r e se n c e , ;
. . . s i x m i l l i n e r ’ s shops a ffo r d you not th e l i k e
235
scen t* He c o u r ts l a d i e s w ith how many g r e a t horse
he hath r id th a t m orning, or how o f t he hath done
th e w h ole, or h a l f th e pommado in a se v e n -n ig h t
before. . . . He doth keep a barber and a monkey;
. • • he lo v e s t o have a fe n c e r , a p ed an t, and a
m u sicia n seen in h i s lo d g in g a-m orn in gs. ( I l . i )
(A n a id e s ): j
. . . he has two e s s e n t i a l p a r ts o f th e c o u r t ie r ,
p rid e and ign oran ce; . . . one th a t speaks a l l t h a t
comes in h i s c h e e k s, and w i l l b lu sh no more than a
sa c k b u t. . . . He w i l l censure or d isc o u r se o f any
th in g , but as a b su rd ly as you would w is h . H is
fa sh io n i s not t o tak e knowledge o f him t h a t i s
beneath him in c l o t h e s . ( I l . i ) ;
i
This b r i l l i a n t s e r i e s o f epigram m atic p o r t r a it s which |
j
o c c u p ie s v i r t u a l l y a l l o f th e second a c t o f C ynthia*s (
| i
R evels r e p r e se n ts Jon son 1s attem pt to t r a n s f e r in t o th e
I
i body o f th e comedy th e Theophrastan c h a r a c te r sk etch
! . !
t h a t he had a lr e a d y used to d e sc r ib e th e " ch a ra cter o f
' th e persons" b e fo r e th e p la y , in Every Man Out o f H is !
; Humor. Such epigram m atic p o r t r a it s are a ls o used by j
: i
A retin o in h i s com ed ies, e s p e c i a l l y t o d e sc r ib e a person
i 1
; b e fo r e he appears on th e sc e n e , as when R ad icch io
I d e s c r ib e s P o lid o ro ( I I F i l o s o f o , I . i i i — page 10A above); ;
| ’ j
| or Rosso and Cappa d e sc r ib e Parabolano (La C o r tig ia n a , ;
i ;
, I . v i i — page 69 above). W e a ls o fin d rap id sk e tc h e s o f j
f
! ty p e s i n A r e tin o ’s p r o lo g u e s . In th a t to La T a la n ta , ^
fo r exam ple, th e a u th o r, in th e p erson o f Cupid, i s j
o b se r v in g the "throng o f th o se who lo v e" and n o te s j
I
among them,
236
. . . a c e r t a in la c k a d a is ic a l g a l l a n t , who, le a n in g
a g a in s t a p i l l a r w ith a la n g u id a i r , draws from h i s
b r e a s t a l e t t e r en veloped in green s i l k and, having
co n sid ered i t s a d ly , p u ts i t back; th e n , t o s s in g up
h i s h a n d k erch ief i n th e a ir c a tc h e s i t in a s c o r n fu l
way, and p u llin g at i t tw ic e w ith h is t e e t h , g iv e s
t o understand th e c r u e lty o f h is m is t r e s s and the
s p it e o f .fate . . . .
In th e p rologu e to th e M a resca lco , H i s t r i o , in order to
prove t o th e audience h is t a l e n t as an a c t o r , im person
a t e s one a f t e r an oth er the c o n v e n tio n a l ty p e s o f
R en aissan ce comedy, in a s e r i e s o f s a t i r i c a l sk e tc h e s
o f which th e fo llo w in g i s one:
A m ile s g lo r io s u s can be im ita te d in t h i s humor:
I would hang my sword a t my h ip , f e r o c io u s ly , and,
w ith my h ose u n g a rtered , f a l l i n g about my l e g s ,
I would move my s t e p s , t h u s , a s one who w alks to
th e sound o f a drum; w ith an arrogant lo o k , e y e in g
th e w orld ask an ce, and p u llin g a t my beard—woe
t o t h a t sto n e which so much as nudged my fo o t;
and as to th e f i r s t man who should cr o ss my p ath ,
I would cut him i n two and put him to g e th e r back
wards, sen d in g him out in th e w orld l i k e a m on ster.
Ah, ev er m e r c ifu l Mother o f Grace I Ah, b le s s e d
Godl Take t h i s m irror from b e fo r e my e y e s , fo r my
very shadow f i l l s me w ith f e a r .
A r e tin o , however, does not use th e d e v ic e as system
a t i c a l l y a s Jonson, who, in h i s humor com edies, le a n s
more and more t o th e "character-book" te c h n iq u e . W e
have m entioned h is p r e lim in a r y sk etch o f th e c h a r a c te r s,
e n t i t l e d "The C haracter o f th e P e r so n s” and p r e fix e d t o
Every Man Out o f His Humor; and a ls o th e s e r i e s o f
s a t i r i c a l p o r t r a it s in th e second a c t o f Cynthia* s
R e v e ls, where Cupid and Mercury "anatom ize” each o f the
c o u r t ie r s . F urth er on in th e same p la y ( I l l . i i ) the
lo n g speech o f C r ite s c o n s i s t s o f an oth er s e t o f
c h a r a c te r a n a ly s e s . There i s th u s a gradual in c r e a s e o f
a n a ly s is and d e s c r ip t io n i n Jon son T s humor com ed ies, as
Herford and Simpson o b se r v e , "the s a t i r i c , m o r a liz in g
and a b s tr a c t elem en ts o f Jonson T s mind a c q u ir in g a
stea d y dom ination over th e dram atic gen iu s p r o p e r .”2 ^ -
Such preponderance o f th e d e s c r ip tiv e ' over th e dram atic
p r e s e n ta tio n o f c h a r a c te r i s not tr u e o f th e com edies o f !
I
A r e tin o , though th e re are o c c a s io n a l le n g th y d e s c r ip t iv e !
I
or e x p o s ito r y s c e n e s , a s in F la m in io ’ s d ia tr ib e a g a in s t \
i
i
th e co u rt (La C o r tig ia n a , I l l . v i i ) , or R o sso T s harangue j
on th e s e r v a n t s1 q u a rters (La C o r tig ia n a , V.xv). But j
g e n e r a lly , in A r e tin o , i t i s a c t io n th a t i s s e t above !
w ord s, 2 5 and the s a t i r e , which can be as sharp and
2^"In Every Man I n , th e comic g en iu s i s s t i l l
supreme, and th e a b s tr a c t humor p h ilo so p h y i s b le n t w ith
ob served hum anity t o d e l i g h t f u l p u rp o se. In Every Man
Out, p h ilosop h y, more f r e e l y in d u lg e d , has h a l f str a n g le d !
the' dram atic l i f e , w h ile dram atic str u c tu r e i s p l a i n l y J
t r a c e a b l e . In Cynthia *s R e v e ls , s a t i r e , m o r a liz in g , j
and a lle g o r y e n t i r e l y overpower and e x tin g u is h dram atic j
a c t io n , w h ile th e dram atic elem en ts o f ch a ra c te r and !
d ia lo g u e su rv iv e in g r e a t v ig o u r but owe t h e ir v i t a l i t y j
m ain ly t o b r i l l i a n t d e s c r ip t io n and v iv a c io u s r e p a r t e e .” i
The Works o f Ben Jonson, I n tr o d u c tio n , I , 396-397* J
2 5Jonson, in th e p ro lo g u e, d e sc r ib e d C ynthia*s
R ev els a s "words above a c tio h ; m atter above w ords.
23$
s u s ta in e d as in Jonson, i s in c id e n t a l t o th e a c t io n .
A g en er a l p o in t o f agreement betw een A retin o and j
th e Jonson o f th e humor com edies i s in t h e i r a t t it u d e j
tow ards th e c l a s s i c r u l e s . W e have seen A r e tin o T s
I
independence in t h i s r e g a r d . Jonson, in Every Man In j
His Humor, seems to be w r itin g a " r eg u la r” comedy. The
i
a c t io n i s f a i r l y u n i f i e d , th e p la c e does not extend j
beyond th e v i c i n i t y o f London, and Jonson seems t o la y |
I
a p e c u lia r s t r e s s on tim e throughout th e p la y , to show J
I
th a t i t does n ot exceed th e le n g th o f one day. However, j
in th e f u l l e r e x p o s it io n o f h is c o n c e p tio n o f comedy i n !
th e in d u c tio n t o Every Man Out o f His Humor, Jonson
d e c la r e s t h a t he i s w r itin g c l a s s i c comedy w ith a d i f f e r - ;
ence. M itis ask s i f th e author o f th e comedy has
conformed s t r i c t l y to th e c l a s s i c r u le s :
. . . th e eq u al d i v i s i o n o f i t in t o a c t s and s c e n e s , ;
accord in g to th e T eren tia n manner, h i s tr u e number o f |
a c to r s ; th e fu r n is h in g o f th e scene w ith Grex or j
Chorus, and th a t th e whole argument f a l l w ith in •;
compass o f a day’ s b u s in e s s .
Jonson, l i k e A retin o b e fo r e him, ansvrers, through the s
i
mouth o f Cordatus: ”0 no, th e s e are to o n ic e ob serva- |
t i o n s ." Jonson, however, j u s t i f i e s h im s e lf f o r h i s
d ep artu res from r u le more e la b o r a te ly th an A retin o had j
i
d o n e , g i v i n g a h i s t o r i c a l sk etch o f th e developm ent o f !
26Ar e t in o had sim ply s a id : "W e l i v e o th e rw ise in
Rome than th e y d id in A th ens." P rologue t o La C o r tig ia n a .
classic comedy to show that no rules had existed, fully
perfected, ”ab initio,” but that the whole history of i
comedy from its earliest period was nothing but a con- j
i
tinued evolution of form. He reaches, however, the same
conclusion as Aretino, the principle of the liberty of
modern genius:
I see not then but we should enjoy the same license,
or free power to illustrate and heighten our invention
as they did; and not be tied to those strict and I
regular forms which the niceness of a few, who are j
nothing but form, would thrust upon us- j
i
We have seen how the comedies of Aretino consisted '
l
t
mainly of a string of incidents, each one complete in j
j itself and dramatically alive, but loosely connected to j
; the whole. The disintegration of structure and emphasis j
, on the separate scenes in Aretino’s comedies led the way, !
i • *
as we have mentioned, to the Commedia dell’ Arte♦
t
; Jonson’s humor comedies, on the other hand, although :
! they do not yet have the marvelous unity in complexity, |
! the ’ ’ massive articulated coherence, of such later j
masterpieces as Volpone or The Alchemist, show con- j
i 5
| siderable firmness of structure and are far more unified j
| and better built than Aretino’s. Every Man In His Humor j
1 shows the most successful knitting together of the
various parts of the plot: the plan of the elder Knowell
^ H e r f o r d a n d S im p s o n , I n t r o d u c t i o n , I , 3 3 6 .
to follow his son to London, the difficulties between
the jealous Kitely and his wife, the quarrels of
Wellbred and Downright, the discomfiture of the "gulls,"
Bobadil, Matthew, and Stephen, the elopement of young
Knowell and Bridget— all these are resolved through the
intrigues of Brainworm, which like a net gradually draw
all the characters together and bring them before Justice
Clement, who pronounces the final word on all. Every
Man Out of His Humor seems to have no plot for the. first
four acts. Like a typical comedy of Aretino, it consists
thus far, of a series of more or less unrelated episodes
setting off the various "humors"; but both action and
unity are redeemed in Act V when Macilente’s plot to
catch the humors is set in motion, and the movement is
then very swift to the end. The tying up of threads is
more skilful and elaborate than is ever the case in
Aretino1s comedies. The plot of Macilente, which at the
start purports only to punish the conceited humor of
Lady Saviolina, spreads and ramifies until Sogliardo,
Puntarvolo, Fungoso, Deliro and Fallace, and Fastidious
are all caught in it, the punishment of one being some
times ingeniously contrived to be the exposure of another
until all are "whipped out of their humors." Cynthia*s
Revels is a special case: a combination of comedy and
masque; consisting as it does of disparate elements
241'
(allegorical, mythological, as well as realistic and
satirical) which are never quite fused, it is the least
integrated of the comedies discussed* Its lack of unity
does not, however, give it a greater resemblance to the
comedies of Aretino, for while these, in their disinte
gration, are all movement, CynthiaTs Revels is static— a
series of portraits with brilliant analyses and satirical
descriptions, having vivacious repartee but no action*
In sum, both Jonson and Aretino achieved, in their
respective ages and countries, the fusion of the human
istic tradition of comedy with the realism and vigor of
the popular tradition. Both bridged the gap between
' classic theory and modern life. Starting with the model
. of classic comedy and preserving its intellectual and
I satirical elements, they liberated it from the accumu
lated dust of conventional and meaningless imitation and
renovated it through the contact with actual life. Both
reacted against outworn intrigues, and, shifting the
emphasis in comedy to the presentation of character and
setting, brought the intrigue into organic relation with
these. Instead of the conventional types of classic
comedy, now grown lifeless, they put on the scene new
types that reflected contemporary society with accuracy
and vividness of detail and at the same time conveyed
the author’s satirical judgment of his world. Both
2 4 2
Jonson and Aretino brought into the dialogue of their
comedies the spontaneity and naturalness, the very color
and flavor, of spoken language, while preserving a
classical lucidity and precision, at times an epigram
matic brilliance of style. Both were creators of an
effective comedy of manners in which the society of their
time still lives.
To establish a direct influence between Aretino and
Jonson would be difficult. Yet it is equally difficult
to think that Aretino should not have had at least an
indirect influence on Jonson. We have seen how on many
points their comic theories coincided and how their
innovation of comedy ran along parallel lines. As
satirists, both turned a keen observation on contemporary
society portraying it in sketches that were minutely true
to life yet brought out foibles in sharp relief. Jonson
is the only English sixteenth century writer whose style
can in any way be compared to AretinoTs in its hardness
and lucidity. The special objects of their satire, as
we have seen, were the same. Despite great differences
in temperament, both Jonson and Aretino had a passionate
devotion to art and an intense scorn for the false
pretenders in its realm. After the wave of excessive
submission to classic authority which followed upon the
Renaissance, Aretino was one of the first to express
243-
independent id e a s o f l i t e r a r y c r it ic is m ; and th e y were
id e a s w ith which Jonson, in s p it e o f h i s thorough goin g
c l a s s i c i s m , was on th e whole in a cco rd . ° C onsid erin g
a l l t h i s , one f e e l s th a t A retin o cou ld n ot have been
t o t a l l y unknown to a man o f as wide a l i t e r a r y background
a s Jonson. C e r ta in ly A r e tin o ’ s com ed ies, which p o in ted
th e way to th e fu tu r e development o f comedy in I t a l y — and
in Europe— were p a rt o f th e t r a d i t i o n from which Jonson
so abundantly drew.
2$Ben Jonson, f o r exam ple, says i n Timber: "Nothing
i s more r id ic u lo u s th an t o make an au th or a " d ic t a t o r as
th e sc h o o ls have done A r is t o t le . . . . For t o many
th in g s a man should owe but tem porary b e l i e f . . . not
an a b so lu te r e s ig n a tio n o f h im s e lf or p e r p e tu a l c a p t iv
i t y . Let A r i s t o t l e and o th e r s have t h e i r d ues, but i f
we can make f a r th e r d is c o v e r ie s o f tr u th and f i t n e s s
than t h e y , why are we envied?" (Works, III, 627) This
i s much alon g th e l i n e o f A r e tin o *s i d e a s .on th e l i m i t s
o f im it a t io n and th e im portance o f p r e s e r v in g th e
l i b e r t y o f th e c r e a t iv e s p i r i t (see Chapter I I , pages
43-45 above).
1 CONCLUSION l
What c o n c lu sio n s may be drawn from th e fo r e g o in g
j stu d y as t o A re tin o * s r e p u ta tio n and in flu e n c e in
! R en aissan ce England? In g e n e r a l, we may say t h a t ,
i
although th e a l l u s i o n s t o A retin o i n E liz a b e th a n w r itin g 1
are many, showing t h a t h i s fame was a s g r e a t in England
as in th e r e s t o f Europe in th e s ix t e e n t h ce n tu r y , most
o f th e s e a llu s io n s are based on h earsay r a th e r than on
d ir e c t knowledge and m erely h elp ed to spread th e leg en d I
o f A retin o as th e in c a r n a tio n o f I t a l i a n li c e n t i o u s n e s s \
; and s e n s u a l i t y . Yet, A retin o*s works must have been
! a v a ila b le to E n g lis h r e a d e r s • I t a l i a n was w id e ly c u l-
< t iv a t e d by th e ed u cated c l a s s e s and a g r e a t number o f ;
1 »
b ook s, com prising most o f th e im portant works o f I t a l i a n
l i t e r a t u r e , were brought in t o E n gland. From th e popu-
' l a r i t y o f A re tin o * s works in I t a l y and i n a l l Europe, we
may w e ll suppose them t o have been among t h e s e . Moreover,,
fo u r o f A r e tin o T s com edies and th e D ia lo g u es were p r in te d j
' in I t a l i a n in London. W e f in d , in f a c t , a few E n g lish 5
! i
; w r it e r s o f t h i s tim e whose comments on A retin o appear to 1
i
be based on a r e a l knowledge o f th e man and h is w r it in g s .
N otable among th e s e are G ab riel Harvey and Thomas Nashe. I
Of Harvey we may say t h a t , o u ts id e o f p o le m ic a l o u tb u r sts !
in which he u s e s A retin o as a p r e te x t f o r condemning
Nashe, h i s remarks show a s c h o la r ly knowledge and appre-
245
ciation of Aretino*s qualities as a writer and of his
significance as an historical figure.
From the quality of Thomas Hashed numerous comments
on Aretino*s works, it appears that he knew these works
at first hand and in their original language. Nashe*s
analysis of Aretino*s style seems to proceed from a
direct examination of the text; he very accurately points
out those qualities which constituted its peculiar
character and made for Aretino*s originality and strength
as a writer. Nashe also shows an appreciation of the
complexity of Aretino*s personality and of those traits
that made him a unique figure in his age. The influence
of Aretino on Nashe, however, is not detectable in the
quality of Nashe*s own prose style. Perhaps Nashe, as
well as the other Elizabethan pamphleteers, such as
Greene, Lodge, and Dekker, in their reaction against
euphuism, may have looked to Aretino as a model for a
prose style that was close to the spoken language in its
informality, directness, and spontaneity. But none of
them achieved in their writing anything resembling the
quality of Aretino*s prose.
From the investigation of the possible relation of
Shakespeare and Ben Jonson to Aretino, we must conclude
that there is not sufficient basis for establishing a
246
direct influence in either case. Interesting parallels
have been pointed out between the works of Aretino and
the comedies of Shakespeare; possibly Shakespeare may
have had a knowledge of Aretino's comedies through the
performances of the Commedia dellT Arte troupes in London
" — |
or through his own reading of Italian comedies, perhaps
with the help of John Florio. However, the only certain
relationship of which we can speak between Shakespeare
and Aretino is the indirect one constituted by Aretinots :
I
part in the evolution of Italian comedy and in the forma- I
tion of a Renaissance comic tradition. This tradition,
especially through the Commedia dell * Arte, had a ,
recognized influence on English Renaissance comedy in j
general and on the early comedies of Shakespeare.
There are notable similarities between AretinoTs
comedies and JonsonTs comedies of humor, despite great
differences in structure and moral tone. Both Aretino
and Jonson aimed at a renovation of comedy. Both used
the classic tradition of comedy as a basis but trans- ,
formed it through the contact with actual life; both ;
presented a realistic and satirical portrait of con
temporary society. In both, the classic character types,
modified to reflect contemporary manners, are constructed
with the same satirical focus on "humor" traits; and in
both, the satire has the same general object: the
24 $ j
hypocrisy, vanity, affectation, false pretenses of a J
degenerate society, especially in the milieu of the
court. There is in Jonson1s style something of the
quality of AretinoTs, in its combination of a classical
i
lucidity and conciseness with the vigor and flavor of |
i
spoken language. Jonson may have come in contact with
Aretino's comedies, perhaps through the performances of
the Italian players, perhaps in printed editions which,
like Shakespeare, he may have known through John Florio. !
i
Although we may suppose that Aretino was known to Jonson, !
the only thing we can say with certainty is that j
Aretino1s comedies were a part of the literary background |
of Jonson1s« I
i
I
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