Selected Poems and Translations: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe) (Italian Edition)

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Author: Madeleine de l'Aubespine

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S E L E C T E D P O E M S A N D T R A N S L AT I O N S

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THE OTHER VOICE IN E A R LY M O D E R N EUROPE

A Series Edited by Margaret L. King and Albert Rabil Jr.

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RECENT BOOKS IN THE SERIES MAR IA GAETAN A AGN ESI ET AL.

LOU ISE LABÉ

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Laura Battiferra and Her Literary Circle: An Anthology

Edited with Introductions and Prose Translations by Deborah Lesko Baker, with Poetry Translations by Annie Finch MA R IE- MAD ELEINE PIOCH E D E LA VER G N E, COMTESSE D E LAFAYETTE

Zayde: A Spanish Romance

Edited and Translated by Victoria Kirkham

Edited and Translated by Nicholas D. Paige

VIT T OR IA COLON N A

MA D ELEINE AND CATH ERINE D ES ROCH ES

Sonnets for Michelangelo: A Bilingual Edition

From Mother and Daughter: Poems, Dialogues, and Letters of Les Dames des Roches

Edited and Translated by Abigail Brundin PR IN CES S ELIS ABET H OF BOHEMIA A N D R EN É DES CART ES

The Correspondence between Princess Elisabeth of Bohemia and René Descartes Edited and Translated by Lisa Shapiro MODER ATA F ON TE ( MODESTA POZZO)

Floridoro: A Chivalric Romance Edited with an Introduction by Valeria Finucci, Translated by Julia Kisacky, Annotated by Valeria Finucci and Julia Kisacky

Edited and Translated by Anne R. Larsen MA R G H ERITA SARROCCH I

Scanderbeide: The Heroic Deeds of George Scanderbeg, King of Epirus Edited and Translated by Rinaldina Russell JU STIN E SIEG EMU ND

The Court Midwife Edited and Translated by Lynne Tatlock KATH A R INA SCH Ü TZ ZELL

The Short Chronicle: A Poor Clare’s Account of the Reformation of Geneva

Church Mother: The Writings of a Protestant Reformer in Sixteenth-Century Germany

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J EAN N E DE J US S IE

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine

SELECTED POEMS A N D T R A N S L AT I O N S [-3], (3)

A Bilingual Edition

Edited and Translated by Anna Kłosowska


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THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS

Chicago & London

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine, 1546–96 Anna Kłosowska is associate professor of French at Miami University, Oxford, Ohio. She is the author of Queer Love in the Middle Ages and the editor of Violence against Women in Medieval Texts. She is also working on a new critical edition of l’Aubespine’s complete works. The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637 The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London © 2007 by The University of Chicago All rights reserved. Published 2007 Printed in the United States of America 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 08 07

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ISBN-13: 978-0-226-14193-0 (cloth) ISBN-13: 978-0-226-14194-7 (paper) ISBN-10: 0-226-14193-4 (cloth) ISBN-10: 0-226-14194-2 (paper) The University of Chicago Press gratefully acknowledges the generous support of James E. Rabil, in memory of Scottie W. Rabil, toward the publication of this book. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data L’Aubespine, Madeleine de, 1546–1596. [Poems. English & French. Selections] Selected poems and translations : a bilingual edition / Madeleine de L’Aubespine ; edited and translated by Anna Kłosowska. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-0-226-14193-0 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-226-14193-4 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN-13: 978-0-226-14194-7 (pbk. : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-226-14194-2 (pbk. : alk. paper) I. Kłosowska, Anna, 1966– II. Title. PQ1628.L358A24 2007 841'.3—dc22 2007013783 ⬁ The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of 䡬 the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992.

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgments i x Series Editors’ Introduction x i Volume Editor’s Introduction 1 Volume Editor’s Bibliography 35

Selected Poems 40 Appendix A: Translation of Ovid’s Heroides, Second Epistle 79 Appendix B: Translation from Ariosto’s Orlando furioso, Canto 1 91 Series Editors’ Bibliography 109 Index of First Lines and Titles 129 General Index 133

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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he people named here made my rediscovery of l’Aubespine’s poems seem like an improbably good and colorful dream, not work. I would like to thank Mme Isabelle de Conihout for sharing the fruits of a decade of her research on l’Aubespine and Villeroy’s library. I especially want to recall her office at the Bibliothèque Mazarine in Paris, overlooking the Seine, the Louvre, and the gold dome of the Institut, where she taught me to identify l’Aubespine’s books by the cote brune. My thanks for her and Pascal Ract-Madoux’s hospitality are heartfelt. I would also like to acknowledge Collette Winn, the editor of the Cabinet of Salutary Affects (2001), whose research on the remarkably complicated history of that text led her to identify Madeleine de l’Aubespine as the “uncertain author” of the Cabinet. I thank Al Rabil, the anonymous reader for the University of Chicago Press, Chloé Hogg, Elisabeth Hodges, Jim Creech, Janet Smarr, and Katherine Walecka for their insightful readings and many helpful comments. I also wish to thank the manuscript editor, Susan Tarcov, for her inestimable help, and Randy Petilos for shepherding the manuscript through publication. Miami University generously awarded numerous travel, research, and publication grants. I thank Dottoressa Maria Letizia Sebastiani, Dottoressa Franca Porticelli, and Dottore Angelo Giaccaria at the Biblioteca Nazionale Universitaria in Turin, Dotoressa Liddia Giaccaria at the Biblioteca Reale in Turin, M. Pierre Guinard at the Bibliothèque Municipale in Lyon, Mme Michèle Prévost at the Bibliothèque de Tours, Mme Emmanuelle Toulet and M. Jean-Jacques Cottin at the Bibliothèque de l’Institut in Chantilly, the librarians at the Bibliothèque Nationale, Cabinet des Estampes, Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal, and Bibliothèque de l’Histoire du Protestantisme in Paris, and Mmes Hélène Loyau et Marie-Elisabeth Boutroue at the Institut National de l’Histoire du Texte in Paris for precious help and well-remembered kindness,


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Acknowledgments and for the repeated, biblical miracle of extending the manuscript reading room hours past their natural end. Eliane Viennot, Jean Céard, Ann Moss, Wendy Fisher, Charles Ross, Chloé Hogg, George Satterfield, and Simone Dubrovic sent precious references and gave erudite answers to my questions. I also want to thank Laurie Finke, Martin Shichtman, Sanda Golopentia, Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, William Paden, and my colleagues at Miami University for their friendship and support. Special thanks go to my daughters, Katherine and Helen, whose charm and beauty give meaning to my life. And I thank my friends and family, Jim Creech, Elisabeth Hodges, Clara Román-Odio and Mauricio Odio, Bryan Reynolds, Judith Zinsser, Claire Goldstein and Sven-Erik Rose, Amy Bogard, Yvonne Parker, Laura Colella, Chloé Hogg and Madelyn Detloff, Katie Johnson and Tim Melley, Michelle Warren, Jean Blacker, Przemek Kłosowski, Hania and Marcin Lenart, Iwona and Jan Wałeccy, Leonia and Andrzej Klosowscy, Maria Kłosowska and Zofia Kłosowska-Wolkowicz, Nathalie Juffet, Sabrina Bertocchi, and Stéphanie Degonde. Thanks to them, life is joy and writing is an adventure. This book is dedicated to the beloved memory of Jai Roberts Williams, silversmith and little sister, and of her children, Jessica Rose (2000–2003) and Little Jim (2002–2003), and to her family, Jim Williams, Carson Roberts, Muriel and Don Roberts, Cam Roberts, Posy and Bill Walton, and Matey Rice, who loved them well. In the words of the man who collected l’Aubespine’s poems: “Though her soul has left us for the sky, she remains here still, in her works that resemble her down to the smallest details: the delightful remembrances of her uncommon mind.” Anna Kłosowska

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THE OTHER VOICE IN E A R LY M O D E R N E U R O P E : INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES Margaret L. King and Albert Rabil Jr.

THE OLD VOICE AND THE OTHER VOICE

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n western Europe and the United States, women are nearing equality in the professions, in business, and in politics. Most enjoy access to education, reproductive rights, and autonomy in financial affairs. Issues vital to women are on the public agenda: equal pay, child care, domestic abuse, breast cancer research, and curricular revision with an eye to the inclusion of women. These recent achievements have their origins in things women (and some male supporters) said for the first time about six hundred years ago. Theirs is the “other voice,” in contradistinction to the “first voice,” the voice of the educated men who created Western culture. Coincident with a general reshaping of European culture in the period 1300–1700 (called the Renaissance or early modern period), questions of female equality and opportunity were raised that still resound and are still unresolved. The other voice emerged against the backdrop of a three-thousandyear history of the derogation of women rooted in the civilizations related to Western culture: Hebrew, Greek, Román, and Christian. Negative attitudes toward women inherited from these traditions pervaded the intellectual, medical, legal, religious, and social systems that developed during the European Middle Ages. The following pages describe the traditional, overwhelmingly male views of women’s nature inherited by early modern Europeans and the new tradition that the “other voice” called into being to begin to challenge reigning assumptions. This review should serve as a framework for understanding the texts published in the series The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Introductions specific to each text and author follow this essay in all the volumes of the series.

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Series Editors’ Introduction TRADITIONAL VIEWS OF WOMEN, 500 B.C.E.–1500 C.E.

Embedded in the philosophical and medical theories of the ancient Greeks were perceptions of the female as inferior to the male in both mind and body. Similarly, the structure of civil legislation inherited from the ancient Romans was biased against women, and the views on women developed by Christian thinkers out of the Hebrew Bible and the Christian New Testament were negative and disabling. Literary works composed in the vernacular of ordinary people, and widely recited or read, conveyed these negative assumptions. The social networks within which most women lived—those of the family and the institutions of the Roman Catholic Church—were shaped by this negative tradition and sharply limited the areas in which women might act in and upon the world. GRE E K P HIL O S O P HY AND F EMALE NATUR E. Greek biology assumed that women were inferior to men and defined them as merely childbearers and housekeepers. This view was authoritatively expressed in the works of the philosopher Aristotle. Aristotle thought in dualities. He considered action superior to inaction, form (the inner design or structure of any object) superior to matter, completion to incompletion, possession to deprivation. In each of these dualities, he associated the male principle with the superior quality and the female with the inferior. “The male principle in nature,” he argued, “is associated with active, formative and perfected characteristics, while the female is passive, material and deprived, desiring the male in order to become complete.”1 Men are always identified with virile qualities, such as judgment, courage, and stamina, and women with their opposites—irrationality, cowardice, and weakness. The masculine principle was considered superior even in the womb. The man’s semen, Aristotle believed, created the form of a new human creature, while the female body contributed only matter. (The existence of the ovum, and with it the other facts of human embryology, was not established until the seventeenth century.) Although the later Greek physician Galen believed there was a female component in generation, contributed by “female semen,” the followers of both Aristotle and Galen saw the male role in human generation as more active and more important. In the Aristotelian view, the male principle sought always to reproduce

1. Aristotle, Physics 1.9.192a20–24, in The Complete Works of Aristotle, ed. Jonathan Barnes, rev. Oxford trans., 2 vols. (Princeton, 1984), 1:328.

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itself. The creation of a female was always a mistake, therefore, resulting from an imperfect act of generation. Every female born was considered a “defective” or “mutilated” male (as Aristotle’s terminology has variously been translated), a “monstrosity” of nature.2 For Greek theorists, the biology of males and females was the key to their psychology. The female was softer and more docile, more apt to be despondent, querulous, and deceitful. Being incomplete, moreover, she craved sexual fulfillment in intercourse with a male. The male was intellectual, active, and in control of his passions. These psychological polarities derived from the theory that the universe consisted of four elements (earth, fire, air, and water), expressed in human bodies as four “humors” (black bile, yellow bile, blood, and phlegm) considered, respectively, dry, hot, damp, and cold and corresponding to mental states (“melancholic,” “choleric,” “sanguine,” “phlegmatic”). In this scheme the male, sharing the principles of earth and fire, was dry and hot; the female, sharing the principles of air and water, was cold and damp. Female psychology was further affected by her dominant organ, the uterus (womb), hystera in Greek. The passions generated by the womb made women lustful, deceitful, talkative, irrational, indeed—when these affects were in excess—“hysterical.” Aristotle’s biology also had social and political consequences. If the male principle was superior and the female inferior, then in the household, as in the state, men should rule and women must be subordinate. That hierarchy did not rule out the companionship of husband and wife, whose cooperation was necessary for the welfare of children and the preservation of property. Such mutuality supported male preeminence. Aristotle’s teacher Plato suggested a different possibility: that men and women might possess the same virtues. The setting for this proposal is the imaginary and ideal Republic that Plato sketches in a dialogue of that name. Here, for a privileged elite capable of leading wisely, all distinctions of class and wealth dissolve, as, consequently, do those of gender. Without households or property, as Plato constructs his ideal society, there is no need for the subordination of women. Women may therefore be educated to the same level as men to assume leadership. Plato’s Republic remained imaginary, however. In real societies, the subordination of women remained the norm and the prescription. The views of women inherited from the Greek philosophical tradition became the basis for medieval thought. In the thirteenth century, 2. Aristotle, Generation of Animals 2.3.737a27–28, in The Complete Works, 1: 1144.

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the supreme Scholastic philosopher Thomas Aquinas, among others, still echoed Aristotle’s views of human reproduction, of male and female personalities, and of the preeminent male role in the social hierarchy. ROM AN L AW AN D TH E F EMALE C O ND ITIO N. Roman law, like Greek philosophy, underlay medieval thought and shaped medieval society. The ancient belief that adult property-owning men should administer households and make decisions affecting the community at large is the very fulcrum of Roman law. About 450 B.C.E., during Rome’s republican era, the community’s customary law was recorded (legendarily) on twelve tablets erected in the city’s central forum. It was later elaborated by professional jurists whose activity increased in the imperial era, when much new legislation was passed, especially on issues affecting family and inheritance. This growing, changing body of laws was eventually codified in the Corpus of Civil Law under the direction of the emperor Justinian, generations after the empire ceased to be ruled from Rome. That Corpus, read and commented on by medieval scholars from the eleventh century on, inspired the legal systems of most of the cities and kingdoms of Europe. Laws regarding dowries, divorce, and inheritance pertain primarily to women. Since those laws aimed to maintain and preserve property, the women concerned were those from the property-owning minority. Their subordination to male family members points to the even greater subordination of lower-class and slave women, about whom the laws speak little. In the early republic, the paterfamilias, or “father of the family,” possessed patria potestas, “paternal power.” The term pater, “father,” in both these cases does not necessarily mean biological father but denotes the head of a household. The father was the person who owned the household’s property and, indeed, its human members. The paterfamilias had absolute power—including the power, rarely exercised, of life or death—over his wife, his children, and his slaves, as much as his cattle. Male children could be “emancipated,” an act that granted legal autonomy and the right to own property. Those over fourteen could be emancipated by a special grant from the father or automatically by their father’s death. But females could never be emancipated; instead, they passed from the authority of their father to that of a husband or, if widowed or orphaned while still unmarried, to a guardian or tutor. Marriage in its traditional form placed the woman under her husband’s authority, or manus. He could divorce her on grounds of adultery, drinking wine, or stealing from the household, but she could not divorce him. She could neither possess property in her own right nor bequeath any to her

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children upon her death. When her husband died, the household property passed not to her but to his male heirs. And when her father died, she had no claim to any family inheritance, which was directed to her brothers or more remote male relatives. The effect of these laws was to exclude women from civil society, itself based on property ownership. In the later republican and imperial periods, these rules were significantly modified. Women rarely married according to the traditional form. The practice of “free” marriage allowed a woman to remain under her father’s authority, to possess property given her by her father (most frequently the “dowry,” recoverable from the husband’s household on his death), and to inherit from her father. She could also bequeath property to her own children and divorce her husband, just as he could divorce her. Despite this greater freedom, women still suffered enormous disability under Roman law. Heirs could belong only to the father’s side, never the mother’s. Moreover, although she could bequeath her property to her children, she could not establish a line of succession in doing so. A woman was “the beginning and end of her own family,” said the jurist Ulpian. Moreover, women could play no public role. They could not hold public office, represent anyone in a legal case, or even witness a will. Women had only a private existence and no public personality. The dowry system, the guardian, women’s limited ability to transmit wealth, and total political disability are all features of Roman law adopted by the medieval communities of western Europe, although modified according to local customary laws. CHRIS TIAN D O CTR IN E AND WO MEN’ S PLAC E. The Hebrew Bible and the Christian New Testament authorized later writers to limit women to the realm of the family and to burden them with the guilt of original sin. The passages most fruitful for this purpose were the creation narratives in Genesis and sentences from the Epistles defining women’s role within the Christian family and community. Each of the first two chapters of Genesis contains a creation narrative. In the first “God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them” (Gn 1:27). In the second, God created Eve from Adam’s rib (2:21–23). Christian theologians relied principally on Genesis 2 for their understanding of the relation between man and woman, interpreting the creation of Eve from Adam as proof of her subordination to him. The creation story in Genesis 2 leads to that of the temptations in Genesis 3: of Eve by the wily serpent and of Adam by Eve. As read by Christian theologians from Tertullian to Thomas Aquinas, the narrative made Eve

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responsible for the Fall and its consequences. She instigated the act; she deceived her husband; she suffered the greater punishment. Her disobedience made it necessary for Jesus to be incarnated and to die on the cross. From the pulpit, moralists and preachers for centuries conveyed to women the guilt that they bore for original sin. The Epistles offered advice to early Christians on building communities of the faithful. Among the matters to be regulated was the place of women. Paul offered views favorable to women in Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Paul also referred to women as his coworkers and placed them on a par with himself and his male coworkers (Phlm 4:2–3; Rom 16:1–3; 1 Cor 16:19). Elsewhere, Paul limited women’s possibilities: “But I want you to understand that the head of every man is Christ, the head of a woman is her husband, and the head of Christ is God” (1 Cor 11:3). Biblical passages by later writers (although attributed to Paul) enjoined women to forgo jewels, expensive clothes, and elaborate coiffures; and they forbade women to “teach or have authority over men,” telling them to “learn in silence with all submissiveness” as is proper for one responsible for sin, consoling them, however, with the thought that they will be saved through childbearing (1 Tm 2:9–15). Other texts among the later Epistles defined women as the weaker sex and emphasized their subordination to their husbands (1 Pt 3:7; Col 3:18; Eph 5:22–23). These passages from the New Testament became the arsenal employed by theologians of the early church to transmit negative attitudes toward women to medieval Christian culture—above all, Tertullian (On the Apparel of Women), Jerome (Against Jovinian), and Augustine (The Literal Meaning of Genesis). THE IM AGE O F WO MEN IN MED IEVAL LITER AT UR E . The philosophical, legal, and religious traditions born in antiquity formed the basis of the medieval intellectual synthesis wrought by trained thinkers, mostly clerics, writing in Latin and based largely in universities. The vernacular literary tradition that developed alongside the learned tradition also spoke about female nature and women’s roles. Medieval stories, poems, and epics also portrayed women negatively—as lustful and deceitful—while praising good housekeepers and loyal wives as replicas of the Virgin Mary or the female saints and martyrs. There is an exception in the movement of “courtly love” that evolved in southern France from the twelfth century. Courtly love was the erotic love between a nobleman and noblewoman, the latter usually superior in social

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rank. It was always adulterous. From the conventions of courtly love derive modern Western notions of romantic love. The tradition has had an impact disproportionate to its size, for it affected only a tiny elite, and very few women. The exaltation of the female lover probably does not reflect a higher evaluation of women or a step toward their sexual liberation. More likely it gives expression to the social and sexual tensions besetting the knightly class at a specific historical juncture. The literary fashion of courtly love was on the wane by the thirteenth century, when the widely read Romance of the Rose was composed in French by two authors of significantly different dispositions. Guillaume de Lorris composed the initial four thousand verses about 1235, and Jean de Meun added about seventeen thousand verses—more than four times the original—about 1265. The fragment composed by Guillaume de Lorris stands squarely in the tradition of courtly love. Here the poet, in a dream, is admitted into a walled garden where he finds a magic fountain in which a rosebush is reflected. He longs to pick one rose, but the thorns prevent his doing so, even as he is wounded by arrows from the god of love, whose commands he agrees to obey. The rest of this part of the poem recounts the poet’s unsuccessful efforts to pluck the rose. The longer part of the Romance by Jean de Meun also describes a dream. But here allegorical characters give long didactic speeches, providing a social satire on a variety of themes, some pertaining to women. Love is an anxious and tormented state, the poem explains: women are greedy and manipulative, marriage is miserable, beautiful women are lustful, ugly ones cease to please, and a chaste woman is as rare as a black swan. Shortly after Jean de Meun completed The Romance of the Rose, Mathéolus penned his Lamentations, a long Latin diatribe against marriage translated into French about a century later. The Lamentations sum up medieval attitudes toward women and provoked the important response by Christine de Pizan in her Book of the City of Ladies. In 1355, Giovanni Boccaccio wrote Il Corbaccio, another antifeminist manifesto, although ironically by an author whose other works pioneered new directions in Renaissance thought. The former husband of his lover appears to Boccaccio, condemning his unmoderated lust and detailing the defects of women. Boccaccio concedes at the end “how much men naturally surpass women in nobility” and is cured of his desires.3 3. Giovanni Boccaccio, The Corbaccio, or The Labyrinth of Love, trans. and ed. Anthony K. Cassell, rev. ed. (Binghamton, N.Y., 1993), 71.

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Series Editors’ Introduction WOM E N ’S R O L E S : TH E FAMILY. The negative perceptions of women expressed in the intellectual tradition are also implicit in the actual roles that women played in European society. Assigned to subordinate positions in the household and the church, they were barred from significant participation in public life. Medieval European households, like those in antiquity and in nonWestern civilizations, were headed by males. It was the male serf (or peasant), feudal lord, town merchant, or citizen who was polled or taxed or succeeded to an inheritance or had any acknowledged public role, although his wife or widow could stand as a temporary surrogate. From about 1100, the position of property-holding males was further enhanced: inheritance was confined to the male, or agnate, line—with depressing consequences for women. A wife never fully belonged to her husband’s family, nor was she a daughter to her father’s family. She left her father’s house young to marry whomever her parents chose. Her dowry was managed by her husband, and at her death it normally passed to her children by him. A married woman’s life was occupied nearly constantly with cycles of pregnancy, childbearing, and lactation. Women bore children through all the years of their fertility, and many died in childbirth. They were also responsible for raising young children up to six or seven. In the propertied classes that responsibility was shared, since it was common for a wet nurse to take over breast-feeding and for servants to perform other chores. Women trained their daughters in the household duties appropriate to their status, nearly always tasks associated with textiles: spinning, weaving, sewing, embroidering. Their sons were sent out of the house as apprentices or students, or their training was assumed by fathers in later childhood and adolescence. On the death of her husband, a woman’s children became the responsibility of his family. She generally did not take “his” children with her to a new marriage or back to her father’s house, except sometimes in the artisan classes. Women also worked. Rural peasants performed farm chores, merchant wives often practiced their husbands’ trades, the unmarried daughters of the urban poor worked as servants or prostitutes. All wives produced or embellished textiles and did the housekeeping, while wealthy ones managed servants. These labors were unpaid or poorly paid but often contributed substantially to family wealth. WOM E N ’S R O L E S : TH E C H UR C H . Membership in a household, whether a father’s or a husband’s, meant for women a lifelong subordination to oth-

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ers. In western Europe, the Roman Catholic Church offered an alternative to the career of wife and mother. A woman could enter a convent, parallel in function to the monasteries for men that evolved in the early Christian centuries. In the convent, a woman pledged herself to a celibate life, lived according to strict community rules, and worshiped daily. Often the convent offered training in Latin, allowing some women to become considerable scholars and authors as well as scribes, artists, and musicians. For women who chose the conventual life, the benefits could be enormous, but for numerous others placed in convents by paternal choice, the life could be restrictive and burdensome. The conventual life declined as an alternative for women as the modern age approached. Reformed monastic institutions resisted responsibility for related female orders. The church increasingly restricted female institutional life by insisting on closer male supervision. Women often sought other options. Some joined the communities of laywomen that sprang up spontaneously in the thirteenth century in the urban zones of western Europe, especially in Flanders and Italy. Some joined the heretical movements that flourished in late medieval Christendom, whose anticlerical and often antifamily positions particularly appealed to women. In these communities, some women were acclaimed as “holy women” or “saints,” whereas others often were condemned as frauds or heretics. In all, although the options offered to women by the church were sometimes less than satisfactory, they were sometimes richly rewarding. After 1520, the convent remained an option only in Roman Catholic territories. Protestantism engendered an ideal of marriage as a heroic endeavor and appeared to place husband and wife on a more equal footing. Sermons and treatises, however, still called for female subordination and obedience.

THE OTHER VOICE, 1300–1700

When the modern era opened, European culture was so firmly structured by a framework of negative attitudes toward women that to dismantle it was a monumental labor. The process began as part of a larger cultural movement that entailed the critical reexamination of ideas inherited from the ancient and medieval past. The humanists launched that critical reexamination. THE HU M AN IS T FO U N D ATIO N. Originating in Italy in the fourteenth century, humanism quickly became the dominant intellectual movement in

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Series Editors’ Introduction Europe. Spreading in the sixteenth century from Italy to the rest of Europe, it fueled the literary, scientific, and philosophical movements of the era and laid the basis for the eighteenth-century Enlightenment. Humanists regarded the Scholastic philosophy of medieval universities as out of touch with the realities of urban life. They found in the rhetorical discourse of classical Rome a language adapted to civic life and public speech. They learned to read, speak, and write classical Latin and, eventually, classical Greek. They founded schools to teach others to do so, establishing the pattern for elementary and secondary education for the next three hundred years. In the service of complex government bureaucracies, humanists employed their skills to write eloquent letters, deliver public orations, and formulate public policy. They developed new scripts for copying manuscripts and used the new printing press to disseminate texts, for which they created methods of critical editing. Humanism was a movement led by males who accepted the evaluation of women in ancient texts and generally shared the misogynist perceptions of their culture. (Female humanists, as we will see, did not.) Yet humanism also opened the door to a reevaluation of the nature and capacity of women. By calling authors, texts, and ideas into question, it made possible the fundamental rereading of the whole intellectual tradition that was required in order to free women from cultural prejudice and social subordination.

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A DIFFE RE N T CITY. The other voice first appeared when, after so many centuries, the accumulation of misogynist concepts evoked a response from a capable female defender: Christine de Pizan (1365–1431). Introducing her Book of the City of Ladies (1405), she described how she was affected by reading Mathéolus’s Lamentations: “Just the sight of this book . . . made me wonder how it happened that so many different men . . . are so inclined to express both in speaking and in their treatises and writings so many wicked insults about women and their behavior.”4 These statements impelled her to detest herself “and the entire feminine sex, as though we were monstrosities in nature.”5 The rest of The Book of the City of Ladies presents a justification of the female sex and a vision of an ideal community of women. A pioneer, she has received

4. Christine de Pizan, The Book of the City of Ladies, trans. Earl Jeffrey Richards, foreword by Marina Warner (New York, 1982), 1.1.1, pp. 3–4. 5. Ibid., 1.1.1–2, p. 5.


the message of female inferiority and rejected it. From the fourteenth to the seventeenth century, a huge body of literature accumulated that responded to the dominant tradition. The result was a literary explosion consisting of works by both men and women, in Latin and in the vernaculars: works enumerating the achievements of notable women; works rebutting the main accusations made against women; works arguing for the equal education of men and women; works defining and redefining women’s proper role in the family, at court, in public; works describing women’s lives and experiences. Recent monographs and articles have begun to hint at the great range of this movement, involving probably several thousand titles. The protofeminism of these “other voices” constitutes a significant fraction of the literary product of the early modern era. About 1365, the same Boccaccio whose Corbaccio rehearses the usual charges against female nature wrote another work, Concerning Famous Women. A humanist treatise drawing on classical texts, it praised 106 notable women: ninety-eight of them from pagan Greek and Roman antiquity, one (Eve) from the Bible, and seven from the medieval religious and cultural tradition; his book helped make all readers aware of a sex normally condemned or forgotten. Boccaccio’s outlook nevertheless was unfriendly to women, for it singled out for praise those women who possessed the traditional virtues of chastity, silence, and obedience. Women who were active in the public realm—for example, rulers and warriors—were depicted as usually being lascivious and as suffering terrible punishments for entering the masculine sphere. Women were his subject, but Boccaccio’s standard remained male. Christine de Pizan’s Book of the City of Ladies contains a second catalog, one responding specifically to Boccaccio’s. Whereas Boccaccio portrays female virtue as exceptional, she depicts it as universal. Many women in history were leaders, or remained chaste despite the lascivious approaches of men, or were visionaries and brave martyrs. The work of Boccaccio inspired a series of catalogs of illustrious women of the biblical, classical, Christian, and local pasts, among them Filippo da Bergamo’s Of Illustrious Women, Pierre de Brantôme’s Lives of Illustrious Women, Pierre Le Moyne’s Gallerie of Heroic Women, and Pietro Paolo de Ribera’s Immortal Triumphs and Heroic Enterprises of 845 Women. Whatever their embedded prejudices, these works drove home to the public the possibility of female excellence.

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THE CATAL O G S .


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Series Editors’ Introduction THE DE B ATE . At the same time, many questions remained: Could a woman be virtuous? Could she perform noteworthy deeds? Was she even, strictly speaking, of the same human species as men? These questions were debated over four centuries, in French, German, Italian, Spanish, and English, by authors male and female, among Catholics, Protestants, and Jews, in ponderous volumes and breezy pamphlets. The whole literary genre has been called the querelle des femmes, the “woman question.” The opening volley of this battle occurred in the first years of the fifteenth century, in a literary debate sparked by Christine de Pizan. She exchanged letters critical of Jean de Meun’s contribution to The Romance of the Rose with two French royal secretaries, Jean de Montreuil and Gontier Col. When the matter became public, Jean Gerson, one of Europe’s leading theologians, supported de Pizan’s arguments against de Meun, for the moment silencing the opposition. The debate resurfaced repeatedly over the next two hundred years. The Triumph of Women (1438) by Juan Rodríguez de la Camara (or Juan Rodríguez del Padron) struck a new note by presenting arguments for the superiority of women to men. The Champion of Women (1440–42) by Martin Le Franc addresses once again the negative views of women presented in The Romance of the Rose and offers counterevidence of female virtue and achievement. A cameo of the debate on women is included in The Courtier, one of the most widely read books of the era, published by the Italian Baldassare Castiglione in 1528 and immediately translated into other European vernaculars. The Courtier depicts a series of evenings at the court of the duke of Urbino in which many men and some women of the highest social stratum amuse themselves by discussing a range of literary and social issues. The “woman question” is a pervasive theme throughout, and the third of its four books is devoted entirely to that issue. In a verbal duel, Gasparo Pallavicino and Giuliano de’ Medici present the main claims of the two traditions. Gasparo argues the innate inferiority of women and their inclination to vice. Only in bearing children do they profit the world. Giuliano counters that women share the same spiritual and mental capacities as men and may excel in wisdom and action. Men and women are of the same essence: just as no stone can be more perfectly a stone than another, so no human being can be more perfectly human than others, whether male or female. It was an astonishing assertion, boldly made to an audience as large as all Europe. THE TRE ATIS E S . Humanism provided the materials for a positive counterconcept to the misogyny embedded in Scholastic philosophy and law and

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inherited from the Greek, Roman, and Christian pasts. A series of humanist treatises on marriage and family, on education and deportment, and on the nature of women helped construct these new perspectives. The works by Francesco Barbaro and Leon Battista Alberti—On Marriage (1415) and On the Family (1434–37)—far from defending female equality, reasserted women’s responsibility for rearing children and managing the housekeeping while being obedient, chaste, and silent. Nevertheless, they served the cause of reexamining the issue of women’s nature by placing domestic issues at the center of scholarly concern and reopening the pertinent classical texts. In addition, Barbaro emphasized the companionate nature of marriage and the importance of a wife’s spiritual and mental qualities for the well-being of the family. These themes reappear in later humanist works on marriage and the education of women by Juan Luis Vives and Erasmus. Both were moderately sympathetic to the condition of women without reaching beyond the usual masculine prescriptions for female behavior. An outlook more favorable to women characterizes the nearly unknown work In Praise of Women (ca. 1487) by the Italian humanist Bartolommeo Goggio. In addition to providing a catalog of illustrious women, Goggio argued that male and female are the same in essence, but that women (reworking the Adam and Eve narrative from quite a new angle) are actually superior. In the same vein, the Italian humanist Mario Equicola asserted the spiritual equality of men and women in On Women (1501). In 1525, Galeazzo Flavio Capra (or Capella) published his work On the Excellence and Dignity of Women. This humanist tradition of treatises defending the worthiness of women culminates in the work of Henricus Cornelius Agrippa On the Nobility and Preeminence of the Female Sex. No work by a male humanist more succinctly or explicitly presents the case for female dignity. THE WITCH B O O K S . While humanists grappled with the issues pertaining to women and family, other learned men turned their attention to what they perceived as a very great problem: witches. Witch-hunting manuals, explorations of the witch phenomenon, and even defenses of witches are not at first glance pertinent to the tradition of the other voice. But they do relate in this way: most accused witches were women. The hostility aroused by supposed witch activity is comparable to the hostility aroused by women. The evil deeds the victims of the hunt were charged with were exaggerations of the vices to which, many believed, all women were prone. The connection between the witch accusation and the hatred of women is explicit in the notorious witch-hunting manual The Hammer of Witches (1486)

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Series Editors’ Introduction by two Dominican inquisitors, Heinrich Krämer and Jacob Sprenger. Here the inconstancy, deceitfulness, and lustfulness traditionally associated with women are depicted in exaggerated form as the core features of witch behavior. These traits inclined women to make a bargain with the devil—sealed by sexual intercourse—by which they acquired unholy powers. Such bizarre claims, far from being rejected by rational men, were broadcast by intellectuals. The German Ulrich Molitur, the Frenchman Nicolas Rémy, and the Italian Stefano Guazzo all coolly informed the public of sinister orgies and midnight pacts with the devil. The celebrated French jurist, historian, and political philosopher Jean Bodin argued that because women were especially prone to diabolism, regular legal procedures could properly be suspended in order to try those accused of this “exceptional crime.” A few experts such as the physician Johann Weyer, a student of Agrippa’s, raised their voices in protest. In 1563, he explained the witch phenomenon thus, without discarding belief in diabolism: the devil deluded foolish old women afflicted by melancholia, causing them to believe they had magical powers. Weyer’s rational skepticism, which had good credibility in the community of the learned, worked to revise the conventional views of women and witchcraft. WOM E N ’S WO R K S . To the many categories of works produced on the question of women’s worth must be added nearly all works written by women. A woman writing was in herself a statement of women’s claim to dignity. Only a few women wrote anything before the dawn of the modern era, for three reasons. First, they rarely received the education that would enable them to write. Second, they were not admitted to the public roles—as administrator, bureaucrat, lawyer or notary, or university professor—in which they might gain knowledge of the kinds of things the literate public thought worth writing about. Third, the culture imposed silence on women, considering speaking out a form of unchastity. Given these conditions, it is remarkable that any women wrote. Those who did before the fourteenth century were almost always nuns or religious women whose isolation made their pronouncements more acceptable. From the fourteenth century on, the volume of women’s writings rose. Women continued to write devotional literature, although not always as cloistered nuns. They also wrote diaries, often intended as keepsakes for their children; books of advice to their sons and daughters; letters to family members and friends; and family memoirs, in a few cases elaborate enough to be considered histories.

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A few women wrote works directly concerning the “woman question,” and some of these, such as the humanists Isotta Nogarola, Cassandra Fedele, Laura Cereta, and Olympia Morata, were highly trained. A few were professional writers, living by the income of their pens; the very first among them was Christine de Pizan, noteworthy in this context as in so many others. In addition to The Book of the City of Ladies and her critiques of The Romance of the Rose, she wrote The Treasure of the City of Ladies (a guide to social decorum for women), an advice book for her son, much courtly verse, and a full-scale history of the reign of King Charles V of France. Women who did not themselves write but encouraged others to do so boosted the development of an alternative tradition. Highly placed women patrons supported authors, artists, musicians, poets, and learned men. Such patrons, drawn mostly from the Italian elites and the courts of northern Europe, figure disproportionately as the dedicatees of the important works of early feminism. For a start, it might be noted that the catalogs of Boccaccio and Alvaro de Luna were dedicated to the Florentine noblewoman Andrea Acciaiuoli and to Doña María, first wife of King Juan II of Castile, while the French translation of Boccaccio’s work was commissioned by Anne of Brittany, wife of King Charles VIII of France. The humanist treatises of Goggio, Equicola, Vives, and Agrippa were dedicated, respectively, to Eleanora of Aragon, wife of Ercole I d’Este, duke of Ferrara; to Margherita Cantelma of Mantua; to Catherine of Aragon, wife of King Henry VIII of England; and to Margaret, Duchess of Austria and regent of the Netherlands. As late as 1696, Mary Astell’s Serious Proposal to the Ladies, for the Advancement of Their True and Greatest Interest was dedicated to Princess Anne of Denmark. These authors presumed that their efforts would be welcome to female patrons, or they may have written at the bidding of those patrons. Silent themselves, perhaps even unresponsive, these loftily placed women helped shape the tradition of the other voice. WOM E N PATR O N S .

THE IS S U E S . The literary forms and patterns in which the tradition of the other voice presented itself have now been sketched. It remains to highlight the major issues around which this tradition crystallizes. In brief, there are four problems to which our authors return again and again, in plays and catalogs, in verse and letters, in treatises and dialogues, in every language: the problem of chastity, the problem of power, the problem of speech, and the problem of knowledge. Of these the greatest, preconditioning the others, is the problem of chastity.

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Series Editors’ Introduction THE P R O B L E M O F C H AS T IT Y. In traditional European culture, as in those of antiquity and others around the globe, chastity was perceived as woman’s quintessential virtue—in contrast to courage, or generosity, or leadership, or rationality, seen as virtues characteristic of men. Opponents of women charged them with insatiable lust. Women themselves and their defenders— without disputing the validity of the standard—responded that women were capable of chastity. The requirement of chastity kept women at home, silenced them, isolated them, left them in ignorance. It was the source of all other impediments. Why was it so important to the society of men, of whom chastity was not required, and who more often than not considered it their right to violate the chastity of any woman they encountered? Female chastity ensured the continuity of the male-headed household. If a man’s wife was not chaste, he could not be sure of the legitimacy of his offspring. If they were not his and they acquired his property, it was not his household, but some other man’s, that had endured. If his daughter was not chaste, she could not be transferred to another man’s household as his wife, and he was dishonored. The whole system of the integrity of the household and the transmission of property was bound up in female chastity. Such a requirement pertained only to property-owning classes, of course. Poor women could not expect to maintain their chastity, least of all if they were in contact with high-status men to whom all women but those of their own household were prey. In Catholic Europe, the requirement of chastity was further buttressed by moral and religious imperatives. Original sin was inextricably linked with the sexual act. Virginity was seen as heroic virtue, far more impressive than, say, the avoidance of idleness or greed. Monasticism, the cultural institution that dominated medieval Europe for centuries, was grounded in the renunciation of the flesh. The Catholic reform of the eleventh century imposed a similar standard on all the clergy and a heightened awareness of sexual requirements on all the laity. Although men were asked to be chaste, female unchastity was much worse: it led to the devil, as Eve had led mankind to sin. To such requirements, women and their defenders protested their innocence. Furthermore, following the example of holy women who had escaped the requirements of family and sought the religious life, some women began to conceive of female communities as alternatives both to family and to the cloister. Christine de Pizan’s city of ladies was such a community. Moderata Fonte and Mary Astell envisioned others. The luxurious salons of the French précieuses of the seventeenth century, or the comfortable English drawing rooms of the next, may have been born of the same impulse. Here

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women not only might escape, if briefly, the subordinate position that life in the family entailed but might also make claims to power, exercise their capacity for speech, and display their knowledge. THE P R O B L EM O F P O WE R. Women were excluded from power: the whole cultural tradition insisted on it. Only men were citizens, only men bore arms, only men could be chiefs or lords or kings. There were exceptions that did not disprove the rule, when wives or widows or mothers took the place of men, awaiting their return or the maturation of a male heir. A woman who attempted to rule in her own right was perceived as an anomaly, a monster, at once a deformed woman and an insufficient male, sexually confused and consequently unsafe. The association of such images with women who held or sought power explains some otherwise odd features of early modern culture. Queen Elizabeth I of England, one of the few women to hold full regal authority in European history, played with such male/female images—positive ones, of course—in representing herself to her subjects. She was a prince, and manly, even though she was female. She was also (she claimed) virginal, a condition absolutely essential if she was to avoid the attacks of her opponents. Catherine de’ Medici, who ruled France as widow and regent for her sons, also adopted such imagery in defining her position. She chose as one symbol the figure of Artemisia, an androgynous ancient warrior-heroine who combined a female persona with masculine powers. Power in a woman, without such sexual imagery, seems to have been indigestible by the culture. A rare note was struck by the Englishman Sir Thomas Elyot in his Defence of Good Women (1540), justifying both women’s participation in civic life and their prowess in arms. The old tune was sung by the Scots reformer John Knox in his First Blast of the Trumpet against the Monstrous Regiment of Women (1558); for him rule by women, defects in nature, was a hideous contradiction in terms. The confused sexuality of the imagery of female potency was not reserved for rulers. Any woman who excelled was likely to be called an Amazon, recalling the self-mutilated warrior women of antiquity who repudiated all men, gave up their sons, and raised only their daughters. She was often said to have “exceeded her sex” or to have possessed “masculine virtue”—as the very fact of conspicuous excellence conferred masculinity even on the female subject. The catalogs of notable women often showed those female heroes dressed in armor, armed to the teeth, like men. Amazonian heroines romp through the epics of the age—Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso (1532) and Spenser’s Faerie Queene (1590–1609). Excellence in a woman was perceived as a claim for power, and power was reserved for the masculine realm. A

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Series Editors’ Introduction woman who possessed either one was masculinized and lost title to her own female identity. THE P R O B L E M O F S P E E C H . Just as power had a sexual dimension when it was claimed by women, so did speech. A good woman spoke little. Excessive speech was an indication of unchastity. By speech, women seduced men. Eve had lured Adam into sin by her speech. Accused witches were commonly accused of having spoken abusively, or irrationally, or simply too much. As enlightened a figure as Francesco Barbaro insisted on silence in a woman, which he linked to her perfect unanimity with her husband’s will and her unblemished virtue (her chastity). Another Italian humanist, Leonardo Bruni, in advising a noblewoman on her studies, barred her not from speech but from public speaking. That was reserved for men. Related to the problem of speech was that of costume—another, if silent, form of self-expression. Assigned the task of pleasing men as their primary occupation, elite women often tended toward elaborate costume, hairdressing, and the use of cosmetics. Clergy and secular moralists alike condemned these practices. The appropriate function of costume and adornment was to announce the status of a woman’s husband or father. Any further indulgence in adornment was akin to unchastity. THE P R O B L E M O F K N O W LE DGE . When the Italian noblewoman Isotta Nogarola had begun to attain a reputation as a humanist, she was accused of incest—a telling instance of the association of learning in women with unchastity. That chilling association inclined any woman who was educated to deny that she was or to make exaggerated claims of heroic chastity. If educated women were pursued with suspicions of sexual misconduct, women seeking an education faced an even more daunting obstacle: the assumption that women were by nature incapable of learning, that reasoning was a particularly masculine ability. Just as they proclaimed their chastity, women and their defenders insisted on their capacity for learning. The major work by a male writer on female education—that by Juan Luis Vives, On the Education of a Christian Woman (1523)—granted female capacity for intellection but still argued that a woman’s whole education was to be shaped around the requirement of chastity and a future within the household. Female writers of the following generations—Marie de Gournay in France, Anna Maria van Schurman in Holland, and Mary Astell in England—began to envision other possibilities. The pioneers of female education were the Italian women humanists who managed to attain a literacy in Latin and a knowledge of classical and Christian literature equivalent to that of prominent men. Their works implicitly and explicitly raise questions about women’s social roles, defining prob-

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lems that beset women attempting to break out of the cultural limits that had bound them. Like Christine de Pizan, who achieved an advanced education through her father’s tutoring and her own devices, their bold questioning makes clear the importance of training. Only when women were educated to the same standard as male leaders would they be able to raise that other voice and insist on their dignity as human beings morally, intellectually, and legally equal to men. The other voice, a voice of protest, was mostly female, but it was also male. It spoke in the vernaculars and in Latin, in treatises and dialogues, in plays and poetry, in letters and diaries, and in pamphlets. It battered at the wall of prejudice that encircled women and raised a banner announcing its claims. The female was equal (or even superior) to the male in essential nature—moral, spiritual, and intellectual. Women were capable of higher education, of holding positions of power and influence in the public realm, and of speaking and writing persuasively. The last bastion of masculine supremacy, centered on the notions of a woman’s primary domestic responsibility and the requirement of female chastity, was not as yet assaulted—although visions of productive female communities as alternatives to the family indicated an awareness of the problem. During the period 1300–1700, the other voice remained only a voice, and one only dimly heard. It did not result—yet—in an alteration of social patterns. Indeed, to this day they have not entirely been altered. Yet the call for justice issued as long as six centuries ago by those writing in the tradition of the other voice must be recognized as the source and origin of the mature feminist tradition and of the realignment of social institutions accomplished in the modern age. THE OTHE R V O ICE .

We thank the volume editors in this series, who responded with many suggestions to an earlier draft of this introduction, making it a collaborative enterprise. Many of their suggestions and criticisms have resulted in revisions of this introduction, although we remain responsible for the final product. PROJECTED TITLES IN THE SERIES

Ana de San Bartolomé, Autobiography and Other Writings, edited and translated by Darcy Donahue Catharina Regina von Greiffenberg, Meditations on the Life of Christ, edited and translated by Lynne Tatlock Emilie du Châtelet, Selected Writings of an Enlightenment Philosophe, edited and translated by Judith Zinsser

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Series Editors’ Introduction Christine de Pizan, Debate over the “Romance of the Rose,” edited and translated David Hult. Christine de Pizan, Early Defense of Women Poems, edited and translated by Thelma Fenster Christine de Pizan, Life of Charles V, edited and translated by Nadia Margolis Christine de Pizan, The Long Road of Learning, edited and translated by Andrea Tarnowski. Vittoria Colonna, Chiari Matraini, and Lucrezia Marinella, Who is Mary? Three Early Modern Women on the Idea of the Virgin Mary, edited and translated by Susan Haskins Pernette du Guillet, Complete Poems, edited with an introduction by Karen James, translated by Marta Finch Koslowsky Sister Margaret of the Mother of God, Autobiography, edited with an introduction by Cordula van Wyhe, translated by Paul Arblaster and Susan Smith Marguerite de Navarre, Selected Writings, edited and translated by Rouben Cholakian and Mary Skemp Lucrezia Marinella, Enrico, or Byzantium Conquered, edited and translated by Maria Galli Stampino Valeria Miani, Celinda: A Tragedy, edited with an introduction by Valeria Finucci, translated by Julia Kisacky Cecilia del Nacimiento, Autobiography and Poetry, edited with an introduction by Sandra Sider, translated by Kevin Donnelly and Sandra Sider Sister Giustina Niccolini, Chronicle of Le Murate, edited and translated by Saundra Weddle. Antonia Tanini Pulci, Saints’ Lives and Biblical Stories for the State (1483–1492), edited by Elissa Weaver, translated by James Cook (a new edition of Florentine Drama for Convent and Festival, published in the series in 1997) Madeleine de Scudéry and Madame de Villedieu, Amorous Letters and The Letter Case, edited and translated by Sharon Nell and Aurora Wolfgang Gaspara Stampa, Complete Poems, edited and translated by Jane Tylus Sara Copio Sullam, Sara Copio Sullam: Jewish Poet and Intellectual in Early Seventeenth-Century Venice, edited and translated by Don Harrán Maria Vela y Cueto, Autobiography, edited with an introduction by Susan Laningham, translated by Jane Tar Women Religious in Late Medieval and Early Modern Italy: Selected Writings, edited and translated by Lance Lazar Maria de Zayas y Sotomayor, Exemplary Tales of Love and Tales of Undeceiving, edited and translated by Margaret Greer and Elizabeth Rhodes

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VOLUME EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION

[First Page] THE OTHER VOICE

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adeleine de l’Aubespine (1546–96) is a new voice in the early modern period for three reasons. First, until my discovery, most of her work was lost. Second, she enjoyed a posthumous career as the author of frequently reprinted erotic poems; and she is the earliest French woman author of a lesbian poem, where the woman narrator disputes the favors of her beloved with a man whom she calls her “co-rival.” While her other texts are petrarchist poems and translations, typical for her time, the erotica, although a common genre in the period, are rarely associated with women. Moreover, even the women authors who did not write erotic poetry acted as if a slippery connection opened between being a published woman and a public one, and they used a number of “strategies of legitimation”1 reflecting the pressures that burdened them. These strategies included withholding publication and debating their anxiety about losing the “modesty of their sex.”2 L’Aubespine’s erotic and lesbian poems are a counterpoint to that narrative. The third reason for considering l’Aubespine a “new voice” is the myth of the author that l’Aubespine constructs in collaboration with the greatest Renaissance French poet, Pierre de Ronsard. She is one of very few women whose literary talents Ronsard praised in his verse.3 Even more astonishing is the fact that

1. The term is Anne R. Larsen’s. See “Un honneste passetems: Strategies of Legitimation in French Renaissance Women’s Prefaces,” L’Esprit créateur, special issue, “Writing in the Feminine Renaissance,” 30 (1990): 11–22, at 11. 2. For instance, the Italian poet Gaspara Stampa, posthumously published by her sister, or the Dames Des Roches, a mother and daughter admired a century later by the writer Madeleine de Scudéry for preserving “the modesty of their sex”: Madeleine and Catherine Des Roches, Les Oeuvres, ed. Anne R. Larsen (Geneva: Droz, 1993), 11. 3. Ronsard contributed a poem praising the piety of Anne de Marquets to Marquets’s 1562 collection on the occasion of the colloque of Poissy that was supposed to reconcile the Catholics and


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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n rather than use the topos of feminine modesty, l’Aubespine presents herself as Ronsard’s successor. For her auto-mythography, l’Aubespine chooses a national, heroic, masculine figure: she is the French Phaeton to Ronsard’s French Apollo (on the myth of Phaeton, see below). After much detective work in manuscript collections in Italy and France, I have attributed to l’Aubespine a large body of work contained in manuscripts that were previously considered anonymous. She wrote sonnets about love and religion and practiced other lyric (short) forms in the petrarchist tradition (imitating the conceits, complex structure, and wordplay that define Petrarch’s sonnets); she also wrote pastorals or vilanelles, epigrams, and satirical dialogues. In terms of volume, however, most of her work consists of translations and imitations of long narrative poems from Italian (Ariosto) and Latin (Ovid). During her life, only a few of her poems appeared in print. One was a sonnet of praise for Philippe Desportes, introducing his first collection of poetry (Premières oeuvres).4 This was a tradition at the time: a published collection of poetry opened with poems of praise by other authors. The praise was justified by Desportes’s later career: he became the most important poet of the period. We also encounter l’Aubespine’s poems in various manuscript anthologies, so-called florilegia, from Latin “gathering of flowers,” initially collections of sentences and fragments culled from classical authors and later, during the Renaissance, collections of poems by contemporary writers. These functioned alongside the printed volumes as another standard way to collect and circulate poetry in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Florilegia were common at a time when most educated people read and frequently also wrote occasional poetry, and they were typically a mixed bag of serious and satirical, often erotic verse. No more coherence was required of such collections than, say, of a stack of CDs collected on a single shelf. It is mostly in this kind of book that l’Aubespine’s lyric poems are preserved. L’Aubespine may also have written in prose. A short collection of essays, the Cabinet of Salutary Affects (Cabinet des saines affections), published anonymously, was recently attributed to her by Colette Winn, who reexamined the Protestants but failed (Pierre de Ronsard, Oeuvres complètes, ed. Jean Céard, Daniel Ménager, and Michel Simouin [Paris: Gallimard, 1993–94], 2: 1115 and note, 2: 1618). According to Catherine des Roches (Missives), he praised her poem about her lover “Sincero” (Ronsard, Oeuvres, 2: 1297; Michel Simonin, Pierre de Ronsard (Paris: Fayard, 1990), 30; Larsen in Des Roches, Les Oeuvres, 30). 4. Philippe Desportes, Diverses amours et autres oeuvres meslées, ed. Victor E. Graham (Geneva: Droz, 1963), and Oeuvres de Philippe Desportes, ed. Alfred Michiels (Paris: Adolphe Delahays, 1858).

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the tangled evidence concerning the author and produced the first scholarly edition of this work, very popular in its time.5 Some twenty years after l’Aubespine’s death, three of her poems were published anonymously in one of the two most successful anthologies of erotic poetry in France, the Satirical Cabinet (Cabinet satyrique), which appeared in twenty editions from 1618 to 1800.6 Her participation, although small in terms of volume, is important. If l’Aubespine was engaged in movements that most scholars would describe as typical of her time—petrarchist poetry, literary salons, translations from Latin and Italian, the essay form, stoicism, erotica—only some of these engagements would be identified by today’s scholars as typical for a woman author. In particular, l’Aubespine’s erotic poetry and her “myth of the author,” national, masculine, ambitious, and heroic, articulated in her exchange with Ronsard, make it necessary for us to redefine and extend our notion of what was typical and possible for a woman author during that period.

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HISTORICAL BACKGROUND/CONTEXT

L’Aubespine’s period corresponds to the rule of the last kings of the Valois dynasty, sons of Henry II and Catherine de’ Medici—Francis II (who reigned only eighteen months, 1559–60), Charles IX (reigned 1560–74), and Henry III (1574–89)—followed by the accession to the throne of the founder of the Bourbon dynasty, Henry IV (1589–1610), and his son, Louis XIII (1610–43). This period was marked by religious wars and conflict with Spain. None of this finds echoes in l’Aubespine’s poetry. Because that poetry seems completely isolated from the violent upheaval of her time, it could be called escapist. This was how his contemporaries saw King Henry III’s preoccupation with the literary academy he promoted, an official salon including both men and women writers, including Catherine de Clermont, maréchale de Retz, the queen Marguerite de Valois, and others, where literary and philosophical texts were read aloud and discussed. The Venetian ambassador wrote: “His Majesty spends many hours on this exercise, to the great displeasure of the queen mother and everyone.”7 It is important to 5. Attributed to Madeleine de L’Aubespine, Cabinet des saines affections, ed. Colette Winn (Paris: Champion, 2001). 6. Le Cabinet satyrique. Première édition complète et critique, d’après l’édition originale de 1618, augmentée des éditions suivantes, avec une notice, une bibliographie, un glossaire, des variantes et des notes, ed. Fernand Fleuret and Louis Perceau (Paris: Librairie du bon vieux temps, 1924). 7. Marie-Henriette Jullien de Pommerol, Albert de Gondi, maréchal de Retz (Geneva: Droz, 1953), 206, cited from BnF MS ital. 1729, 469.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n know the politics of the times, the better to judge from what the poetry provided escape. When we read l’Aubespine’s work against the background of history, the texts’ complexities and refinements take on a new meaning. Read out of context, her petrarchist poems may appear pretentious, even vacuous. Read in historical context, they seem more like whistling in the dark. Writing and reading them can be interpreted as an affirmation of the subjective importance of love, rejection, and jealousy, fall and redemption, an affirmation the more categorical given the pressures of historical reality: a drawn-out civil and external conflict suspended by uncertain truces. The ideological foundation of the bloody wars was the schism between the Catholics and the Protestants. It began with Martin Luther nailing his Ninety-five Theses to the door of the Wittenberg castle church in 1517 and the reformers’ breach with the pope. From then on, the Protestants were persecuted in Catholic countries as heretics, enemies not only of the official church but also of the state. The French Protestants were called Huguenots or Calvinists, followers of Jean Calvin (1509–64). He is considered one of the greatest French Renaissance prose writers for his Institutes of the Christian Religion (Institution de la religion chrétienne, 1536), addressed to the French king Francis I. Calvin lived in exile in Geneva, where the Protestants controlled the government after the bloody persecution of their ideological opponents, Anabaptists and Catholics. He was succeeded by Théodore de Bèze, a soldier, poet, and historian of Protestantism. In France, violent repression of Protestants meant that a person’s religious sympathies were sometimes not known even to the members of the immediate family. For instance, l’Aubespine’s mother wrote to Calvin to ask for permission to desert her husband, who forbade her to practice Protestantism. Calvin refused, probably to avoid antagonizing a powerful minister of the king. Ironically, a later English document claims that l’Aubespine’s father was “as good a Protestant as any.”8 In 1560, Francis II granted privileges to the Reformed church in the edict of Romorantin, allowing private practice of Protestantism and removing jurisdiction over heresy from the parlements. Thus, heresy cases were no longer considered as crimes against the state. However, Protestant leaders feared the king’s allegiance to the Guises, a powerful Catholic clan, and organized a conspiracy that was discovered and publicly repressed. The conspirators, Antoine de Bourbon, Louis de Condé, the Colignys, and others, were hanged from the ramparts of the château at Amboise. The slew of prints and broadsheets that circulated after the event gives the measure of the impact 8. Isabelle de Conihout and Pascal Ract-Madoux, “Ni Grolier, ni Mahieu: Laubespine,” Bulletin du Bibliophile 1 (June 2004): 63–88, at 72.

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of this spectacular execution on both the Catholics and the Protestants. The Amboise conspiracy opens the bloody chapter of the religious wars in France (1562–98). L’Aubespine could not have been unaware of the tragedy of Amboise. She was sixteen at the time, close to the court, and already betrothed to a royal secretary, Nicolas de Neufville, sieur de Villeroy (1542–1617), who worked under her father, himself one of the most important ministers to the king.9 At the time of his marriage, Villeroy was sixteen, had just been named secrétaire de finances, and had traveled on minor diplomatic missions.10 At the death of Francis II (1560), Catherine de’ Medici assumed the regency until the majority of Charles IX in 1570. Despite her efforts to effect reconciliation (the edict of Saint-Germain, 1570), her regency was marked by massacres of Protestants (Wassy) and victories of Catholics (in three wars, 1562–63, 1567–68, 1568–70). When Charles IX reached majority, the Catholic party feared his dependence on a Protestant military leader, Coligny. Hoping to reunite the divided French nation in the pursuit of a common goal, Coligny advocated a war with Spain, France’s powerful rival and also, not coincidentally, a bastion of Catholicism and the Protestants’ staunch enemy. An attempt to assassinate Coligny (August 22, 1572) took place four days after the marriage between another Protestant leader, Henry de Bourbon, king of Navarre (future Henry IV), and King Charles IX’s sister, Marguerite de Valois. The marriage, which was intended to pacify Henry of Navarre (but which could also empower him; the uncertainty was precisely what made the match possible), brought thousands of Protestants to Paris. The failed murder of Coligny escalated the situation. The queen mother and the Catholic party convinced Charles IX to order the massacre of the Protestants, on St. Bartholomew’s night, August 24, 1572. As many as three thousand were murdered in Paris, followed by a bloodbath in the provinces and the fourth religious war (1573). King Henry of Navarre was forced to convert to Catholicism and was kept in custody at the French court (he escaped in 1576). Charles IX died in 1574. In 1567, l’Aubespine’s husband, Villeroy, succeeded her father as a royal 9. The date of marriage is given as two years later, 1561, by Nicola Mary Sutherland, The French Secretaries of State in the Age of Catherine de Medici (London: Athlone Press, 1962), 156 n. 6; and Edmund H. Dickerman, Bellièvre and Villeroy: Power in France under Henry III and Henry IV (Providence: Brown University Press, 1971), 5; but Conihout and Ract-Madoux give the date of 1559, as does Nouillac, cited by them (Conihout and Ract-Madoux, “Ni Grolier, ni Mahieu,” 74). The marriage contract is dated June 17, 1559 (BnF MS fr. 6604). L’Aubespine, born in May 1546, has just turned thirteen, and her signature is an awkwardly drawn monogram formed by the interlaced letters of her name (MLAB, formed by superimposed M and B). 10. Dickerman, Bellièvre and Villeroy, 5.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n secretary, and she gave birth to a son (their only surviving child), baptized in the church of St. Germain l’Auxerrois, the parish church of the royal palace, the Louvre, “in the presence of the court and the king who gave him his name, Charles.”11 Ronsard composed poetry for the occasion. Five years later, the bells of that same church gave the Catholics the signal for the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre. During the fifteen years of his reign, Henry III unsuccessfully navigated between different factions (the Malcontents, the Politicians). The conflicts boiled down to a face-off between the powerful Catholic party led by the Guises and the Protestants led by Henry of Navarre. When the Catholics won the fifth religious war (1575), Henry III accorded privileges to the Protestants in the edict of Beaulieu (1576): the Protestants could practice their religion everywhere except in Paris, and they were given the government of eight important fortified cities. The sixth war (1577) ended in the edict of Poitiers, the most favorable to the Protestants to date; it was confirmed after the seventh war (1580). In 1584, the death of Henry III’s brother, the last Valois candidate for the throne, precipitated a political crisis when Henry III designated Henry of Navarre as his successor. The Catholics responded by forming the Ligue, deposing the king, naming the duc de Mayenne the lieutenant general of the kingdom, and allying themselves with Spain. After a period of alliance with the Ligue (eighth religious war, 1585), Henry III was forced to flee Paris (1588). He allied himself with Henry of Navarre, and together they besieged Paris (1589). A month later, Henry III was assassinated by a religious fanatic. It was only thanks to military victories (Arques, 1589; Ivry, 1590) and his public conversion to Catholicism (1593) that the king of Navarre was crowned as Henry IV and triumphantly entered Paris in 1594. After winning a victory over Spain (1595) and granting privileges to the Protestants in the edict of Nantes (1598), Henry IV reestablished peace (he was assassinated by a religious fanatic in 1610). The Protestants were permitted to practice their religion, except in Paris and at court, and they were granted the governance of one hundred fortified cities. For the next eighty years, the edict of Nantes protected the Huguenots, until it was eroded and finally revoked by Louis XIV in 1685. L’Aubespine and Villeroy were particularly close to Henry III. For instance, there was talk of their son’s marrying into the family of the duc de Joyeuse, Henry’s favorite, married to the queen’s sister.12 Yet in 1588 the king dismissed Villeroy, who then joined his son in the Ligue and became one of 11. Comihout and Ract-Madoux, “Ni Grolier, ni Mahieu,” 74, citing the account of Villeroy’s secretary, Jules Gassot. 12. Anne, duc de Joyeuse (1561–87), a favorite of Henry III, married Marguerite de Vaudémont, the sister of the queen Louise de Lorraine, on September 24, 1581.

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the duc de Mayenne’s close advisors and chief negotiators with the king’s party. When Henry IV converted in 1593, Villeroy sought and received his former position of secretary of state (September 1594), which he kept until 1616, a year before his death.13

LIFE AND WORKS

Apart from Colette Winn, who edited the Cabinet, and Isabelle de Conihout, who discovered l’Aubespine’s library, few scholars mention l’Aubespine. However, her life is exceptionally well documented, a rare case for an early modern woman writer. That is because, as we saw, she belonged to a family of prominent servants of the state, a family that steadily rose through the ranks of the aristocracy during the following two centuries and remained close to successive kings, only to die out, covered in debts and glory, during the French Revolution. L’Aubespine’s husband served four kings as secretary of state (Charles IX, Henry III, Henry IV, and Louis XIII); her father, Claude II (d. 1567), was favored by Henry II and was the principal counselor of Queen Catherine de’ Medici after the king’s death (1559). L’Aubespine’s brother Claude III (d. 1570) was brought up with King Charles IX and was one of his principal counselors.14 We have excellent portraits of l’Aubespine, her husband, and her father. We have the marriage contract between her and Villeroy, with her signature. We know that her father had illegitimate children (so did her husband) and that she and Villeroy attended the marriage of one of them to another prominent family. We know the amount of Villeroy’s pension, which constituted only a portion of his income. As a principal minister of the king, he drew 5,000 livres, more than the Maréchal de France, or head of the army (4,000 l.), and twelve times more than a royal secretary (400 l.).15 We know that l’Aubespine quarreled with her brother Guillaume over the inheritance from her father (there is a record of a court case entered, but none of the judgment—either they reconciled out of court or the judgment entry was lost).16 We know where she lived; the couple owned the hôtel de la Chasse, one of the most beautiful Renaissance private urban residences, or hôtels particuliers, in the rue Bourdonnais, near Les Halles, in the fashionable heart of Renaissance Paris, as well as several palaces outside the city, including Conflans, described in Ronsard’s poems, 13. Dickerman, Bellièvre and Villeroy, 5–7. 14. Conihout and Ract-Madoux, “Ni Grolier, ni Mahieu,” 71–74. 15. Jacqueline Boucher, La cour de Henri III (n.p.: Ouest France Université, 1986), 4: 1548 (appendix 6). 16. I thank Isabelle de Conihout for the information concerning the court proceedings.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n and Villeroy, her favorite retreat.17 We know about the activities and members of the literary circles in which she moved. We even know details about her private life. Among the aristocracy, marriage prevented neither men nor women from amorous involvement with others, and that was definitely the case of l’Aubespine. Contemporary sources attribute five different lovers to her, and her close association with Philippe Desportes is usually interpreted as a love relationship. It was her last lover who was responsible for collecting her poetic works in one manuscript after her death, and he dedicated them to his aristocratic patron; the identity of both that lover and his patron remains unknown. As the daughter, sister, and wife of royal ministers, l’Aubespine was part of the courtly and literary elite in Paris. L’Aubespine and Villeroy’s literary salon included three major Renaissance French poets, Ronsard, Desportes, and Agrippa d’Aubigné, as well as other, less well known writers.18 They composed poems for l’Aubespine, praising her poetic gifts, consoling her on the death of her brother and father, and even immortalizing her dog, Barbiche. Ronsard’s poems of praise are particularly important. “The poet of princes and the prince of poets,” Ronsard is, with Rabelais and Montaigne (both prose writers), one of the three most eminent writers of the French Renaissance. Although he knew many women writers, and constantly celebrated women’s beauty in his poems, l’Aubespine is one of the very few women authors whose poetry he praised. Though we must read his hyperbolic praise in the context of the address of a poet to his patroness, the fact remains: l’Aubespine is one of the very few women whom he distinguished in that way. At the death of l’Aubespine’s brother and father, Villeroy asked the poets of his circle to create a poetic tumulus (tomb) in their honor. Some of these poems were copied (by his secretary, Gassot) into a manuscript that

17. Conihout and Ract-Madoux, “Ni Grolier, ni Mahieu,” 74–77. 18. In an introductory chapter to her book on women and culture in early modern France, Linda Timmermans summarizes the salon phenomenon; Linda Timmermans, L’accès des femmes à la culture (1598–1715): Un débat d’idées de Saint François de Sales à la Marquise de Lambert (Paris: Champion, 1993). Timmermans highlights Gisèle Mathieu-Castellani’s important revisions of the salon history, showing that the first vogue of salons, the opening of private literary circles to a larger public, should be identified not with the seventeenth century but rather with the 1570s; Gisèle Mathieu-Castellani, Les thèmes amoureux dans la poésie française (1570–1600) (Paris: Klincksieck, 1975). Previous critics placed that originary moment much later, in the 1620s. Concern ing l’Aubespine’s place in the salon culture in Paris in the 1570s, see Louis Clark Keating, Studies on the Literary Salon in France, 1550–1615 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1941), 81–102 (l’Aubespine), and Simone Ratel, “La cour de la reine Marguerite,” Revue du XVIe siècle 11 (1924): 1–29, 193–207, and 12 (1924): 1–43.

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is still conserved at the Bibliothèque nationale in Paris. Others were later published in the collected works of their respective authors. These include Ronsard and the foremost French humanist, Jean Dorat, who wrote in Latin, as well as Étienne Jodelle, Jean-Antoine de Baïf, Desportes, and others. The manuscript contains not only serious poems commemorating the two men but also frivolous verse and crudely sexual riddles and epigrams, a couple of them signed by Villeroy; as I have said, such variety is typical in the poetic albums of the Renaissance and the seventeenth century. Although they often began as calligraphed gifts, such albums were later frequently expanded by their owners, sometimes by people who could barely write legibly. They recorded poems that the owner of the book heard or received in writing, but we also assume that the additions to the anthology reflected the subsequent meetings of the authors in the owner’s salon. Not only did l’Aubespine write herself and act as patron to poets, but she and Villeroy also amassed an exceptionally large and valuable library reflecting interests in architecture, contemporary poetry, and classical literature. Over three thousand volumes were inventoried at her death, many of them expensively produced by the best bookbinders.20 Among these volumes was an exquisite edition of Ovid by the famous Italian humanist printer Aldus Manutius, decorated with silver roses, recalling her crest (aubespine, hawthorn). Another interesting item was a small pamphlet of the speech delivered at the funeral of Ronsard that she attended in 1585. In turn, she had some of her own works copied for the great women patrons of the day, Queen Marguerite de Valois and the maréchale de Retz. The present edition contains all the poems by l’Aubespine that we have recovered to date: original sonnets, epigrams, and songs, as well as her translations (although only a portion of her extant translation of Ariosto is included). We must remember, first, that we have lost the majority of her works, because her lyric poems were never collected in a printed edition during her lifetime and are preserved only in several manuscript anthologies, typically containing a few of l’Aubespine’s poems interspersed with verse by a number of other authors. Second, original poetry was only a part of her

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19. BnF MS fr. 1663. The manuscript was described by Pierre Champion, Ronsard et Villeroy: Les secrétaires du roi et les poètes, d’après le manuscrit français 1663 de la Bibliothèque nationale (Paris: Champion, 1925), and by Amaury Flèges, “Le tombeau des l’Aubespine: Autour du manuscrit 1663 de la Bibliothèque Nationale,” La Licorne 29 (1994): 17–68. 20. The 1596 state of the collection includes the inheritance from l’Aubespine’s father and brother Claude. It was Isabelle de Conihout who first noticed the “cote brune,” a number in brown ink inscribed on the flyleaf of some volumes, and who spent the last decade slowly unraveling their mystery, to conclude that the marks came from the inventory of l’Aubespine’s library at her death in 1596. Conihout also traced about a hundred remaining volumes, spread across two continents; see Conihout and Ract-Madoux, “Ni Grolier, ni Mahieu.”

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n complete works. Two major translation projects constitute the other part: the first two cantos of Lodovico Ariosto’s Orlando furioso and four Ovidian Epistles of which only one has been found. At one time, l’Aubespine’s translations of Ariosto were attributed to male writers, and my recent discovery of her authorship revises that account.21 Another work that l’Aubespine chose to translate was a popular Latin masterpiece, Ovid’s Heroides. The Heroides are fictional letters, or epistles, supposedly written by legendary lovers (Penelope to Ulysses, Paris to Helen of Troy, Helen to Paris, among others). The Heroides were taught in schools and were familiar to all educated people. Women writers in Elizabethan England also imitated and translated them. These texts, widely read, had a major impact on the development of the sentimental novel of the seventeenth century and the epistolary novel of the eighteenth.22 Although l’Aubespine translated only a portion of these works by Ariosto and Ovid, that is enough to consider her one of the most significant French women poets of the period. How well was l’Aubespine’s poetry known to her contemporaries? La Croix du Maine, author of a repertory of contemporary French writers, says about l’Aubespine: 21. Alexandre Cioranescu, L’Arioste en France, des origines à la fin du XVIIIe siècle, 2 vols. (Paris: Les Presses Modernes, 1938), 1: 102: “This new translation contains only the two first cantos of the poem. The name of the author remains unknown, and it is probable that it always will. All we know of him is that he was part of the literary court of Marguerite de Valois, because it is to her that he dedicates his work. We saw other imitators of Ariosto in the salon of the former wife of Henry IV: Desportes was part of it for some time, along with Claude Billard, La Roque, Rosset, D’Audiguier, Du Mas, and others. Among all these writers it is difficult to choose the one who could have been the translator of this fragment: his anonymity is the more regrettable in that his version is not without merit. His clarity, and especially his concision, so rare in the poetry of the time, certainly do not succeed in rendering all the variety and imaginative quality of Ariosto; but his attempt is no less valuable because of that, and the fluidity of his verse allows us to guess at a poet whose only fault was his excessive discretion.” About the Bradamante fragment, Cioranescu wrote: “But we could not decide to whom we must attribute it, among Desportes, Jodelle, Jamyn, Laval, Boyssières, Belliard, La Roque, Brantôme, who all met at that time in the salon [of the maréchale de Retz]. . . . it is by the same hand as the first two cantos in the Lyons MS. . . . we cannot confirm that the two works are of the same author, although this hypothesis is likely” (1: 102). Lavaud, in passing, seems to attribute it to La Roque; Jacques Lavaud, Les imitations de l’Arioste par Philippe Desportes, suivies de poésies inédites ou non recueillies du même auteur (Paris: Droz, 1936), x. 22. Colette Winn, “La femme écrivaine au XVIe siècle: Ecriture et transgression,” Poétique: Revue de théorie et d’analyse littéraires 21, no. 84 (1990): 435–52, and her “Early Modern Women and the Poetics of Lamentation: Mourning, Revenge, and Art,” Mediaevalia 22 (1999): 127–55. Joan DeJean, Libertine Strategies: Freedom and the Novel in Seventeenth-Century France (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1981); DeJean, Tender Geographies: Women and the Origins of the Novel in France (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991); DeJean and Nancy K. Miller, eds., Displacements: Women, Traditions, Literatures in French (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991); DeJean, “The Female Tradition,” L’Esprit créateur 23, no. 2 (1983): 3–8; and DeJean, “The Politics of Genre: Madeleine de Scudéry and the Rise of the French Novel,” L’Esprit créateur 29, no. 3 (1989): 43–51.

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This lady is so successful in composing in prose [he may be referring to the Cabinet of Salutary Affects] and in verse, and has such a rare intelligence and judgment, that she attracts everyone to the contemplation of her shining virtues, which she has inherited from those from whom she descends, and to give a proof of what I said concerning her knowledge and skills, I will mention her translation of Ovid’s Epistles, which she has not yet had printed, as well as an infinite number of poems of her composition, which will come to light when it pleases her.23 The phrase used here, “which will come to light when it pleases her,” is repeatedly applied by La Croix du Maine to aristocrats to whom he attributes numerous (but unidentified) works that have not survived to the present time, leading us to suspect that perhaps they were never composed. However, in the case of l’Aubespine, we have a definite proof that the works existed. Women writers who, like l’Aubespine, had no motivation to use their writing as a source of income were sometimes published by family or friends after their death. Left to her husband and her lover, l’Aubespine’s poetic legacy remained unpublished. A N A LY S I S O F T H E T E X T

There are two major sources for l’Aubespine’s lyric poems: a florilegium, BnF MS fr.1718, and the posthumous volume of l’Aubespine’s complete works, which was lost during the fire of the Turin library in 1904 (we have only a detailed description of it).24 The order in which the poems appear in the present edition is a reconstruction based on these two sources. The order is identical to the table of contents of the posthumous volume, even if it disagrees with MS 1718. Where the posthumous volume provides no information, I follow MS 1718. Roger Sorg used MS 1718 as the basis of his 1926 edition, but he did not follow the order in which l’Aubespine’s poems appear there.25 He was 23. François Grudé, sieur de La Croix du Maine, Les bibliothèques françoises, ed. Jean Antoine Rigoley de Juvigny, 6 vols. (Paris: Saillant et Nyon, 1772–73), 2: 70. 24. The description of the Turin volume, former Biblioteca Nazionale MS M.IV.12, appears in MS 8 Peyron Franc. It was compiled by Bernardino Peyron and copied by Gino Tamburini (the original is missing). 25. Sorg gives Ronsard’s sonnet, l’Aubespine’s response (sonnet 11 by L’Aubespine in MS 1718), Desportes’s sonnet of praise for l’Aubespine, and l’Aubespine’s sonnet for Desportes separately, l’Aubespine, Les chansons de Callianthe, ed. Roger Sorg (Paris: Léon Pichon, 1926). Following the Ronsard-Desportes-l’Aubespine exchange, Sorg rearranges the rest of the sonnets: 8, 15, 14, 9, 6, 13, 4, 1, 12, 5, 7, 2, 3, 10; 1–15 here note the order in which l’Aubespine’s sonnets appear in MS 1718. The poems from MS 1718 that Sorg attributed to l’Aubespine were also published by Frédéric Lachèvre as Poésies de Héliette de Vivonne . . . (Paris: Alphonse Margraff, 1932).

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n unaware of the existence of the posthumous volume. He distinguished four separate categories of sonnets: exchanges with other authors (Ronsard, Desportes), love poems, “pious” poems, and one erotic enigma. He also rearranged the love sonnets from MS 1718 to form a melodramatic narrative in five tableaux: initial rejection, longing, reconciliation, love troubles, followed by final separation. The arrangement of l’Aubespine’s poems into a narrative of a love affair (with Desportes, Sorg suggests) ending in spiritual redemption (pious poems) is not accidental. Instead, it reflects a pervasive editorial practice in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries among scholars editing early modern women. In the title of one of her essays, Ann Rosalind Jones calls this practice “bad press,” because it detracts from the content of the poems and their literary value and emphasizes the putative biography of the woman author.26 The fact that these biographies are identical for every woman author across geographic and time divides27 —they always involve love, rejection and pious repentance—almost certainly means that they do not reflect reality. And since the poems were not ordered in that fashion by the poets themselves, these arrangements also do not represent what the authors wanted to express in their writing.

THE MYTH OF THE AUTHOR:

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In the posthumous volume, l’Aubespine’s sonnets were interspersed with sonnets by other authors dedicated to her. The sonnet by Ronsard cited above, “Madeleine, shed the name of hawthorn,” was on folio 14b (verso), likely the twenty-fourth sonnet in the sequence. It was followed by l’Aubespine’s response and by Ronsard’s second sonnet of praise. Because the posthumous volume contained verse by “other poets” who exchanged poems with l’Aubespine, I set another exchange after the one with Ronsard: Desportes’s sonnet of praise for l’Aubespine, “Myrtis, Corinne, et la Muse de Grece / Sapphon” (“Myrtis, Corinna, and the Muse of Greece, Sappho”), followed by l’Aubespine’s sonnet that appeared in Desportes’s Premieres oeuvres. Ronsard’s and Desportes’s praise of l’Aubespine should not be read merely in terms of her standing in the literary circles of the time. Rather, their praise validates 26. Ann Rosalind Jones. “Bad Press: Modern Editors Versus Early Modern Women Poets (Tullia d’Aragona, Gaspara Stampa, Veronica Franco),” in Strong Voices, Weak History: Early Modern Women Writers and Canons in England, France and Italy, ed. Pamela Joseph Benson and Victoria Kirkham (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005), 287–313. 27. “The insistent narratives . . . that have shaped the treatment of women writing in other times and places as well.” Jones, “Bad Press,” 288.

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her as a speaking subject, a master poet who has the authority to speak for her readers. As a writer, l’Aubespine is a subject who can communicate her pain to her audience, not only feel it herself as a lover. Finding a fragment of an unknown sonnet by Ronsard, recorded in Bernardino Peyron’s nineteenth-century description of the posthumous manuscript of l’Aubespine’s complete works (now lost), was one of the luckiest discoveries in my quest for l’Aubespine’s works. The symbolic value of Ronsard to French culture is similar to that of Shakespeare to English, and new texts by him emerge rarely, if ever. And this symbolic value lends importance to the exceptional position he reserved for l’Aubespine. Ronsard’s active participation in l’Aubespine’s self-fashioning as his fille d’alliance (spiritual daughter) will undoubtedly change our assessment of l’Aubespine’s importance. From obscurity, it propels her to the forefront of the late Renaissance literary scene in Paris. The exchange between the two poets proceeded as follows: Ronsard wrote a sonnet in praise of l’Aubespine, “Madeleine, for my sake, shed the name of hawthorn” (first published in 1587), she replied with a sonnet, “So much fire and love,” and Ronsard responded in turn by a sonnet ending in the tercet that I have discovered, “If you fall.”28 The three poems form a logical whole, centered on the figure of Phaeton. Ronsard’s first sonnet, “Madeleine, for my sake, shed the name of hawthorn,”29 multiplies allusions to classical myths of poetic creation. Ronsard opens by urging her to exchange her name, l’Aubespine (hawthorn), for the “palms and laurels that grow on Mount Parnassus,” “worthy to take . . . root” in her (1–4). Her head is “crowned with honor,” in her “rare and chaste breast,” “arts and virtues” are “born by the thousands” (5–8). Ronsard says that even as her poetic star rises, his own is setting: Seeing you, I am both happy and unhappy: Happy to see your verse, generous work, And unhappy to see my Muse who’s setting Beneath your Orient. (9–12) Ronsard repeats and expands this image of “woman on top” in the last line of his second sonnet for l’Aubespine, “If you fall,” in which he predicts that she will have “surpassed the most learned French men” (14). Ronsard’s hallmark combination of erudition and intimacy traceable to 28. I would like to thank Ann Moss and Jean Céard for their gracious response and for verifying their notes in answer to my questions concerning l’Aubespine and the Ronsard fragment. 29. Ronsard, Oeuvres complètes, ed. Jean Céard, Daniel Ménager, and Michel Simonin, 2 vols. (Paris: Gallimard, 1993–94), 1: 553. Sonnet added to “Gayetez” in 1587, between epigrams [IX] and [X].

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n the Greek lyric poet Pindar marks the closing lines of his first sonnet, where he creates an unexpectedly visceral image of the Muses filling l’Aubespine’s mouth with water from the source of poetic inspiration: O holy new seed Of Athena, take heart: the Sisters don’t have enough Water on Mount Helicon to moisten your mouth. (12–14) If Ronsard links l’Aubespine to Parnassus, Athena, and the Muses, he also associates her with Apollo: “and the gifts of Apollo, so familiar to you, / That nothing is worthy of you but yourself”(5–8). The motif of “familiar gifts of Apollo” from the second quatrain continues in the first tercet, in the “woman on top” image. That image in lines 11–12 expands the reference to Apollo in line 5 by evoking Apollo as the leader of the Muses and as the sun god who departs from his palace in the Orient at dawn to carry the sun through the sky. Among the many motifs proffered in Ronsard’s first sonnet, l’Aubespine chose Apollo as the theme of her response. She expanded that motif by representing Ronsard and herself (his “daughter”) under the guise of the mythical father-son couple Apollo and Phaeton. The myth of Phaeton opens the second book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, a prominent position reflected in the myth’s importance as a text and a theme in Renaissance art (because Phaeton, like Icarus, fell from the sky and crashed to earth, the theme of the “Fall of Phaeton” was a logical choice for ceiling decorations in mannerist and baroque style). Phaeton travels from Egypt to the Orient to meet his father. Apollo rises at dawn to drive through the firmament in a chariot carrying the sun and pulled by fire-breathing white stallions. His daily trip through the skies explains the movement of the sun from east to west (Orient to Occident). When Phaeton arrives, his father acknowledges him as his son and, to prove his paternal love, grants Phaeton one wish. Phaeton asks to drive Apollo’s chariot on the path through the stars. Knowing that his inexperienced son will be killed if he undertakes this dangerous task, Apollo begs him to change his request. Even Zeus, the father of the gods, does not dare to drive the chariot. But Phaeton refuses to change his mind, and the tragedy unfolds. Phaeton can’t control the horses and he flies either too far from the earth, plunging it into darkness, or too close, scorching the earth with the sun’s fire. Finally, when Phaeton reaches the constellation of Scorpio, the star monster threatens him with its poisonous stinger. Overcome by fear, Phaeton drops the reins. The falling chariot is about to set the earth on fire. To prevent the cosmic catastrophe, Zeus throws a thunderbolt at the chariot and kills Phaeton. Vulcan fashions a new sun chariot to replace the

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one destroyed by Zeus, but Apollo refuses to drive it because he mourns the loss of his son. The earth is plunged into darkness until Apollo relents. Like Icarus and Bellerophon, Phaeton illustrates the dangers of hubris, or excessive pride. Consequently, during the Renaissance, the allusions to Phaeton were often used, among others by Montaigne and Ronsard, to condemn the arrogance of those who waged and lost a battle or a political contest.30 But there is another way that Ronsard uses this myth. In his love lyrics, he compares himself to Phaeton, to flatter the object of his affections by saying that he aimed too high in courting her. In her response sonnet, l’Aubespine focuses specifically on the image of Phaeton among the many images offered by Ronsard. The explicit reference to Phaeton appears only in the second part of her poem, after she has foreshadowed it by a number of allusions. She acknowledges that the praise of Ronsard is important to her because he is the “French Apollo” (7). The first image of l’Aubespine’s poem consists of “fire and love” with which Ronsard lights “the night of [her] writing” (1–2): the fire (of the sun) and paternal love are also Apollo’s gifts to Phaeton. L’Aubespine continues by saying that her esprit (mind, wit, intellect, talents) “dragged low,” but Ronsard’s praise makes her “treasure myself, please and value myself” (3). Her esprit “presumes to fly to the skies, if [Ronsard] will favor it” (6). This excessive, low-to-high trajectory also recalls Phaeton’s flight. He is so inexperienced that he flies either too high or too low, causing darkness and cold, or scorching heat. Then, l’Aubespine asks: “O divine Ronsard, help in my enterprise” (7), “without you I would dare in vain” (8). She reveals the meaning of her allusions (Apollo, flames, and flight into the sky) in the opening of the first tercet. She speaks of her newfound daring or audacity that makes her “like Phaeton” (9). “O my Apollo,” she says, “I call myself your daughter” (10), her only reference to her sex. Like Phaeton, l’Aubespine asks Ronsard/Apollo for “a gift, a token of your love” (11). Ronsard/Apollo, whose “renown [is] more brilliant than day,” is now supposed to “show [her] the way,” again recalling Apollo, who gave the reins of the sun chariot to Phaeton: Show me the way and the untrodden path Through which so much light came into France And that makes your renown more brilliant than day. (12–14) Although we have only the last three lines of Ronsard’s response (“If you fall”), it is clear from that fragment that Ronsard continues the theme of Phaeton chosen by l’Aubespine. He speaks of the glory that she will acquire. 30. Ronsard, Remonstrance au peuple françoys; Montaigne, “Apologie de Raymond Sebond,” in the Essays.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n Even if she falls, she will still have more fame than her contemporaries, just as Phaeton, by choosing an impossible task, achieved immortal glory although he fell: If you fall in your flight, too willing to believe me, At least you will have earned this glory for your tomb That a woman surpassed the most learned French men. (12–14) The myth of the author co-written for l’Aubespine by herself and Ronsard is very important in the history of early modern women writers because it is very unusual. In many cases, when women authors spoke about their role as authors, they explicitly evoked the contradiction between writing and the modesty and silence that were considered natural and desirable in women. One of the ways to reconcile this contradiction was for women authors to emphasize their modesty or pretend that someone else asked them to publish their works. By comparing herself to Phaeton, l’Aubespine creates a very different myth of the author. L’Aubespine and Ronsard do not attempt to prove that she is not an excessively daring female. Quite the opposite, they use the image of an arrogant young male to represent her. Like Phaeton, l’Aubespine will be immortalized for her ambitions that are grander than any man’s: the mightier the fall, the greater the rewards of fame. When l’Aubespine calls herself Ronsard’s “daughter” (10), her emphasis is not on her femaleness but on her being the Phaeton to Ronsard’s French Apollo. L’Aubespine acknowledges that Ronsard, through whom “so much light came into France” (13), is the greatest national poet. In turn, Ronsard, predicts that l’Aubespine will become a fellow master poet in her own right, whose tomb will proclaim that she “surpassed the most learned French men” (14). The insistence on Frenchness in both l’Aubespine’s and Ronsard’s poems is very important. It indicates that l’Aubespine and Ronsard wanted to underscore the national importance of l’Aubespine’s work. L’Aubespine and Ronsard create a myth of the woman author that establishes her as a heroic, national, masculine figure, better than any other man, and not a representative of the female sex. As Chloé Hogg and Myriam Maître have shown, some early modern French women authors, including Montaigne’s editor Marie de Gournay and, in the mid-seventeenth century, Mme de Scudéry in her novel Clélie, place women authors within the mainstream, masculine tradition. L’Aubespine’s auto-mythography can be considered the precursor of that trend.31 31. Myriam Maître, “Editer, imprimer, publier: quelques stratégies féminines au XVIIe siècle,” Travaux de littérature 14 (2001): 257–76; and Chloé Hogg, “Novel Histories and Historical Novels in France, 1654–1700” (Ph.D. diss., University of Pennsylvania, 2002).

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O T H E R S O N N E T S A N D LY R I C P O E M S

L’Aubespine’s sonnets in the posthumous manuscript begin with the description of a lyric subject attacked by two forces, love and virtue (sonnets 1, 3, and 4), followed by a desperate rejection of unhappy love (sonnets 5, 6, and 8). In the catastrophic space created by the rejection of love, the poet’s thinking about love evolves, expressed by her description of nature as a projection of feelings (sonnet 7); her dialogue with a rival (sonnet 9); or her competition with literary heroes who were also legendary lovers (sonnet 10). The context of pious poems and the rejection of love, created by the first sonnets in the series, endows the other poems with depth and humanity. The erotics of insouciant jouissance (sexual pleasure) in sonnet 11 are complicated by the torn self of the pious poems that precede it, and continue the theme expressed in other poems: a subject devoured by the antagonistic forces of passion and virtue. The dialogues and reminiscences about love become powerful, angry, and desolate in the context of the opening poems of the series. A sense of resolution inflects the end of the sequence: the last four poems do not reject but affirm love as the ultimate suffering (14–17). L’Aubespine’s erotic poems are unprecedented in French poetry written by women: they describe homoeroticism, masturbation, multiple orgasms, and sexual agency. In sonnet 9 (“You who know better than I what it is to love”), a woman speaks to a man about jealousy—a common enough theme. However, here the woman is jealous because the man attempts to steal away the woman she loves. She responds: I’ll serve her in the daytime, you will serve her at night. Ha, you don’t want to? Well then, I’m glad of it. (13–14) Another example is “Riddle,” l’Aubespine’s best-known poem, included in the Satirical Cabinet. It describes a sexual encounter under the guise of playing an instrument. The lute, a popular Renaissance instrument, was a frequent metaphor for the male as well as the female body, and l’Aubespine’s poem can be compared to others written on the lute in the circle of the maréchale de Retz.32 What makes it particularly interesting is the objectification of the male lover by the woman narrator of the poem. The beloved is literally 32. Pontus de Tyard and Amadis Jamyn both authored poems on the lute. On the connection between Tyard and l’Aubespine, see Eva Kushner, Pontus de Tyard et son oeuvre poétique (Paris: Champion, 2001). I thank the anonymous reader for the reference to Kushner’s work. On the lute as metaphor for the body, see Karla Zecher, “The Gendering of the Lute in SixteenthCentury French Love Poetry,” Renaissance Quarterly 53 (2000): 769–91. I thank Charles Ross for this reference.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n an instrument, but it/he also functions as an instrument in the metaphoric sense. He is metonymically reduced to a penis, animated by the hands of the woman narrator: I take the neck in hand, I touch him and I stroke him, Till he’s in such a state as to give me delight. I fall upon my bed and, without letting go, I grasp him in my arms, I press him to my breast, And moving hard and fast, all ravished with pleasure, Amidst a thousand delights I fulfill my desire. (3–8) The objectification of the male, whom we are accustomed to read in Renaissance poetry as the subject and the focus of pleasure, is so complete in “Riddle” that the poem erases the exoskeleton of his identity and blurs the boundary between person and object. The text is at the same time conventional because it structures the erotic encounter as a one-way transaction where the subject’s lust is serviced by the object, and revolutionary because it reverses Renaissance gender and sexual roles, making the woman the subject, the man the object from which she derives sexual pleasure. This frivolous joke of a poem has serious consequences for the early modern construction of subjectivity, sexuality and femininity. It directly provokes the challenge in the conclusion, where the lyric narrator borrows word for word from the Latin satirist Juvenal’s portrait of the empress Messalina, an archetypal female monster filled with insatiable lust (Satire 6). Just like Messalina, who returns to the palace after a night where she pretends to be a cheap prostitute to get the most sex, the narrator of l’Aubespine’s poem retires in the end “tired and not sated.”33 There is a great risk involved in this direct evocation of the oversexed female, the predatory, lubricious degenerate, by a woman author and a female lyric subject. By conspicuously placing her female subject in the context of Juvenal’s description of Messalina, l’Aubespine repossesses, rewrites, and legitimizes the image of a woman who seeks and fulfills her sexual pleasure. The French seventeenth century, when this poem circulated in print, is usually described as a period when women writers were constricted, or expressed their authority by sublimating and postponing sexual relations and requiring their male romantic partners to cooperate (la carte du Tendre, les précieuses, La guirlande de Julie). The famous carte du Tendre (map of Affection) looks like a real map and represents stages of a relationship as locales in the 33. Juvenal, Satire 6: “et lassata uiris necdum satiata recessit” (125).

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“country of Affection”: from the city of New Friendship one can get to other cities, especially if one follows the three rivers (Esteem, Gratitude, Inclination), or stops at some villages (Pretty Verses, Generosity) and avoids others (Forgetting, Pride); travelers, beware of the Lake of Indifference! The map is included in one of the two major multivolume novels by Madeleine de Scudéry (1607–1701), Clélie (1654–60). It is one of the emblematic productions of the literary and social circles of the précieuses, whose influence was so significant that Molière devoted two plays to its caricature (Les précieuses ridicules, 1659; Les femmes savantes, 1672). Préciosité can be defined as a style that seeks refinement of language, manners, and feelings, as opposed to vulgarity and rudeness, but it is also important to add that aristocratic women who considered themselves précieuses explicitly opposed marriage to literary patronage and chose the latter, making them protofeminists. La guirlande de Julie (1641) is an emblem of préciosité : a manuscript containing verse and illustrations of flowers arranged in a “bouquet” to celebrate an important précieuse, Julie d’Angennes, Mlle de Rambouillet, by her fiancé, the marquis de Montausier (they married after eleven years of public courtship).34 That the erotic Cabinet, including l’Aubespine’s poems, also circulated at the time shows that multiple sexual and gender options were in fact available, that préciosité and erotic poetry coexisted. L’Aubespine’s erotic “Enigma” can be related to the writings of an earlier French woman poet celebrated for her sensuality, Louise Labé (ca. 1520–66), for instance in her famous imitation of Catullus, “Baise m’encor, rebaise moi et baise” (“Kiss me again, and again, and again”).35 In the second half of the seventeenth century, in the scandal of Mme de Villedieu’s sonnet on orgasm (1659), although infinitely less explicit than l’Aubespine’s poems, we find a comparable poetic voice by a woman author.36 Marguerite de Valois’s famous address to her triste lit, a bed sad because empty, can also be placed on a continuum of which l’Aubespine’s poems constitute the most explicit extreme. The Satirical Cabinet was read by women—there is a humorous account by Tallemant de Réaux of a gentleman at court rushing to tell Louis 34. Printed editions of the Guirlande first appeared in 1729 (attached to the biography of Montausier) and then again in 1784 (owing to renewed interest aroused by the reappearance of one of the original manuscripts of the Guirlande). 35. Labé’s poem has been compared to Catullus 5, “Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus” (Let us live, dear Lesbia, and love), which contains the line: “da mi basia mille deinde centum” (give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred [7]). 36. In Marie-Catherine Desjardins de Villedieu’s poem, the lyric voice invites us “to learn the joys that ravish [her] soul” (11): “une douce langueur m’ôte le sentiment, / Je meurs entre les bras de mon fidèle Amant, / Et c’est dans cette mort que je trouve la vie” (a sweet languor makes me pass out, I die in the arms of my faithful lover, and it is in this death that I find life [12–14]).

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n XIII that his queen and her confidante are indulging in it, but we are made to understand that the man is a fool and that this is no news to the king.37 This documenting of continued interest in erotica complicates and enriches our knowledge of early modern women’s writing. While the standard literary histories construct a linear narrative of the repression of eroticism in the poetry written and read by women, leading from the explicit poems of Labé to the préciosité of the Guirlande de Julie, if we consider Marguerite de Valois, l’Aubespine, and the female readers of the Satirical Cabinet, a more complex history emerges. Perhaps in the future we may want to deemphasize the image of the descent of erotica and the ascent of préciosité and emphasize the fact that women continued to produce and consume erotic poetry throughout the early modern period. I follow MS 1718 by including among the sonnets the poems written in a different form, for instance “On the Mirror of M.D.L.B.” The table of contents of the posthumous volume does not indicate a grouping to which these stanzas belong, but the poem is present in the midst of a series of sonnets in MS 1718 and that order is respected in the present edition. Alternating poems in different meters does not fit the modern idea of the arrangement of poetic anthologies, but it gives us an opportunity to examine yet another aspect of the functioning of poetic albums and literary salons in the early modern period. The florilegium is composed like a family photo album or a guest book, in that the poems are arranged chronologically in the order in which they were written, telling a linear, historical narrative in addition to their content. Therefore, it is not surprising that the poems often refer to actual events in the life of the owners of the album, sometimes important (deaths), sometimes trivial (appearance in a court play), providing a theme for a poetic contest. It was not unusual to see such clusters of poems later appear in print. For example, a collection printed by one of the most famous French Renaissance publishers, Abel l’Angelier, entitled The Flea of the Dames Des Roches, had its origin in a charmingly insignificant event that took place in the salon of Madeleine and Catherine Des Roches in the provincial city of Poitiers. Parisian lawyer-poets were visiting Poitiers. They assembled in the Des Roches home. The flea of the collection’s title was found hopping on the bosom of Catherine Des Roches, and it became a frivolous pretext for serious poetic meditations by several authors, including Des Roches, on the status of women as objects of desire, autonomous subjects, and authors of 37. Gédéon Tallemant de Réaux (1619–92), Historiettes (written ca. 1657, first published in 1834). The courtier was Monsieur de Montbazon, reporting to Louis XIII on Anne of Austria and her chief lady-in-waiting, Mme de Chevreuse.

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poetry. Another such real event was the death of l’Aubespine’s lapdog, Barbiche, sung by Ronsard and Desportes, among others. The Barbiche cycle of poems was included in a poetic album that is now lost and that, unlike the Des Roches collection, was never printed. Some individual poems on Barbiche were conserved, because they were later published in the collected works of their respective authors—just as were the poems on the death of l’Aubespine’s brother and father, their poetic tumulus, mentioned above. As another example of a poetic contest centered on a theme, a number of poems on a broken mirror were composed in the circle of the maréchale de Retz. Perhaps l’Aubespine’s “On the Mirror of M.D.L.B.” was part of that contest, although it does not appear with the other broken mirror poems in the album of the maréchale de Retz, BnF MS 25455.38 We know that l’Aubespine wrote for the maréchale and participated in the poetic projects of her salon, because in the same Retz album we find a translation of a fragment of canto 32 from Ariosto’s Orlando furioso by l’Aubespine. As Alexandre Cioranescu said, “so much Ariosto was translated [by different authors] in the salon of the maréchale that it almost amounted to an attempt at a [collective] full translation” of this vast work.39

CHANSONS AND THE POETIC EXCHANGE BETWEEN

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In the posthumous volume, the sonnets are followed by chansons, lyric poems intended to be accompanied by music and sung. Only two poems from this section have been discovered. The first is a vilanelle (love pastoral)40 whose narrator, Rozette (little rose), accuses her shepherd lover of inconstancy. It is one of a group of three poems written by three authors: Desportes, l’Aubespine, and d’Aubigné. It is also another one of l’Aubespine’s poems published during her lifetime.41 In Desportes’s poem, the shepherd accuses Rozette of inconstancy, in l’Aubespine’s Rozette replies with her own accusations, and d’Aubigné chastises them both. I have included all three parts of this famous exchange between Desportes, l’Aubespine, and d’Aubigné (thus, 38. Catherine de Clermont, Album de poésies (Manscrit français 25455 de la BnF), ed. Colete Winn and François Rouget (Paris: Champion, 2004). 39. Cioranescu, L’Arioste en France, 1: 102. 40. See Julie Kane, “The Myth of the Fixed-Form Vilanelle,” Modern Language Quarterly 64, no. 4 (2003): 427–43, esp. 430. 41. L’Aubespine’s response to Desportes’s vilanelle was published as early as 1576, in the Sommaire (Paris); Jacques Lavaud, Un poète de cour au temps des derniers Valois: Philippe Desportes (Paris: Droz, 1936), 509n2.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n three chansons by three authors sharing the same refrain), for two reasons: because the collaboration with these two important writers reflects the cultural milieu in which l’Aubespine wrote and thrived and testifies to her importance; and because Desportes’s poem is a fixture in the cultural landscape of late sixteenth-century France, frequently put to music, by the king’s own composer among others. It was later used as a piece of “historical realia” in the nineteenth-century historical novel by Alexandre Dumas about Marguerite de Valois, Queen Margot. There, the duc de Guise hums Desportes’s vilanelle on a visit to the apartments of his lover, Mme de Sauve.42 D’Aubigné, who arbitrated the quarrel between Desportes’s and l’Aubespine’s “shepherds” is, next to Jean Calvin, the most important Protestant writer of the French Renaissance. Author of the Tragiques, a monumental poetic cycle that describes the horror of the religious wars, and other works of poetry and prose, d’Aubigné knew l’Aubespine and appreciated her intelligence. He mentions her in his rambling picaresque novel Avantures du baron de Faeneste, where he mocks, among other things, the absurdity of Catholic doctrine. For instance, he tells an anecdote about monks who consider making alterations to an altarpiece—specifically, to one portion where the “good rascal of a painter amused himself” by depicting in detail the devil’s “big and immense” testicles and “glowing” penis. Painting over a sacred image is impious, but the offending parts “scandalize the ladies and make the Huguenots laugh.” The monks who own the tableau are paralyzed by this dilemma and consider dispatching a messenger to the pope to solve it.43 It is in that context that d’Aubigné presents l’Aubespine as a woman who openly joked about her religion. For instance, he describes her innocently asking her confessor: “When Saint Francis confessed his disciples by signs, what sign exactly did he use for fornication?” Like “Rozette,” the second chanson by l’Aubespine is a pastoral (a poem or play whose characters are shepherds in love). The pastoral has an important role as one of the defining genres of the Renaissance. It demonstrates the adoption of Italianate poetic traditions across geographical and cultural divides, and its appearance marks the flowering of distinct, national forms of the Renaissance: in England, Sidney’s Arcadia; in Spain, Jorge de Mon-

42. As Sorg pointed out, Desportes’s poem was put to music by many musicians, including Eustache Du Caurroy. It was “that vilanelle that the duc de Guise, mindless of danger, hums in the apartments of Mme de Sauve, a few hours before he succumbs to the daggers of the Forty-five.” L’Aubespine, Les chansons de Callianthe, 15. 43. Agrippa d’Aubigné, Oeuvres complètes, ed. Eugène Réaume and François de Caussade, 6 vols. (Paris: A. Lemestre, 1873–92), 2: 804 (Faeneste, book 4, chap. 11).

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temayor’s Diana. The title of l’Aubespine’s pastoral is “Song translated from biscayen into French.” It is hard to say whether a song in Gascon or Basque was the source of this chanson, but the poem’s simplicity and attention to melodic lines, what Ronsard called le beau style bas (beautiful low style), is witness to the interest in creating a genre of national literature that imitates and transforms popular song.45 Was this interest primarily a reflection of the Italian and classical traditions or a return to popular roots? Most likely both; it was the type of imitation of the classics that was not a translation but a step in the creation of a national French literature, just as the Greeks and the Romans created their national literatures. This idea of imitation corresponds to the ideal relationship between the classical and native traditions set forth in the grand manifesto of the Pléïade poets of the French Renaissance, Joachim du Bellay’s Défense et illustration de la langue française (Defense and Illustration of the French Language, 1549).46 French poets were to rival the bucolic poetry of Virgil and draw on popular traditions of the territories which were then becoming France, linked by a shared cultural and political past although divided by language. Regional dialects and languages other than French were still the mother tongue of many regions of France, particularly the rural south and the northwest, until the beginning of the twentieth century; French was learned at school.

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POETIC DIALOGUES

In the posthumous volume, the chansons are followed by poetic dialogues. Only one is extant, “Dialogue of a Doublet with a Vest,” a humorous conversation between two pieces of clothing that philosophically reflect on life, change, and death. It is one of the three poems by l’Aubespine printed in the 44. Montemayor and others, like Juan Boscán and Garcilaso de la Vega, in a posthumous volume published jointly in 1543, introduced Italian eleven-syllable line and Italianate forms (sonnet, elegy, ode, eclogue) into Spanish. The first major French pastoral, Maurice Scève’s La Saulsaye, although less known, also represents an innovation and rewriting of the genre. I thank Elisabeth Hodges for this reference. 45. This song was put to music and republished a number of times in Jean Plauson’s Airs mis en musique à quatre parties par Jean Plauson Parisien tant de son invention que d’autres musiciens . . . (Paris: n.p., 1587, 1588, 1593, 1595). See Jeanice Brooks, “O quelle armonye: Dialogue Singing in Late Renaissance France,” Early Music History 22 (2003): 1–65, at 57. 46. The Pléïade was a group of seven major poets including Ronsard (as well as du Bellay, Rémy Belleau, Etienne Jodelle, Pontus de Tyard, Jean-Antoine de Baïf, and Jean Dorat) who named themselves after a famous group of seven poets from Alexandria, Egypt, a major center of Greek culture ca. 280 BCE (under the rule of the Ptolemeian dynasty), who borrowed that name from the Pleiades, the seven daughters of Atlas and the nymph Pleione, transformed into stars and forming a constellation.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n Satirical Cabinet. The first two stanzas of “Dialogue” are an imitation of a burla (poetic joke) by Jorge de Montemayor, one of the founding poets of the Spanish Renaissance (see above).47 This poem introduces us to the cultural and material world of the period.48 Expensive clothes, when worn out, were remade into smaller articles: from long robe (robe) into doublet (pourpoint) or vest (robon). When these were worn out in turn, they were used as rags or as lining for other garments (here, the robe becomes lining for breeches). Since the poem was included among pornographic verse, we can imagine that some readers saw it as related to eroticism. A robe (a long, loose gown worn by magistrates and clergymen, a one-piece fitted dress worn by women) that becomes a man’s jacket or vest (small, sometimes described as dandyish), and acts confused about its own identity, could connote cross-dressing, transvestitism, homoeroticism, alternating sexual partners, and multiplying sexual preferences and roles well beyond the heterosexual orthodoxy. In early modern England, the association between sexuality and alterations in clothes is explicit. For example, the satirical pamphlet Hic Mulier claims “that the labor of alteration was in increasingly high demand as a consequence of the fashion of cross-dressing; it impugns city tailors for ‘metamorphosing . . . modest old garments, to this new manner of short base and French doublet’ (sig. C1v).”49 In France, poems and pamphlets portrayed King Henry III and his court in a variety of same-sex and bisexual configurations, adducing expensive clothes and jewelry, makeup and curled hair, as the proof of blatantly transgressive sexuality. (To gauge what type of clothing was then considered transgressive, we must remember that Henry III sports huge, matching pearl earrings in his official portraits.) One of the defining moments of this satirical tradition was the duel des mignons in 1571, when three of the king’s favorites, always described in political satires as his sexual partners, died of wounds received in a duel, inspiring a number of poems. On the other hand, the “Dialogue” could be simply a satirical poem; there are other poems published in the mostly pornographic Cabinet that do not seem sexual, overtly or covertly, but rather concern the life of the court, 47. Lavaud, Un poète de cour, 189 n. 1: “the two first verses of [a piece] published by R. Sorg as a work of Mme de Villeroy . . . , Le Dialogue d’un pourpoint et d’un robon qui jadis furent robes, are translated almost word for word from one of the ”obras de burlas“ by Montemayor (Cancionero, fol. 181v).” 48. Cf. Peter Stallybrass and Ann Rosalind Jones, Renaissance Clothing and the Materials of Memory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). 49. Natasha Korda, “The Case of Moll Frith: Women’s Work and the ‘All-Male Stage,’ ” Early Modern Culture 4 (2004).

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and can be described as the early modern equivalent of cartoons about office work. The “Dialogue” is a fast-paced but poignant joke that evokes major literary and philosophical themes: the passage of time, change, and death. The articles of clothing are endowed with voices and a memory of their original identity, and they express acutely human pain and even terror at the notion of change, raising the issues of subjectivity, appearance, and identity. The vanishing point of the poem is the vanitas vanitatis theme (all things of this world are vain, unstable, as opposed to eternal life and religion-based transcendence). The themes of change and death in the poem give us an insight into thought about subjectivity at the end of the sixteenth century, and their particular formulation invites the use of postmodern theory. The personified articles of clothing “embody” a split subject, not dissimilar from the subject of Lacanian psychoanalysis. Lacan posits that the subject is split between its own incoherence and the imagined, symbolic coherence that is desired but never accessible. (The beginning of the process that leads to the formation of the split subject is the mirror stage, when the infant identifies with his image in the mirror, the imago: a flat, shiny, coherent mirror image of the child who is neither coherent nor flat.) Lacan also uses a metaphor related to clothing: the imago, a coherent self to which the individual aspires but that he never attains, is an “armor,” smooth and shiny on the outside but empty on the inside (another Lacanian metaphor for imago is “prosthesis”). The early modern subject of l’Aubespine’s dialogue is similar in two ways to the Lacanian subject. The short coat used to be a full robe, and it is horrified by the split between the memory of its more ample origins (as robe) and the present reality of its fragmentary, reduced state (cut down to a jacket). Here we find the echo of the Lacanian originary split of the subject and the irreparable anguish it induces, the anguish that characterizes the human condition. Second, there is in Lacan the concept of the chain of signifiers, the substitutions for what we lack and desire: because no one has or can obtain the imago-like coherence and fullness that we all lack, there is an emptiness at the center of our system of desire, and trying to attain that always inaccessible center, we make partial substitutions for the unattainable. Similarly, the “clothes” in l’Aubespine’s poem are horrified at the image that they foresee: further substitution, further cutting apart, devaluation, and fragmentation. For the early modern subject (or at least for l’Aubespine’s “doublet” and “robe”), the end of that process of substitution was death. Paired with the theme of vanitas vanitatis, the theme of death as the inescapable human condition was evoked by the injunction memento mori (remember death), some-

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n times posted overhead in bedrooms, particularly in monasteries, and symbolized in the visual arts by an empty skull. L’Aubespine’s poem, too, combines the themes of vanitas vanitatis and memento mori. It concludes by this address of the dead to the living: “what you are, we have been, alas, and you will become what we are.” The idea that death is the ultimate reference point of being (death gives being alive its profound sense) remains central to Western philosophy in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries in the works of Kant and Hegel, and in Heidegger and Sartre in the twentieth century, but the late Renaissance and seventeenth-century poetry and visual arts (mannerism and baroque) are often defined by the fascination with the two themes, vanity of earthly pursuits and reminder of death. And in early modern poetry love and death (Eros and Thanatos) are also brought together as part of a literary tradition that goes back to classical Greece and Rome: the aging poets frighten their youthful female lovers into sexual submission by reminding them that youth and beauty are ephemeral, in a reworking of the Horatian theme of carpe diem (seize the day); death and sexual ecstasy are conflated; Cupid’s arrows mortally wound the lovers’ hearts; the pains of love are worse than death; only death can part the lovers. These themes are frequently evoked in the petrarchist tradition, to which l’Aubespine’s lyric poems belong.

EPIGRAMS

Of three folios of epigrams (short poems, sometimes pornographic) that follow poetic dialogues in l’Aubespine’s posthumous volume, only three poems have been found: on a young lover, on her husband, and on her name (l’Aubespine, hawthorn).50 The “hawthorn epigram” comes from BnF MS fr. 1662, a poetic album whose owner is unknown.51 However, the manuscript containing the two other epigrams, BnF MS fr. 24320, is definitely connected to our author. It belonged to Anne Olivier, dame de Villarceaux, who was l’Aubespine’s great-niece (her mother was the daughter of l’Aubespine’s

50. In Anne Olivier’s album, the epigram on the husband appears first, but the posthumous volume lists the young lover epigram first, and it is in this order that the three epigrams are printed here. The young lover epigram was rediscovered and published by Jacqueline Boucher, Société et mentalités autour de Henri III, 4 vols. (Paris: Champion, 1981), 4: 1311–12. 51. One of the signs that this album may have been connected to l’Aubespine is the fact that the manuscript listed next to it, MS 1663, contains the poetic homage to her brother and father; the two volumes may have been purchased from the same collection.

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brother Guillaume). Anne Olivier’s album gives us the last opportunity to look at the phenomenon of florilegia in the early modern period. Unlike the calligraphed and nicely bound Gassot and Retz albums mentioned above, this one is very casual: a cheap-looking book the size of a legal pad that resembles today’s address books, with letters of the alphabet printed in colored ink on notches cut on the outer edge of the pages. It also shows another characteristic of florilegia: the fact that they often included more than one generation of poets. This album contains poems by l’Aubespine (died in 1596) as well as poems and letters by Vincent Voiture (born in 1597). Florilegia were also used by several generations of readers, and sometimes ended up as scrapbooks for children to scribble on. For instance, someone was learning to write using MS 24320, by copying words and sentences, including the name of the owner. L’Aubespine’s two epigrams from MS 24320 are scandalous: the first describes her husband as ill-humored and underendowed, and the second invites a young lover to exert himself. The second was published in 1971 by Jacqueline Boucher in her thesis on Henry III, and the first was mentioned in passing by Jacques Lavaud in 1936, but neither appears in Sorg’s 1926 edition of l’Aubespine.53 The “young lover” epigram is another poem by l’Aubespine included in the pornographic Satirical Cabinet. The three epigrams close the present edition of l’Aubespine’s original poetry. If much of her legacy is lost, even the few extant texts form a distinct voice. Among her lyric subjects are not only women prostrated by desire or torn between love and virtue but also those who dominate and command men. Other poems address God or philosophically reflect on death and the human condition. Most important, l’Aubespine wrote with extraordinary freedom (including risqué enigmas and epigrams), compelling us to revise stereotypes concerning women’s roles and authorship.

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T R A N S L AT I O N S O F A R I O S T O A N D O V I D

In addition to writing original poetry, l’Aubespine translated parts of some of the most popular texts of her period into French: Ariosto’s Orlando furioso and Ovid’s Heroides. Orlando furioso by Ariosto (1474–1533) continued the unfinished poem by Matteo Maria Boiardo (ca. 1441–94), Orlando Innamorato 52. Guillaume de l’Aubespine’s daughter, whose name was also Madeleine, married Jean Olivier, baron de Leuville. They had nine children, of whom Anne married Pierre de Mornay, seigneur de Villarceaux. Père Anselme, Histoire généalogique, 9 vols. (Paris: n.p., 1726–32), 6: 558–61. 53. Boucher, Société et Mentalités, 4: 1311–12.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n (sixty-nine cantos that amount to ca. 35,000 lines, first published in 1495). Orlando furioso was first published in 1516. Expanded in 1521 and 1532, it consists of forty-six cantos, of which only the first two and a fragment were translated by l’Aubespine. I have included the first forty verses of the first canto in this volume. Orlando furioso is an epic poem of love and fantastic adventures, continuing the tradition of the chivalric romances of the Middle Ages, but with an ironic distance: Ariosto’s poem is more chivalrous and more medieval than the romances of the Middle Ages themselves. Like Boiardo’s romance, it borrows the names of characters from French narratives of Charlemagne’s “cycle,” a loosely related group of narrative poems, each of which focuses on a different figure connected to Charlemagne. One of these poems, the Song of Roland (“Roland” is “Orlando” in Italian), is one of the earliest French literary texts, composed ca. 1100. The Charlemagne cycle was rewritten in French throughout the centuries, much like the Arthurian cycle. Some elements were always retained (names, favorite swords, and so on), but the stories varied. From the seventeenth to the nineteenth century, Charlemagne stories were the mainstay of the widely popular, low-cost book market (the so-called Bibliothèque bleue, “blue library”) that in number of volumes sold far outstripped the “canonical” literature published by the expensive, regulated printing trade.54 The Song of Roland describes the French under Charlemagne waging war against the Muslims in Spain. Roland dies halfway through the text, in a heroic defense against overwhelming enemy forces, owing to an act of treason; there is no love plot. Ariosto borrows the name of Roland and writes of battle scenes between Christian and Saracen knights, love pursuits, and exciting, fantastic adventures. If Ariosto used popular tales about Charlemagne’s knights as the starting point of his poem, they do not define his work any more than popular stories of giants define François Rabelais’s 1540s novels, Gargantua and Pantagruel. Borrowing from popular material, Ariosto’s celebrated poem feeds in turn into the canonical tradition of French and English literature, especially drama (Corneille, Shakespeare) and narrative poetry (Milton, Byron). The Renaissance parodic “remake” of medieval romances in Orlando furioso recalls in some respects another best-seller of the period, Miguel de Cervantes’s Don 54. The name Bibliothèque bleue apparently comes from the cheap bluish gray paper in which these small volumes were bound, the kind of paper also used for wrapping sugar. Numbers of volumes testify to the massive impact of the Bibliothèque bleue: since these books were exempt from royal privilege, numbers are uncertain, but censors estimated that there were about 9 million copies in circulation before 1848, while the total production of French books between 1778 and 1789 is estimated at ca. 2.6 million volumes. Geneviève Bollème, La Bibliothèque bleue: littérature populaire en France du XVIIe au XIXe siècle (Paris: Julliard, 1971), 12. The Charlemagne cycle was always part of a limited list of titles printed in that form.

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Quixote, whose hero unsuccessfully tries to experience, in the unlikely and anachronistic context of Golden Age Spain, the adventures from medieval romances that he obsessively reads. The fictional nature of these texts is particularly emphasized by the inclusion of magical and miraculous events; for instance, in the first two cantos of Ariosto, an invincible knight who lives in a castle built of iron and rides through the air on a winged horse; a hermit skilled in the arts of necromancy who invokes spirits and sends them on errands; and the most famous device, inherited from Boiardo, heroes and heroines in love who drink from two springs in the forest of Ardennes, one spring inspiring love, the other extinguishing it. If love affairs in Orlando are complex from the start (most of the first canto is taken up by knights fighting each other to ravish beautiful Angelica), they become downright hilarious when the lovers drink from the wrong spring and inexplicably begin to avoid their partner and pursue someone else instead (that is what Bradamante laments in the fragment of canto 32 translated by l’Aubespine). Rinaldo, whom Angelica pursued in vain, became infatuated with her after drinking from one spring, while Angelica, having drunk from another, now cannot stand Rinaldo and flees him (canto 1, below). Another device that firmly anchors Ariosto’s poem in the literary epic tradition and contributes to the parodic register is the use of similes, miniature stories that usually illustrate a state of mind, inserted at high points of dramatic action, which delay the reader’s gratification in the most teasingly delightful way. For instance, in canto 1, Angelica’s fear of noise as she flees her pursuer is a pretext for a miniature story about a baby deer hiding in the thicket while his mother is being ripped apart by a leopard. Sorg’s 1926 edition of l’Aubespine does not mention her translations of Ariosto. Their only trace is the lost volume of l’Aubespine’s collected works, which gives their titles (Cantos 1 and 2) and cites the opening lines. In his work on translations of Ariosto in France (1938), Alexandre Cioranescu mentioned the poems beginning with these lines, dedicated to Marguerite de Valois and contained in a single, elegant manuscript, now in the Municipal Library at Lyons (MS 745). Cioranescu associated these translations with another anonymous French Ariosto fragment, contained in the poetic album of the maréchale de Retz (BnF MS fr 25455), on the basis of the hand of the manuscript, as well as the style and the form of the poems. The two cantos and the fragment share the same form: twelve-syllable lines in rhyming couplets arranged in eight-line verses. Although the fragment of canto 32 contained in the Retz album is not mentioned in the description of the lost volume by l’Aubespine, Cioranescu’s argument is sound, and the fragment of canto 32 was in all probability written by her.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n Cioranescu tentatively proposed various male poets in the literary circle of Marguerite de Valois and the maréchale de Retz as probable authors of these translations of Ariosto, but he never suspected that their author was l’Aubespine.55 It is not surprising that l’Aubespine’s translations of Ariosto found their way to Lyons. Her only son was the governor of the city and the region, and the Municipal Library contains other volumes that belonged to his and his descendants’ library. Although Cioranescu ignored the author of the Ariosto fragments, he praised their clarity, concision, and the fluidity of their alexandrin in comparison with numerous other translations. If l’Aubespine’s version does not have the élan of Desportes’s rendition of the opening of Ariosto’s Furioso, it is concise and masterful. Likewise, l’Aubespine’s translation of Ovid’s epistle from Phyllis to Demophon (Heroides 2) is a felicitous rendering of Ovid’s text, celebrated for its intricate, dense Latin. Rhetorical questions fit tightly in the twelve-syllable line: “Dy-moy, que t’ay-je faict sinon trop fort t’aimer?” (Tell me: what have I done, other than loved too well?), “A tant de chastiments seul pourras-tu suffire?” (Will your one body suffice for all these punishments?). Contrary meanings that repel each other are bound tighter by alliterations and are brought to confront each other by the inversion of syntax: “De traicts que j’ay forgez ma poitrine est percée” (My breast is pierced by arrows that I forged). As the final example of l’Aubespine’s rewriting of gender stereotypes, I want to evoke her translations of Ovid in the context of her reputation for learning, as well as in the context of literature written by women and of literary representation of women. According to modern critics, the main figure of the Heroides, the abandoned woman (Penelope and others), sets a masochistic tone for the novel written in the woman’s voice. However, by her choice of epistles, l’Aubespine shows not only an interest in the masochistic figure of the abandoned woman lover (her translations of epistles 2 and 5, Phyllis to Demophon and Oenona to Paris), but an equal interest in the flamboyant narcissism and the unleashed chaos of passions that accompany the beginning of an adulterous liaison (epistles 16 and 17, Paris to Helen and Helen to Paris). L’Aubespine’s selection of texts to translate can be interpreted also as a fashioning of a coherent narrative series. Aside from Phyllis and Demophon, she chose three epistles that form a narrative chain connected by the figures of their protagonists: Oenona to Paris, Paris to Helen, Helen to Paris. L’Aubespine’s possible interest in creating a publishable series resonates with what her contemporaries such as La Croix du Maine and Ronsard say 55. Cioranescu, L’Arioste en France, 1: 102.

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about her work and imply about her literary ambitions. Ironically, our contemporary critics may be inclined to stress that in her translations of the Heroides, l’Aubespine participated in the elaboration of the theme of female masochism. By contrast, l’Aubespine’s contemporaries focused on the fact that as an author of contemporary French versions of some of the most popular texts of the Latin canon, she “surpassed the most learned French men” (Ronsard, “If you fall,” 14).

A N O N Y M O U S D E D I C AT O RY E P I S T L E T O T H E L O S T V O L U M E O F L’ A U B E S P I N E ’ S P O E T I C W O R K S

The lost volume of poems by l’Aubespine opens with a dedicatory epistle written by a man who claims to have been her lover. The author of the epistle presents l’Aubespine’s collected poems to an unknown duke, possibly the duke of Savoy. Fragments of this epistle are preserved in a nine-page description of l’Aubespine’s volume compiled by the head of the Turin library, Bernardino Peyron, before the volume disappeared in the fire of 1904. It is impossible to say by whom or when the dedicatory poem was written, except that it must be dated after May 1596, the date of l’Aubespine’s death, because it describes the author/lover’s mourning. Other autobiographical allusions in the poem are vague. Peyron’s comment that the manuscript is decorated con stemma ducale (with ducal arms) implies that it belonged to the duke of Savoy. The anonymous author refers to his service prior to joining the duke’s household: he served “a prince,” now dead, who “touched the lily crown with his hand.” The lily is the symbol of the French monarchy, and “touching it with one’s hand” probably means that he was a possible successor to the throne, but never crowned. Francis of Anjou and Alençon, the younger brother of Henry III, who predeceased him (in 1584), is the likely candidate. After his death, the author served “a prince” and “a captain” of the Lorraine family, head of a “great party” that is now disbanded, most likely the Ligue. It must have been Charles de Lorraine, duc de Mayenne, also known as Charles de Guise.56 56. The duc de Mayenne (1554–1611) was the second son of François de Lorraine, duc de Guise, and Anna d’Este. He war a peer of France (1573), and he fought under his brother, Henry I de Guise, in the religious wars. As the governor of Burgundy, he joined the Ligue in 1585, and at the assassination of his brothers (1588) became the head of the Ligue against Henry III. He entered pro-Guise Paris with his troops in 1589, forcing Henry III to form an alliance with the future Henry IV. At the death of Henry III, Mayenne refused the offer of the crown, promoting instead Charles, cardinal de Bourbon, as successor of Henry III. Mayenne lost the war for the crown to Henry IV and signed a truce with him in 1593.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n By contrast with l’Aubespine’s work, the anonymous dedicatory poem is pedestrian and implies that the author wrote only occasional verse, like many of his contemporaries. He may have been a secretary or a soldier. A number of French noblemen offered their service to the duke of Savoy during the first years of the reign of Henry IV, including well-known figures like the novelist and poet Honoré d’Urfé (two of his poems for the duke date to 1598–99). The French noblemen joined the duke of Savoy in greater numbers when Henry IV won the war for the throne of France after King Henry III named him as his successor, a choice contested by the Ligue. In their poems, they describe the duke as “the buttress of the church and support of the Gauls.”57 Many poems present the fanatically Catholic side of the Ligue, and their authors may have been those who, unable or unwilling to negotiate their return to their former positions and holdings under the new king, passed into the service of Savoy and supported the duke’s interests. Under the pretext of defending the faith, Charles Emmanuel of Savoy hoped to round out his domain (the war over the marquisate of Saluzzo 1588, 1598) and even to extend it into southern France. Some poems flatteringly imagine him replacing Henry IV as the king of France.58 The ellipses in the translation represent parts of the poem not copied by Peyron. The comments in square brackets are by Peyron (who wrote in Italian).

To sum up, l’Aubespine’s work impacts several areas of current interest in early modern studies: lesbianism, pornography avant la lettre, early literary salons, and women’s self-fashioning as authors, among others. As a translator of Ariosto, l’Aubespine exemplifies a trend in sixteenth-century literature that has not recently received the attention it deserves in view of its importance during the period. As a translator of Ovid, she provides a connection to Elizabethan England, where imitations and translations of the Heroides defined women’s writing. As the “uncertain author” of the Cabinet of Salutary Affects, she may have participated in one of the most important developments of the French Renaissance, the creation of the national prose 57. Turin, Biblioteca Reale, MS Varie 297, fol. 4r. 58. Philippe Du Mas, “Chant de triumphe sur les dernieres conquestes de Monseigneur le Duc de Savoye et Prince de Piedmont,” Turin, Biblioteca Reale, MS Varie 297, fols. 3r–12v. The French courtiers, secretaries, and soldiers offered the duke poems of introduction, poems in honor of ducal marriages and deaths, and poems that served as New Year’s gifts. These occasional poems in French, Latin, Italian, and Spanish, written on separate pieces of paper and sometimes elegantly calligraphed and illuminated, are collected in two manuscripts at the Royal Library in Turin (Turin, Biblioteca Reale, MSS Varie 297 and 298).

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tradition, the philosophical essay, and neo-stoicism. Her erotic and lesbian poems provide an invaluable context for the analysis of homo- and heterosexual relations and gender agency in the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. As a woman author of erotica, she adds valuable information on women writers and readers and literary representations of women’s sexuality. Finally, the myth of the author she co-wrote for herself with Ronsard merits our attention. L’Aubespine opted for a heroic and national model, dramatically different from the “modesty of her sex” topos. In that, she goes against a major trend, and her work constitutes a new, crucial piece of evidence on the paradigms of authorship that characterize early modern women writers.

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VOLUME EDITOR’S BIBLIOGRAPHY

[First Page] P R I M A RY S O U R C E S

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S E C O N D A RY S O U R C E S

Agnelli, Giuseppe, and Giuseppe Ravegnani. Annale delle edizioni ariostee, con CXIV tavole fuori testo. Bologna: Nicola Zanichelli, 1933. Anselme, Père. Histoire généalogique . . . 9 vols. Paris: n.p., 1726–1732. Babut, Daniel. Plutarque et le stoïcisme. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1969. Baker, Deborah Lesko. “Entering the Literary Stage.” In The Subject of Desire. Lafayette: Purdue University Press, 1996. 11–40. Balsamo, Jean. “Abel l’Angelier et ses dames. Les Dames des Roches, Madeleine de

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L’Aubespine, Marie Le Gendre, Marie de Gournay.” In Des femmes et des livres, ed. Dominique de Courcelles and Carmen Val Juliàn. Paris: Ecole des Chartes, 1999. Balsamo, Jean, and Michel Simonin. Abel l’Angelier et Françoise de Louvain (1574–1620), Suivi du catalogue des ouvrages publiés par Abel l’Angelier (1574–1610) et la veuve l’Angelier (1610–1620). Geneva: Droz, 2002. Bollème, Geneviève. La Bibliothèque bleue: littérature populaire en France du XVIIe au XIXe siècle. Paris: Julliard, 1971. Boucher, Jacqueline. La cour de Henri III. [Rennes]: Ouest France Université, 1986. . Société et mentalités autour de Henri III. 4 vols. Paris: Champion, 1981. Brooks, Jeanice. “O quelle armonye: Dialogue Singing in Late Renaissance France.” Early Music History 22 (2003): 1–65. Caretti, Lanfranco. Ariosto e Tasso. Turin: Einaudi, 1977. Champion, Pierre. Ronsard et Villeroy: Les secrétaires du roi et les poètes, d’après le manuscrit français 1663 de la Bibliothèque nationale. Paris: Champion, 1925. Cioranescu, Alexandre. L’Arioste en France, des origines à la fin du XVIIIe siècle. 2 vols. Paris: Les Presses Modernes, 1938. Conihout, Isabelle de, and Pascal Ract-Madoux. “Ni Grolier, ni Mahieu: Laubespine.” Bulletin du Bibliophile 1 (June 2004): 63–88. De Grazia, Margareta, Maureen Quilligan, and Peter Stallybrass, eds. Subject and Object in Renaissance Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. DeJean, Joan. “The Female Tradition.” L’Esprit créateur 23, no. 2 (1983): 3–8. . Libertine Strategies: Freedom and the Novel in Seventeenth-Century France. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1981. . “The Politics of Genre: Madeleine de Scudéry and the Rise of the French Novel.” L’Esprit créateur 29, no. 3 (1989): 43–51. . Tender Geographies: Women and the Origins of the Novel in France. New York: Columbia University Press, 1991. DeJean, Joan, and Nancy K. Miller, eds. Displacements: Women, Tradition, Literatures in French. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991. Dickerman, Edmund H. Bellièvre and Villeroy: Power in France under Henry III and Henry IV. Providence: Brown University Press, 1971. Doucet, Roger. Les bibliothèques parisiennes au XVIe siècle. Paris: Picard, 1956. Flèges, Amaury. “Le tombeau des l’Aubespine: Autour du manuscrit 1663 de la Bibliothèque Nationale.” La Licorne 29 (1994): 17–68. Frémy, Edouard. L’Académie des derniers Valois (1570–1585) d’après des documents nouveaux et inédits. Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1887. Hodges, Elisabeth. “The Critique of Place in Maurice Scève’s Saulsaye.” French Forum 30, no. 3 (2005): 1–16. Hogg, Chloé. “Novel Histories and Historical Novels in France, 1654–1700.” Ph.D diss., University of Pennsylvania, 2002. Huguet, Edmond. Dictionnaire de la langue française du seizième siècle. 7 vols. Paris: Champion and Didier, 1925–67. Jones, Ann Rosalind. “Bad Press: Modern Editors Versus Early Modern Women Poets (Tullia d’Aragona, Gaspara Stampa, Veronica Franco).” In Strong Voices, Weak History: Early Modern Women Writers and Canons in England, France and Italy, ed. Pamela Joseph Benson and Victoria Kirkham. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005. 287–313.

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Timmermans, Linda. L’accès de femmes à la culture (1598–1715): Un débat d’idées de Saint François de Salles à la Marquise de Lambert. Paris: Champion, 1993. Wartburg, Walther von. Französisches etymologisches Wörterbuch. Bonn: F. Klopp, 1928–. Winn, Colette. “Early Modern Women and the Poetics of Lamentatio: Mourning, Revenge, and Art.” Mediaevalia 22 (1999): 127–55. . “La femme écrivaine au XVIe siècle: écriture et transgression.” Poétique: Revue de théorie et d’analyse littéraires 21, no. 84 (1990): 435–52. . “Les femmes et le développement de la culture du livre (XVIe–ébut XVIIe siècle).” Women in French Studies (2002): 10–24. Zecher, Karla. “The Gendering of the Lute in Sixteenth-Century French Love Poetry.” Renaissance Quarterly 53 (2000): 769–91.

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SELECTED POEMS

[First Page] É P Iˆ T R E D É D I C AT O I R E D U V O L U M E P O S T H U M E 1

Vous qui de voz ayeulx le grande nombre augmentant Allez a leurs lauriers les vostres adjoustant Et de qui la valleur tous les jours renouvelle De tant de braves morts la memoire immortelle Heritier successif des faits et du renom De la foy de l’estat du courage et du nom De cette race illustre et la plus ancienne De celles que l’on 2 conte en la foy chrestienne ..................................... Puis que pour mon bon heur les destins m’ont fait naistre Vassal d’un si grand Duc serviteur d’un tel maistre Mon Prince je doy bien me donner tout à vous [Plus loin le poète parle de lui-même] Ma fortune jadis m’en fist servir un autre Un Prince dont les os gisent ensepvelis Qui touchoit de la main la couronne de lis Mais les destins hastes à mes voeus mal propices Finirent tout d’un coup sa vie et mes services Et non pas le regret par mes yeux espandu De ne l’avoir suivy des que je l’eus perdu Apres luy je servis un de ceux de Loraine Prince habile et galant brave et grand Capitaine Chef de ce grand party qui cessast tout a` fait Quand avecque la cause on void finir l’effect Sans manquer d’amitié de constance et de foy Je me retire en fin au lieu de ma naissance Pour rendre à vous tout seul la mesme obeissance

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E P I S T L E D E D I C AT O RY T O T H E P O S T H U M O U S V O L U M E

You who, augmenting the great numbers of your ancestors, Continue to add your laurels to those they have won, And whose valor renews every day The immortal memory of so many brave dead, Successive inheritor of the deeds and the glory, Of the faith, the state, the courage, and the name Of this illustrious race, and the most ancient Of those included among the Chrisitan faith .................................... Since, happily, I was destined to be born A vassal of so great a duke, a servant of such a master, My prince, I must indeed give myself entirely to you [Later, the poet speaks of himself] My fortune made me serve another long ago, A prince whose bones lie buried, Who touched with his hand the crown of lilies. But hasty destiny, unfavorable to my wishes, Ended his life and my service at the same time, Although she did not end the regret, shed by my eyes, Not to have followed him as soon as I had lost him. After him, I served one of those of Lorraine, A wise and gallant prince, brave and great captain, Chief of that great party that stopped altogether, When effects disappeared with the cause. Without failing in friendship, constancy, and faith, I now return to the place of my birth, To give the same obedience to you alone,

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine Que j’avois destinée à chacun de ces deux [Puis le poète avoue avoir aimé une très belle dame qui est morte et qu’il pleure toujours] Et combien que son ame au Ciel s’en soit allée Elle ne laisse pas d’estre icy recelée En ces vers amoureux, veritables portraictz Qui la vont figurant jusques aux derniers traictz [Il offre ces vers au Duc car il ne possède rien de plus précieux] Je pensois te laissant et mon cueur et ma foy T’avoir donné gran Duc tout ce qui fut à moy Mais l’amour et le dueil tenoient assujectye De moy mesme en ces vers la meilleure partie Vers escrits de la main qui recevoit mes voeuz Ouvrages de son ame ornement de ses feuz De noz serves Amours les tesmoings autentiques Et de son bel esprit les plus cheres reliques .................................. Donc ô Prince invincible avecque ces ouvrages Je te fais un present de ses perfections De son bel entretien et de mes passions De la ferme amitié de mon amour extrême 3 Bref je te fay present et d’elle et de moy mesme.

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S O N N E T 15

Deux puissans Ennemis me font mortelle guerre Amour et la vertu chacun a qui mieux mieux L’un me faisant jouir du soleil de voz yeux Me fait croire que cest mon Paradis en terre L’autre avec son pouvoir soudainement atterre Cest amoureux penser et me levant aux Cieux Veut que par ce chemin mon renom glorieux J’acquiere un pris d’honneur que le tombeau n’enserre Amour port en mon cueur mille brandons ardans Vertu de ses glaçons le rempart au dedans Et tousjours mon desir a` la raison s’oppose L’un peut tout et à l’autre il faut tout s’addoner Que doibs je faire. Helas veuillez en ordonner Vous en qui tout mon heur consiste et se repose.

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That I had destined for these two [Then the poet reveals that he loved a very beautiful lady who is dead and whose death he is still mourning] Though her soul has left us for the sky, She remains here still, In her love poems, portraits that resemble her Down to the smallest details: [He offers these verses to the duke because he has nothing more precious] I thought, leaving you my heart and my faith, To have given the great duke all that was mine, But love and mourning kept subjected The best part of myself in these poems. Poems written by the hand that received my vows, Works of her soul, ornament of her fires, True witnesses of our steady loves 4 And the delightful remembrances of her uncommon mind. ............................................... So, O invincible prince, with these works, I make you a present of her perfections, Of her charming conversation, and of my passions, Of my firm friendship, of my extreme love, In brief, I make you a present of both her and me.

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SONNET 1

Two mighty enemies wage a deadly war against me: Love and Virtue, and each wants to outdo the other. One, making me take pleasure in the sun of your eyes, Makes me believe this is my paradise on earth. The other suddenly with her power strikes down That lover’s thought, and then, lifting me to the skies, Commands me to acquire my glorious renown By this path, a prize of honor the tomb shall not confine. Love thrusts into my heart a thousand burning torches, Virtue with blocks of ice secures it from inside, And my desire always my reason must oppose. One is all-powerful and to the other we must fully submit. What shall I do? Alas, will you deign to command, You, in whom all my happiness consists and abides.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine S O N N E T 26

Comme peult-il entrer en vostre entendement, Tout celeste et tout beau, ce soupson qui l’entame, Croyant que mon esprit loge en soy d’autre flame Que celle qui prend vie en vos yeulx seullement? Au milieu de mon front vous pouvez clairement Lire ce que je sens gravé dedans mon ame, Et mes yeux languissans, que vostre amour enflame, Vous font assez de foy que j’ayme constamment. Si cela ne suffit, revenez en vous mesmes, Et juges vos vertus, votre valleur extreme, Et tout ce qui vous faict jusqu’au ciel estimer. Dans un si beau mirouer vous prendres asseurance Que qui du clair soleil a senty la puissance Jamais d’un aultre feu ne se peult allumer.

S O N N E T 3 . S O N E T C H R E S T I E N7

Seigneur change ma guerre en ta paix eternelle, Eschaufe les glaçons de mon coeur endurcy, Et faiz qu’à l’avenir je n’aye autre soucy Qu’à suivre le sentier où ta bonté m’apelle. Dompte les passions de mon ame rebelle Et lave mon esprit de peché tout noircy, Dépars de ta lumière à mon oeil obscurcy, Et m’apprens les secretz qu’aux esleuz tu revelle. Sur toy tant seulement mon espoir j’ay fondé. Si grande est mon erreur, plus grande est ta bonté Qui ne laisse jamais celluy qui te réclame. Purge donc mon esprit et le retire a toy, Luy donnant pour voller les aisles de la foy, Sans que l’abus du monde arreste plus mon ame.

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SONNET 2

How can it ever gain entrance into your mind, All heavenly, beautiful, this suspicion that taints it? Thinking that in my soul could dwell another flame Besides the one that takes life from your eyes alone? Right on my face you can openly read That which I feel engraved upon my soul, And my languishing eyes, which your love sets aflame, Give you sufficient proof that I love faithfully. If that is not enough, reflect upon yourself, And consider your virtues, your ultimate valor, And everything that lifts your esteem to the skies. From that beautiful mirror you will draw certitude That whoever has felt the power of the sun Cannot be set aflame by any other fire.

SONNET 3. PIOUS SONNET

O Lord, into your peace eternal, change my war, Warm up the blocks of ice within my hardened heart, And make it so that I will have no other wish Than to follow the path where your grace summons me. Tame and subdue the passions of my rebellious soul, And cleanse my mind, all blackened by my sins, Dispense some of your light into my darkened eyes, Instruct me in the secrets you reveal to the chosen. On you alone have I founded my hope. If my errors are great, still greater is your grace Which never leaves alone him who cries out for you. Purge my spirit, therefore, and draw it back to you, Give it the wings of faith to fly, so that no more Shall worldly abuses dare to detain my soul.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine S O N N E T 4 . A U T R E S O N E T C H R E S T I E N8

Si tu jecte les yeux sur mon iniquité, Je confesse, ô Seigneur, juge tresequitable, Que le mal qui m’afflige et me rend miserable Est beacucoup moindre encor que je n’ay merité. Mais s’il te plaist aussi, par ta toute bonté, Et par le sang du Christ, mon rampart veritable, Regarde ma douleur de ton oeil pitoyable: Tu ne me laisseras en ceste extremité. En l’accez de mes maulx, ce qui plus me console, C’est que j’ay mon espoir en ta saincte parolle, Qui me donne le coeur de m’adresser à toy. L’oeil donc couvert de pleurs, l’ame triste et confuze, Mes pechéz, ô Seigneur, en tremblant je t’accuse: Voy du ciel ma misere et prens pitié de moy.

S O N N E T 5 . A L A F I E B V R E9

Si tu es du hault ciel icy bas dessendue Pour donner à mes maulx l’entiere guarison, Delivrant mon esprit de sa foible prison, Fiebvre, mon seul confort, tu sois la bien venue! Mais quoy? Ne pense pas que le mal qui me tue S’allege par l’effort de ceste pamaison. Mortelle est ma douleur, rien n’y sert la raison, Et la mort seullement la peult rendre abbatue. Donc, si tu viens vers moy affin de me guarir, Haste toy promptement de me faire mourir, Tuant mille langueurs dont mon ame est suivie. Mais quoy? Je sens desja ton pouvoir combatu. O fiebvre, arreste toy! Helas, où t’en fuis tu? Tu me faictz bien mourir en me laissant en vie.

[46], (7)

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SONNET 4. ANOTHER PIOUS SONNET

Were you to catch a sight of my iniquity, I must confess, O Lord, most equitable judge, That the pain which afflicts me and which tortures me Is littler by far than that which I deserve. But if it pleases you, in your almighty grace, And by the blood of Christ, truly my bastion, Look down upon my pain with your pitiful eyes: You won’t abandon me in this extremity. At the height of my pain, what consoles me the most Is that I’ve placed my hope in your sacred word. That is what gives me courage to appeal to you. Thus, my eyes full of tears, a sad and humbled soul, My sins to you, O Lord, I confess tremblingly: See my misery from heaven and take pity on me.

SONNET 5. TO FEVER

If, from the lofty heavens, you have come down this low To bring a complete cure for all my suffering, By releasing my mind from its prison so frail, Fever, my only joy, I gladly welcome you! But what’s this? Do not suppose that the pain slaying me Is lessened by the force of my fainting away. Deadly is my distress, reason is powerless, Nothing can conquer it except death alone. Thus, if you come to me because you aim to heal me, As quickly as you can, make haste, hurry and kill me, Slaying a thousand woes that have pursued my soul. But what’s this? I feel your powers are beginning to wane. O fever, stay your course! Alas, why do you flee? You’re truly killing me by leaving me alive.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine S O N N E T 6 10

Mon coeur, c’est trop langui sans espoir d’allegence, C’est bannir trop longtemps les plaisirs gratieux, C’est trop suivre un ingrat sans raison et sans yeux, Qui de tes beaux desirs n’eust jamais cognoissance. Retire toy, mon coeur, pers en toute esperance, Et ne te genne plus, pensant forcer les cieux. Sans perdre ainsi le temps, tu feras beaucoup mieux, D’une plus doulce vie ayant la joyssance. Adieu donc pour jamais, doux attraictz mes vainqueurs, Qui m’avez faict souffrir tant d’amaires langueurs: De vostre ingrattitude enfin je me rebelle. Un jour de cest erreur vous vous repentirez. Et ce pendant, mon coeur, heureux vous joyrez D’une ame obeissante, amoureuse et fidelle.

S O N N E T 7 11

Non, ce n’est point icy la bien heureuse allée Qui passoit en plaisir le clair sejour des dieux: Ou, si c’est elle mesme, ô cruauté des cieux, Pourquoy s’est sa beauté si soudain envolée? Ce vert gay, qui rendoit mon ame consolée Par un espoir plaisant, ores m’est ennuyeux, Et ce qui lors estoit paradis de mes yeux N’est plus rien maintenant qu’une obscure vallée. Amour, ce changement monstre assez ta puissance: Les fleurs, en ce beau lieu, sans fin prenoient naissance Durant le temps heureux qu’il te pleust d’y loger, Mais depuis qu’en mon coeur tu choisis ta demeure, La verdeur de ce bois soudain se vit changer, Et dans moy les pensers reverdir d’heure en heure.

[48], (9)

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SONNET 6

My heart, too long you’ve languished without hope of relief, You’ve banished for too long pleasurable delights, You have followed too long a senseless, blind ingrate, Who was never aware of your lovely desires. Draw away, O my heart, abandon every hope, Distress yourself no more, thinking you’ll change your fate. Don’t squander time, you’ll be much better off If you choose to enjoy a sweeter life than that. Adieu forevermore, sweet attractions, my foes, Who caused me to endure so many bitter pains: Against your ingratitude at last I have rebelled. A day will come when you will regret having erred. And meanwhile you, my heart, will happily enjoy The pleasure of a docile, loving, and faithful soul.

SONNET 7

No, it’s not here, the blessed tree-lined path, More pleasing than the bright abode of all the gods, Or, if it is the one, O heavens’ cruelty, Why did its beauty so suddenly flee away? That gay green, which before consoled my soul With pleasurable hopes, now seems grating to me, And what then appeared paradise to my eyes, Is nothing nowadays to me but a dark vale. Love, it is in this change that your powers are shown: Flowers, in this fair place, were constantly reborn During the happy time it pleased you there to dwell, But ever since you chose my heart as your abode, The verdure of these woods was suddenly transformed. Now, in my heart each hour bloom ever greener thoughts.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine S O N N E T 8 12

Jamais, jamais ne puissiez vous, mon coeur De cest ingrat esprouver la feintise. Plus tost la flame en mon courage esprise Brule mes os d’eternelle rigueur: Plus tost l’archer qui causa ma langueur Change les traictz dont mon ame il maitrise Aux traictz de mort, qu’ainsi soit ma franchise Subjecte aux lois d’un parjure trompeur: Plustost le feu, l’air, la mer et la terre Soient conjurez à me faire la guerre, Et sans cesser croisse mon desconfort, Que je consente une telle misere. Pouvant mourir, trop lache est qui prefere Sa vie esclave à une belle mort!

S O N N E T 9 13

Vous qui scavez que c’est, mieux que moy, de l’amour, Pensez vous qu’elle puisse estre sans jalousie? Et qu’un coeur bien attainct, une ame bien saisie Veuille à son corrival faire quelque bon tour? Ha! Vous vous trompez fort de me faire la court Pour recevoir faveur d’une qui est ma vie, D’une qui est mon coeur, ma maistresse, et ma mie, Qui recelle en ses yeux ma clarté et mon jour. Si quelque poinct me manque à luy faire service, Je ne veulx pour cela luy quicter mon office: Toutefois (s’il luy plaist) l’accord je vous presente Qui nous rendra tous deux contans à mon advis: Je serviray les jours, vous servirez les nuictz. Ha, vous ne voulez pas? Et bien, j’en suis contente.

[50], (11)

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SONNET 8

Never, never should you endure, my heart, The artifice of this ungrateful man. I’d rather that the fire lit in my breast Burned up my bones with an eternal flame. I’d rather that the archer who caused my pain Changed the darts he used to bind my soul To darts of death, than my own freedom see Subject to laws of a perjured deceiver. I’d rather that fire, air, sea, and earth All against me would conspire in a war, And that my pain would grow without relief, Than to consent to such a misery. Those who can die are cowards to choose A slavish life over a glorious death!

SONNET 9

You who know better than I what it is to love, Do you think that she—love—is without jealousy, And that a heart struck hard, a well-beholden soul, For her co-rival would want to do some good turn? Ha! You are very wrong to pay your court to me, Hoping to gain the favor of her who is my life, Of her who is my heart, my mistress and my sweet, In whose eyes are enclosed daylight and clarity. If, in order to serve her, I am lacking in some point, I do not want to stop serving her for that reason. However (if she wishes), I propose an accord That will make both of us happy, as I believe: I’ll serve her in the daytime, you will serve her at night. Ha, you don’t want to? Well then, I’m glad of it.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine S O N N E T 1 0 14

Ce fut dedans ce bois qu’Angellique aux beaux yeux Esprouva contre Amour la puissante fontaine Dont soudain ce Renauld, qui mesprisoit sa peine, Autant qu’elle l’aimoit luy devint odieux. J’ay mille fois erré par ses sauvages lieux, Torrens, fleuves, ruisseaulx dont la forest est plaine, J’en ay faict nourriture, ô esperance vaine! Mon mal plus que davant me semble furieux. Ha! Je ne puis penser qu’Amour fust en son ame. Non, elle n’aymoit point. Angelique estoit femme, Je dis de celles qui n’ont rien d’arresté. Contre un foible ennemy bien facille est la guerre, Mais mon feu dans les eaues, dans le ciel, dans la terre, Conservera tousjours sa flame et sa clarté.

D U M I R O U E R D E M . D . L . B . 15

Aussy bien qu’en la terre basse, Au ciel la jalousie a place, Et saisist quelque fois les dieux Ce mirouer en rend tesmoignage, Rompu par la jalouse rage D’un dieu de son aise envieux. Ce dieu, plain d’amoureuse flame, Portoit vos beautes dedans l’ame, Pour vous souspiroit nuict et jour, Et bouilloit d’ardeur immortelle. Mais vous, desdaigneuse et rebelle, Ne faisiez cas de son amour. Il avoit beau faire sa plainte: Jamais vous n’en estiez attainte, Vous n’aimiez que vous seullement, A tous vostre oreille estoit close. Ha! Non, vous aimiez quelque chose: Ce miroir estoit vostre amant.

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SONNET 10

It was here, in these woods, that fair-eyed Angelica Tried out the mighty spring, antidote against Love. Renaldo, who disdained her pain, now suddenly Became as odious to her as he was before loved. I’ve strayed a thousand times through this deserted grove, Amidst torrents, rivers, brooks, which in the forest thrive. They were my nourishment. Alas! My hope was vain. My suffering seems more maddening to me than before. Ha! I cannot believe that Love was in her soul. No, she loved not at all. Angelica was a woman, I mean, was one of those who have no constancy. The battle is quite quick against an easy foe. But my fire, in the water, in heaven, underground, Will keep eternally its flame and clarity.

ON THE MIRROR OF M.D.L.B.

Just as upon the lowly ground, So is envy in heaven found, And sometimes seizes the gods. This mirror witnesses its trace, Cracked in a fit of jealous rage By a god envious of its joys. That god, filled with the flame of love, Carried your beauties in his soul, Sighed after you all day and night, And seethed with immortal ardor. But you, rebellious, full of scorn, You cared for his love not at all. In vain did he make his complaint: By it you never were attained, You loved yourself, yourself alone. Your ear was closed to everyone. Ah! No, you loved one thing besides: This mirror was your only love.

[53], (14)

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine Luy seul vostre ame avoit emeue: Vous ne pouviez perdre sa veue, Vostre oeil sans cesse il amusoit, Et luy, qu’un mesme amour offence, N’avoit façon ni contenance Que telle comme il vous plaisoit. Si vous portiez sur le visaige D’ennuys quelque triste nuage, Soudain il estoit tout ainsy. Vostre aise le rendoit tout autre: Il n’avoit voulloir que le vostre. Pleuriez vous, il pleuroit aussy. Voila comme un amant doibt faire. Aussy, pour son juste sallaire, Sur tous vous l’alliez elevant, Et, comme une doulce maistresse, Pour n’espargner nulle caresse Tousjours luy monstriez le devant. Las! Que l’heur est plain d’inconstance! De la tout son mal print naissance. Le dieu dont vous ne faisiez cas, Le voyant si comblé de gloire, (Ung jalloux est facille à croire) Creut de luy ce qui n’estoit pas. Il creut que soubz figure telle Fust quelque puissance immortelle, Ou quelque mortel enfermé Pour jouir de vous plus à l’aise, Dont, tout plain de jallouze braize, Rompit ce cristal bien aymé. D’autres, toutesfois, veullent dire Qu’Amour l’a cassé par grande ire, Pource qu’en vous voyant dedans Toute parfaitte et toute belle, A chascun vous estiez rebelle Et mesprisiez ses feuz ardans.

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He was the one that moved your soul: You could not leave him out of sight, He always delighted your eyes, And he, possessed by equal love, Had neither countenance nor look Other than that which pleased you. If you upon your visage wore Some melancholy cloud of worry, Suddenly he was just the same. Your pleasure made him turn around: No other will than yours he found. If you shed tears, he, too, sobbed. That is just what a lover should be. Therefore, as proper recompense, You cherished him above all others And, just as a sweet mistress does, Not withholding any caress, You showed him your intimate side. Alas! True happiness is brief! That was the source of all his grief. The god for whom you did not care, Seeing that his reward he got, (A jealous man thinks of the worst), Thought of him that which was not. He thought that under this disguise Immortal powers could reside There, or a mortal man, enclosed, So that you could be best enjoyed. Therefore, all filled with ire’s flame, He broke the crystal you adored. Others, however, say that Love Broke it in great anger, because When within it you saw yourself, So perfect and so beautiful, Against everyone you rebelled, And all her burning fires spurned.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine S O N N E T 1 1 . E N I G M E 16

Pour le plus doulx esbat que je puisse choisir, Souvent, apres disner, craignant qu’il ne m’ennuye, Je prens le manche en main, je le touche et manye, Tant qu’il soit en estat de me donner plaisir. Sur mon lict je me jecte, et, sans m’en dessaisir, Je l’estreins de mes bras, sur mon sein je l’appuye, Et remuant bien fort, d’aise toute ravie, Entre mille douceurs j’accompliz mon desir. S’il advient par malheur quelquefois qu’il se lasche, De la main je le dresse, et derechef je tasche A joyr du plaisir d’un si doux maniment. Ainsi mon bien aymé, tant que le nerf luy tire, Me contente et me plaist. Puis de moy, doucement, Lasse et non assouvye, enfin je me retire. (D’un Lut)

R O N S A R D ’ S S O N N E T T O L’ A U B E S P I N E

Madelene, ostez moy ce nom de l’Aubespine, Et prenez en sa place et Palmes et Lauriers, Qui croissent sur Parnasse en verdeur les premiers, Dignes de prendre en vous et tiges et racine. Chef couronné d’honneur, rare et chaste poitrine, Où naissent les vertus et les arts à milliers, Et les dons d’Apollon qui vous sont familiers, Si bien que rien de vous, que vous-mesme n’est digne, Je suis en vous voyant heureux et malheureux: Heureux de voir vos vers, ouvrage genereux, Et malheureux de voir ma Muse qui se couche ˆ saint germe nouveau Dessous vostre Orient. O De Pallas, prenez cueur: les Soeurs n’ont assez d’eau Sur le mont d’Helicon pour laver vostre bouche.

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SONNET 11. RIDDLE

As the sweetest diversion that I could ever choose, Frequently, after dinner, for fear of getting bored, I take his neck in hand, I touch him, and I stroke, Till he’s in such a state as to give me delight. I fall upon my bed and, without letting go, I grasp him in my arms, I press him to my breast, And moving hard and fast, all ravished with pleasure, Amidst a thousand delights I fulfill my desire. If he sometimes unfortunately happens to slacken, I erect him with my hand, and right away I strive To enjoy the delight of such a tender stroking. Thus my beloved, so long as I pull on his sinew, Contents and pleases me. Then away from me, softly, Tired and not sated, I finally withdraw him. (About a lute)

R O N S A R D ’ S S O N N E T T O L’ A U B E S P I N E

Madeleine, for my sake, shed the name of hawthorn, And accept in its place both palms and laurels That grow on Mount Parnassus, first in greenness and bloom, Worthy to take their stalk and their root in you. Head crowned with honor, O rare and chaste breast, Where arts and virtues are born by the thousands, And the gifts of Apollo, so familiar to you That nothing is worthy of you but yourself, Seeing you, I am both happy and unhappy; Happy to see your verse, generous work, And unhappy to see my muse who’s setting Beneath your Orient. O holy new seed Of Athena, take heart: the Sisters don’t have enough Water on Mount Helicon to moisten your mouth.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine S O N N E T 1 2 . S O N N E T P O U R M O N S I E U R D E R O N S A R D 17

Tant de flame et d’amour, dont tu vas allumant La nuict de mes escriptz que ta muse eternise, Font que je me tiens chere et me plais et me prise, Car je ne puis faillir, suyvant ton jugement. Mon esprit, qui devant se trainoit bassement, Pretend voller au ciel si tu le favorise. Donc, ô divin Ronsard, ayde à mon entreprise: Je scay bien que sans toy j’ozerois vainement. Ainsy que Phaeton, d’une audace nouvelle, Puisque, ô mon Apollon, ta fille je m’apelle, Je te demande un don, gaige de ton amour: Monstre moy le chemin et la sente incongnue Par qui tant de lumiere en la France est venue Et qui rend ton renom plus luysant que le jour. R O N S A R D ’ S R E S P O N S E 18

Si vollant vous tombez pour me vouloir trop croire Au moings vous acquerez pour tombe ceste gloire Q’une femme a vaincu les plus doctes françois D E S P O RT E S ’ S S O N N E T F O R C A L L I A N T H E

Myrtis, Corinne, et la Muse de Grece, Sapphon, qu’Amour fist si haut soupirer, Tous leurs escrits n’oseroyent comparer A ces beaux vers qu’a chantez ma maistresse. Qui veut sçavoir de quels traits Amour blesse, Sans voir vos yeux trop prompts à martyrer, Lise ces vers qu’habile il sçeut tirer De vostre esprit digne d’une deesse. Pensers, desirs, soupirs, feux et glaçons, Sont les sugets de ces belles chansons, Où seule à part vous retenez vostre ame. Coeur n’est si froid qui n’en fust allumé: Cachez-les donc, ô mon mal bien aimé, Car sans les voir je n’ay que trop de flame.

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SONNET 12. SONNET FOR M. DE RONSARD

So much fire and love, with which you come to light The night of my writing, which your Muse makes eternal, Make me treasure myself, please and value myself, Because I cannot fail, according to your judgment. My mind that heretofore was dragging low, presumes To fly to the skies, if you will favor it. So, O divine Ronsard, help in my enterprise: I know well that without you I would dare in vain. Like Phaeton, with new audacity, Since, O my Apollo, I call myself your daughter, I ask you for a gift, a token of your love: Show me the way and the untrodden path Through which so much light came into France And that makes your renown more brilliant than day. RONSARD’S RESPONSE

If you fall in your flight, too willing to believe me, At least you will have earned this glory for your tomb That a woman surpassed the most learned French men. D E S P O RT E S ’ S S O N N E T F O R C A L L I A N T H E

Myrtis, Corinna, and the Muse of Greece, Sappho, whom Love made sigh so loud, All their writings would not dare compare To the beautiful verse that my mistress has sung. Whoever wants to know with what arrows Love wounds, Without seeing your eyes, too quick to inflict pain, Let him read the verse that clever Love drew From your mind, worthy of a goddess. Thoughts and desires, sighs, fires, and ice The subjects are of these pretty songs, Where you alone, apart, seclude your soul. There is no heart so cold that they won’t set it ablaze: Hide them, therefore, O my beloved grief, For, without them, I’ve only too much flame.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine S O N N E T 1 3 . L’ A U B E S P I N E ’ S S O N N E T F R O M D E S P O RT E S ’ S PREMIERES OEUVRES

Qu’eusses-tu faict, Amour? Ta flamme estoit esteinte, Ton arc vaincu du temps s’en alloit tout usé, Et ton doré carquois de fleches espuisé Nous faisoit desormais moins de mal que de crainte. Si l’on monstroit d’aimer, ce n’estoit que par feinte, Pour tromper seulement quelque esprit peu rusé: Car tu n’avois un trait qui ne fust tout brisé, Ny cordage qui peust rendre une ame contrainte. [60], (21)

Par ces vers seulement tu as repris naissance: Ils t’ont armé de traits, d’attraits, et de puissance, Et te font derechef triompher des vainqueurs: Et d’autant plus, Amour, surpassent ils ta gloire, Que tu n’acquiers sans eux une seule victoire, Et qu’ils peuvent sans toy captiver mille coeurs.

S O N N E T 1 4 19

D’un venin trop cruel, archer qui tout surmonte, Tu as trempé le fer meurtrier de ma raison. Le temps, vray medecin, nuist à ma guarison, Et l’oubly ne peut rien sur le mal qui me donte. Par trop de fermeté de moymesme j’ay honte, Et cache au fond du cueur l’amoureuse poison Pour me faire estimer, car, en ceste saison, D’un esprit plain d’arrest l’on ne fait plus de conte. Il suffit seulement d’en sçavoir deviser, Et par un feinct propos les simples abuzer, Constante en ses discours et legere en couraige: Où moy, par un destin cause de ma langueur, Je n’ay rien qu’inconstance et franchise ou langaige, Bien que je soys captive et constante en mon coeur.

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S O N N E T 1 3 . L’ A U B E S P I N E ’ S S O N N E T F R O M D E S P O RT E S ’ S PREMIERES OEUVRES

What would you have done, Love? Your flame was all extinct, Your bow, vanquished by time, was departing, used up, And your golden quiver of arrows, empty now, Made us, to tell the truth, less wounded than afraid. If one made show of love, it was but a feint, That could only deceive some simple, guileless mind, For you had not one arrow not broken up in pieces, And no rigging that could cause a soul to be bound. [61], (22)

In these verses alone were you then reborn, They have armed you with arrows, attractions, and power, And now they make you triumph over your conquerors: O Love, these verses surpass your glory all the more, Because you cannot gain one victory without them, And without you they can vanquish a thousand hearts.

SONNET 14

In too cruel a poison, archer who conquers all, You have plunged your steel, the murderer of my peace. Time, like a real doctor, slows my recovery, Oblivion can do nothing for the pain that subdues me. For having too much resolve I’m ashamed of myself, And hide the amorous poison in the depths of my heart, To make myself esteemed, because, in our times, A mind that is made up no longer counts for much. It’s enough just to know how to talk about it, And abuse simpletons by an address that’s feigned, Constant in words and flighty at heart: Whereas I, bound by fate that’s the cause of my harm, Have nothing but inconstancy and freedom in my words, Even though I am captive and constant in my heart.

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Quiconque dict qu’Amour se guarist par l’absence N’a esprouvé l’effort de son bras tout puissant: Mon mal en est tesmoing, qui va tousjours croissant, Plus j’esloigne l’objet de ma douce souffrance. Mon esprit bien heureux jouist de ta presence, D’amour, mon cher soucy, et mon cueur languissant Se forge sans cesser un amour renaissant De tes perfections dont il a souvenance. Quand tes yeux plains d’amour sont aux miens opposez, Et que j’oy tes propos si chers et si prisez, Mes sens, raviz d’amour, perdent la cognoissance. Mais or que loing de toy je languis sans pitié, C’est or que je congnois quelle est mon amitié, Croissant à qui mieux mieux mon mal et ma constance.

S O N N E T 1 6 21

L’on verra s’arrester le mobile du monde, Les estoilles marcher parmy le firmament, Saturne infortuné luire benignement, Jupiter commander dedans le creux de l’onde: L’on verra Mars paisible, et la clarté feconde Du Soleil s’obscurcir sans force et mouvement, Vénus sans amitié, Stilbon sans changement, Et la Lune au quarré changer sa forme ronde: Le feu sera pesant et legere la terre, L’eau sera chaude et seiche, et dans l’air qui l’enserre On voira les poissons voller et se nourrir, Plustost que mon amour, à vous seul destinée, Se tourne en autre part, car pour vous je fus née, Je ne vis que pour vous, pour vous je veulx mourir.

[62], (23)

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SONNET 15

Whoever says that Love is by absence best cured Has never felt the force of her all-powerful arm. My pain is proof of that, for it grows ever more, The more I drive away the object of my sweet suffering. My mind so happily in your presence delights, In love, my dear grief. And my languishing heart Reforges without rest a new, renascent love From your many perfections, which it calls to mind. When your eyes, full of love, are found opposite mine, And when I hear your words, so dear and so prized, My senses, ravished by love, faint away. But when, away from you, I mercilessly languish, That’s when I recognize what my affections are, As my pain and my constancy try to surpass each other.

SONNET 16

The movement of the world we will sooner see stopped, The stars marching amid the firmament, Unlucky Saturn glowing benignly, And Jupiter commanding in the depths of the waves; We’ll sooner see Mars at peace, and the fertile light Of the Sun become dim, with no movement or strength, Venus without affection, Mercury without change, And the moon changing its round shape into a square. Fire will be heavy and earth will be light, Water hot and dry, and in the air that binds her We will see fish fly and feed, Sooner than my love, destined only for you, Turns somewhere else, for I was born for you, I live only for you, for you I want to die.

[63], (24)

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Resvant parmy ces bois, je voy s’entrebaiser Deux tourtres que d’amour l’Amour mesme convie. De leurs mignardz baysers la source est infinie, Et sans fin leurs plaisirs je voy recommancer. O bien heureux oyseaux, qui d’ung mesme penser Contentez vos espritz francs de la tyrannie Qu’apporte le respect, l’honneur, la jalousie! Et mille aultres soucyz qui me font trespasser! Vous voletez sans soing, joyeux, de branche en branche, Esprouvans le bon heur d’une liberté franche, Et les suefves doulceurs d’une egalle amitié. Ha, je puisse mourir si je ne vouldroys estre Avec vous, chers oyseaux, tourterelle champestre, Pourveu que, comme vous, j’eusse aussi ma moictié!

V I L A N E L L E PA R D E S P O RT E S 23

Rozette, pour un peu d’absance Vostre coeur vous avez changé Et moy, sçachant ceste inconstance Le mien autre part j’ay rangé Jamais plus beauté si legere Sur moy tant de pouvoir n’aura Nous verrons, volage Bergere Qui premier s’en repentira. Tandis qu’en pleurs je me consume Maudissant cest eloignement Vous, qui n’aimez que par coustume Caressiez un nouvel amant Jamais legere girouette Au vent si tost ne se vira Nous verrons, Bergere Rozette Qui premier s’en repentira. Où sont tant de promesses saintes, Tant de pleurs versez en partant?

[64], (25)

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SONNET 17

Dreaming among those woods, I see kisses exchanged By two turtledoves that Love herself bids to love. The sources of their sweet kisses are infinite, And I witness their joys start again without end. O happy, blessed birds, who with the selfsame thought Content your carefree minds, exempt from tyranny That is brought by respect, honor, and jealousy! And a thousand other griefs that make me pass away! You flit, without a care, joyful, from branch to branch, Tasting the happiness of a frank liberty, And the gentle delights of equal tenderness. Ah, may I die if I wouldn’t rather be With you, my dear birds, a wild turtledove, As long as, just like you, I had my other half!

S O N G B Y D E S P O RT E S

Rozette, for such a short absence, You have had quite a change of heart, And I, learning you’re inconstant, Have placed my affection elsewhere. Never more shall so fickle a beauty Have so much power over me. We will see, fickle shepherdess Who will repent of it first. While I melt away in my tears Cursing our separate ways, You, who love only from habit, Caressed a love newly found. The lightest weathervane never Turned in the wind quite so fast. We’ll see, Rozette the shepherdess, Who will repent of it first. Where have sacred promises gone, Many tears you shed as you left?

[65], (26)

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine Est-il vray que ces tristes plaintes Sortissent d’un coeur inconstant? Dieux, que vous estes mensongere! Maudit soit qui plus vous croira Nous verrons, volage Bergere Qui premier s’en repentira. Celuy qui a gaigné ma place Ne vous peut aimer tant que moy Et celle que j’aime vous passe De beauté, d’amour et de foy Gardez bien vostre amitié neuve La mienne plus ne varira Et puis nous verrons à l’espreuve Qui premier s’en repentira.

[66], (27)

Lines: 2120 V I L A N E L L E PA R L’ A U B E S P I N E 24

Berger tant ramply de finesse Contantez vous d’estre inconstant Sans accuser vostre maitresse D’un peché que vous aymez tant. La nouveauté, qui vous commande, Vous faict à toute heure changer: Mais ce n’est pas perte fort grande De perdre un amy si leger. Si vous eussiez eu souvenance De l’oeil par le vostre adoré, En despit de vostre inconstance Constant vous feussiez demeuré. Mais vous n’esties à six pas d’elle Que vostre coeur s’en retira. Nous verrons, monsieur le fidelle, Qui premier s’en repentira. Ces pleurs et ces plaintes cuisantes Dont tout le ciel elle enflamoit, C’estoit des preuves suffisantes Pour monstrer qu’elle vous aymoit. Mais vous, plain d’inconstance extreme,

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How could all these laments, so sad, Issue forth from a fickle heart? O gods, how deceitful you are! Cursed be he who ever believes you. We will see, fickle shepherdess, Who will repent of it first. The one who has won my place Cannot love as much as I did, And she whom I love outdoes you In beauty, in love, and in faith. Hold on well to your new affection; As for mine, it will vary no more, And then we will see clearly proved Who will repent of it first.

[67], (28)

Lines: 2207 t S O N G B Y L’ A U B E S P I N E

Shepherd, so full of subtlety, Be content with your own turnabout, Without accusing your mistress Of a sin you enjoy so much. The wish for novelty that drives you Makes you change your mind all the time: But it isn’t any great loss To lose so flighty a lover. If you had any recollection Of the eyes that you once adored, In spite of your inconstant heart Constant you’d have surely remained. But you were not six paces distant When your heart drew away from her. We will see, Mr. Faithful, Who will repent of it first. Those tears and these burning laments With which she scorched the entire sky, They were full and sufficient proof To show you just how much she loved. But you, full of utter inconstancy,

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine Oubliastes pleurs et amour. Donc, si Rozette en faict de mesme, Ce n’est qu’à beau jeu beau retour. Ceste si constante et si belle Que vos propos vont decevant, S’elle arreste vostre cervelle Peut aussy arrester le vent. Mais je ne porte point d’envie Au bien que par vous elle aura: C’est celle, je gaige ma vie, Qui premier s’en repentira. [68], (29) V I L A N E L L E PA R D ’ A U B I G N É 25

Bergers qui pour un peu d’absence Avez le cueur si tost changé A qui aura plus d’inconstance Vous avez, ce croi’je, gagé, L’un leger et l’autre legere, A qui plus volage sera. Le berger comme la bergere De changer se repentira. L’un dit qu’en pleurs il se consume, L’autre pence tout autrement, Tous deux n’aiment que par coutume, N’aimant que leur contentement, Tout deux, comme la girouette, Tournent poussez au gré du vent, Et leur amour rien ne souhaitte Qu’a jouir et changer souvent. De tous deux les caresses feintes Descouvrent leur cueur inconstant. Ils versent un milier de plaintes Et le vent en emporte autant; Le menteur et la mensongere Gagent à qui mieux trompera! Le berger comme la bergere De changer se repentira.

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69

Forgot all your tears and your love. If Rozette treats you just the same, It’s a good return for your game. She, so constant and beautiful, Whom your words continue to dupe, If she can stop your thoughts from changing, She can also stop the wind from blowing. But I envy her not a bit Any good that she wins from you: It is she, I bet my life on it, Who will repent of it first. [69], (30) SONG BY D’AUBIGNÉ

Shepherds who for so short an absence Have so quickly had a change of heart, On who will prove the more changeable, I think that you have made a bet, He, fickle, she, just as flighty, On who will be more inconstant. The shepherd and the shepherdess Will repent of their fickleness. One says that he melts into tears, The other thinks the opposite’s true; The two only love from habit, Loving their satisfaction alone. Both, like the weathervane, turn Whichever way the wind blows, And their love wishes for no more Than for pleasure and frequent change. The fake caresses of both Betray their inconstant hearts. They voice laments by the thousands, But they all are gone with the wind. He a fraud, and she a liar, make A bet on who will betray more! Both the shepherd and the shepherdess Will repent of their fickleness.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine Ils se suivent comme à la trace A changer sans savoir pourquoy; Pas un des deux l’autre ne passe D’amour, de constance et de foy. Tous les jours une amitié neufve Ces volages contentera. Aussi vous verrez à l’espreuve Que chacun s’en repentira.

C H A N S O N M I S E D U B I S C AY E N E N F R A N Ç A I S

Vive l’amour, vive ses feux: C’est mourir de vivre sans eux. Berger. Resveillez vous, belle Catin, Et allons cueillir ce matin La rose que, pour mon amour, Vous me promistes l’autre jour. Vive l’amour. Catin. Ha! Vrayment je vous ayme bien, Mais pourtant je n’en feray rien, Car l’on dit que, cueillant la fleur, Le rosier pert grace et faveur. Vive l’amour. Berger. Ouy bien, qui l’en voudroit oster Et, larron privé, l’emporter. Mais, belle, mon contentement C’est de la baiser seulement. Vive l’amour. Catin. J’ay peur que soubz ceste raison Se cache quelque trahison, Car, aujourd’huy, tous les bergers Sont menteurs, trompeurs ou legers. Vive l’amour.

[70], (31)

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71

They follow in each other’s steps In changing, without knowing why. The one does not surpass the other In constancy, love, or faith. Every day, a different attachment Will content this unfaithful pair, So that you will soon see the proof That each of them will repent of it.

S O N G T R A N S L AT E D F R O M B I S C AY E N I N T O F R E N C H

Long live love, long live its fires, To live without them is to die. Shepherd: Wake up, my beautiful Kate, This very morning let us pluck The rose that, for my earnest love, You promised me the other day. Long live love. Kate: Ha! Truly, I love you well, but I will do nothing of the kind, For they say, when the flower’s plucked, The rose bush loses grace and regard. Long live love. Shepherd: Oh yes, if one were to pluck it And, like a sly thief, take it away. But, beautiful, my heart’s content is Simply to give it a kiss. Long live love. Kate: I fear that behind this reason There must hide some sort of treason. For today all the shepherds are Flighty, deceivers, or liars. Long live love.

[71], (32)

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine Berger. Je jureray par voz beaux yeux, Et par le pouvoir de mes dieux, Que jamais je n’auray plaisir Qu’à contenter vostre desir. Vive l’amour. Catin. Pastoureau, c’est trop marchander Ce qu’on ne doibt point demander: Je me ris de tous ces débats, Car, ma fy, vous ne l’aurez pas. Vive l’amour, vive ses feux: C’est mourir de vivre sans eux.

DIALOGUE D’UN POURPOINT ET D’UN ROBON Q U I I A D I S F U R E N T R O B E S 26

P. Seigneur robon faict de nouveau, Où allez vous si bien en poinct? Quoy? Vous ne me respondez point? L’orgueil vous trouble le cerveau. R. Seigneur, je vous requiers pardon. L’orgueil l’esprit ne me desrobe, Mais, pourceque hier j’estois robe, Je n’entens point bien à robon. P. Que cela ne vous fache point. Je cours toute telle adventure, Car je fuz robe de nature, Et maintenant je suis pourpoint. R. Ce n’est pas ce qui me martelle. Pour un coup, c’est peu de danger. Mais je crains de me voir changer Tous les jours en forme nouvelle.

[72], (33)

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73

Shepherd: I will swear on both your fair eyes And on the power of my gods That no other joy I’ll find Than to satisfy your desire. Long live love. Kate: Little shepherd, it’s too much haggling Over something you shouldn’t ask for. I laugh at all these debates, For, upon my faith, you’ll not get it. Long live love, long live its fires, To live without them is to die.

DIALOGUE OF A DOUBLET WITH A VEST WHO USED TO BE ROBES

Doublet: My dear Sir Vest, newly made, Where are you going, so well turned out? What? You don’t answer me at all? Has arrogance coddled your brains? Vest: 27 My lord, I humbly beg your grace. Pride did not rob me of my brain, But, since yesterday I was a robe, I do not answer to “vest” yet. D.: Let that not bother you at all. I have suffered a similar distress, For by nature, I was a robe, And now, here I am, a doublet. V.: That is not what’s bringing me down. A single time, it’s no great harm. But I’ll change, I’m much alarmed, Every day into a new form.

[73], (34)

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine P. Tes frayeurs ne seront point faulces, Car, avant qu’il soit longuement, Je seray hors d’accoustrement, Et toy tu doubleras des chausses. R. Nos maulx de pres se vont suivans. Mais puisqu’il se fault consoler, Aux aultres nous pourrons parler Comme les morts font aux vivans. P. Vous qui passez entre telz hommes Pleurez nostre calamité: Comme vous, nous avons esté, Et vous seres comme nous sommes.

[74], (35)

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* E P I G R A M M E . PA R M A D A M E D E V I L L E R O Y 28

Un jeune amans plain d’amoureuse flame Le coeur piqué du tourmen amoureus Le doux melieu demandoit à sa dame Pour y treuver son repos glorieux. Elle repons: quand moy trop deloialle De mon meilleur serois si liberalle A ung amans je le voudrois bailler Non pour repos mais pour y travailler.

E P I G R A M M E . PA R M A D A M E D E V I L L E R O Y PA R L A N T D E S O N M A RY 29

Il est facheux et rechignar Et fort prompt a prandre La Cheur On le tient pour un fin regnar Mais il n’a qu’une queue de lieure

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D.: Your fears are not false at all, For, indeed, and before too long, I will have gone quite out of style, And you will be lining breeches. V.: Our woes follow each other close. But, since we must find some solace, We can address the others, as The dead speak to those who are alive. D.: You who among such people pass, Lament our calamity: What you are, we have been, alas, And you will become what we are.

[75], (36)

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* EPIGRAM. BY MME DE VILLEROY

A lover, young, and filled with the flames of love, His heart run through with amorous distress, His lady asked to grant him her sweet part, So he could find, right there, his glorious rest. She says: if I, too fickle and untrue, Were to give out so freely of my best, I would entrust it to a lover, but For him to find work there instead of rest.

E P I G R A M . B Y M M E D E V I L L E R O Y, S P E A K I N G O F H E R H U S B A N D

He is annoying and grumpy And very quick to catch the She-Goat. 30 They take him for quite a fine fox But he has only a bunny’s tail.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine E P I G R A M M E S U R S O N N O M D E L’ A U B E S P I N E . 31

Autour d’un aubespin j’escrivis une fois: Icy croisse la foy et vive la constance. Peu apres, retournant passer parmy le bois, J’y recognu soudain une extreme accroissance. Ha! mon Dieu, dis je lors, voyez la cruauté! Dans les rudes deserts privés d’humanité, D’ame et de sentiment, la foy croist d’heure en heure, Et au coeur des amans ne peut faire demeure! [76], (37)

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77

E P I G R A M O N H E R O W N N A M E O F L’ A U B E S P I N E (i.e., H AW T H O R N )

Around a hawthorn’s branch, I once wrote these words: “Let faith grow here and long live fidelity.” Soon, upon my return, in a walk through the woods, I saw there, suddenly, an extreme excrescence. Ha! My God, I then said, behold the cruelty! In rude deserts bereft of all humanity, Of soul and feeling—there, faith by the hour grows, And in lovers’ hearts it can’t make its abode! NOTES

[77], (38)

1. Turin, Biblioteca Nazionale Universitaria, MS 8 Peyron Franc. The ellipses represent parts of the poem not copied by Peyron. The comments in square brackets are by Peyron. Peyron cited the original in French and commented in Italian. All translations are mine unless otherwise indicated.

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2. MS has “ont.”


3. In the transcription of Peyron, “de mon amour amour.” 4. The French text has “serves amours,” literally “servant loves,” which could have meant love so strong that it enslaves, but I think it is more likely that the original had “sevres” or “sure” loves, and I translated accordingly. 5. MS 8 Peyron Franc., fols. 6–7, lost posthumous volume fol. 3. 6. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 21v. 7. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 35r. 8. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 35v. 9. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 36r. 10. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 36v. 11. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 37r. 12. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 37v. 13. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 38r. 14. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 54r. 15. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 54v. 16. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 57r. 17. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 80r. 18. Only the second tercet has been discovered. 19. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 80v. 20. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 81r.

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Madeleine de l’Aubespine 21. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 81v. 22. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 133v. 23. First in the set of three vilanelles sharing the same refrain. 24. Second in the set of three vilanelles sharing the same refrain. BnF MS fr. 1718, fol. 20v. 25. Third in the set of three vilanelles sharing the same refrain. 26. BnF MS 1718 fol. 34 r–v. 27. Edmond Huguet, Dictionnaire de la langue française du seizième siècle, 7 vols. (Paris: Champion and Didier, 1925–67), s.v. robon, shows that in the Renaissance robon commonly meant a man’s short, small jacket worn over other garments. In the cited examples, the robon seems a high-fashion article: its cut and expensive materials are emphasized. In the citation from Labé, robon is listed among different kinds of capelike gear worn over other clothes: “robbes, robbons, capes, manteaux” (robes, vests, capes, cloaks). Later, especially in the south and northeast of France, robon meant skirt as well (Walther von Wartburg, Französisches etymologisches Wörterbuch [Bonn: F. Klopp, 1928]; this source also lists a Middle French meaning of robon as tunic, “vêtement de dessus qui allait jusqu’au genou” (overgarment that went down to the knee). Cottgrave gives “a short gowne; or a side cassocke reaching below the knees” (Randle Cotgrave, A Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues [London: Adam Islip, 1611]). While this clearly means “tunic,” as in FEW, I felt the translation “vest” or “jacket” better implies the military connotations. Cottgrave distinguishes between “gens de robbe courte,” “all that professe Armes, hold of the sword, or usually weare swords,” and “gens de robbe longue,” “Lawyers, Clerkes, Professors of Artes, etc.” (“Robbe”).

[Last Page] [78], (39)

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28. BnF MS fr. 24320, fol. 30r. 29. BnF MS fr. 24320, fol. 30r. 30. This reading of La Cheur as la Chèvre (she-goat), making the second line rhyme with the last (lièvre, hare), was suggested by the anonymous reviewer. It solves the puzzle of the meaning of this epigram. In this reading the husband chases after a she-goat (la chèvre) and has a reputation for being a fox (renard), but his “tail” is that of a hare (lièvre). 31. BnF MS fr. 1662.

[78], (39)

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APPENDIX A T R A N S L AT I O N O F O V I D ’ S H E R O I D E S , SECOND EPISTLE

[First Page] [79], (1) The Latin text of Ovid’s Heroides is based on a 1499 Venice edition.1 The edition contains a commentary by Antonius Volscus.2 Although I made no attempt to emend the spelling, some changes in punctuation have been made. Abbreviations have been expanded and proper names capitalized. Other emendations are marked in the notes. Further, the notes contain the spelling or variants from Grant Showerman’s edition.3 An italicized word indicates that the spelling of the 1499 edition differs from Showerman’s (e.g., ancora/anchora). L’Aubespine’s French translation is from the Bibliothèque du protestantisme français MS 816–12, pp. 21–28.

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Hospita Demophoon tua Rhodopeia Phillis Ultra promissum tempus abesse queror Cornua cum lunae pleno semel orbe coissent 1. P. Ovidius N., Epistolae Heroides Ovidii cum commentarii Antonii Ulsci et Uberti Clerici Crescentinatis [Venice: Johannes Tacuinus, 1499], VIIII B iii–XIII C; Italian Books before 1601 (Cambridge: General Microfilm Company). The copy contains a handwritten modern librarian’s note indicating the place and publisher. It is part of the University of Uppsala collection. For Renaissance French editions of Ovid, see Ann Moss, Ovid in Renaissance France (London: Warburg Institute, 1982). I thank General Microfilm Company for the permission to use blue microfilm here and below. 2. Two other scholars are associated with this edition: Clericus Ubertinus and Domizio Calderino (1447–78). Calderino contributed a commentary on Sappho and Ibis. Volscus is also sometimes referred to as Volscius or Vossius; Showerman’s edition of Ovid, which cites “a Venetian edition . . . published in 1491, with commentary by Vossius,” is probably identical to the one printed here: Epistolae Ovidii cum duobus commentis . . . Uberinus Clericus Crescentinas (Venice: Philippus Pincius, 1491). Ovid, Heroides and Amores, ed. Grant Showerman, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1977) (G. P. Goold’s revised edition based on Showerman’s edition of 1914). 3. See previous note.

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Appendix A Litoribus nostris anchora pacta tua est. Luna quater latuit, toto quater orbe recreuit Nec uehit Actaeas Sithonis unda rates. Tempora si numeres, bene que numeramus amantes Non uenit ante suam nostra querela diem. Spes quoque lenta fuit, tardequae credita laedunt Credimus. Inuita nunc et amante nocent4 Saepe fui mendax pro te mihi saepe putaui Alba procellosos uela refere Notous Thesea deuoui, quia te dimittere nollet; Nec tenuit cursus forsitan ille tuos. Interdum timui, ne dum uada tendis ad Haebri, Mersa foret caua5 naufragia puppis aqua Saepe deos6 supplex, ut tu scelerate ualeres, Cum prece turicremis sum uenerata sacris;7 Saepe, uidens uentos caelo pelagoque fauentes, Ipsa mihi dixi, si ualet ipse uenit Denique fidus amor quidquid properantibus obstat Finxit, et ad causas ingeniosa fui. At tu lentus abes; nec te iurata reducunt Numina, nec nostro motus amore redis Demophoon uentis et uerba, et uela dedisti Uela queror reditu uerba carere fide. Dic mihi quid feci, nisi non sapienter amaui. Crimine te potui demeruisse meo Unum in me scelus est, quod te scelerate recepi Sed scelus hoc meriti pondus et instar habet Iura fides ubi nunc, commissaque dextrae8

4. In Showerman’s edition, es . . . nocens, but he notes that Merkel’s 1876 edition has et and, apparently, manuscript variant nocent: Showerman (20), referring to Ovid, P. Ovidius Naso, ed. Rudolf Merkel (Leipzig: Teubner, 1876). Merkel was deceased when the next Teubner edition of Ovid appeared in 1888–90: P. Ovidius Naso ex Rudolphi Merkelii recognitione, ed. Rudolph Merkel and Rudolph Ehwald (Leipzig: Teubner, 1888–90). On a number of points, I have noticed that where the 1499 edition differs from Ehwald’s (1888), it is closer to Showerman, but at least in this instance it seems still closer to Merkel’s (1876). I have compared the 1499 edition only to Ehwald and Showerman (and I have compared only the text of the second epistle). The more egregious differences from Showerman are indicated in the notes. 5. Caua in the 1499 edition, cana (white, i.e., foaming) in Ehlman and Showerman. L’Aubespine translated the phrase as “pitiless swell,” leaving open the possibility that her original text read caua, but naturally the inversion of n and u is one of the most frequent typographic mistakes. 6. In the 1499 Venice text, deo is singular; however, since l’Aubespine’s translation has plural “gods” here, I emended the text to plural, as in modern editions. 7. The 1499 edition is missing this couplet: “Cum prece turicremis sum uenerata sacris; Saepe, uidens uentos caelo pelagoque faventes.” Since l’Aubespine translates that couplet, I have inserted the missing couplet from Showerman’s edition. 8. In Showerman’s edition, “Iura fidesque ubi nunc, commissaque dextera dextrae.”

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Tr a n s l a t i o n o f O v i d ’s H e r o i d e s , S e c o n d E p i s t l e 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Quique erat in falso plurimus ore deus. Promissus socios ubi nunc Hymenaeus in annos Qui mihi coniugii sponsior et obses erat Per mare quod totum uentis agitatur et undis Per quod saepe9 ieras, per quod iturus eras Perque tuum mihi iurasti nisi fictus et ille est, Concita qui uentis aequora mulcet auum Per Venerem nimiumque mihi facienda10 tela Altera tela arcus, altera tela faces Iunonemque toris quae praesidet alma maritis, Et per taediferae mystica sacra deae Si de tot laesis sua numina quisque deorum Uindicet in poenas non satis unus erit11 Ah laceras etiam puppes furiosa refeci Ut qua desererer firma carina foret, Remigiumque dedi, quo me fugiturus abires12 Heu patior telis uulnera facta meis. Credidimus blandis, quorum tibi copia uerbis Credidimus generi numibusque tuis Credidimus lachrimis, an et hae simulare docentur. He quoque habent artes, quaque iubentur eunt Diis quoque credidimus. Quod iam tot pignora nobis Parte satis potui qualibet inde capi. Nec moueor quod te iuui, portuque locoque Debuit haec meriti summa fuisse mei. Turpiter hospitium lecto cumulasse iugali Poenitet et lateri conseruisse latus. Quae fuit ante illam mallem suprema fuisset Nox mihi dum potui Phyllis honesta mori Speraui melius, quia me meruisse putaui, Quaecumque ex merito spes uenit, aequa uenit Fallere credentem non est operosa puellam Gloria, simplicitas digna fauore fuit. Sum decepta tuis, et amans, et femina uerbis Dii faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae. Inter et Aegidas media statuaris in urbe, Magnificus titulis stet pater ante suis Cum fuerit Schyron lectus toruusque Procustes13 Et Scinis et tauri, mixtaque forma uiri

9. In Showerman’s edition, nempe (certainly, without doubt) not saepe (often), as in the 1499 edition, but l’Aubespine translates “so many times.” 10. In Showerman’s edition, facientia. 11. In Showerman’s edition, eris. 12. In Showerman’s edition, haberes. 13. In Showerman’s edition, Sciron and Procrustes. I have emended Letus to lectus.

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Appendix A Et domitae bello Thebae, fusique bimembres Et pulsata nigri regia caeca ditis,14 Hoc tua post illos titulo signetur imago: Hic est, cuius amans hospita capta dolo est De tanta rerum turba factisque parentis, Sedit ingenio Cressa puella tuo15 Quod solum excusat solum miraris in illo. Haeredem patriae perfidae fraudis agis Illa nec inuideo fruitur meliore marito, Inque capistratis tygribus alta sedet At mea despecti fugiunt connubia Thraces Quod feror extremum16 praeposuisse meis. Atque aliquis doctas, iam nunc eat inquit Athenas. Armiferam Thracem qui regat, alter erit. Exitus acta probat. Careat successibus opto Quisquis ab euentu facta notanda putat At si nostra tuo spumescant aequore remo, Iam mihi iam dicar consuluisse meis Sed neque consului, nec te mea regia tangit,17 Fessaque Bistonia membra lauabis aqua. Illa meis oculis species abeuntis inhaeret Cum premeret portus classis itura meos Ausus es amplecti, colloque infusus amantis, Oscula per longas iungere pressa moras Cumque tuis lachrymis lachrimas confundere nostras Quodque foret uelis aura secunda queri, Et mihi discedens suprema dicere uoce, Phylli fac expectes Demophoonta tuum Expectes qui me numquam uisurus abisti. Expectem pelago uela negata meo? Et tamen expecto, redeas modo seruus amanti Ut tua sit solo tempore lapsa fides. Quid precor infoelix, iam te tenet altera coniunx.18 Forsitan et nobis qui male fauit amor Utque19 tibi excidimus nullam puto Phillida nosti Hei mihi si qua sim Phyllis, et unde rogas Quae tibi Demophoon longis erroribus acto Treicios portus hospiciumque dedi. Cuius opes auxere meae, cui diues egent. 14. 15. 16. 17.

In Showerman’s edition, dei. In Showerman’s edition, “sedit in ingenio Cressa relicta tuo.” In Showerman’s edition, externum. In Showerman’s edition, tanget.

18. In Showerman’s edition, te iam tenet. 19. In Showerman’s edition, iamque.

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Munera multa dedi, multa datura fui, Quae tibi subieci latissima regna Lycurgi Nomine foemineo uix satis apta regi Qua patet umbrosum Rhodope glacialis ad Hemum Et sacer admissas exigit Ebrus aquas Cui mea uirginitas auibus libata sinistris Castaque fallaci zona relicta manu Pronuba Tysiphone thalamis ululauit in illis, Et cecinit moestum deuia carmen auis Affuit Allecto breuibus torquata colubris Suntque sepulchrali lumina mota face Moesta tamen scopulos fruticosaque litora calco, Quaque patent oculis aequora lata meis, Siue die laxatur humus, seu frigida lucent Sidera, prospicio quis freta uentus agat Et quaecunque procul uenientia lintea uidi Protinus illa meos auguror esse deos. In freta procurro, uix me retinentibus undis, Mobile qua primas porrigit aequor aquas. Quo magis accedunt, minus et minus utilis asto Linquor et ancillis excipienda cado. Est sinus adductos modice falcatus in arcus Ultima praerupta cornua mole rigent Hinc mihi suppositas inmittere corpus in undas Mens fuit, et quoniam fallere pergis erit. Ad tua me fluctus proiectam litora portent, Occurramque oculis intumulata tuis, Duritia ferrum ut superes, adamantaque teque, Non tibi sic dices Phylli sequendus eram Saepe uenenorum sitis est mihi saepe cruenta Traiectam gladio morte perire iuuat Colla quoque infidis quia se nectenda lacertis Praebuerat laqueis implicuisse iuuat Stat nece matura tenerum pensare pudorem. In necis electem parua futura mora est. Inscribende meo causa inuidiosa sepulcro, Aut hoc aut simili carmine notus eris, Phillida Demophoon leto dedit hospes amante Ille necis causam praebuit, ipsa manum.

P H I L L I S A` D E M O P H O N

Ceste tienne Phillis que trop d’amour deceut Lors que dedans son port douce elle te receut Se plaint o Demophon d’une plainte eternelle Qu’outre le temps promis tu sois esloigné d’elle

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Appendix A La lune un de ses cours sans plus debvoit finir Ains que mes tristes yeux te vissent revenir Mais desja quatre fois sa clarté vagabonde En l’obscur de la nuit s’est faict veoir toute ronde Et quatre fois aussi d’esclairer a cessé Sans que de tes propos l’effect soit advancé Helas si tu contois les jours durant l’absence Ainsi que nous amans remplis d’impatience Et sentois les efforts nos esprits combatans, Tu dirois que ce n’est se plaindre avant le temps J’ay nourry mon espoir tant que je l’ay peu faire Tousjours nous croyons tard ce qui nous est contraire Mais je m’en voy trahie et fault que malgré moy Le desespoir tout seul me donne ores la loy Helas combien de fois plaine d’amour extreme Ay je menty pour toy miserable à moy mesme Quantes fois ay je creu que les vents fremissans Ramenoient en ce lieu tes vaisseaux blanchissans Puis d’un si doux penser me trouvant abuzée Je souhaitte la mort a` ton pere Thesée Croyant que ce soit luy qui retarde tes pas Et peult estre pourtant qu’il ne t’empesche pas Quantes fois ay je craint que pendant que tu dresses Vers l’Hebre tes vaisseaux, les ondes tromperesses Dont le calme visaige est si prompt à changer Et vents impiteux t’ayent faict submerger Sur les autelz des dieux en diverses manieres J’offre d’un cueur devot mes pleurs et mes prieres Affin que toi meschant te puisses bien porter Et maintesfois aussi pour me reconforter J’ay dict voiant l’air calme et la plaine azurée S’il est sain il revient la chose est assurée Brief ma fidelle amour me faict tout rechercher Ce qui les voiageurs peut sur mer empescher Et tandis negligent tu es loing pour ma peine Sans que les dieux jurez ny l’amour te rameine Tu es O Demophon meurtier de mon repos Donnez aux vents legers et voilles et propos Las ils mancquent tous deux et c’est ce qui m’affolle Tes voilles de retour et de foy ta parolle Dy-moy que t’ay-je faict sinon trop fort t’aimer C’est l’unique peché dont on me peut blasmer Un trompeur j’ay receu voyla ma seule offence Mais cest erreur de toy merite recompence Ou es la foy promise ou sont ores les loix Et ta dextre en ma dextre enclose tant de fois Ou est ce jeune dieu dont le traict ne te touche

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Qui logeoit si souvent en ta parjure bouche? Ou est le jeune hymen pleige de noz amours Qui debvoit de noz ans accompaigner le cours Tu m’en jurois la mer de toy tant esprouvée Par qui ta nef bien tost devoit estre enlevée Tu jurois ton ayeul aux flotz donnant la loy Mais qui scait toutes fois s’il est feint comme toy Tu jurois par Venus Royne des jeunes ames Trop prodigue à mon cueur de ses traits et ses flames Et les misteres sainctz qu’on faict couvertement A Ceres qui premiere inventa le froment Et la grande Junon des espoux invoquée Qui voit par ton oubly sa deité moquée Or si de tant de dieux justement courroucez Que pour me decevoir tu as tous offencez Chascun lasche sur toy les flesches de son yre A tant de chastiments seul pourras-tu suffire? O moy trop aveuglée et d’esprit peu ruzé J’ay faict refaire helas ton vaisseau tout brizé Je t’ay fourny de rames affin d’estre laissée Des traicts que j’ay forgez, ma poitrine est percée Mais j’ay creu tes propos si doux et gratieux J’ay creu ta parenté noble de tant de dieux J’ay creu à tant de pleurs de soupirs et de plaintes Las on apprend encores aux larmes d’estre feintes Puis j’eus fiance aux dieux qu’on ne doit mespriser Ces gaiges estoient trop pour une ame abuser Car ma simple jeunesse aux ruses mal aprise D’une seule sans plus pouvoit estre surprise Helas ce qui me trouble et m’offence plus fort N’est de t’avoir receu pitoyable à mon port Si là j’eusse arresté le but de mon merite J’aurois le cueur saisi de douleur plus petite J’ay regret seulement que soubz couleur de foy Lors je t’aye faict part de mon lict et de moy Je t’embrassé sans honte, et de fureur guidée T’abandonnant la fleur jusques alors bien gardée La precedente nuit par la faveur des cieux Qu’un sommeil eternel ne couvrit il mes yeux Quand Phillis estoit chaste et claire en renommée La mort heureusement sa paupiere eust fermée Mais d’un meilleur espoir mon Esprit fut deceu L’espoir né20 du merite aisement est receu Puis ce n’est grand labeur à qui veult l’entreprendre D’une fille credule ainsi que moi surprendre 20. In the manuscript, n’ay, which Sorg silently corrects to né.

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Appendix A Mon simple naturel plain de grande amitié Ne meritoit de toy que faveur et pitié Tes propos toutesfois finement ont surprise Une femme amoureuse o la belle entreprise Dieu veille que ce soit le plus clair de tes faicts Et qu’entre tes ayeulx elevez et portraictz Il paroisse en la place orné de ceste gloire These ira devant avec mainte victoire Et maint tiltre Immortel ses gestes racontant Comme il tua Schiron comme il fut surmontant De Procuste et Scinis les fureurs inhumaines Et comme il mist le joug aux puissances Thebaines Comme en Crete le monstre est par luy deconfit Et comme sa valeur le centaure defit Puis, pour comble d’honneur que l’infernal empire Ne s’est peu dire franc des efforts de son yre Apres tant de hauts faicts qui son nom publiront On verra ton Image ou ces vers se liront Celuy que vous voiez pour preuve genereuse Trompa soubz beau semblant son hostesse amoureuse Ha de tant de beaux faicts par ton pere achevez Il n’en reste en ton ame aucuns traictz engravez Fors de ses trahisons Ariadne laissée Est le seul acte sien vivant en ta pensée Legitime heritier de l’infidelité Dont ton pere paya sa trop douce beauté Elle heureuse cent fois et bien mieux alliée Or avec un grand dieu de noeud ferme liée Sur un char triomphal se veoit haute portée Par des tigres felons malaysez a` dompter Ou` moy chetifve helas des miens je suis laissée Pour avoir à toy seul consacré ma pensée Ceulx que j’ay mesprisez en font autant de moy Qu’Athenes disent ilz obeissent à sa loy Qu’elle laisse la Trace et qu’elle s’y retire Quelqu’un se trouverra pour regir nostre empire On dict que par sa fin l’ouvrage est couronné Mais celuy puisse avoir succez mal fortuné Sans que jamais le ciel ses desseins favorise Qui par l’avenement21 veult juger l’entreprise Si l’on pouvoit reveoir les flots de ceste mer Dessoubz les avirons doucement escumer Chascun diroit alors plain d’alegresse extreme Que j’aurois bien pourveu aux miens et à moy mesme 21. Evenement in the manuscript, which must be corrected to avenement (beginning) to correspond to fin (end) in the line above.

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Mais il n’adviendra pas: tu n’as plus de soucy De ce royaume tien, ny de Philis aussy. Pour rafraichissement de ma griefve souffrance A toute heure en esprit me revient la semblance De ton triste depart et de l’embraquement Qui ravit [loin de moy]22 tout mon contentement Comme avois tu le cueur Ame legere et feinte De me tenir alors si fermement estrainte De te pendre à mon col et sans pouvoir parler Ta bouche tromperesse à la mienne coler Mesler tes pleurs aux miens et d’un triste langaige Dire injure aux Zephirs qui hastoient ton voyage Puis me dire en partant pour le dernier propos Attends ton Demophon: Philis mon cher repos Donc faut-il que j’attende o moy pauvre Insensée Celuy qui sans confort Pour jamais m’a laissée Je t’attends toutes fois le Ciel puisse ordonner Qu’à la fin bien que tard tu puisses retourner Et que ta foy promise et tant de fois jurée Manquant sans plus au temps soit ailleurs assurée Mais je faictz bien en vain ces prieres aux cieux Une autre amour te tient: ton cueur malicieux Se sent ores brusler d’une nouvelle flame Et du bien qui m’est deu joist une autre femme D’un seul soucy de moy Ton esprit n’est espoint Tu ne vis onc Philis tu ne la cognois point Or si de t’enquerir il te prend quelque envie D’ou et qui est Philis de tant d’ennuis suivie C’est celle o Demophon qui des flotz despitez Apres tant de travaux si longtemps supportez Errant à la mercy des vents et de l’orage Pauvre et nu t’accueillit et sauva du naufrage Qui sans preveoir ton mal franchement te logea Qui de mille presens tes malheurs soulagea Et cedant à tes yeux qui l’avoient sceu seduire De son pere Licurge en main te meit l’empire Tout ce qui est comprins du Rodope glacé Et de l’Heme obrageux de verd gay tapissé Tout ce que l’Hebre enclost quand en mer il devalle Fust soubsmis au pouvoir de ta dextre royalle C’est delle o Demophon qui croyant à ta foy Ne se reserva rien pour estre tout à toy Et qui permit helas soubz un mauvais augure Que ta trompeuse main desliast sa saincture Le jour Infortuné que ce mal m’arriva 22. In the manuscript, quand et soy, which Sorg corrects to loin de moy.

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Appendix A La bande des Fureurs soubz mon lict se trouva Brandissant dans le poin des flambeaux mortuaires Et d’effroyables cris presageant mes miseres Alecto de serpens ses cheveux replia Et la voix du hibou toute la nuict cria Je t’ayme toutesfois et triste et desolée Sur le hault des rochers je grimpe eschevelée Je passe les halliers aux rivages je cours Et regarde la mer ou` gist mon seul secours Soit quand le chault du jour rend la terre fendue Soit quand du feu du ciel la nuict claire est rendue Je descouvre le vent qui les flotz faict mouvoir Et si las quelque fois je puis appercevoir De loin quelque vaisseau qui tire à ce rivage L’esperance aussi tost renaist en mon courage J’estime que le ciel change sa cruauté Et me rende le bien de moy tant souhaitté Lors plaine de désir d’aise et d’impatience Lasse d’attendre tant dans la mer je m’advance Et sans crainte des eaux je chemine au devant Mais soudain mon plaisir se convertist en vent Car comme de plus pres je y adresse ma veue Je treuve que l’ardeur du desir m’a deceue Dont je sens mon esprit tant d’ennuis recevoir Que je reste sans poux23 sans ame et sans pouvoir Il se trouve un pendant qui penche en la marine Se courbant comme un arc dessus l’onde voisine Sans cesse il me revient dedans l’entendement Comme un remede prompt pour guerir mon tourment Et mille fois les jours furieuse Incensée De me precipiter il m’entre en la pensée Et le feray pour vray. C’est tout ce que j’attends Si l’effect de ta foy m’abuse plus longtemps Et face le ciel piteux qu’apres le mien naufrage Le flot sans s’arrester me porte à ton rivage Et que devant tes yeux pour object desiré Se vienne offrir mon corps pasle et defiguré Bien qu’aucune pitié dans ton ame n’ait place Et que ton cueur si dur le diamant surpasse Si diras tu pourtant aucunement espoint Tu as eu tort Phillis de me suivre en ce point Mille fois la fureur veult que je m’empoisonne Ou qu’une prompte mort par le fer je me donne D’autrefois j’ay desir, d’un cordeau m’enlasser Le col que faucement tu soulois embrasser 23. Poux: pouls.

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Et serrer tout autour de saintures cruelles L’endroit qui fut pressé de tes bras infidelles Car je veulx par la mort mon offence purger Et mon honneur perdu sur moy mesme venger C’est le dernier desseing qui me demeure ferme Et de l’executer je voy venir le terme L’accident de ma mort ton renom publira Lors que ces tristes vers sur ma tombe on lira Demophon fist mourir Phillis la malheureuse Luy fuitif estranger son hostesse amoureuse Il fut coulpable seul de ce meurtre inhumain Bien que pour l’accomplir elle y prestast la main

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APPENDIX B T R A N S L AT I O N F R O M A R I O S T O ’ S ORLANDO FURIOSO, CANTO 1 [First Page] [91], (1) This edition of Ariosto is based on a 1560 Venetian edition.1 At least 150 editions of Ariosto appeared in the sixteenth century, including the three different stages of composition of the poem: 1516, 1521, and the final 1532 stage.2 This edition contains a commentary by Girolamo Ruscelli (d. ca. 1566) and Niccolò Eugenico, and Ariosto’s biography by Giovanni Battista Pigna (1529–75).3 L’Aubespine’s French translation is from Bibliothèque Municipale de Lyon MS 745 ff. 1r–14r. I have only included the first 40 stanzas of l’Aubespine’s translation (the extant translation includes the first two cantos and a fragment of canto 32).

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1 Le donne, i Cavalier, l’arme, gli amori, Le cortesie, l’audaci imprese io canto, Che furo al tempo, che passaro i Mori D’Africa il mare, e in Francia nocquer tanto; 1. Ludovico Ariosto, Orlando Furioso di M. Lodovico Ariosto, tutto ricorretto, et di nuove figure adornato (Venice: Vincenzo Valgrisi, 1560); microfilmed in the series Italian Books before 1601 (Cambridge: General Microfilm Company). I thank the General Microfilm Company for their permission to use the microfilm here. 2. The bibliographic descriptions of all the editions of Orlando furioso until 1900 can be found in Giuseppe Agnelli and Giuseppe Ravegnani, Annale delle edizioni ariostee, con CXIV tavole fuori testo (Bologna: Nicola Zanichelli, 1933). The variants are listed in the standard edition, Lodovico Ariosto, Orlando furioso, secondo l’edizione del 1532 con le varianti delle edizioni del 1516 e del 1521, ed. Santorre Debenedetti and Cesare Segre (Bologna: Commissione per i testi di lingua, 1960), and a general critical introduction is Lanfranco Caretti, Ariosto e Tasso (Turin: Einaudi, 1977). I would like to thank Simone Dubrovic for these references. 3. On Ruscelli, see Luigina Morini, “Ruscelli e le pretese varianti ariostesche al Furioso del ’32,” in In ricordo di Cesare Angelini: Studi di letteratura e filologia, ed. Franco Alessio and Angelo Stella (Milan: Saggiatore, 1979), 160–84.

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Appendix B Seguendo l’ire, e i giovenil furori D’Agramante lor Re, che si diè vanto Di vendicar la morte di Troiano Sopra Re Carlo Imperator romano. 2 Dirò d’Orlando in un medesmo tratto Cosa non detta in prosa mai, né in rima; Che per Amor venne in furore, e matto, D’uom che sì saggio era stimato prima; Se da colei, che tal quasi m’ha fatto, Che ’l poco ingegno adhor’ adhor mi lima, Me ne sarà però tanto concesso, Che mi basti a finir quanto ho promesso. 3 Piacciavi generosa Erculea prole, Ornamento e splendor del secol nostro, Ippolito, aggradir questo, che vuole E darvi sol può l’umil servo vostro. Quel, ch’io vi debbo, posso di parole Pagare in parte, e d’opera d’inchiostro; Né, che poco io vi dia, da imputar sono; Che quanto io posso dar, tutto vi dono. 4 Voi sentirete fra i più degni Eroi, Che nominar con laude m’apparecchio, Ricordar quel Ruggier, che fu di voi, E de’ vostri avi illustri il ceppo vecchio. L’alto valor, e i chiari gesti suoi Vi farò udir, se voi mi date orecchio; E’ vostri alti pensier cedano un poco Sì, che tra lor miei versi abbiano loco. 5 Orlando, che gran tempo inamorato Fu de la bella Angelica; e per lei In India, in Media, in Tartaria lasciato Havea infiniti ed immortal Trofei, In Ponente con essa era tornato, Dove sotto i gran monti Pirenei Con la gente di Francia, e di Lamagna Re Carlo era attendato alla campagna. 6 Per far’ al Re Marsilio, e al Re Agramante Battersi ancor del folle ardir la guancia; D’haver condotto l’un d’Africa quante Genti erano atte à portar spada e lancia;

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L’altro, d’aver spinta la Spagna inante A destruttion del bel Regno di Francia, E così Orlando arrivò quivi à punto; Ma tosto si pentì d’esservi giunto; 7 Che gli fu tolta la sua donna poi; Ecco il giudicio uman come spesso erra. Quella, che da gli Esperii à i liti Eoi Havea difesa con sì lunga guerra, Or tolta gli è fra tanti amici suoi, Senza spada adoprar, ne la sua terra. Il savio Imperator, ch’estinguer volse Un grave incendio, fu che gli la tolse. 8 Nata pochi dì inanzi era una gara Tra il Conte Orlando, e’l suo cugin Rinaldo; Che ambi havean per la belleza rara D’amoroso disio l’animo caldo. Carlo, che non havea tal lite cara, Che gli rendea l’aiuto lor men saldo; Quella Donzella, che la causa n’era, Tolse; e diè in mano al Dauca di Bavera; 9 In premio promettendola à quel d’essi, Che in quel conflitto, in quella gran giornata, De gl’infideli più copia uccidessi, E di sua man prestasse opra più grata. Contrari a i voti poi furo i successi; Che’n fuga andò la gente battezata, E con molti altri fu ’l Duca prigione; E restò abandonato il padiglione. 10 Dove, poi che rimase la Donzella Ch’esser dovea del vincitor mercede, Inanzi al caso era salita in sella, E quando bisognò, le spalle diede, Presàga, che quel giorno esser rubella Devea Fortuna à la Cristiana fede; Entrò in un bosco; e ne la stretta via Rincontrò un cavalier, ch’à piè venìa. 11 In dosso la corazza, l’elmo in testa, La spada al fianco, e in braccio havea lo scudo; E più leggier correa per la foresta, Ch’al pallio rosso il villan mezo ignudo.

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Appendix B Timida pastorella mai sì presta Non volse piede inanzi à serpe crudo; Come Angelica tosto il freno torse, Che del guerrier, ch’à piè venia, s’accorse. 12 Era costui quel Paladin gagliardo Figliuol d’Amon, signor di Mont’ Albano, A cui pur dianzi il suo destrier Baiardo, Per strano caso, uscito era di mano. Come à la Donna egli drizzò lo sguardo, Riconobbe, quantunque di lontano, L’angelico sembiante, e quel bel volto Ch’à l’amorosa rete il tenea involto. 13 La Donna il palafreno à dietro volta, E per la selva à tutta briglia il caccia; Né per la rara più, che per la folta, La più sicura e miglior via procaccia; Ma pallida, tremando, e di sé tolta Lascia cura al destrier che la via faccia. Di sù, di giù ne l’alta selva fiera Tanto girò, che venne a una riviera. 14 Sù la riviera Ferraù trovosse Di sudor pieno, e tutto polveroso. Da la battaglia dianzi lo rimosse Un gran disio di bere e di riposo; E poi, mal grado suo, quivi fermosse, Perche de l’acqua ingordo e frettoloso, L’elmo nel fiume si lasciò cadere, Né l’havea potuto anco rihavere. 15 Quanto potea più forte, ne veniva Gridando la Donzella ispaventata. A quella voce salta in sù la riva Il Saracino, e nel viso la guata; E la conosce, subito ch’arriva, Benche di timor pallida, e turbata, E sien più dì, che non n’udì nuella, Che senza dubbio ell’è Angelica bella. 16 E perche era cortese, e n’havea forse Non men de i duo cugini il petto caldo; L’aiuto, che potea tutto le porse, Pur come havesse l’elmo, ardito e baldo;

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Trasse la spada e minacciando corse, Dove póco di lui temea Rinaldo. Più volte s’eran già non pur veduti, Ma al paragon de l’arme conosciuti. 17 Cominciar quivi una crudel battaglia, Come à piè si trovar, co i brandi ignudi. Non che le piastre, e la minuta maglia; Ma à i colpi lor non reggerian l’incudi. Or, mentre l’un con l’altro si travaglia, Bisogna al palafren, che ’l passo studi; Che, quanto può menar de le calcagna, Colei lo caccia al bosco, e à la campagna. 18 Poi che s’affaticar gran pezzo in vano I duo guerrier per por l’un l’altro sotto; Quando non meno era con l’arme in mano Questo di quel, né quel di questo dotto; Fu primiero il Signor di Mont’Albano, Ch’al cavalier di Spagna fece motto; Sì come quel, c’ha nel cuor tanto foco, Che tutto n’arde, e non ritrova loco. 19 Disse al Pagan, Me sol creduto havrai, E pur’havrai te meco ancora offeso, Se questo avien, perche i fulgenti rai Del novo Sol t’habbiano il petto acceso. Di farmi qui tardar, che guadagno hai? Che quando ancor tu m’habbi morto, ò preso, Non però tua la bella Donna fia, Che, mentre noi tardiam, se ne va via. 20 Quanto fia meglio, amandola tu ancora, Che tu le venga à traversar la strada, A ritenerla, e farle far dimora Prima, che più lontana se ne vada. Come l’havremo in potestade, allora Di chi esser de’ si provi con la spada. Non so altramente dopo un lungo affanno, Che possa riuscirne, altro che danno. 21 Al Pagan la proposta non dispiacque, Così fu differita la tenzone; E tal tregua tra lor subito nacque, Sì l’odio, e l’ira va in oblivione;

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Appendix B Che ’l Pagano al partir da le fresche acque Non lasciò à piede il buon figliuol d’Amone; Con preghi invita, et al fin toglie in groppa, E per l’orme d’Angelica galoppa. 22 O gran bontà de’ cavalieri antiqui, Eran rivali, eran dié fe diversi; E si sentian de gli aspri colpi iniqui Per tutta la persona anco dolersi; E pur per selve oscure, e calli obliqui Insieme van senza sospetto haversi. Da quattro sproni il destrier punto arriva, Dove una strada in due si dipartiva. 23 E, come quei, che non sapean, se l’una, O l’altra via facesse la Donzella; (Però, che senza differentia alcuna Apparia in ambedue l’orma novella) Si misero ad arbitrio di Fortuna, Rinaldo à questa, il Saracino à quella. Pel bosco Ferrarù molto s’avolse. E ritrovossi al fine, onde si tolse. 24 Pur si ritrova ancor sù la rivera Là, dove l’elmo gli cascò ne l’onde. Poi che la Donna ritrovar non spera, Per haver l’elmo, che ’l fiume gli asconde, In quella parte, onde caduto gli era Discende ne l’estreme humide sponde; Ma quello era sì fitto ne la sabbia, Che molto havrà da far prima che l’habbia. 25 Con un gran ramo d’albero rimondo, Di che havea fatto una pertica lunga, Tenta il fiume, e ricerca infino al fondo; Né loco lascia, ove non batta e punga. Mentre con la maggior stizza del mondo Tanto l’indugio suo quivi prolunga, Vede di mezo il fiume un Cavaliero Insino al petto uscir, d’aspetto fiero. 26 Era, fuor che la testa, tutto armato, Et havea un’elmo ne la destra mano; Havea’l medesimo elmo, che cercato Da Ferraù fu lungamente in vano.

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A Ferraù parlò come adirato; E disse, Ah mancator di fe, Marano! Perché di lasciar l’elmo anche t’aggrevi, Che’render già gran tempo mi dovevi? 27 Ricordati Pagan quando uccidesti D’Angelica il fratel, che son quell’io Dietro l’altre arme tu mi promettesti Fra pochi dì gittar l’elmo nel rio. Or, se Fortuna, quel che non volesti Far tu, pone ad effetto il voler mio, Non ti turbare; e se turbar ti dei, Turbati, che di fé mancato sei. 28 Ma se desir pur hai d’un elmo fino, Trovane un’altro, et habbil con più honore. Un tal ne porta Orlando Paladino, Un tal Rinaldo, e forse anco migliore; L’un fu d’Almonte, e l’altro di Mambrino: Acquista un di quei due col tuo valore; E questo, ch’hai già di lasciarmi detto, Farai bene à lasciarmelo in effetto. 29 A l’apparir, che fece à l’improviso De l’acqua l’ombra, ogni pelo arricciossi, E scolorossi al Saracino il viso; La voce, ch’era per uscir, fermossi. Udendo poi da l’Argalia, ch’ucciso Quivi havea già (che l’Argalia nomossi) La rotta fede così improverarse, Di scorno, e d’ira, dentro e di fuor arse. 30 Né tempo havendo à pensar’altra scusa, E conoscendo ben, che ’l ver li disse, Restò senza risposta a bocca chiusa; Ma la vergogna il cor sì li trasisse, Che giurò per la vita di Lanfusa Non voler mai, ch’altro elmo lo coprisse, Se non quel buono, che già in Aspramonte Trasse del capo Orlando al fiero Almonte. 31 E servò meglio questo giuramento, Che non avea quell’altro fatto prima. Quindi si parte tanto mal contento, Che molti giorni poi si rode e lima.

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Appendix B Sol di cercar il Paladino é intento Di quà di là, dove trovarlo stima. Altra aventura al buon Rinaldo accade, Che da costui tenea diverse strade. 32 Non molto va Rinaldo, che si vede Saltar’inanzi il suo destrier feroce. Ferma Baiardo mio, deh ferma il piede, Che l’esser senza te troppo mi noce. Per questo il destrier sordo a lui non riede Anzi più se ne va sempre veloce. Segue Rinaldo, e d’ira si distrugge: Ma seguitiamo Angelica, che fugge. 33 Fugge tra selve spaventose e scure, Per lochi inhabitati, ermi, e selvaggi. Il mover de le frondi, e di verzure, Che di cerri sentia, d’olmi, e di faggi, Fatto le havea con subite paure Trovar di quà e di la strani viaggi; Ch’ad ogni ombra veduta ò in monte, ò in valle, Temea Rinaldo haver sempre à le spalle. 34 Qual pargoletta damma, ò capriola; Che tra le frondi del natio boschetto A la madre veduto habbia la gola Stringer dal pardo, e aprirle il fianco ò il petto, Di selva in selva dal crudel s’invola, E di paura trema e di sospetto; Ad ogni sterpo, che passando tocca, Esser si crede à l’empia fera in bocca. 35 Quel dì e la notte, e mezo l’altro giorno S’andò aggirando; e non sapeva dove. Trovossi al fine in un boschetto adorno, Che lievemente la fresca aura move. Duo chiari rivi mormorando intorno Sempre l’erbe vi fan tenere e nove; E rendea ad ascoltar dolce concento Totto tra picciol sassi il correr lento. 36 Quivi parendo à lei d’esser sicura, E lontana à Rinaldo mille miglia, Da la via stanca, e da l’estiva arsura, Di riposare alquanto si consiglia.

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Tra’ fiori smonta, e lascia à la pastura Andare il palafren senza la briglia; E quel va errando intorno à le chiare onde, Che di fresch’erbe havean piene le sponde. 37 Ecco non lungi un bel cespuglio vede Di spin fioriti, e di vermiglie rose; Che de le liquide onde à specchio siede, Chiuso dal Sol fra l’alte querce ombrose, Così voto nel mezo, che concede Fresca stanza fra l’ombre più nascose; E la foglia co i rami in modo è mista, Che ’l Sol non v’entra, non che minor vista. 38 Dentro letto vi fan tenere erbette, Ch’invitano à posar chi s’appresenta. La bella Donna in mezo à quel si mette, Ivi si corca, et ivi s’addormenta. Ma non per lungo spazio così stette, Che un calpestio le par che venir senta. Cheta si leva; e appresso à la rivera Vede, ch’armato un cavalier giunt’era. 39 S’egli è amico, ò nemico non comprende: Tema e speranza il dubbio cor le scote; E di quella aventura il fine attende, Né pur d’un sol sospir l’aria percote. Il Cavaliero in riva al fiume scende Sopra l’un braccio a riposar le gote; Et in un gran pensier tanto penetra, Che par cangiato in insensibil pietra. 40 Pensoso più d’un’ora à capo basso Stette, Signore, il Cavalier dolente. Poi cominciò con suono afflitto e lasso A lamentarsi sì soavemente, C’havrebbe di pietà spezzato un sasso, Una Tigre crudel fatta clemente. Sospirando piangea, tal ch’un ruscello Parean le guance, e ’l petto un Mongibello.

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Appendix B

ç

VERS FRAN OIS. ROLAND FURIEUX DE MONSIEUR LOUIS ARIOSTE, MIS EN CHANT PREMIER

14 Je chante les combats, les Chevaliers, les Dames, Les fais audacieux, les amoureuses flâmes Du temps que Charlemagne aux François commanda Quand le Prince Agramant tant de Mores guida Sur le païs Gaulois, de l’Affricain rivage, Suivant l’ire, et l’ardeur de son jeune courage, Qui croit soubs son pouvoir toute force ranger, Et la mort de Troyen sur l’Empereur vanger. 2 Je diray poursuivant mon discours variable Du Palladin Roland, une chose admirable, Comme luy qui si sage avoit tousjours esté D’amour perdit le sens, de fureur transporté, Muse dont la faveur est de moy tant aymée, Si tu m’as quelque-fois la poitrine allumée Plus que jamais, Deesse, enflâme mes espris, Tant que je mette à fin cêt ouvrage entrepris. 3 Et vous rare Princesse, admirable et perfaite Que la sage Nature a pour chef-d’oeuvre faite Qui n’a rien qui l’egalle, et que le mieux disant Ne scauroit bien louer sinon en se taisant, Seul Soleil de noz ans, divine Marguerite, Encor que ce labeur tant d’honneur ne merite, Jettez y quelques traits de voz regars si doux Animant un Esprit qui n’adore que Vous. 5

56 Roland qui de long temps avoit l’ame domptée Des beaux yeux d’Angelique, apres avoir plantée Sa gloire en Inde, en Perse, aux Tartares guerriers Et semé l’Orient de superbes Lauriers, Conduisant avec soy ceste chere Deesse. Au quartier d’Occident print en fin son adresse Soubs les monts Pyrenez, ou maint peuple indompté Estoit par Charlemagne à la guerre apresté.

4. The stanzas are not numbered in the original. 5. This stanza is calligraphed in gold in the original. 6. Ariosto’s stanza 4 is not translated by l’Aubespine.

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6 Là ce Roy genereux de France et d’Allemagne Maints soldats aguerris avoit mis en campagne Pour combattre Marsille, et pour faire sentir Au superbe Agramant, un tardif repentir De s’estre à l’Espagnol joint de ferme alliance Pour le priver de Septre, et destruire la France. Roland pour son secours tout a` point s’est trouvé Mais tost il eust voulu n’y estre oncq arrivé. 7 Car la douce Beauté qui maistrisoit sa vie Peu apres son retour des mains luy est ravie Le jugement humain se trompe ainsi souvent La Dame qu’il avoit des rives du Levant Jusqu’ou Phoebus se couche au bout de sa journée Avec tant de perils courageux amenée Apres avoir passé tant d’efforts ennemys Sans combat luy est prise entre tous ses amys. 8 Car le sage Empereur voulant rendre apaisée La bouillante querelle en son camp embrasée De Roland, et Renaud, qui d’amour insencez S’estoient pour Angelique aigrement offencez, Pour bannir loin des siens la discorde meurtriere, L’avoit baillée en garde au bon Duc de Baviere, La promettant en don pour plus les esmouvoir A celuy qui des deux feroit mieux son devoir. 9 Celuy qui des payens feroit plus grand deffaicte Auroit pour son loyer ceste Beauté perfaicte, Mais le sort du combat autrement se trouva, Car sur l’ost des Chrestiens le malheur arriva, Charles se veit en routte, et sa gent desconfite, Le Duc mesme fut pris, et les siens mis en fuite, La Princesse qui seulle au pavillon resta, Fuyant un peu devant, le peril evita. 10 Ainsi que commança la sanglante meslée, Et qu’elle reconneut la victoire esbranlée En faveur d’Agramant à fin de ne tumber Au mal de son party, qu’elle voit succumber, Elle monte à cheval, et sans tourner la veüe, Se trassant par les champs, une sente7 inconneüe 7. Sente: sentier.

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Entre dedans un bois, ou` la peur la conduit, Et trouve un Chevalier qui tout à pied la suit. 11 L’escu luy pend au bras, il porte au flanc l’espée, L’armet couvre son chef, la cuirasse trempée Environne son dos, et court sans s’arrester Comme un qui veut le prix d’une course emporter. La craintive Bergere en telle diligence Ne retire ses pas du serpent qui s’avance, Comme feit Angelique aussi tost qu’elle voit Le guerrier qui si fort tout à pied la suivoit. 12 C’estoit ce Palladin de valeur estimée Renaud, dont la proüesse estoit par tout semée Fils d’Aymon, des Françoys le rampart asseuré Qui avoit son Bayard par fortune esgaré. Si tost que vers la Dame un regard il adresse Encor qu’il soit bien loin, toutesfois il ne laisse De soudain remarquer l’Angelique Beauté Qui dans les retz d’amour tenoit sa liberté. 13 La belle du chemin son palefroy destourne, Le chasse à toute bride, et jamais ne sejourne Brossant par la forest sans voir ou s’adresser Car la peur de Renaud luy trouble le penser, Pallisante, esperdüe, et d’effroy toute pleine, Maintenant par les bois, maintenant par la plaine, Le cheval haut et bas a son gré la porta, Puis sur le bord d’un fleuve à la fin s’arresta. 14 De fortune à l’instant sur la mesme riviere Se trouva Ferragut tout couvert de poulsiere Qui pour chercher repos de grand soif alteré S’estoit hors du combat peu devant separé, Mais un autre accident l’arreste par la force, Car ainsi que pour boire il se panche et s’efforce Trop hastif, son armet au fleuve il laissa cheoir Et encores depuis ne l’avoit sceu ravoir. 15 Criant tant qu’elle peut en voix haute et plaintive, La pucelle estonnée aproche de la rive Le sarrazin se leve, et soudain vers la part Dont il entend le bruit, adressant son regard Reconnoist aussi tost, bien que palle et deffaite La beauté d’Orient, si rare et si perfaite

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Encor que de long temps n’en ait ouy parler Angelique à ses yeux ne se scauroit celer. 16 Pource qu’il est courtois, et sent paraventure Non moins que les Cousins l’amoureuse pointure Il s’offre à la pucelle, et d’ardeur enflamé Comme si d’un heaume il eust le chef armé Ayant l’espée au poing, il court plein de menace Ou Renaud sans frayeur l’atendoit sur la place. Assez de fois devant ils s’estoient rencontrez, Et l’effort de leurs bras l’un à l’autre monstrez. 17 Un combat furieux entr’eux lors se commance, Tous deux estoient à pied, tous deux pleins de vaillance, Et de bras si puissans on les voit se toucher Que leurs coups redoublés pourroient fendre un rocher, Mais pendant que leur force au combat se travaille Angelique qui craint la fin de la bataille Chasse son pallefroy, sans luy donner loysir Et luy semble tousjours trop lent pour son desir. 18 Apres que longuement d’une entreprise vaine Chacun de ces guerriers eut mis beaucoup de peine A vaincre son contraire, et le rendre dompté Sans que rien l’un sur l’autre eust encore emporté. Le puissant fils d’Aymon que l’amour accompagne Fut premier à parler au chevalier d’Espagne Car il a l’estomach de flâmes si bruslé Qu’un tel feu plus long temps ne peut estre celé. 19 Tu croiras, ce dit il, a moy seul faire outrage Mais egal comme à moy te sera le dommage S’il est vray que les yeux dont je suis embrasé Ayent aussi ton esprit de braziers attisé. Que te sert d’arrester ma poursuitte amoureuse Quand tu m’auras deffait d’une main valeureuse Tu n’as rien avancé, car en me retardant Le pris de noz combats s’eslongne ce pendant. 20 Combien vauldroit il mieux, cessant nostre querelle Puis que tu l’ayme aussi, de nous mettre apres elle, Et en la devançant, voir à la retenir Ains qu’un plus long chemin nous en puisse bannir, Et lors quand en noz mains elle sera reduite Nous verrons qui le mieux de nous deux la merite,

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Car de faire autrement, il n’en pourroit sortir, Mesme au victorieux, que peine et repentir. 21 Tel advis du payen est trouvé raisonnable Et leur fait differer leur combat effroyable Une trefve aseurée entr’eux soudain se fait Et leur nouveau courroux tellement se deffait Que Ferragut reçoit le fils d’Aymon en croppe Le voyant sans cheval, puis s’eslance et galoppe Comme il est plein d’amour et de desir poulsé Par le chemin qu’il croit qu’Angelique a trassé. 22 O perfaite bonté des chevaliers antiques, Ils s’en vont franchement par traverses obliques Sus un mesme cheval, sans doute et sans effroy Combien qu’ils soient rivaux et differens de foy Et qu’ils sentent encor leur personne offensée Des coups pesans et lourds de la guerre passée Le cheval qui des deux est piqué vivement Arrive en un chemin croisé diversement. 23 En ce douteux sentier ils ne scavent que faire Pour trouver le chemin de leur belle adversaire Tout chois leur est osté: car ils voyent semés Les deux chemins de pas fraichement imprimés Dont pour plus seurement suyvre leur entreprise Au gré de la fortune un chacun se divise, Puis ayant longuement par le bois traversé Ferragut se retrouve au lieu qu’il a laissé. 24 Il se revoit encor sur la riviere mesme Ou son armet luy cheut, quand plein d’ardeur extréme Trop hatif, il voulut dans les eaux s’abreuver, Or restant sans espoir d’Angelique trouver Descend de son cheval, et sur la rive verte Fait maint et maint effort pour recouvrer sa perte Mais l’armet est si bien dans le sable attaché Que pour le retirer il se trouve empesché. 25 Coupant un grand rameau que luymesme il esmonde En maints divers endrois tente le creux de l’onde, Avec sa longue perche, et sans rien avancer Un seul lieu de ces eaux en paix ne veut laisser, Mais durant qu’à ce fait tout collere il s’espreuve Un puissant chevalier vers le milieu du fleuve

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S’aparoist à ses yeux, et se monstre à demy. Estonnant le payen d’un visage ennemy. 26 Ce guerrier dont la joüe estoit d’ire enflamée Avoit tant seulement la teste desarmée, Et portoit descouvert le heaume en la main Cherché de Ferragut si longuement en vain, Lors luy parle en ces mots forcenés de collere, Ha manquateur de foy, marran, que veux tu faire Et pourquoy sans raison travailles tu si fort A ravoir un armet que retenois a tort. 27 Infidele payen, remets en souvenance Le frere d’Angelique occis par toy en France Et que tu luy promis saintement en mourant Jetter aussi l’armet avec le demourant De ses armes au fleuve. Or si la destinée A ta fausse promesse a` la fin terminée Ne t’en fache, ains plustost trouble toy dans le coeur De ce qu’on te connoist et parjure et trompeur. 28 Mais si tu es esmeu si fort en ton courage D’avoir un tel armet avec plus d’avantage Tu le peux acquerir sans me troubler ainsi, Renaud en porte un tel, le preux Roland aussi Qu’ils gaignerent tous deux avec beaucoup de gloire D’Almont et de Mambrin remportant la victoire, C’est là que ta valleur deust avoir pretendu, Sans despouiller les morts de ce qui leur est deu. 29 A l’arriver de l’umbre ainsi fiere et hautaine Le payen fut esmeu d’une frayeur soudaine, Le poil luy dresse au chef, son sang se retira Et la voix au gosier morte luy demoura, Mais apres qu’il entend la poignante menasse De Largail qu’il avoit occis en ceste place, Et qu’il se voit taxer d’avoir manqué de foy, De honte et de courroux il est tout hors de soy. 30 Parquoy sans s’arrester à penser autre excuse Il jure tout soudain par l’ame de Lanfuse Confessant qu’à bon droit il se voyoit blasmer Que plus aucun peril ne le feroit armer Ains porteroit tousjours la teste descouverte Tant qu’il ait autre-part sa gloire recouverte,

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Et par force conquis l’armet qu’en Aspremont Roland tira du chef du valleureux Almont. 31 Il garda ce serment mieux que l’autre promesse, Puis triste, et mal-content, ce rivage il delaisse, N’ayant dedans son coeur desir plus violant Que de pouvoir trouver le palladin Roland, Ça et là, nuict et jour, en fait diverse queste, Mais tandis qu’il le cherche, et que point ne s’arreste Renaud qui s’est de luy separé peu devant Cheminoit par les bois, Angelique suyvant. 32 Il ne va gueres loing que par bonne advanture Il aperçoit Bayard sa puissante monture, Ne fuy plus mon Bayard, aproche toy de moy Je sens trop de nuisance estant privé de toy. Bayard pour ces propos ne retient sa carriere, Ains plus leger s’eslance en sa course premiere. Renaud se met apres depitant et jurant, Mais parlons d’Angelique au bois tousjours courant. 33 Par lieux inhabitez, par mont et par vallée A course de cheval s’enfuit la desolée. Le mouvoir du fueillage au Zephire tramblant Alloit de mille peurs son courage troublant, Et luy faisoit soudain par l’endroit plus sauvage, Et le moins frequenté, adresser son voyage, Un roc, un fleuve, une ombre, un mont qu’elle aperçoit Juge que c’est Renaud tant la peur la deçoit. 34 Comme un jeune chevreul à la course legere, Qui voit le Leopard luy surprendre sa mere, La rompre piece à piece, et de sang desireux Se repaistre (afamé) de son flanc challeureux, En tremblant se desrobe, evitant ceste rage, Et fuit hativement de bocage en bocage A tout bruit qu’il entend, traversant par dedans Croit que le Leopard le tient entre ses dens. 35 Angelique est ainsi que la seule peur guide Et sans tenir chemin gallope à toute bride, Un jour et une nuit s’estoit desja passé Quand lasse elle descend du cheval plus lassé Dans un bocage espais des Nymphes le repaire Qu’il sembloit que Nature eust fait pour s’y complaire

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Ou deux petits ruisseaux doucement murmuroient Et les tendres Zephirs leurs amours souspiroient. 36 Angelique la belle en ce lieu separée S’estimant de Renaud estre assez asseurée Lasse du long chemin, et du chaud de l’esté Prend pour se reposer l’endroit plus escarté Se couche entre les fleurs pour plus fraichement estre Et laisse son destrier en liberté repaistre Le cheval desbridé bannist sa longue fain Paissant l’herbage espais, dont le rivage est plein. 37 Un buisson florissoit le long de ce rivage Tout de blanc Aubespin, et de Rosier sauvage Qui dans les claires eaux sembloit se remirer, Un rayon au travers ne pouvoit esclairer. Dans l’enclos du buisson est une place verte D’ombre et de belles fleurs entierement couverte, Le fueillage aux rameaux estant si bien lassé8 Qu’un seul lieu du Soleil ne peut estre percé. 38 La se voit un beau lict d’herbe molle et plaisante Qui semond9 au repos chacun qui s’y presente, Angelique s’y couche, et n’est pas longuement Qu’un gracieux someil ses beaux yeux va fermant Mais peu de temps apres en sursault se resveille Oyant un bruit prochain qui frape son oreille, ¨ Coyement se releve, et voit non loin devant Un Chevalier armé dans le bois arrivant. 4010 Ayant la face triste, et la teste baissée, Resta le Chevalier plus d’une heure en pensée Puis comme la douleur plus fort le va pressant Commance à lamenter en si piteux accent Qu’il eust peu fendre un roc touché de sa complainte, Et rendre en l’escoutant une Tigresse attainte, Son estomac ressemble au mont tousjours bruslant, Et sa joüe est changée en ruisseau distillant.

8. Lassé: eulacé. 9. Semond: appelle. 10. Ariosto’s stanza 39 is not translated by l’Aubespine.

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INDEX OF FIRST LINES AND TITLES

[First Page] [129], (1) A lover, young, and filled with the flames of love, 75 Around a hawthorn’s branch, I once wrote these words, 77 As the sweetest diversion that I could ever choose, 57 Aussy bien qu’en la terre basse, 52 Autour d’un aubespin j’escrivis une fois, 76 Berger tant ramply de finesse, 66 Bergers qui pour un peu d’absence, 68 Ce fut dedans ce bois qu’Angelique aux beaux yeux, 52 Ceste tienne Phillis que trop d’amour deceut, 83 “Chanson mise du biscayen en français—Song translated from Biscayen into French,” 70–71 Comme peult-il entrer en vostre entendement, 44 “Desportes’s Sonnet for Callianthe,” 58–59 Deux puissans Ennemis me font mortelle guerre, 42 “Dialogue d’un pourpoint et d’un robon qui jadis furent robes—Dialogue of a Doublet with a Vest Who Used to Be Robes,” 72–73

Dreaming among those woods, I see kisses exchanged, 65 “Du mirouer de M.D.L.B.,” 52 D’un venin trop cruel, archer qui tout surmonte, 60 “Epigramme. Par Madame de Villeroy—Epigram, by Mme de Villeroy,” 74–75 “Epigramme. Par Madame de Villeroy parlant de son mary—Epigram, by Mme de Villeroy, speaking of her husband,” 74–75 “Epigramme sur son nom de l’Aubespine—Epigram on her own name of Hawthorn/l’Aubespine,” 76–77 “Épître dédicatoire du volume posthume,” 40 “Epistle Dedicatory to the Posthumous Volume,” 41 He is annoying and grumpy, 75 Heroides 2, “Phyllis Demoophonti,” 79 Heroïdes 2, “Phillis à Demophon,” 83 Hospita Demophoon tua Rhodopeia Phillis, 79 How can it ever gain entrance into your mind, 45


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I n d e x o f F i r s t L i n e s a n d Ti t l e s

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

If, from the lofty heavens, you have come down this low, 47 If you fall in your flight, too willing to believe me, 59 Il est facheux et rechignar, 74 In too cruel a poison, archer who conquers all, 61 It was here, in these woods, that fair-eyed Angelica, 53 Jamais, jamais ne puissiez vous, mon coeur, 50 Je chante les combats, les Chevaliers, les Dames, 100 Just as upon the lowly ground, 53 Le donne, i Cavalier, l’arme, gli amori, 91 Long live love, long live its fire, 71 L’on verra s’arrester le mobile du monde, 62 Madeleine, for my sake, shed the name of hawthorn, 57 Madelene, ostez moy ce nom de l’Aubespine, 56 Mon coeur, c’est trop langui sans espoir d’allegence, 48 My dear Sir Vest, so newly made, 73 My heart, too long you’ve languished without hope of relief, 49 Myrtis, Corinna, and the Muse of Greece, 59 Myrtis, Corinne et la Muse de Grece, 58 Never, never should you endure, my heart, 51 No, it’s not here, the blessed tree-lined path, 49 Non, ce n’est point icy la bien heureuse allée, 48 O lord, into your peace eternal, change my war, 45 “On the Mirror of M.D.L.B.,” 53 Orlando furioso, Canto 1, 91

Pour le plus doulx esbat que je puisse choisir, 56 Qu’eusses-tu faict, Amour? Ta flamme estoit estainte, 60 Quionque dict qu’Amour se guarist par l’absence, 62 Resvant parmy ces bois, je voy s’entrebaiser, 64 Roland furieux de Monsieur Louis Arioste, mis en vers françois. “Chant premier” (fragment), 100 “Ronsard’s Response,” 58–59 “Ronsard’s Sonnet to l’Aubespine,” 56–57 Rozette, for such a short absence, 65 Rozette, pour un peu d’absance 64 Seigneur change ma guerre en ta paix eternelle, 44 Seigneur robon faict de nouveau, 72 Shepherd, so full of subtlety, 67 Shepherds who for so short an absence, 69 Si tu es du hault ciel icy bas dessendue, 46 Si tu jecte les yeux sur mon iniquité, 46 Si vollant vous tombez pour me vouloir trop croire, 58 So much fire and love, with which you come to light, 59 “Sonnet 1,” 42–43 “Sonnet 2,” 44–45 “Sonnet 3. Sonet chrestien—Pious Sonnet, “44–45 “Sonnet 4. Autre sonet chrestien— Another Pious Sonnet,”46–47 “Sonnet 5. A la fiebvre—To Fever,” 46–47 “Sonnet 6,” 48–49 “Sonnet 7,” 48–49 “Sonnet 8,” 50–51 “Sonnet 9,” 50–51 “Sonnet 10,” 52–53 “Sonnet 11. Enigme—Riddle,” 56–57

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“Sonnet 12. Sonnet pour Monsieur de Ronsard—Sonnet for M. de Ronsard,” 58–9 “Sonnet 13. L’Aubespine’s Sonnet from Desportes’s Premières oeuvres,” 60–61 “Sonnet 14,” 60–61 “Sonnet 15,” 62–63 “Sonnet 16,” 62–63 “Sonnet 17,” 64–65

“Vilanelle par d’Aubigné—Song by d’Aubigné,” 68–69 “Vilanelle par Desportes—Song by Desportes,” 64–65 Vive l’amour, vive ses feux, 70 Vous qui de vos ayeulx le grande nombre augmentant, 40 Vous qui scavez que c’est, mieux que moy, de l’amour, 50

Tant de flamme et d’amour, dont tu vas allumant, 58 The movement of the world we will sooner see stopped, 63 Two mighty enemies wage a deadly war against me, 43

Were you to catch a sight of my iniquity, 47 What would you have done, Love? Your flame was all extinct, 61 Whoever says that Love is by absence best cured, 63

Un jeune amans plain d’amoureuse flame, 74

You who, augmenting the great numbers of your ancestors, 41 You who know better than I what it is to love, 51

“Vilanelle par l’Aubespine—Song by l’Aubespine,” 66–67

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GENERAL INDEX

[First Page] [133], (1) Agnelli, Giuseppe, 91n Alexandrin, 30 Amboise, conspiracy of, 4–5 Angelica, 29–30 L’Angelier, Abel, 20 Angennes, Julie de, Mlle de Rambouillet, 18–20 Anne of Austria, 20 Apollo, 14–16 Arcadia, 22 Ariosto, Lodovico, xxvii, 2, 10, 21, 27–30, 32–33, 91–107 Aubespine, Madeleine de, L’: Barbiche, dog, 8, 21; lesbian poem, 1–2, 17, 32–33; library, 9; lovers, 5–6, 8, 30–31 (see also women, chastity and public life); myth of the author, 1–2, 12–16, 32–33 (see also women, speech) Aubespine, Claude II de, L’ (father of Madeleine), 4–5, 7, 21 Aubespine, Claude III de, L’ (brother of Madeleine), 4–5, 7–9, 21 Aubespine, Guillaume de, L’ (brother of Madeleine), 7, 26–27 Aubigné, Agrippa de, 8, 21–23 Baïf, Jean-Antoine de, 9, 23n Bellay, Joachim du, 23 Belleau, Rémy, 23n Bellerophon, 14

Bèze, Théodore de, 4 Bibliothèque bleue, 28 Billard, Claude, 10n Boiardo, Matteo Maria, 27–29 Bollème, Geneviève, 28n Boscán, Juan Almogáver, 23n Boucher, Jacqueline, 7n, 26n, 27 Bourbon, Antoine de, 4 Bourbon, Charles Cardinal de, 31n Bradamante, 29 Brantôme, Pierre de Bourdeille, sieur de, 10n Breeches (chausses), 23–26 Brooks, Jeanice, 23n Byron, George, 28 Cabinet des saines affections (Cabinet of Salutary Affects) 2, 32–33 Cabinet Satyrique (Satirical Cabinet), 2–3, 19–20, 27, 32–33 Calderino, Domizio, 79 Calvin, Jean, 4, 22 Caretti, Lanfranco, 91n Carpe diem, 26 castration, symbolic, 25 Catherine de’ Medici, 3–5 Catullus, Gaius Valerius, 19 Caurroy, Eustache Du, 22n Céard, Jean, 13n Cervantes, Miguel de, 28–29 Champion, Pierre, 9n


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General Index

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Chanson de Roland (The Song of Roland), 28 Chansons, 21–23 Charlemagne Cycle, 28 Charles IX, king of France, 3, 5, 7 Charles Emmanuel I, duke of Savoy, 31–32 chausses (breeches), 23–26 Chevreuse, Mme de, 20 Cioranescu, Alexandre, 10n, 21, 29–30 Clélie, 16, 18–19 Clermont, Catherine de, maréchale de Retz, 3, 9, 17, 21, 27, 29–30. See also women, patrons Colligny, family, 4–5 Condé, Louis de, 4 Conflans, 8 Conihout, Isabelle de, 4, 5n, 7n, 8n, 9n Corinna, 12 Corneille, Pierre, 28 La Croix du Maine, François Grudé, sieur de, 10–11, 30–31 Debenedetti, Santorre, 91n Defense and Illustration of the French Language, 23 De Jean, Joan, 10n Demophoon, 30–31, 79–89 Desportes, Philippe, 2, 8–9, 12–13, 21–23, 30 Des Roches, Madeleine and Catherine, 1n, 20–21 dialogues, poetic, 2, 23–26 Diana, 22–23 Dickerman, Edmund H., 5n, 7n Don Quixote, 28–29 Dorat, Jean, 9, 23n Doublet (pourpoint), 23–27 Dubrovic, Simone, 91n Duel des mignons, 24 Dumas, Alexandre, 22 Du Mas, Philippe, 10n, 32n epigrams, 2, 26–27, 32–33 erotica, 1–2, 17–20, 23–27, 32–33. See also women, chastity and public life Este, Anna de, 31n Eugenico, Niccolò, 91

Flea of the Dames Des Roches, The, 20–21 Flèges, Amaury, 9n florilegia, 2, 8–9, 20, 27 Francis I, king of France, 4 Francis II, king of France, 3–5 Francis of Alençon, brother of Henry III, 31 Gassot, Jules, 6n, 8, 27 Gournay, Marie de, 16 Guise family, 4 Guise, Charles de, duc de Mayenne (also known as Charles de Lorraine), 31 Guise, Henry I, duc de, 22, 31n Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, 26 Heidegger, Martin, 26 Helen, 10, 30–31 Henry II, king of France, 3 Henry III, king of France, 3, 5–7, 24, 27, 31–32. See also women, patrons Henry IV, king of France, also known as Henry de Bourbon, king of Navarre, 3, 5–7, 31–32 Heroides, 2, 10–11, 30–33, 79–89 Hic Mulier, 24 Hogg, Chloé, 16n Horace, Quintus Horatius Flaccus, 26 hubris, 15 humanism, xix–xx Icarus, 14 Imago, 25 Institution de la religion chrétienne (Institutes of the Christian Religion), 4 Jamyn, Amadis, 10n, 17n Jodelle, Etienne, 9, 10n, 23n Jones, Ann Rosalind, 12, 24n jouissance, 17 Joyeuse, Anne duc de, 6n Juvenal, 18 Kane, Julie, 21n Kant, Immanuel, 26 Keating, Louis Clark, 8n

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General Index 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Korda, Natasha, 24n Kushner, Eva, 17n Labé, Louise, 19–20 Lacan, Jacques, 25 Larsen, Anne R., 1n Laubespine. See Aubespine, L’ Lavaud, Jacques, 21n, 24n, 27 Les avantures du baron de Faeneste, 22 Le Cabinet des saines affections (Cabinet of Salutary Affects) 2, 32–33 Le Cabinet Satyrique (Satirical Cabinet), 2–3, 19–20, 27, 32–33 La Carte du Tendre, 18–19 Les femmes savantes, 19 La Guirlande de Julie, 18–20 Les précieuses ridicules, 19 Ligue, The 6 Lorraine, Charles de, duc de Mayenne (also known as Charles de Guise), 31 Lorraine, François de, duc de Guise, 31n Lorraine, Henri I de, duc de Guise, 31n Louis XIII, king of France, 3, 7, 20 Louis XIV, king of France, 6 Luther, Martin, 4 Maître, Myriam, 16n Manutius, Aldus, 9 Marguerite de Valois, 3, 5, 9, 19–20, 22, 29–30. See also women, patrons Marquets, Anne de, 1n Mas, Philippe Du, 10n, 32n Mathieu-Castellani, Gisèle, 8n Mayenne, duc de, Charles de Lorraine, also known as Charles de Guise, 31 Medici, Catherine de’, 3–5 Memento mori, 25–26 Messalina, 18 Metamorphoses, 14 Miller, Nancy K., 10n Milton, John, 28 Molière, 19 Montaigne, Michel de, 8, 15n Montausier, marquis de, 19 Montbazon, Monsieur de, 20

135

Montemayor, Jorge de, 22–24 Mornay, Pierre de, seigneur de Villarceaux, 27n Morini, Luigina, 91 Moss, Ann, 13n, 79 Muses, 12–16 Myrtis, 12 Nantes, Edict of, 6 Neufville, Nicolas de, sieur de Villeroy, 4–9, 27 Oenona, 10, 30–31 Olivier, Anne, dame de Villarceaux (great-niece of Madeleine de l’Aubespine), 26n Olivier, Jean, 27n Orlando furioso, 2, 10, 21, 27–30, 32–33, 91–107 Orlando innamorato, 27–29 Ovid (Publius Virgilius Naso), 2, 10, 14, 30–33, 79–89 Paris, 10, 30–31 Parnassus, 13–14 pastoral, 2 Penelope, 10, 30–31 Petrarchism, 1–2, 26, 32–33 Peyron, Bernardino, 11n, 13, 31–32 Phaeton, 2, 13–16 Phyllis to Demophoon, 30–31, 79–89 Pigna, Giovanni Battista, 91 Pindar, 14 Plauson, Jean, 23n Pléïade, 23 Pourpoint (doublet), 23–26 Précieuses, 18–20 Rabelais, François, 8, 28 Ract-Madoux, Pascal, 4, 5n, 7n, 8n, 9n Ratel, Simone, 8n Ravegnani, Giuseppe, 91n Retz, maréchale de, Catherine de Clermont, 3, 9, 17, 21, 27, 29–30. See also women, patrons Rinaldo, 29 Robe, 23–26

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General Index

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Robon, 23–26 Ronsard, Pierre de, 1, 8–9, 12–16, 23, 30–33 Rozette, 21–23 Ross, Charles, 17n Ruscelli, Girolamo, 91 Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, 5 Sappho, 12 Sartre, Jean-Paul, 26 Satirical Cabinet (Le cabinet satyrique), 2–3, 19–20, 27 Sauve, Charlotte de BeauneSemblançay, marquise de Noirmoutier, baronne de, 22 Savoy, Charles Emmanuel I, duke of, 31–32 Scève, Maurice, 23n Scudéry, Madeleine de, 1n, 16, 18–19 Segre, Cesare, 91n Shakespeare, William, 13, 28 Sidney, Philip, 22 Song of Roland, The (Chanson de Roland), 28 Sorg, Roger, 11–12, 27, 29 Stallybrass, Peter, 24n Stampa, Gaspara, 1n Sutherland, Nicola Mary, 5n Tallemant de Réaux, Gédéon, 19–20 Tamburini, Gino, 11n Timmermans, Linda, 8n Tragiques, 22 Tyard, Pontus de, 17n, 23n Ulysses, 10 Urfé, Honoré de, 32 Valois, Marguerite de, 3, 5, 9, 19–20, 22, 29–30. See also women, patrons Vanitas vanitatis, 25–26

Vega, Garcilaso de la, 23n Vilanelle, 2, 21–23 Villarceaux, Anne Olivier, dame de, great-niece of Madeleine de l’Aubespine, 26–27 Villedieu, Marie-Catherine Desjardins de, 19 Villeroy, 8 Villeroy, Charles de, son of Madeleine de l’Aubespine, 6–7, 30 Villeroy, Madeleine de l’Aubespine, Madame de. See l’Aubespine, Madeleine de Villeroy, Nicolas de Neufville, sieur de, 4–9, 27 Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro), 23 Voiture, Vincent, 27 Volscus, Antonius, also Volscius, Vossius, 79 Vulcan, 14–15 Winn, Colette, 2–3, 10n women: chastity and public life, xxvi– xxvii (see also erotica; Aubespine, Madeleine de, L’, lovers); in Christianity, xv–xvi; debate or querelle des femmes, xxii–xxiii; defense of, xx–xxii; in Greek philosophy, xii–xiv; in medieval literature, xvi– xvii; in medieval society, xvii–xix; in Roman law, xiv–xv; patrons, xxv (see also Valois, Marguerite de; Retz, maréchale de, Catherine de Clermont; Henry III); politics, xxvii–xxviii; speech, xxviii–xxix (see also l’Aubespine, Madeleine de, myth of the author); witchcraft, xxiii–xxiv; writers, xxiv–xxv Zecher, Karla, 17n Zeus, 14–15

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Selected Poems and Translations: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe) (Italian Edition)

Selected Poetry and Prose: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe) (Italian + English Edition)

Selected Writings: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Complete Poetry and Prose: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Flori, a Pastoral Drama: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Sonnets for Michelangelo: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Sonnets for Michelangelo: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Spiritual Sonnets: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Poems and Selected Letters (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Poems and Selected Letters (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Urania: A Romance (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Letters and Orations (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Letters and Orations (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Dialogues and Addresses (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Dialogues and Addresses (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Selected Sonnets: A Bilingual Edition

The Court Midwife (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

The Court Midwife (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Sacred Narratives (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Paternal Tyranny (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Paternal Tyranny (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Memoirs (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

The Poems of Catullus: A Bilingual Edition

Immanent Visitor: Selected Poems of Jaime Saenz, A Bilingual Edition

Selected Poems of Garcilaso de la Vega: A Bilingual Edition

Selected Philosophical and Scientific Writings (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Selected Letters, Orations, and Rhetorical Dialogues (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

A Rule for Children and Other Writings (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Warnings to the Kings and Advice on Restoring Spain: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe) (Spanish Edition)

Apology for the Woman Writing and Other Works (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Selected Poems and Translations: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe) (Italian Edition)

Selected Poetry and Prose: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe) (Italian + English Edition)

Selected Writings: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Complete Poetry and Prose: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Flori, a Pastoral Drama: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Sonnets for Michelangelo: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Sonnets for Michelangelo: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Spiritual Sonnets: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Poems and Selected Letters (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Poems and Selected Letters (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Urania: A Romance (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Letters and Orations (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Letters and Orations (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Dialogues and Addresses (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Dialogues and Addresses (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Selected Sonnets: A Bilingual Edition

The Court Midwife (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

The Court Midwife (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Sacred Narratives (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Paternal Tyranny (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Paternal Tyranny (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Memoirs (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

The Poems of Catullus: A Bilingual Edition

Immanent Visitor: Selected Poems of Jaime Saenz, A Bilingual Edition

Selected Poems of Garcilaso de la Vega: A Bilingual Edition

Selected Philosophical and Scientific Writings (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Selected Letters, Orations, and Rhetorical Dialogues (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

A Rule for Children and Other Writings (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

Warnings to the Kings and Advice on Restoring Spain: A Bilingual Edition (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe) (Spanish Edition)

Apology for the Woman Writing and Other Works (The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe)

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