o understand the higher forms of social intercourse at this period, we
must keep before our minds the fact that women stood on a footing of
perfect equality with men. We must not suffer ourselves to be misled by
the sophistical and often malicious talk about the assumed inferiority
of the female sex, which we meet with now and then in the dialogues of
this time, nor by such satires as the third of Ariosto, who treats
woman as a dangerous grown-up child, whom a man must learn how to
manage, in spite of the great gulf between them. There is, indeed, a
certain amount of truth in what he says. Just because the educated
woman was on a level with the man, that communion of mind and heart
which comes from the sense of mutual dependance and completion, could
not be developed in marriage at this time, as it has been developed
later in the cultivated society of the North.
The education given to women in the upper classes was essentially the
same as that given to men. The Italian, at the time of the Renaissance,
felt no scruple in putting sons and daughters alike under the same
course of literary and even philological instruction. Indeed, looking
at this ancient culture as the chief treasure of life, he was glad that
his girls should have a share in it. We have seen what perfection was
attained by the daughters of princely houses in writing and speaking
Latin. Many others must at least have been able to read it, in order to
follow the conversation of the day, which turned largely on classical
subjects. An active interest was taken by many in Italian poetry, in
which, whether prepared or improvised, a large number of Italian women,
from the time of the Venetian Cassandra Fedele onwards (about the close
of the fifteenth century), made themselves famous. One, indeed,
Vittoria Colonna, may be called immortal. If any proof were needed of
the assertion made above, it would be found in the manly tone of this
poetry. Even the love-sonnets and religious poems are so precise and
definite in their character, and so far removed from the tender
twilight of sentiment, and from all the dilettantism which we commonly
find in the poetry of women, that we should not hesitate to attribute
them to male authors, if we had not clear external evidence to prove
the contrary.
For, with education, the individuality of women in the upper classes
was developed in the same way as that of men. Till the time of the
Reformation, the personality of women out of Italy, even of the highest
rank, comes forward but little. Exceptions like Isabella of Bavaria,
Margaret of Anjou, and Isabella of Castile, are the forced result of
very unusual circumstances. In Italy, throughout the whole of the
fifteenth century, the wives of the rulers, and still more those of the
Condottieri, have nearly all a distinct, recognizable personality, and
take their share of notoriety and glory. To these came gradually to be
added a crowd of famous women of the most varied kind; among them those
whose distinction consisted in the fact that their beauty, disposition,
education, virtue, and piety, combined to render them harmonious human
beings. There was no question of 'woman's rights' or female
emancipation, simply because the thing itself was a matter of course.
The educated woman, no less than the man, strove naturally after a
characteristic and complete individuality. The same intellectual and
emotional development which perfected the man, was demanded for the
perfection of the woman. Active literary world, nevertheless, was not
expected from her, and if she were a poet, some powerful utterance of
feeling, rather than the confidences of the novel or the diary, was
looked for. These women had no thought of the public; their function
was to influence distinguished men, and to moderate male impulse and
caprice.
The highest praise which could then be given to the great Italian women
was that they had the mind and the courage of men. We have only to
observe the thoroughly manly bearing of most of the women in the heroic
poems, especially those of Boiardo and Ariosto, to convince ourselves
that we have before us the ideal of the time. The title 'virago,' which
is an equivocal compliment in the present day, then implied nothing but
praise. It was borne in all its glory by Caterina Sforza, wife and
afterwards widow of Girolamo Riario, whose hereditary possession,
Forli, she gallantly defended first against his murderers, and then
against Cesare Borgia. Though finally vanquished, she retained the
admiration of her countrymen and the title 'prima donna d'Italia.' This
heroic vein can be detected in many of the women of the Renaissance,
though none found the same opportunity of showing their heroism to the
world. In Isabella Gonzaga this type is clearly recognizable.
Women of this stamp could listen to novels like those of Bandello,
without social intercourse suffering from it. The ruling genius of
society was not, as now, womanhood, or the respect for certain
presuppositions, mysteries, and susceptibilities, but the consciousness
of energy, of beauty, and of a social state full of danger and
opportunity. And for this reason we find, side by side with the most
measured and polished social forms, something our age would call
immodesty, forgetting that by which it was corrected and counter-balanced--
the powerful characters of the women who were exposed to it.
That in all the dialogues and treatises together we can find no
absolute evidence on these points is only natural, however freely the
nature of love and the position and capacities of women were discussed.
What seems to have been wanting in this society were the young girls
who, even when not brought up in the monasteries, were still carefully
kept away from it. It is not easy to say whether their absence was the
cause of the greater freedom of conversation, or whether they were
removed on account of it.
Even the intercourse with courtesans seems to have assumed a more
elevated character, reminding us of the position of the Hetairae in
classical Athens. The famous Roman courtesan Imperia was a woman of
intelligence and culture, had learned from a certain Domenico Campana
the art of making sonnets, and was not without musical accomplishments.
The beautiful Isabella de Luna, of Spanish extraction, who was reckoned
amusing company, seems to have been an odd compound of a kind heart
with a shockingly foul tongue, which latter sometimes brought her into
trouble. At Milan, Bandello knew the majestic Caterina di San Celso,
who played and sang and recited superbly. It is clear from all we read
on the subject that the distinguished people who visited these women,
and from time to time lived with them, demanded from them a
considerable degree of intelligence and instruction, and that the
famous courtesans were treated with no slight respect and
consideration. Even when relations with them were broken off, their
good opinion was still desired, which shows that departed passion had
left permanent traces behind. But on the whole this intellectual
intercourse is not worth mentioning by the side of that sanctioned by
the recognized forms of social life, and the traces which it has left
in poetry and literature are for the most part of a scandalous nature.
We may well be astonished that among the 6,800 persons of this class,
who were to be found in Rome in 1490--that is, before the appearance of
syphilis--scarcely a single woman seems to have been remarkable for any
higher gifts. Those whom we have mentioned all belong to the period
which immediately followed. The mode of life, the morals and the
philosophy of the public women, who with all their sensuality and greed
were not always incapable of deeper passions, as well as the hypocrisy
and devilish malice shown by some in their later years, are best set
forth by Giraldi, in the novels which form the introduction to the
'Hecatommithi.' Pietro Aretino, in his 'Ragionamenti,' gives us rather
a picture of his own depraved character than of this unhappy class of
women as they really were.
The mistresses of the princes, as has been pointed out, were sung by
poets and painted by artists, and thus have become personally familiar
to their contemporaries and to posterity. But we hardly know more than
the name of Alice Perries; and of Clara Dettin, the mistress of
Frederick the Victorious, and of Agnes Sorel we have only a
half-legendary story. With the concubines of the Renaissance
monarchs--Francis I and Henry II--the case is different.