Woman in the golden ages

by Amelia Gere Mason

But the special mission of these princesses, so valiant on occasion, was to patronize learning and the arts, to aid men of letters, to diffuse a taste for the beautiful, to put a curb on license, so far as this was possible, and to foster discussions of things high and serious. They vied with one another in making their courts intellectually luminous. The more we study them, the more we are convinced of the beneficent influence of thoroughly trained, broad-minded women in molding the destinies of nations as well as of individuals. We are fascinated by their variable charm, their mastery of life in its larger as well as its smaller phases. The woman who led all hearts captive with her beauty, her gaiety, her kindness, the faithful wife, the tender mother, the sympathetic friend, was also the woman of lucid intellect and strong soul, who sustained her husband in his darkest hours and added laurels to his glory while winning some for herself.

II

Of the Italian courts, it was only those led by able women that left a permanent fame. If they are associated with the names of great men who gave them the halo of their own glory, it was women who made a society for these men, inspired them, and centralized their influence. Urbino was called the Athens of Italy. During the reign of the Duchess Elisabetta it is safe to say that there was hardly a man of distinction in the country, whether poet, artist, prelate, or statesman, who did not find his way there sooner or later. It may be pleasant to dwell a little on this brilliant court, which was the best and purest of its time and furnished the model upon which the Hôtel de Rambouillet was founded more than a century afterward. It was more fortunate than others in having a chronicler. Count Castiglione left a graphic picture of its personnel and amusements, as well as a record of some of its conversations, so that we know not only the quality of the people who met there, but what they thought, what they talked about, and what they did. He gives us the best glimpse we have of the society and manners of the golden age of the Renaissance.

But this atmosphere of culture and refinement was not made in a day. It was largely due to the more or less gifted princesses who had lived or ruled there for more than a hundred years. Far back toward the beginning of the fifteenth century there was a Battista who was distinguished for her piety, her talents, and her noble character. A worthless husband drove her to seek refuge with her brother at Urbino, where she solaced the wounds of her heart in writing sonnets and moral essays on faith and human frailty, also in corresponding with scholars and sending Latin letters to her father-in-law, a Malatesta, who had fostered her literary tastes and evidently remained her friend. Her daughter inherited her sorrows with her talents, and both closed their lives, after the fashion of women to whom the world has not been kind or has lost its charm, in the austerities of a convent. Her granddaughter was Costanza Varana, a valued friend of philosophers and men of learning; but she died early, leaving another Battista, who was sent to Milan at four to be educated with her precocious cousin Ippolita Sforza. The extraordinary gifts of this child have already been mentioned, but she more than fulfilled her promise. At fifteen, or earlier, she was married to Federigo, the great Duke of Urbino, who shared the enthusiasm of the Medici in the revival of the classics. This small duchess of vigorous intellect, much learning, and strong character, was in full sympathy with her husband’s tastes, and he speaks of her as “the ornament of his house, the delight of his public and private hours.” If she could read Demosthenes and Plato, and talk with the wisdom of Cicero, as one of her contemporaries tells us, she was not spoiled for the practical duties of her position. At an age when our school-girls are playing golf or conning their lessons, she was prudently managing affairs of the State of which she was regent in her husband’s absence. She was simple in manners, cared little for dress, and put on her magnificent robes only for courtly ceremonies to maintain the outward dignity of her place. At Rome she was greatly honored by the Pope, whom she addressed in Latin, much to his delight. But this beautiful, gifted, efficient, and adored woman died at twenty-six, leaving seven children, a broken-hearted husband, and a sorrowing people. The glories of her short, full life were sung by poets, statesmen, and churchmen alike. She left the imperishable stamp of intellect and taste on all her surroundings, and is of special interest to us as the grandmother of Vittoria Colonna, in whom the talent of generations found its consummate flower.

But the luminous period of Urbino was during the reign of her son, who added to the martial qualities and manly accomplishments of his age, remarkable talent, great learning, and a singularly gentle character. This was the Duke Guidobaldo, who consoled his friends in his last moments with lines from Vergil. His health was always delicate, and the brilliancy of his court was due to his wife, the celebrated Elisabetta Gonzaga, who had been reared in the scholarly air of Mantua, where the daughters were educated with the sons. She found in her new home standards of culture that had been set, as we have seen, by a long line of princesses devoted to things of the intellect.

In its palmy days, the young Giuliano de’ Medici, son of the great Lorenzo and brother of Leo X,—the one who was immortalized by Michelangelo in the statue so familiar to the traveler in the Medicean Chapel at Florence,—was living at Urbino during the exile of his family. It was also the home of the “divine Bembo,” critic, Platonist, arbiter of letters, finally cardinal, and one of the most famous men of his time, though his claim to be called “divine” is not apparent. The witty Mæcenas of this group was Bibbiena, poet, diplomat, man of the world, a dilettante in taste and an Epicurean in philosophy, also a cardinal and an aspirant for the papal throne. There were, too, the Fregosos, men of strong intellect, many personal attractions, and manly character, one of whom became the Doge of Genoa, and the other a cardinal—with many others of fame and learning whose names signify little to us to-day. By no means the least important member of the household was Castiglione, the courtier and diplomat of classical tastes and varied accomplishments, who has given us so pleasant a glimpse of its sayings and doings. To this intellectual Mecca came, from time to time, literary pilgrims from all parts of the world.

It was the special mission of the Duchess Elisabetta to fuse these elements into a society that should be a model for other courts and coming generations. Here lies her originality and her claim to distinction. This clever princess, who loved her husband devotedly, cared for the poor and sorrowing among her people, and had moral convictions of her own as well as ideas, was well fitted for her position. Without any pretension to genius, she had a clear, discriminating mind, rare intelligence, great beauty, and gracious manners. Her character had a fine symmetry, and she was equally successful in directing her household, conversing with great men, and holding the reins of government when her husband—a condottiere by profession, like most of the smaller princes—was in the field elsewhere. Surrounded by adorers in an age when indiscretions, even sins, were easily forgiven, no breath of censure ever touched her fair name. Her dignity and a reserve that verged upon coldness gave a pure tone to her court. She permitted neither malicious gossip nor heated talk, and required unsullied honor and exemplary conduct of her friends. We might question the standards a little, as men at least were privileged beings not to be too closely scrutinized.

In her social duties she had the efficient aid of Emilia Pia, the duke’s sister-in-law, a woman of brilliant intellect and high character, who had lost her husband in youth, and lived at Urbino. Of a gayer turn, her ready wit and happy temperament, added to her knowledge and personal fascination, made her the life of the house. Other and younger ladies of well-known names and kindred tastes figure in its diversions.

The magnificent old palace that overlooked the city from its picturesque site among the hills was one of the finest in Italy. Its stately rooms were filled with rare treasures of painting, sculpture, mosaic, and costly furniture. There were exquisite decorations in marble and tarsia, and the walls were draped with rich tapestries. Raphael was a youth then, and no doubt his first dreams had been of these beautiful things, among which he must have rambled. It is likely, too, that he met here the friends who were of so much service to him afterward at Rome, among them Bibbiena, to whose grandniece he was betrothed. His father had painted some of the frescos, and was a welcome visitor. Other artists were invited there, and added to the glories of the famous pile. Among these surroundings of art and beauty, with the traditions of culture that lay behind them, clever, thoughtful women and brilliant men met evening after evening to talk of the world and its affairs, of things light and serious, of love, manners, literature, statecraft, and philosophy. When they tired of grave themes, they amused themselves with allegories, playful badinage, witty repartees, and devices of all sorts to stimulate the intellect. After supper there was music and dancing, if the conversation did not last until the morning hours. Sometimes they had their own plays acted in the pretty little theater. It was here that Bibbiena’s famous comedy, “Calandra,” with its gorgeous pagan setting and its curious blending of love and mythology, of nymphs, Cupids, and goddesses, was first given to an admiring world.

But we are most interested to-day in the conversations. Many evenings were devoted to defining the character and duties of a courtier, which differed little from those of a modern gentleman, except in the exaggerated deference claimed to be due to a superior and verging upon servility. It is more to the purpose here to touch upon the discussions relating to women, as they furnish a key to fifteenth-century manners which were the basis of all modern codes, though to-day many of the best of their formulas are more conspicuous in the breach than in the observance.