Friday 24 August 2012
A Renaissance man indeed
Il Dialogo dell'Oratore di Cicerone, tradotto per M. Lodovico Dolce (Venice : Gabriel Giolito de Ferrari, 1547)
Wondering if I might find something interesting to put in this blog (without having to do a lightning course in the use and influence of Cicero's De Oratore in the Renaissance), I Googled Lodovico Dolce, expecting to find he was no more than an obscure hack translator. But it turns out he was one of the most active intellectuals of his day -- art theorist, playwright, historian, writer of romances, translator, editor ... And also, remarkably in such a contentious age, a man who lived up to his name of 'dolce' -- 'mild', 'gentle'. He was also known as 'the indefatigable' -- if you read the blurb for Ronnie H. Terpening's study of him you will soon see why!
Monday 20 August 2012
The vicious world of Renaissance lit. crit.
Apologia de gli Academici di Banchi di Roma, contra M. Lodovico Castelvetro da Modena, by Annibale Caro (Parma, 1558)
Lodovico Castelvetro (c.1505-1571), of Modena, was an influential literary theorist, who criticized one of Annibale Caro's canzoni; this is Caro's defence. The whole affair developed into a major literary feud. Castelvetro was later condemned for doctrinal error by the Roman Inquisition and fled into exile; there seems to be considerable suspicion that it was Caro who denounced him to the authorities for heresy ...
Lodovico Castelvetro (c.1505-1571), of Modena, was an influential literary theorist, who criticized one of Annibale Caro's canzoni; this is Caro's defence. The whole affair developed into a major literary feud. Castelvetro was later condemned for doctrinal error by the Roman Inquisition and fled into exile; there seems to be considerable suspicion that it was Caro who denounced him to the authorities for heresy ...
Friday 10 August 2012
Two elusive Bartolomeos (Bartolomei?)
La Retorica di M. Bartolomeo Cavalcanti, published in Pesaro by Bartolomeo Cesano, 1559
Bartolomeo Cavalcanti is a somewhat shadowy character (i.e. doesn't have a Wikipedia entry!). I found a brief biographical notice in the Oxford Companion to Italian Literature - he was a Florentine scholar-diplomat who ended up working for the Este and Farnese families, and died in poverty in Padua in 1562. His Retorica was 'amazingly successful' - ten editions were published between 1559 and 1585. For this information, I am indebted to the author of the article, one Christina Roaf.
Another elusive character is the publisher, Bartolomeo Cesano. He was a printer in Pesaro in the mid-fifteenth century, but that seems to be about al that is known about him. I was particularly intrigued by his printer's device, shown on the title-page of this volume, which depicts a serpent rearing up from a fire to bite the finger of a hand emerging from a cloud above it. The motto around the device is 'Cosi a' ciascun nocente si come qui al serpente', which I think roughly translates as 'May all who do harm suffer the same fate as the serpent'. I assumed it was a reference to some mythological or biblical story, but couldn't think of anything involving a snake biting a hand emerging from a cloud -- and for once even Google couldn't provide anything helpful! So I tried a text-search of the Bible for anything involving snakes, serpents and vipers, and found a likely source in the story of Paul who, having been shipwrecked on the island of Malta, was gathering a bundle of brushwood for a fire when a snake emerged from it and fastened onto his hand. Paul shook the snake off into the fire, and showed no ill-effects from the bite, which caused the islanders to think he must be a god. So why the cloud in Cesano's device? Well, perhaps it isn't a cloud, but smoke from the fire -- or perhaps it was just a convenient way for the artist to get out of depicting any more of St Paul! But I wonder why Cesano chose it?
Bartolomeo Cavalcanti is a somewhat shadowy character (i.e. doesn't have a Wikipedia entry!). I found a brief biographical notice in the Oxford Companion to Italian Literature - he was a Florentine scholar-diplomat who ended up working for the Este and Farnese families, and died in poverty in Padua in 1562. His Retorica was 'amazingly successful' - ten editions were published between 1559 and 1585. For this information, I am indebted to the author of the article, one Christina Roaf.
Another elusive character is the publisher, Bartolomeo Cesano. He was a printer in Pesaro in the mid-fifteenth century, but that seems to be about al that is known about him. I was particularly intrigued by his printer's device, shown on the title-page of this volume, which depicts a serpent rearing up from a fire to bite the finger of a hand emerging from a cloud above it. The motto around the device is 'Cosi a' ciascun nocente si come qui al serpente', which I think roughly translates as 'May all who do harm suffer the same fate as the serpent'. I assumed it was a reference to some mythological or biblical story, but couldn't think of anything involving a snake biting a hand emerging from a cloud -- and for once even Google couldn't provide anything helpful! So I tried a text-search of the Bible for anything involving snakes, serpents and vipers, and found a likely source in the story of Paul who, having been shipwrecked on the island of Malta, was gathering a bundle of brushwood for a fire when a snake emerged from it and fastened onto his hand. Paul shook the snake off into the fire, and showed no ill-effects from the bite, which caused the islanders to think he must be a god. So why the cloud in Cesano's device? Well, perhaps it isn't a cloud, but smoke from the fire -- or perhaps it was just a convenient way for the artist to get out of depicting any more of St Paul! But I wonder why Cesano chose it?
Thursday 9 August 2012
A baseless accusation of baseness?
I'm cataloguing Christina's books in the order in which they come out of the boxes, so this may seem somewhat random!
Delle Lettere Familiari del Commendatore Annibal Caro, edited by Antonfederigo Seghezzi, in three volumes. Padua, 1753
Annibal (or Annibale) Caro (1507-1566) was an Italian poet, best known for his translation of Virgil's Aeneid. He was also employed as confidential secretary by the Farnese family - by Pietro Lodovico, Duke of Parma, then by his sons, duke Ottavio and cardinals Ranuccio and Alexander. His letters, written both in his own name and on behalf of the cardinals Farnese, were, according to the revered 11th edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, 'remarkable both for the baseness they display and for their euphemistic polish and elegance.' However, the latest edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica describes his letters only as 'free and graceful', while in The History of the Popes from the Close of the Middle Ages, by Ludwig Pastor (courtesy of Google Books) it is said of them: 'they are always appropriate to their subject, always composed in a finished style, filled with true Italian grace, and, with all their charm, simple and clear.' Unfortunately, my knowledge of Italian is too exiguous for me to judge from the letters themselves whether there are any grounds for the accusation of baseness!
Delle Lettere Familiari del Commendatore Annibal Caro, edited by Antonfederigo Seghezzi, in three volumes. Padua, 1753
Annibal (or Annibale) Caro (1507-1566) was an Italian poet, best known for his translation of Virgil's Aeneid. He was also employed as confidential secretary by the Farnese family - by Pietro Lodovico, Duke of Parma, then by his sons, duke Ottavio and cardinals Ranuccio and Alexander. His letters, written both in his own name and on behalf of the cardinals Farnese, were, according to the revered 11th edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, 'remarkable both for the baseness they display and for their euphemistic polish and elegance.' However, the latest edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica describes his letters only as 'free and graceful', while in The History of the Popes from the Close of the Middle Ages, by Ludwig Pastor (courtesy of Google Books) it is said of them: 'they are always appropriate to their subject, always composed in a finished style, filled with true Italian grace, and, with all their charm, simple and clear.' Unfortunately, my knowledge of Italian is too exiguous for me to judge from the letters themselves whether there are any grounds for the accusation of baseness!
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