First line of text: "A chi tiene di me la miglior Parte:" (l. I2r). Manuscript on paper. Italy (Ferrara or Bologna?), ca. early 1570s.

CHRYSTALIANO AND PAENAMUNDI

266x198 mm. 76 leaves including 16 blank, recently numbered in pencil. Collation: I^10-1 II¹⁰ III^8-1+1 IV¹⁰ V¹⁰ VI¹⁰ VII⁸ VIII¹⁰⁺¹ + 1 flyleaf. Leaves III1v, III2r, III3v, III4, III5r, IV9v, IV10, VI2, VI5v, VI6-10, VII1-4, VII8v, VIII1-2, VIII6, VIII7r, VIII8v, VIII9v, and VIII10 are blank. Lacking leaves I1 and III6 (blank?). Quires III and VIII have one added leaf each. The leaf added to quire III contains a poem written on an attached leaflet surrounded by the names Paenamundi (the beloved) and Chrystaliano (the lover-poet) signed multiple times across the page. Full-page pen drawings of emblems on ll. I2r (an elephant standing near a cliff with the motto “Naturam sequar”, topped with a crown and the opening verse “A chi tiene di me la miglior Parte” – ‘To the one who holds of me the best Part'), III5v (sun and wind stoking a large fire beneath with the motto “Utrunque iuvat”), VII8r (smoke emanating from an ampoule with the motto “Etiam si agitata”), and VIII7v (a rampant lion with a maimed paw and the motto “Si non vires animus”; the same emblem is painted in the Sala delle Imprese of the Palazzina Marfisa d'Este in Ferrara). Catchwords or decorative penwork at the foot of every page. Watermark: the Paschal lamb in a circle topped by the letter “R” in another circle. Contemporary flexible vellum, the front cover bearing at the top a drawing of a crown with the dedication “tibi soli fides et amor” in capital letters, and at the center a circle with the names Paenamundi and Chrystaliano written within (discernable only with a Wood's lamp), with several verses and notes in Italian and Latin permeating throughout (lacking ties and the front flyleaf, back cover partly stained). Later label with shelf mark (“IF-8 Cod. 106”) on the front pastedown. In addition to their appearance on the front cover, the names Paenamundi and Chrystaliano also appear together on ll. I6r and II10r, as well as multiple times on the leaf added to quire III. On l. II6r is a sonnet by a friend addressed to the poet Chrystaliano. The poem beginning on l. V1r is dated (at the end) 12 June 1571 (l. V3v). The eight “villanelle” (described here as “Napolitane”) in the last quire are dated 2 June (3 poems), 20 April (2 poems), 22 July (1 poem) and 4 August (2 poems), all in the year 1570.

Condition: Small holes to l. I2 slightly affecting the text and the drawing, small loss of paper on l. V6 due to abrasion caused by the ink of a cancellation in a line, otherwise a very good, genuine copy.

Provenance: Catalogo di libri che si trovano vendibili presso Giuseppe Veroli e Comp. Successori di Giuseppe Molini, Florence, 1830 (Supplemento primo, Libri manoscritti), p. 10, no. 123 (“Poesie d'anonimo sotto il nome di Cristaliano per donna figurata sotto il nome di Paenamundi. Cartaceo, in fol. del sec. XVI”).

A fascinating late-Renaissance canzoniere, adopting various genres of poetic compositions (sonnets, stanzas, canzoni, and Neapolitan villanelle) and featuring Paenamundi, an almost divinely beautiful maiden imbued with equally extraordinary virtue, and Christaliano, the lover-poet who pines for her and idealizes her in a manner verging on sacrilegious. The names Paenamundi and Chrystaliano are clearly pseudonyms, probably relating, respectively, to the pain caused by the beauty and cruelty of the beloved, and to the lover-poet's propensity for both love and heartache. The two names are probably taken from a Spanish chivalric poem entitled Cristalián de España by Beatriz Bernal (ca. 1504-1563), which was originally printed in Valladolid in 1545 and later translated into Italian in Venice, first in 1558 and then again 1609. A copy of the first Italian edition was owned by the humanist and historian of the Ferrarese court, Alessandro Sardi (1520-1588) (cf. G. Petrella, Libri e cultura a Ferrara nel secondo Cinquecento: la biblioteca privata di Alessandro Sardi: II Edizione dell'Inventario, in: “La Bibliofilía”, vol. 105, no. 3, September-December 2003, pp. 68 and 73, no. 97 and 119).

“Chi fuor di questo mar d'eterno oblio / D'inviar l'alma al ciel sempre procura / Paenamundi miri in cui l'alma natura / Vede espressa l'immagine di Dio […] Tanto vi si compiacque oltre misura / Che quasi tutto in voi se stesso uniò […] E quanto ei tolse a sé per dare a voi […]” (vv. 1-4, 7-8, 14, ‘Who beyond this sea of eternal oblivion / Always strives to send the soul to heaven / Gazes upon Paenamundi in whom the beneficent nature / Sees expressed the image of God [...] So much he took delight in you beyond measure / That he almost entirely merged himself in you [...] And much he took of himself to give to you [...]'). These verses are taken from the sonnet on leaf 3r and are a good example of the idealistic impulse inherent in Christaliano's love. Immediately following this statement which, particularly in the midst of the Counter-Reformation, has the potential to raise delicate theological issues, the poet surprises us with the sonnet “Bocca gentil” (l. 3v, ‘Gentle mouth'). This sonnet is characterized by a chaste eroticism that stands in sharp contrast to the mystical tones of the previous sonnets. In fact, “Bocca gentil” closes emphatically with the line “basciarti una sola volta e poi morire...” (‘kiss you once and then die'); this evocation of dying in a moment of extreme emotional tension introduces the leitmotif that will permeate almost the entire canzoniere.

Paenamundi “mia”, as Christaliano sweetly calls her, is in fact not “his” at all, as the poet is all too aware. With great insight and detail, he goes on to describe the myriad emotional nuances of his unrequited love, a relationship seemingly characterized by intense fluctuations in mood and emotion. Having seen and fallen in love with Paenamundi, the poet soon realizes she is unattainable, and he compares her to a doe who beckons him to pursue her while nevertheless always remaining out of reach. This gives rise to a poetics of abandonment and sorrow that pervades the sonnets and stanzas, and yet not the eight “villanelle alla napoletana”; placed at the end of the canzoniere, these are instead animated by a more daring spirit and close with the poet insisting on just recompense for his love.

The thirty-nine sonnets that comprise the first part of the volume thus basically all deal with the pain caused by the unrequited love of the idealized woman: “Io mi lamento, e chiamo il ciel crudele / Perch'ei non doppia in me la doglia e i pianti [...] Onde a gran sorte il mio languir m'arreco / Che sì dolc'è il dolor, dolci i sospiri” (l. 5r, vv. 3-4 and 12-13, ‘I lament, and call heaven cruel / So that it does not double in me the sorrow and the tears [...] From which I bring upon myself my own suffering / For so sweet is the pain, sweet are the sighs'). The only exception is the beautiful sonnet on trees which appears on l. 4v.

This large group of sonnets is followed by a canzone (ll. 21v-22r) of four stanzas which appears to be incomplete as the final catchword “E di posar” is followed by four blank pages. The canzone is nevertheless significant because of the quality of the verses and because it introduces the image of the doe, a vivid emblem of the poet's condition as the perpetual pursuer: it is a beautiful day in early spring “Quando lungo la riva / Del Rheno, ov'ella nacque / Viddi un'altera hai troppo fuggitiva / Cerva che così mi piacque / [...] Che d'altro io non son vago: / Io d'altro non son vago / Che di sempre seguir cervetta errante” (l. 21v, vv. 5-12, ‘When along the bank / Of the Reno, where she was born / I saw a proud and all too elusive / doe who pleased me so/ [...] For I long for nothing else: / I desire nothing else / Than to always follow that little wandering doe').

Given the complete absence of any discernible references to the author, the place of composition, or the identity of the beloved woman, the only practical information that can be gleaned from the canzoniere itself is precisely this hint toward the birthplace of the doe, alias Paenamundi, i.e., “the picciol Reno”, as it is referred to again in other verses (see, for example, the sonnet on l. 6v, v. 13), that is, the Reno River in Bologna. The use of the definition of “Picciol Reno” to refer to the river of Bologna (which in Italian has the exact same name as the much longer Rhine River) is widespread and well-documented; it is found, for example, in the writings of Ludovico Domenichi as early as 1544.

On leaf 25r, after the second emblem, a new section opens: made up of twelve octave poems, it is simply referred to by the poet as “Stanze”. These are poems formed by a varying number of stanzas of rhyming hendecasyllables. On leaf 27r, however, is a sonnet written in a different hand which concerns the three goddesses of the judgment of Paris. As noted above, this sonnet has been pasted onto the center of the page and is surrounded by the names of the two lovers, each of which is repeated numerous times. The composition on the next leaf introduces the theme of the rival, an entity that remains rather vague and indistinct, and which seems to be evoked here to give the poet a way to perpetuate his own grief and, through the sustainment thereof, his canzoniere. The first section of the “Stanze” closes with a couplet that reads “Pentir non poss'io ancor di furore / Che così vuol il mio signor Amore” (l. 36r, ‘Repent I cannot yet of fury / That so wants my lord Love'). Three more sections of “Stanze” follow (ll. 38r-44r, 45r-48v, 50r-52r, 62r-64v), ending with the third emblem.

The collection closes with eight “villanelle alla napoletana” (ll. 68r-71r), the final emblem (l. 73v), and two loose verse compositions (ll. 74r and 75r). The last “Napolitana” (l. 71v), as mentioned, contains an explicit invitation to the beloved for her to finally grant her “lover” (v. 9) his just and well-deserved reward: “Ch'un giorno da voi sola mi chiamate / E quel ch'al'hor vorrò mel concede” (vv. 11-12, ‘That one day by you alone you will call me / And what I will then want you will concede me').

With this final “Napolitana”, dated 4 August 1570, the poet permits, so to speak, a current of fresh air to infiltrate the chamber of his stubborn grief. He seems cured now of his suffering and saved from the long days spent weeping while longing for his beloved. Yet, in cauda venenum; in the penultimate composition (just before a final stanza of farewell to Love), the author surprises us yet again, describing himself as gladly embracing and kissing his beloved, “Giongendo bocca a bocca e petto a petto” (v. 5, ‘Joining mouth to mouth and chest to chest' – the first mention of this level of intimacy). The compression of the embrace has dire and unexpected consequences: “Un sottilissimo ago ch'ea avea in seno / Punse pien di veneno suoi dolci Pomi, / E fe di sangue un lago, / Tal che qual bianca neve o freddo ghiaccio / Con un mezzo sospir mi cadde di braccio” (vv. 6-10, ‘A very thin needle she had in her bosom / Pierced full of poison her sweet breasts, / And made a lake of blood, / To the point that like white snow or cold ice / With a light sigh she fell from my arms').

Is this fainting or death? An accident or murder? Needless to say, this final representation of the lovers' carnal conjunction and dire end is extremely unusual in Italian Renaissance poetry, dominated as it was by the strong influence of Petrarch, Bembo and the Tassos.

This is but one of the enigmatic features of this mysterious manuscript. Given the high quality of the verses and the sophisticated plot that develops throughout the canzoniere, the volume clearly belonged to a distinguished and cultivated literato. The minimal traceable clues to be gleaned from its content (the emblem with the rampant lion, the reference to the Reno River, and the allusion to Ferrara's chivalric tradition as suggested by the choice of the two pseudonyms) all seem to lead to the courts of Ferrara or, less likely, of Bologna. Given all this, in addition to the likelihood that the volume was intended as a personal manuscript written by the poet for himself (as certain features such as the names of the two lovers written at the center of the front cover, the cancellation in a line, the pasted leaflet surrounded by the names of the two lovers, or the stanza left apparently unfinished, would seem to indicate), it is very surprising that absolutely nothing could be found about the manuscript or its author. A true phantom and an exceptional survivor!

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