THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES
The transition from the sixteenth to the seventeenth century in Italy
was marked by no sudden changes of any kind. The whole country was
thoroughly prostrate and under the control of the empire; a national
spirit did not exist, and the people seemed content to slumber on
without opposing in any way the tyranny of their foreign masters. The
glory of the Italian Renaissance had been sung in all the countries of
Europe; in every nook and corner of the continent, Italian painters and
sculptors, princes and poets, artists and artisans of all kinds, had
stimulated this new birth of the world; but this mission accomplished,
Italy seemed to find little more to do, and for lack of an ideal her
sons and daughters wasted their time in the pursuit of idle things. It
was the natural reaction after an age of unusual force and brilliancy.
In the shadow of the great achievements of the sixteenth century in all
lines of human activity, the seventeenth, lost in admiration, could
imagine no surer way to equal attainment than to imitate what had gone
before. Literature became stilted and full of mannerisms and underwent a
process of refinement which left it without strength or vigor, and
society in general seemed more concerned with form and ceremony than
with the deeper things of the spirit.
Countless examples are on record to show the petty jealousies which were
agitating the public mind at this time, and the number of quarrels and
arguments which had their origin in most trivial causes passes belief.
Rank and position were of the utmost consequence, and questions of
precedence in public functions were far more eagerly discussed than were
questions of national policy. Naples, under the control of Spanish
princes, was particularly noted for such exhibitions of undignified
behavior. On one occasion, during a solemn church ceremony, the military
governor of the city left the cathedral in a great rage because he had
noticed that a small footstool had been placed for the archbishop, while
nothing of the kind had been provided for his own comfort. At the death
of a certain princess, the royal commissioners delayed the funeral
because it was claimed that she had used arms and insignia of nobility
above her true rank, and was not entitled, therefore, to the brilliant
obsequies which were being planned by the members of her family. The
body was finally put in a vault and left unburied until the matter had
been passed upon by the heraldry experts in Madrid! During the funeral
services which were being held in honor of the Queen of Spain, the
archbishop desired footstools placed for all the bishops present, but
the vicegerent opposed this innovation, and the ceremony was finally
suspended because they could come to no agreement. The cities of Cremona
and Pavia were in litigation for eighty-two years over the question as
to which should have precedence over the other in public functions where
representatives of the two places happened to be together; finally, the
Milanese Senate, to which the question was submitted, "after careful
examination and mature deliberation, decided that it had nothing to
decide." Another example of this small-mindedness is shown in the case
of the General Giovanni Serbelloni, who, while fighting in the
Valteline in 1625, was unwilling to open a despatch which had been sent
to him, because he had not been addressed by all his titles. It is a
pleasure to add that as a result of this action he was left in ignorance
as to the approach of the enemy and the next day suffered a severe
defeat.
Rome was the seat of much splendor and display--an inevitable state of
affairs when the fact is taken into consideration that the city was
filled with legates and embassies, all anxious to wait upon his holiness
the pope and gain some special privilege or concession. At this time the
cardinals, too, were not mere ecclesiastics, but rather men of great
wealth and power; often they became prime ministers in their several
countries,--as Richelieu, for example,--and the great and influential
houses of Savoy, Este, Gonzaga, Farnese, Barberini, and many others,
always possessed one or more of them who vied in magnificence with the
pope himself. And all this helped to make the Eternal City the scene of
much brilliancy. The papal court was the natural centre of all this
animation, and many a stately procession wended its way to the Vatican.
On one occasion, the Duke of Parma, wishing to compliment a newly
elected pope, sent as his representative the Count of San Secondo, who
went to his solemn interview followed by a long procession of one
hundred and fifty carriages, and appeared before the pontiff with
eighteen distinguished prelates in his train. This mad passion for
display led to so many evils of all kinds that Urban VIII. prohibited
"indecent garments" for both men and women. In the interests of public
morality, it was further decreed that women were not to take music
lessons from men, and nuns were allowed no other professors than their
own companions. Public singing, distinct from religious ceremonies, was
a novelty at this time, and women with the gift of song were paid most
liberally for their services. Venice was the city most noted for its
festivals and carnivals, and here these women were given most generous
treatment.
In Florence, as in all the rest of Italy, Spain was taken as "the glass
of fashion, the mould of form" for the first part of the century, but
the splendor of the court of Louis Quatorze soon caused French fashions
to reign supreme. Then, as now, brides were accustomed to dress in
white, while married women were given a wide latitude in their choice of
colors. At first, widows wore a dress distinctive not only in color but
in cut, yet eventually they were to be distinguished by only a small
head-dress of black crape. Young women were much given to curling their
hair, and at the same time it was the fashion to wear upon the forehead
a cluster of blond curls, a _petite perruque_, which, in the words of an
old chronicler, Rinuccini, "is very unbecoming to those whose hair
happens to be of another color." From the same authority is derived the
following information concerning the women belonging to the under crust
of society: "Prostitutes, formerly, all wore an apparent sign which
revealed their infamous profession; it was a yellow ribbon fastened to
the strings of the hats, which were then in fashion; when hats went out
of style, the yellow ribbon was worn in the hair, and if the women were
ever found without it they were severely punished. Finally, on payment
of a certain tax, they were allowed to go without the ribbon, and then
they were to be distinguished by their impudence only." In Florence,
women of this class were especially noted for their beauty, and there it
was customary to compel them all to live within a certain district.
In the average Florentine household it had been the custom to have three
women servants,--a cook, a second girl, and a _matrona_. This third
servant was better educated than the others, and it was her duty,
outside of the house, to keep her mistress company, whether she rode in
her carriage or went about on foot. At home, she did the sewing and the
mending, and generally dressed her mistress and combed her hair. For
this work the _matrona_ received a salary of six or seven dollars a
month, and it seems to have been usual for her employers to arrange a
good marriage for her after several years of service, giving her at that
time from one hundred to one hundred and fifty crowns as a dowry. Later
in the century, the _matrona_ does not seem to have been so common, and
many women went alone in their carriages, while on foot they were
accompanied by a manservant in livery. The wealthier ladies of the
nobility, however, were accompanied in their conveyances by a
_donzella_, and on the street and in all public places by an elderly and
dignified manservant, dressed in black, who was known as the
_cavaliere_. The fashion with regard to this male protector became so
widespread that the women of the middle class were in the habit of
hiring the services of some such individual for their occasional use on
fete days and whenever they went to mass. The further development of
this custom and its effect upon public morals in the following century
will be discussed on another page.
Busy with all-absorbing questions of dress, etiquette, and domestic
management, it does not appear that the women of the seventeenth century
in Italy took any great share in public events, although one Italian
woman at least, leaving the country of her birth, was placed by fate
upon a royal throne. Henry IV. of France, about the year 1600, was hard
pressed for the payment of certain debts by Ferdinand I., Grand Duke of
Tuscany, as the Medici were still the bankers of Europe, and the French
king was owing more than a million louis d'or; but the whole matter was
settled in a satisfactory way when Henry gave definite promises to pay
within a dozen years. To maintain his credit in the meantime, and to
facilitate the payment of the money, the one-time King of Navarre
demanded in marriage Marie de' Medici, the niece of the grand duke; it
is needless to say that the request was speedily granted, for the pride
and ambition of this rich Tuscan family were unlimited, and the memory
of that other daughter of the house of Medici, Catherine, who had been
Queen of France and mother of three French kings, was still fresh in the
minds of all. The wedding ceremony was performed in great splendor, at
Florence, Henry sending a proxy to represent him at that time; and then
the young bride set out for France, followed by a glittering retinue,
and bearing, as her dowry, six hundred thousand crowns of gold. Arriving
at Leghorn, they took ship for Marseilles, and then began a triumphal
march across the country, cities vying with each other in doing her
honor. Cantu tells us that at Avignon, which was still a city under the
temporal sway of the pope, Marie was placed in a chariot drawn by two
elephants, and given an escort of two thousand cavaliers. There were
seven triumphal arches and seven theatres; for it was the proud boast of
the residents of Avignon that everything went by sevens in their city,
as there were seven palaces, seven parishes, seven old convents, seven
monasteries, seven hospitals, seven colleges, and seven gates in the
city wall! Several addresses of welcome were delivered in the presence
of the young queen, though in this instance the number was hardly seven,
poems were read, and she received a number of gold medals bearing her
profile upon one side and the city's coat of arms upon the other. Henry
had left Paris to come to meet his bride, and it was at Lyons that the
royal pair saw each other for the first time. It cannot be said that
this first interview was warmly enthusiastic, for the king found her far
less beautiful than the portrait which had been sent to him, and he soon
came to the sad conclusion that she was too fat, had staring eyes and
bad manners, and was very stubborn.
After the birth of a son and heir, who later became Louis XIII., the
king neglected his wife to such an extent that she felt little sorrow at
the time of his assassination. Then it was, as queen-regent, that Marie
for the first time entered actively into political life; but her ability
in this sphere of action was only moderate, and she was soon the centre
of much quarrel and contention, wherein the unyielding feudal nobility
and the Protestants figured largely as disturbing causes. In the midst
of these troublous times, the queen had an invaluable assistant in the
person of Eleanora Galigai, her foster-sister, whose husband, Concino
Concini, a Florentine, had come to France in the suite of Marie, and had
subsequently risen to a position of influence in the court. Eventually,
he became the Marechal d'Ancre, and his wife was spoken of as _la
Marechale_ or _la Galigai_, for so great was the extent of Eleanora's
control over the queen that she was one of the most conspicuous women in
all Europe at that time. Gradually, she was criticised on account of the
way in which she used her power, and it was alleged that she was
overmuch in the company of divers magicians and astrologers who had been
brought from Italy, and that the black art alone was responsible for her
success. These accusations finally aroused such public hostility that,
after a trial which was a travesty upon justice, Eleanora was soon
condemned to death, on the charge of having unduly influenced the queen
by means of magic philters. Eleanora went to her death bravely, saying
with dignity to her accusers: "The philter which I have used is the
influence which every strong mind possesses, naturally, over every
weaker one."
Not long after this Florentine queen of France was playing her part in
public affairs, all Europe was surprised by another woman, whose actions
were without parallel and whose case seems to be the opposite of the one
just cited. Marie de' Medici left Italy to become a queen, and now a
queen is seen to abdicate that she may go to Rome to live. Christine,
Queen of Sweden, a most enlightened woman and the daughter of the great
Gustavus Adolphus who had brought about the triumph of the Protestant
arms in Germany, relinquished her royal robes in the year 1654,
announced her conversion to Catholicism, and finally went to Rome, where
she ended her days. She was given a veritable ovation on her arrival
there, as may well be imagined, for the Church rarely made so
distinguished a convert, and Christine, in acknowledgment of this
attention, presented her crown and sceptre as a votive offering to the
church of the Santa Casa at Loretto. At Rome she lived in one of the
most beautiful palaces in the city, and there divided her time between
study and amusements. Through it all she was never able to forget the
fact that she had been a queen, and many examples might be given of her
haughty demeanor in the presence of those who were unwilling to do her
bidding. Before leaving Sweden, Christine had tried to gather a circle
of learned men about her at Stockholm, and the great French philosopher
Descartes spent some months in her palace. Later, when in Paris, on her
way to Italy, a special session of the French Academy had been held in
her honor, and all of the literary men of France went out to the palace
at Fontainebleau while she was domiciled there, to do her honor. Once in
Rome, it was her immediate desire to become the centre of a literary
coterie, and to that end she was most generous in her gifts to artists
and men of letters. Her intelligence and her liberality soon gave her
great influence, and before long she was able to organize an Academy in
due form under her own roof. She was for many years a most conspicuous
figure in Roman society, and at the time of her death, in 1689,
Filicaia, a poet of some local reputation, declared that her kingdom
comprised "all those who thought, all those who acted, and all those who
were endowed with intelligence."
In this seventeenth century, as in the one before, parents were
continually compelling their children and especially their daughters to
enter upon a religious career, and many of them were forced to this
course in spite of their protestations. Cantu tells of the case of
Archangela Tarabotti, who was compelled to enter the convent of Saint
Anne at Venice, though all her interests and all her ways were worldly
in the extreme. To the convent she went, however, at the age of
thirteen, because she was proving a difficult child to control, and
there she was left to grind her teeth in impotent rage. In common with
many other young girls of her time, she had never been taught to read or
write, as the benefit of such accomplishments was not appreciated in any
general way--at least so far as women were concerned; but, once within
the convent walls, from sheer ennui, Archangela began to study most
assiduously, and finally published a number of books which present an
interesting description and criticism of existing manners and customs in
so far as they had to do with women and their attitude toward conventual
institutions. Having entered upon this life under protest, her first
books were written in a wild, passionate style, and it was her purpose
to make public the violence of which she had been a victim, and to
prove, by copious references to authorities both sacred and profane,
that women should be allowed entire liberty in their choice of a career.
Incidentally, she cursed most thoroughly the fathers who compelled their
daughters to take the veil in spite of their expressed unwillingness.
Perhaps the most important of these protests, which was given an Elzevir
edition in 1654, was entitled _Innocence Deceived, or The Tyranny of
Parents_. This special edition was dedicated to God, and bore the
epigraph: "Compulsory devotion is not agreeable to God!" Another of
these books was entitled _The Hell of Convent Life_, and these titles
are certainly enough to show that she set about her task of
religious--or, rather, social--reform with a most fervid, though
somewhat bitter, zeal. Naturally, these open criticisms caused a great
scandal in ecclesiastical circles, and many vigorous attempts were made
to reconcile the recalcitrant nun and induce her to modify her views.
Finally, moved by the pious exhortations of the patriarch, Federigo
Cornaro, she became somewhat resigned to her fate. Then it was said of
her that "she abandoned the pomp of fine garments, which had possessed
so great a charm for her," and the records show that the last years of
her life were spent in an endeavor to atone for the extravagances of her
youthful conduct. A number of devout books were produced by her during
this time, and among them the following curious titles may be noticed:
_The Paved Road to Heaven_ and _The Purgatory of Unhappily Married
Women_.
A somewhat similar case of petty tyranny, and one which was soon the
talk of all Europe, is the pathetic story of Roberto Acciaiuoli and
Elizabetta Marmorai. These two young people loved each other in spite of
the fact that Elizabetta was the wife of Giulio Berardi; when the latter
died, everyone supposed that the lovers would marry, and such was their
intention, but they found an unexpected obstacle in their path, for
Roberto's uncle, the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, had other views on the
subject. It was his desire that his nephew should contract a marriage
with some wealthy Roman family whose influence might aid him to become
pope. The young man refused to further this project in any way, and
insisted upon marrying the woman of his choice; the cardinal, in
despair, had to fall back upon the assistance of his ruling prince,
Cosmo II., Grand Duke of Tuscany. Cosmo, unwilling to offend this
prelate who might some day become the head of the Church, took action in
his behalf and ordered that Elizabetta should be confined in a
Florentine convent. Thereupon Roberto fled to Mantua, and, after having
married her by letter, publicly proclaimed his act and demanded that his
wife be delivered up to him. The best lawyers in Lombardy now declared
the marriage a valid one, but in Florence the steps taken were
considered merely as the equivalent of a public betrothal. So the matter
stood for a time, until the pope died and the ambitious cardinal
presented himself as a candidate for the pontiff's chair. Then the
outraged nephew sent to each one of the papal electors a detailed
account of what had taken place, with the result that his uncle's
candidacy was a complete failure. Cosmo, moved somewhat by public
opinion, which was all upon the side of the lovers, ordered Elizabetta
to be released from her captivity, whereupon she joined her husband in
Venice, that she might share his exile. They were not allowed to remain
there for a long time in peace, however, as Cosmo, smarting under the
lash of popular disapproval, decided to make an effort to get them
within his power again, that he might wreak his vengeance upon them.
Accordingly, he demanded that the Venetian republic should deliver them
up, charging that they had been guilty of gross disrespect toward him,
their sovereign. Hearing of this requisition, Roberto and Elizabetta,
disguised as monks, fled to Germany, but were recognized at Trent and
taken back to Tuscany. Acciaiuoli was then deprived of all his property
and imprisoned for life in the fortress of Volterra, and his wife was
threatened with the same treatment if she persisted in maintaining the
validity of the marriage. Worn by all this trouble and persecution,
Elizabetta weakened, failed to show the courage which might be expected
from the heroine of such a dramatic story, and preferred to live alone
for the rest of her days than to spend her life in prison with her
devoted husband.
The eighteenth century found Italy still under the control of foreign
rulers, and the national spirit was still unborn; public morals seem to
have degenerated rather than improved, and then, as always, the women
were no better than the men desired them to be. Details of the life of
this period are extremely difficult to obtain, as the social aspects of
Italian life from the decline of the Renaissance to the Napoleonic era
have been quite generally neglected by historians; the information which
is obtainable must be derived in large measure from books and letters on
Italian travel, written for the most part by foreigners. One of the most
interesting volumes of this kind was written by a Mrs. Piozzi, the
English wife of an Italian, who had unusual opportunities for a close
observation of social conditions; several of the following paragraphs
are based upon her experiences.
The most striking thing in the social life of this time is the domestic
arrangement whereby every married woman was supposed to have at her beck
and call, in addition to her husband, another cavalier, who was known as
a _cicisbeo_ and was the natural successor of the Florentine _cavaliere_
before mentioned. Cicisbeism has been much criticised and much discussed
as to its bearing upon public morals, and many opposite opinions have
been expressed with regard to it. The Countess Martinengo Cesaresco, who
is a most careful and able student of Italian life, has the following to
say upon the subject: "He [the _cicisbeo_] was frequently a humble
relative--in every family were cadets too poor to marry, as they could
not work for their living, or too sincere to become priests, to whom
cavalier service secured a dinner, at any rate, if they wanted one. It
was the custom to go to the theatre every evening--the box at the opera
was an integral part of the household arrangements, a continuation of
the salon--only it could not be reached without an escort. The chaperon
did not exist, because a woman, no matter how old, was no escort for
another woman, nor could she herself dispense with an attendant of the
other sex. A dowager of sixty and a bride of sixteen had equally to stay
at home if there was not a man to accompany them. The cavalier's service
was particularly in request at the theatre, but he was more or less on
duty whenever his lady left her house for any purpose, with the doubtful
exception of going to church. No husband outside a honeymoon could be
expected to perform all these functions: he, therefore, appointed or
agreed upon the appointment of somebody else to act as his substitute.
This was, in nine cases out of ten, the eminently unromantic cavalier
servitude of fact. The high-flown, complimentary language, the profound
bowing and hand-kissing of the period, combined to mystify strangers as
to its real significance. Sometimes, when there was really a lover in
the question, the _cavalier servente_ must have been a serious
impediment; he was always _La plante ... a contrecarrer un pauvre tiers_,
in the words of the witty President de Brosses, who, though he did not
wholly credit the assurances he received as to the invariable innocence
of the institution, was yet far from passing on it the sweeping
judgment arrived at by most foreigners. There is no doubt that habit and
opportunity did, now and then, prove too strong for the two individuals
thrown so constantly together. 'Juxtaposition is great,' as Clough says
in his _Amours de Voyage_; but that such lapses represented the rule
rather than the exception is not borne out either by reason or record."
Mrs. Piozzi is somewhat dubious in regard to this condition of affairs
and is hardly disposed to take the charitable view which has just been
given, but the general trend of more enlightened comment seems to agree
with the Countess Cesaresco. In Sheridan's _School for Scandal_ occur
the following lines, which convey the same idea:
LADY TEAZLE.--"You know I admit you as a lover no farther than fashion
sanctions."
JOSEPH SURFACE.--"True--a mere platonic _cicisbeo_--what every wife is
entitled to."
Fragments taken somewhat at random regarding the women of several of the
more important cities of Italy may serve to give some idea regarding
their general position and condition throughout the country at large.
Writing from Milan, Mrs. Piozzi says: "There is a degree of effrontery
among the women that amazes me, and of which I had no idea till a friend
showed me, one evening, from my own box at the opera, fifty or a hundred
low shopkeepers' wives dispersed about the pit at the theatre, dressed
in men's clothes (_per disempegno_, as they call it), that they might be
more at liberty, forsooth, to clap and hiss and quarrel and jostle! I
felt shocked." Venice was, as it had ever been, a city of pleasure. The
women, generally married at fifteen, were old at thirty, and such was
the intensity of life in this "water-logged town"--as F. Hopkinson Smith
somewhat irreverently called it upon one occasion--that a traveller was
led to remark: _On ne goute pas ses plaisirs, on les avale._ Here, as in
all parts of Italy for that matter, the conditions of domestic life were
somewhat unusual at this time, as it was the custom to employ
menservants almost exclusively; as these servitors were under the
control of the master of the house, it was quite common for the women to
intrust to their husbands the entire management of household affairs.
Thus freed from family cares, Venetian ladies had little to occupy their
time outside of the pleasures of society. Nothing was expected of them
on the intellectual side; they had no thought of education, found no
resource in study, and were not compelled to read in order to keep up
with society small-talk; so long as they found a means to charm their
masculine admirers, nothing more was demanded. Apparently, for them to
charm and fascinate was not difficult, for, according to Mrs. Piozzi, "a
woman in Italy is sure of applause, so she takes little pains to secure
it." Accordingly, the women of Venice seem to have been quite
unpretentious in their manners and dress. They wore little or no rouge,
though they were much addicted to the use of powder, and their dresses
were very plain and presented little variety. "The hair was dressed in a
simple way, flat on top, all of one length, hanging in long curls about
the neck or sides, as it happens." During the summer season it was the
custom literally to turn night into daytime, as social functions were
rarely begun before midnight, and it was dawn before the revellers were
brought home in their gondolas. At one place in Venice were literary
topics much discussed, and that was at Quirini's Casino, a semi-public
resort where ladies were much in evidence, and this was but the
exception which proved the rule.
Genoa has been thus described: "It possesses men without honesty, women
without modesty, a sea without fish, and a woods with no birds," and,
without going into the merits of each of these statements, it is safe to
say that the state of public morals in this city was about the same as
that to be found in any other Italian city. Apropos of the poor heating
arrangements in Genoese houses, Mrs. Piozzi makes the following remark,
which gives a sidelight upon some of the customs of the place and will
interest the curious: "To church, however, and to the theatre in winter,
they have carried a great green velvet bag, adorned with gold tassels
and lined with fur to keep their feet from freezing, as carpets are not
in use. Poor women run about the streets with a little earthen pipkin
hanging on their arm filled with fire, even if they are sent on an
errand."
In Florence, the art of making improviso verses--which has ever been
popular in southern countries--seems to have reached its highest state
of perfection during this eighteenth century, and a woman, the
celebrated Corilla, was acknowledged to be the most expert in this
accomplishment. At Rome, when at the climax of her wonderful career, she
was publicly crowned with the laurel in the presence of thousands of
applauding spectators; and in her later years, at Florence, her drawing
room was ever filled with curious and admiring crowds. Without
pretensions to immaculate character, deep erudition, or high birth,
which an Italian esteems above all earthly things, Corilla so made her
way in the world that members of the nobility were wont to throng to her
house, and many sovereigns, _en passage_ at Florence, took pains to seek
her society. Corilla's successor was the beautiful Fantastici, a young
woman of pleasing personality and remarkable powers of improvisation,
who soon became a popular favorite.
Both at home and abroad, Italian women were coming to the fore in
musical circles, and no opera in any one of the continental capitals
was complete without its prima donna. Among the distinguished singers of
this epoch the two most celebrated were Faustina Bordoni and Catarina
Gabrielli. Faustina, born in the year 1700, was the daughter of a noble
Venetian family, and at an early age began to study music under the
direction of Gasparoni; when she was but sixteen, she made her debut
with such success that she was immediately given place as one of the
greatest artists on the lyric stage. In Venice, Naples, Florence, and
Vienna, she displayed such dramatic skill and such a wonderful voice
that she was soon acknowledged as the most brilliant singer in Europe.
Later, she was brought to London, under the management of the great
composer Haendel, and there she finally displaced in the public favor her
old-time rival, Cuzzoni. The singer known as Catarina Gabrielli was the
daughter of the cook of the celebrated Cardinal Gabrielli; in spite of
her low origin, she was possessed of a great though insolent beauty, in
addition to her wonderful vocal powers, and her brilliant career in
Europe was most exceptional in every way. In Italy, later in Vienna, and
even in far-away St. Petersburg, she not only achieved wonderful success
as a singer, but by her coquettish ways she contrived to attract a crowd
of most jealous and ardent admirers, who pursued her and more than once
fought for her favors. During her stay in Vienna, the French ambassador,
who had fallen a victim to her charms, became so madly jealous of the
Portuguese minister, that he drew his sword on Catarina upon one
occasion, and had it not been for her whalebone bodice she would have
lost her life. As it was, she received a slight scratch, which calmed
the enraged diplomat and brought him to his knees. She would pardon him
only on condition that he would present her with his sword, on which
were to be inscribed the following words: "Sword of M..., who dared
strike La Gabrielli." Through the intervention of friends, however, this
heavy penalty was never imposed, and the Frenchman was spared the
ridicule which would have surely followed. Catarina, after a long and
somewhat reckless career, passed her last years in Bologna, where she
died, in 1796, at the age of sixty-six, after having won general esteem
and admiration by her charities and by her steadiness of character,
which was in notable contrast to the extravagance of her earlier life.
Perhaps the three most distinguished Italian women in all the century
were Clelia Borromeo, Laura Bassi, and Gaetana Agnesi. The Countess
Clelia was a veritable _grande dame_, who exerted a wide influence for
good in all the north of Italy; Laura Bassi was a most learned and
distinguished professor of philosophy at the University of Bologna; and
the last member of this illustrious triad, Gaetana Agnesi, became so
famous in the scholarly world that her achievements must be recounted
with some attention to detail. At the time of her birth, in 1718, her
father was professor of mathematics at Bologna, and it appears that she
was so precocious that at the age of nine she had such command of the
Latin language that she was able to publish a long and carefully
prepared address written in that classic tongue, contending that there
was no reason why women should not devote themselves to the pursuit of
liberal studies. By the time she was thirteen she knew--in addition to
Latin--Greek, Hebrew, French, Spanish, German, and several other
languages, and was so renowned for her linguistic attainments that she
was called, familiarly, the "walking polyglot." When she was fifteen,
her father began to invite the most learned men of Bologna to assemble
at his house and listen to her essays and discussions upon the most
difficult philosophical problems; in spite of the fact that this
display of her learning was known to be distasteful to the young girl,
it was not until she reached her twentieth year that she was allowed to
withdraw from society. In welcome seclusion, she devoted herself to the
study of mathematics, and published several mathematical works whose
value is still recognized. In 1752 her father fell ill, and, by Pope
Benedict XIV., Gaetana was appointed to occupy his professorial chair,
which she did with distinction. At her father's death, two years later,
she withdrew from this active career; and after a most careful study of
theology, she satisfied a long-cherished wish and entered a convent,
joining the Order of Blue Nuns, at Milan. She was most actively
interested in hospital work and charities of all kinds, and, as her
death did not occur until 1799, lived a long life of usefulness.