society and the sexes in the venetian republic 367
much more restricted: if not marriage to a noble (Venetian or from the
mainland), then willy nilly to Christ in a convent, the undesirable status
of maiden aunt, or adherence to a “semireligious” institute.54
Neither in the Venetian Republic nor anywhere else did mutual attrac-
tion between prospective spouses have much to do with marriage, at least
in the upper and middle social ranks. Fathers, other male relatives, and
occasionally mothers made matches for financial and political reasons.
Over time, affection between husband and wife might develop. The evi-
dence thus far adduced to show that in 15th- and early 16th-century Venice
it did—references in wills to the “excellent companionship” (bonissima
chompagnia) a spouse had provided, use of such superlative adjectives
as “dearest” (charissima/o, dilectissima/o) to describe her or him, assign-
ment of a large portion of the estate and the role of sole or primary execu-
tor to a surviving wife or husband55—should perhaps be taken with a
grain of salt. To some extent, they may represent conventions observed by
notaries redacting wills and testators writing their own. Correspondence,
for obvious reasons thinner on the ground than wills, is a more reliable
source, as two examples will show.
At the turn of the 16th century, Fiorenza Capello’s letters to her hus-
band, Antonio Grimani, trace the trajectory of a troubled relationship. A
few months after their marriage in February 1592, Fiorenza addressed him
as “my sweetest lord” (dolcissimo mio signore) and closed by terming her-
self his “most affectionate spouse” (affetionatissima consorte). Six months
later, she mentioned sarcastically a report that in her absence from Ven-
ice, he was consorting with “la Valacha,” a courtesan or prostitute. Steadily
cooling relations between the spouses may help to explain why Fiorenza
spent so much time in the country. Early in 1605, she belatedly learned
that for the past five years, Antonio had been secretly maneuvering to
make their second daughter, Chiara, a nun in a Paduan convent—a place-
ment her mother adamantly opposed because, she said, the nine-year-old
girl had no inclination for life in religion. What Fiorenza understandably
viewed as a betrayal further eroded the marriage. Pregnant for at least the
54 Jutta Gisela Sperling, Convents and the Body Politic in Late Renaissance Venice
(Chicago, 1999), pp. 18–71; but cfr. Volker Huencke, “Kindbett oder Kloster. Lebenswege
venezianischer Patrizierinnen im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert,” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 18
(1992), 446–76; and Hunecke, Il patriziato veneziano alla fine della Repubblica, 1646–1797:
Demografia, famiglia, ménage (Rome, 1997), 154–228.
55 Stanley Chojnacki, “The Power of Love: Wives and Husbands,” in his Women and Men
in Renaissance Venice, pp. 153–68; quotations at pp. 165–66, 162.