SELF-IDENTITY AND ALTERITY IN RENAISSANCE HUMANISM BETWEEN 
ELITE AND POPULAR DISCOURSES 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
by 
 
ANNA LESIUK-CUMMINGS 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
A DISSERTATION 
 
Presented to the Department of Romance Languages  
and the Graduate School of the University of Oregon 
in partial fulfillment of the requirements 
for the degree of 
Doctor of Philosophy 
 
June 2014 
ii 
 
DISSERTATION APPROVAL PAGE 
 
Student: Anna Lesiuk-Cummings  
 
Title: Self-Identity and Alterity in Renaissance Humanism between Elite and Popular 
Discourses  
 
This dissertation has been accepted and approved in partial fulfillment of the 
requirements for the Doctor of Philosophy degree in the Department of Romance 
Languages by: 
 
Massimo Lollini Chairperson/Advisor 
Nathalie Hester Core Member 
Leah Middlebrook Core Member 
Gordon Sayre Institutional Representative 
 
and 
 
Kimberly Andrews Espy Vice President for Research and Innovation; 
 Dean of the Graduate School  
 
Original approval signatures are on file with the University of Oregon Graduate School. 
 
Degree awarded June 2014 
  
iii 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2014 Anna Lesiuk-Cummings 
  
iv 
 
DISSERTATION ABSTRACT 
 
Anna Lesiuk-Cummings  
 
Doctor of Philosophy  
 
Department of Romance Languages  
 
June 2014 
 
Title: Self-Identity and Alterity in Renaissance Humanism between Elite and Popular 
Discourses  
 
 
 There are two parallel discourses on humanism nowadays. One conceives of 
humanism as a worldview and a philosophical position. The other takes it to be a cultural 
phenomenon typical of the European Renaissance. The critics interested in considering 
humanism conceptually, as a rule, are not Renaissance scholars. Operating from either a 
postmodern or a postcolonial perspective, they often speak of humanism as the backbone 
of Western thought or the mainstay of European modernity and, in any case, as a bankrupt 
ideology of the West. Conversely, the Renaissance scholars are more concerned with the 
task of making sense of the idea of humanism in its original historical context than with 
considering it in relation to its other, later developments and remain, for the most part, 
unwilling to address the broader questions posed by humanism.  
 This dissertation purports to bring the philosophical and the historical discourses 
on humanism together. I focus specifically on Renaissance humanism and ground my 
reflection firmly in textual analyses of late XV and XVI century sources. More concretely, 
I put forward a reading of two groups of texts. The first group includes three works 
exploring the arch-theme of the Renaissance, dignitas hominis, from the perspective of a 
relational concept of identity formation. These are: Pico della Mirandola’s Oratio (1486), 
v 
 
Bovelles’s De sapiente (1511) and Vives’s Fabula de homine (1518). The second group of 
texts contains three works which fall into the category of Renaissance Americanist 
literature: Cabeza de Vaca’s Naufragios (1542), Galeotto Cei’s Viaggio e relazione delle 
Indie (written after 1553) and Jean de Léry’s Histoire d'un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil 
(1578).  
 The bridge between these two bodies of texts is the idea, found in Pico, Bovelles 
and Vives, that arriving at a sense of self always involves a detour through otherness, as 
experienced in one’s community, Nature and God. The encounter narratives, in illustrating 
the impact of America on the Renaissance European traveler, bring to life what 
philosophers theorized in the peace and quiet of their studies – the essential indefiniteness 
of the self unless inhabited by meanings drawn from without.   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
vi 
 
CURRICULUM VITAE 
 
NAME OF AUTHOR:  Anna Lesiuk-Cummings 
 
 
GRADUATE AND UNDERGRADUATE SCHOOLS ATTENDED: 
 
 University of Oregon, Eugene, USA 
 Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, Leuven, Belgium  
 Uniwersytet Warszawski, Warsaw, Poland   
 
DEGREES AWARDED: 
 
 Doctor of Philosophy, Romance Languages, 2014, University of Oregon 
 Advanced Master, Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2007, Katholieke 
 Universiteit Leuven,    
 Master, Italian Studies, 2003, Uniwersytet Warszawski   
 
 
AREAS OF SPECIAL INTEREST: 
 
 Renaissance Studies   
 Historical and Philosophical definitions of Humanism  
 Modernity and the Modern Self 
 History of Ideas 
 Early Modern Travel Literature 
 Early Modern Literature in Italian, Spanish French and Latin  
 
 
 
PROFESSIONAL EXPERIENCE: 
 
 Assistant Professor of Spanish, Latin and Italian, Mt. Angel Seminary, St. 
Benedict, August 2011- present 
  
 Graduate Teaching Fellow in Italian, University of Oregon, Eugene, September 
2007 - July 2011 
 
 
GRANTS, AWARDS, AND HONORS: 
 
 Beall Graduate Dissertation Scholarship, Department of Romance Languages, 
 University of Oregon, Winter 2010/2011 
 
 FFIS International Understanding Award for International Students, Friendship 
 Foundation for International Students, University of Oregon, Spring 2009 
vii 
 
 Socrates-Erasmus Program Scholarship for a term of study abroad,  Uniwersytet 
 Warszawski, Fall 2000  
 
  
 
 
 
viii 
 
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 
 
 I wish to thank especially Professor Massimo Lollini, my advisor for his support 
and assistance for the past 7 years. Professor Lollini’s interest in the idea of “humanism 
more than human” inspired me to pursue my own research into the ideas of self-identity 
and alterity in Renaissance Humanism and his complete trust and unflinching belief in this 
project helped me along the way. I would like to thank also Professors Nathalie Hester and 
Leah Middlebrook who at the early stages of my inquires offered guidance in my studies 
of Renaissance literature in French and Spanish. My gratitude goes also to Professor Sayre, 
who graciously agreed to serve on my dissertation committee as the outside member.   
 I would also like to thank my children: Matthew, Michael and Natalia, who by their 
exuberant presence in my life, and by forcing me to be a mom as well as a PhD student, 
certainly drove home the major point of my dissertation, namely, the role of others in the 
identity-shaping process. My husband Andrew was a constant source of love, support, 
patience and encouragement. Without him, I would not have been able to finish this 
manuscript. Last, but not least, special thanks go to my parents for their love and firm 
confidence in my abilities that inspired me to pursue a career which is both a challenge and 
a source of contentment.       
 
 
  
ix 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
For Andrew, Matthew, Michael and Natalia 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
x 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
Chapter Page 
 
 
I. INTRODUCTION .................................................................................................... 1  
II. SETTING THE STAGE: HUMANISM AND THE QUESTION OF  
ALTERITY ..................................................................................................................    10 
 The Difficulty of Defining Humanism .................................................................. 10  
 The Double Genealogy of Humanism ................................................................... 20 
 Individuality, Interiority and Subjectivity.............................................................. 26 
 Renaissance Humanism and Philosophy ............................................................... 31 
 Humanism and the Renaissance Travel Literature  ...............................................    39 
III. GIOVANNI PICO DELLA MIRANDOLA: THE SELF AS THE IMAGELESS 
IMAGE OF GOD ......................................................................................................... 46  
IV. CHARLES DE BOVELLES: THE SELF AS THE MIRROR OF THE  
OTHER      ...................................................................................................................    76  
V. JUAN LUIS VIVES: THE SELF BETWEEN DIVINE MIMICRY AND  
SOCIETAL RESPONSIBILITY  ................................................................................    107  
VI. ÁLVAR NÚÑEZ CABEZA DE VACA: THE AMERICANIZED SELF  ...........    134 
VII. GALEOTTO CEI: HOMELESSNESS OF THE SELF  ......................................    173 
VIII. JEAN DE LÉRY: THE SELF AS THE SPACE OF THE OTHER  ..................    204 
IX. CONCLUSION .....................................................................................................    238 
REFERENCES CITED ................................................................................................    245 
  
1 
 
 
CHAPTER I 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
There are two parallel discourses on humanism nowadays. One conceives of 
humanism as a worldview and a philosophical position. The other takes it to be a cultural 
phenomenon typical of the European Renaissance. The critics interested in considering 
humanism conceptually, as a rule, are not Renaissance scholars. Operating from either a 
postmodern or a postcolonial perspective, they often speak of humanism as the backbone 
of Western thought or the mainstay of European modernity, and in any case, as a bankrupt 
ideology of the West. Conversely, the Renaissance scholars are more concerned with the 
task of making sense of the idea of humanism in its original historical context than with 
considering it in relation to its other, later developments and remain, for the most part, 
unwilling to address the broader questions posed by humanism. Yet the Renaissance, as 
the historical moment that brought about the crystallization of the Western notion of 
humanitas, deserves to be considered more fully in relation to the philosophically defined 
humanism. 
In recent years, two interesting attempts have been made to speak philosophically 
about humanism in terms that seem to recapture some of its original XIV and XV century 
meanings. Edward Said, one of the foremost postcolonial theorists and a fierce critic of 
Eurocentrism, in his 2004 Humanism and Democratic Criticism pledged his ongoing 
allegiance to the ideals of humanism. Said, in the spirit of the early humanists always in 
2 
 
search of new books, believed in redeeming the humanities by expanding the canon of a 
humanistic education and insisting that a true humanist ethos is always inclusive rather 
than exclusive:  
“I […[ still] believe, that it is possible to be critical of humanism in the name of 
humanism and that, schooled in its abuses by the experience of Eurocentrism and 
empire, one could fashion a different kind of humanism that was cosmopolitan and 
text-and-language-bound in ways that absorbed the great lessons of the past […] 
and still remain attuned to the emergent voices and currents of the present”.1           
 Said believes that an extension and not an abolition of the canon harbors the 
solution to the problem of Eurocentrism as implicit in the Western humanities curriculum. 
We cannot forget “the great lessons of the past”, but we must also remain willing to hear 
the voices of the present: proud heirs to the legacy of the past, yet open towards our 
multicultural future. Educated according to a humanities program inclusive of canonical 
and emergent, metropolitan and peripheral, hegemonic and subaltern discourses, students 
will be a new brand of humanists, equipped with moral tools to pursue political justice and 
equality. It is perhaps that characterization of humanism in the twin terms of literary studies 
and ethical engagement that is most reminiscent of the attitudes of the Italian humanists.       
 The second voice I would like to bring in belongs to Stephan Toulmin. In his 1990 
Cosmopolis, Toulmin associated the passage to Modernity with what he called “the XVII 
century Counter-Renaissance”. According to this scholar, in that period Europe’s 
intellectual attention was diverted from the humane and concrete preoccupations typical of 
                                                          
1 Edward Said, Humanism and Democratic Criticism (New York: Columbia University Press, 2004), 11. 
3 
 
the Renaissance humanists towards more abstract and universal ones. This virtual rejection 
of Renaissance values (in the name of a new philosophy and a new science) lasted until 
recently, but nowadays is “wearing out its welcome”:            
 “Since 1945, the problems that have challenged reflective thinkers on a deep 
 philosophical level, with the same urgency that cosmology and cosmopolis had in 
 the 17th century, are matters of practice: including matters of life and death. [...] All 
 the “changes of mind” that were characteristic of the 17th century’s turn from 
 humanism to rationalism are, as a result, being reversed. The “modern” focus on 
 the written, the universal, the general, and the timeless – which monopolized the 
 work of most philosophers after 1630 – is being broadened to include once again 
 the oral, the particular, the local, and the timely.”2   
 Toulmin thinks that Modernity has finished its cycle and advocates a return to 
humanism, which, for him, is composed of four elements: a return to the oral (by which he 
seems to mean “to the rhetoric”3), a return to the particular, a return to the local, and a 
return to the timely. Even though Toulmin’s idea of Renaissance humanism sometimes 
appears sketchy,4 his characterization of humanist thought as concerned more with the 
domain of human experience than with the realm of objectivity is a valuable contribution 
                                                          
2 Stephen Toulmin, Cosmopolis. The hidden agenda of Modernity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 
1990), 187. 
3 Cf. Toulmin, 186-188. 
4 My main objection is against his almost exclusive focus on the French and Northern humanists. 
4 
 
to a discussion dominated by the notion of humanism as exemplifying Europe’s 
“objectifying” or “totalizing” impulse.5   
As previously pointed out, Said and Toulmin’s take on humanism is quite unique 
in that they do not shun the idea of speaking about Humanism philosophically and yet they 
try to advance an understanding of it which has its roots in Renaissance thought. My own 
contribution purports to continue this tradition of bringing the philosophical and the 
historical discourses on humanism together. At the same time, I differ from Said and 
Toulmin in focusing specifically on Renaissance humanism and in grounding my reflection 
firmly in textual analyses of late XV and XVI century sources. More concretely, I put 
forward a reading of two groups of texts. The first group includes three works exploring 
that arch-theme of the Renaissance, dignitas hominis, from the perspective of a relational 
concept of identity formation. These are: Pico della Mirandola’s Oratio (1486), Bovelles’s 
De sapiente (1511) and Vives’s Fabula de homine (1518). The second group of texts which 
I will analyze contains three works which fall into the category of Renaissance Americanist 
literature: Cabeza de Vaca’s Naufragios (1542), Galeotto Cei’s Viaggio e relazione delle 
Indie (written after 1553) and Léry’s Histoire d'un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil (1578).  
The inclusion of the latter group of works in a thesis concerned with the notion of 
humanism might be considered problematic and requires explanation. In what sense can 
they help us understand the phenomenon of Renaissance humanism and what exactly is 
                                                          
5 A similar thesis concerning discontinuity between Renaissance humanism and Modernity is advanced by 
Donald Verene in Philosophy and the Return to Self-Knowledge (Cf. “As modern philosophy is built, the 
mind is disconnected from human wisdom, and it is disconnected from the divine in order that it be fully 
connected to the object. The mind ceases to be nous or the soul and becomes the Understanding. The 
concern with of the Understanding is not with itself but with the object.”( Donald Phillip Verene, 
Philosophy and the Return to Self-Knowledge (New Haven – London: Yale University Press, 1997), 132) 
5 
 
their relationship with the “humanistic culture” of their time? In rejecting the notion that 
only elite discourses can be considered “humanistic”, I follow the lead of Joan-Pau Rubiés 
who in “Travel writing and Humanistic Culture: A Blunter Impact?” posits the existence 
of a popular humanism, “many of whose expressions can be linked to urban culture and 
sometimes also to court culture.”6 Addressing more specifically the problem of humanist 
writing about the New World, Rubiés further explains:  
‘popular’ writers (or the authors of oral reports who dictated to someone else) were 
often subtly influenced by the concepts and strategies formulated by intellectual 
elites, and, to that extent, there is never a purely ‘popular’ discourse; many of the 
writers who were also observers, and quite a few who acted as editors or compilers 
like Columbus, Vespucci, Varthema, Pigafetta and Cortés, for example, albeit not 
having full-blown humanistic education […] in fact operated at the crossroads 
between popular and elite discourses. That is, they had a limited access to formal 
education and especially to Latin and Greek, but nevertheless were capable of 
reading and interested in vernacular translations of ancient authors.”7  
 The three travel writers at the center of this project: Cabeza de Vaca, Cei and Léry, 
considered next to Pico, Bovelles and Vives or even next to humanists writing on the New 
World like Pietro Martire d’Anghiera, Montaigne or even Oviedo, must be viewed as 
“popular writers”. However, quite apart from their actual acquaintance with “vernacular 
translations” of the classics or even from their familiarity with vernacular literary 
                                                          
6 Rubiés, “Travel Writing and Humanistic Culture: A Blunted Impact?” in Bringing the World to Early 
Modern Europe. Travel Accounts and Their Audiences, ed. Peter Mancall (Boston: Brill, 2007), 141. 
7 Ibid. 
6 
 
traditions, the very existence of their accounts testifies to their membership in a culture 
which placed a very high value on the written word. In fact, their narratives only make 
sense in the context of a European, humanistic environment that produced the conditions 
for the emergence of travel literature readership. 
There is however, an even more important reason for including travel writers in this 
project. As I will illustrate more fully in the introductory chapter, the chief grievance 
advanced against humanism is its supposed focus on the self and its consequent blindness 
to the other. It seems to me that under the rubric of this general objection to the humanist 
ethos, we can subsume practically all of the particular criticisms, be they made from a 
purely philosophical perspective (like Heidegger’s for instance), or more historically 
grounded (like those advanced by post-colonial critics). In the chapters dedicated to the 
highly abstract works by Pico della Mirandola, Bovelles and Vives, I will inevitably be in 
an implicit dialogue with those criticisms of humanist thought which themselves operate 
on a purely conceptual level. I will map the ways of thinking about identity and alterity in 
Pico, Bovelles and Vives while at the same time keeping in mind the question of their 
relationship to modernity as the cradle of the new concept of selfhood. I will try to show 
that in all three cases we are dealing with a conception of the self cast in terms of a project. 
It is a weak self which has to be made/shaped/fashioned through its contact with alterity. 
In other words, it is not the meaning-giving ego, but an ego in search of its own meaning 
via alterity. It is precisely this understanding of alterity as foundational for the emergence 
of selfhood embraced by the Renaissance elite thinkers that convinced me of the 
importance of exploring the idea of otherness as possibly constitutive of the Renaissance 
traveler’s sense of identity.  
7 
 
It has been argued that humanism began with the realization of a rupture between 
the Ancients and the medievals and moderns, in other words, that the recognition of alterity 
was its founding moment. The point was made by Garin8 and is still in wide circulation. 
Philippe de Lajarte in his work on French Humanism9 takes up this idea, but connects it 
with the further transformations of humanism as the awareness of alterity grew to 
encompass the newly encountered difference of the New World inhabitants. Lajarte draws 
attention to the fact that, after discovering the Ancients as “others”, there came the second 
and even more radical explosion of the context in which Europeans had to think of their 
own identities. It became necessary to find ways to relate to the American Other. The 
Encounter forced the Europeans to think themselves not just in relation to God, Nature and 
their own societies, but also in their face-to-face with alterity which, in many ways, was 
much more disturbing.  
And yet, the Renaissance author, writing on America is usually portrayed as 
performing, within the realm of literature, the same appropriating gesture as the 
conquistador in the political sphere. While the European man of arms strived to dominate 
the New World physically, the European author is said to have conspired to subjugate it 
through language – imposing his own understanding and value system on the reality he 
wrote about. According to this line of interpretation, language, just as much as weapons, 
                                                          
8 Cf. “Antiquity, therefore, came to be defined as something that confronted the humanists. Its discovery 
was the discovery of an object which had to be placed into a valid relationship with the people who 
discovered it. The humanists thus found themselves vis-à-vis a historical past that was very different from 
their own world. […] There was a detachment; and as a result of this detachment a classical author ceased 
to be part of me and I began to define my own identity by discovering his.” (Eugenio Garin, 
“Interpretations of the Renaissance,” in Science and civic life in the Italian Renaissance, trans. Peter Munz 
(Garden City, NY: Anchor Books, 1969), 18-19) 
9 Cf. Philippe de Lajarte, L'Humanisme en France au XVIe siècle (Paris: Honoré Champion, 2009).  
8 
 
was an instrument of appropriation, beginning with the seemingly innocent practice of 
giving Christian names to geographical locations and culminating in the usurpation by the 
European author of the role of the historian of the “peoples without history”. The European 
writer is thus believed to have been trapped by his tendency to subdue the American Other 
on the literary level (by the imposition of his “authority”) in a process parallel to that of 
the material conquest. 
In my reading of the travel narratives of Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca, Cei and Léry I will 
not be interested in analyzing textual practices by the means of which European authors 
mastered the New World, rather I will try to name those narrative elements which betray 
the extent to which they themselves were shaped by their travel experiences. In fact, I will 
be looking at the various ways they imagined themselves in relation to the very concrete 
alterity of the Americas within the framework of recorded life experience. Why the choice 
of autobiographies rather than histories of the New World? In the chapters on Pico, 
Bovelles and Vives I will have illustrated how the early modern humanistic subject never 
completely thinks himself as impermeable with respect to the world. In contemplating 
alterity, he always considers himself a part of a larger picture.10 Autobiography as a genre 
captures this fundamental feature of the humanist understanding of selfhood. The exercise 
of writing an autobiography is very dialogic in nature – at the most basic level it 
presupposes an other who will listen and maybe even respond. 
Moreover, since autobiography is a form of writing in which the process of self-
construction can be witnessed in actu, a careful reading of the autobiographic narratives of 
                                                          
10 Cf. Cassirer’s “captor” and “captive” in the introductory chapter. 
9 
 
Nuñez, Cei and Léry will help us put to the test the presupposition as to the unfailingly 
rock-solid stability of the European self writing on America. In fact, the works telling both 
about the New World and about their own authors cannot be read as operating a one-way 
appropriation of the other by the European self. The self-possession of a New World 
traveler-writer as the source of his mastery of the other will reveal itself as rather 
problematic, especially when the story told happens to be that of a failure. The Renaissance 
“Americanists” writing from personal experience will emerge from the pages of this 
dissertation as destabilized subjects, undergoing a process of hybridization, which 
profoundly compromises their ability to draw the exact coordinates of “home” and “away”. 
Although their cases are unique, they illustrate a more general truth that each encounter 
with otherness produces self-estrangement. Consequently, it would be a mistake not to 
recognize that in the process of subduing their American others, the Europeans were forced 
to “discover” new dimensions of themselves.  
 
10 
 
 
CHAPTER II 
 SETTING THE STAGE: HUMANISM AND THE QUESTION OF ALTERITY 
 
The Difficulty of Defining Humanism 
In a series of lectures given in 1954 one of the greatest and most influential 
Renaissance scholars of the 20th century, Paul Oskar Kristeller, spoke with some urgency 
about the need to counteract the tendency to apply the label of humanism indiscriminately 
to any philosophical outlook marked by concern for the dignity of human person and/or 
with the well-being of humanity: 
 “The term ‘Humanism’ has been associated with the Renaissance and its classical 
 studies for more than a hundred years, but in recent times it has become the 
 source of much philosophical and historical confusion. In present discourse, 
 almost any kind of concern with human values is called ‘humanistic’, and 
 consequently a great variety of thinkers, religious and antireligious, scientific or 
 antiscientific, lay claim to what has become a rather elusive label of praise.”11  
These censures were part of his long-standing campaign against the use of the term 
“in a fashion that defies any definition and seems to have little or nothing left of the basic 
classicist meaning of Renaissance humanism”.12 Kristeller was particularly displeased with 
                                                          
11 Paul Oskar Kristeller, Renaissance Thought. The Classic, Scholastic, and Humanist Strains (New York: 
Harper & Row, 1961), 8.  
12 Ibid.  
11 
 
what he perceived to be a tendency of the Renaissance scholars to apply vague modern 
notions of humanism to the phenomena of the past. In his view such careless use of the 
term was sure to compromise any possibility of recapturing the original meaning of 
Renaissance humanism. Kristeller’s antidote was to insist on humanism’s historical roots 
in philology and broadly defined literary studies, while rejecting the idea that it incarnates 
the philosophical position(s) implied by the modern use of the term. To put it bluntly, 
humanism for Kristeller was not to be confused with the essence of modern Western 
culture, or rather, with what his contemporaries considered to be its most noble and 
enduring legacy.  
We are no longer inclined to use the term humanism as a fit-all label of praise. In 
fact, Kristeller’s censures seem almost incomprehensible in the context of contemporary 
discourse on humanism, dominated as it is, by the melancholy recognition that “civilization 
of humanism is bankrupt or on its death-throes”.13 Humanism, for the most part, has lost 
its allure of the highest and most noble expression of the European spirit, but it has 
preserved its status as the quintessential expression of it. As a result of its previous 
                                                          
13 Cf. Jean Luc Nancy, Dis-Enclosure: The Deconstruction of Christianity, trans. Bettina Bergo, Gabriel 
Malenfant and Michael B. Smith (New York: Fordham University Press, 2008), 2. Although the death of 
humanism is considered almost a fait accompli in academic circles, humanism continues to have its 
adherents. The most visible contemporary advocates of humanism are the secular humanists represented by 
organizations such as International Humanist and Ethical Union (IHEU) or the American Humanist 
Association (AHA). These institutions promote humanism as a secular, human-centered and, above all, 
humanitarian philosophy of life (Cf. Humanist Manifesto III: 
http://www.americanhumanist.org/Who_We_Are/About_Humanism/Humanist_Manifesto_III) aimed at 
improving the quality of human experience, both physically and spiritually. Their ideological standpoint is 
well, if somewhat unsympathetically, characterized by James Hankins as an “odd brew of Enlightenment 
rationalism, utilitarianism, scientific positivism, evolutionary biology, and pragmatism” (James Hankins, 
“Humanism, scholasticism, and Renaissance philosophy,” in The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance 
Philosophy, ed. James Hankins (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 31). Building upon the 
idea of a general commonality of human experience and perfectibility of human nature, these present-day 
secular humanists propose an optimistic vision of the future of humanity, which is, in its main traits, 
essentially modern.  
12 
 
glorification, it was subsequently targeted by a number of thinkers who in the second half 
of the past century undertook the task of re-thinking the European legacy. This questioning 
of Europe was operated from the double although not always disjunctive standpoint of its 
philosophy and its ethics, and in both cases the basic conclusion was that “humanism opens 
onto inhumanity”.14 Interestingly, this contemporary critical appraisal of humanism was 
genealogically connected to a strain of criticism advanced around the same time Kristeller 
offered his censures, yet from a very different perspective. While the Renaissance scholar, 
speaking from the standpoint of his own discipline and in the name of historical accuracy, 
advocated a narrowing down of the definition of humanism, other thinkers embraced or 
even broadened its meaning to include a number of philosophical and ethical attitudes 
which they considered paradigmatically European.  
The first strides towards a radical reappraisal of humanism were made by Heidegger 
who, in his “Letter on Humanism”, presented it as the backbone of the entire Western 
metaphysical tradition.15 Humanism thus understood, was then stigmatized as essentially 
“forgetful of Being”, i.e. distorting the proper relationship between human beings and 
                                                          
14 Nancy, 30. 
15 Cf. “Every humanism is founded on a metaphysics or makes itself that foundation. Every determination 
of the essence of man which already presupposes, consciously or not, the interpretation of beings without 
raising the question concerning the truth of Being, is metaphysical. This is why, if we consider the manner 
in which the essence of man is determined, the characteristic of every metaphysics is revealed in that it is 
"humanistic."” (Martin Heidegger, “Letter on Humanism,” in Basic Writings, ed. David Farrell Krell (San 
Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993), 225. Although Heidegger seems to have offered the most systematic 
challenge to humanism-as-philosophy, the ground for his radical de-emphasizing of the subject was 
prepared by the XIX century masters of the “school of suspicion” (to borrow Paul Ricoeur’s famous label): 
Nietzsche, Marx and Freud. (Cf. Paul Ricoeur, Freud and Philosophy: An Essay on Interpretation, trans. 
Denis Savage (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1970), 32. Cf. also: “The philosopher trained in the 
school of Descartes knows that things are doubtful, that they are not such as they appear; but he does not 
doubt that consciousness is such as it appears to itself; in consciousness meaning and consciousness of 
meaning coincide. Since Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud this too has become doubtful. After the doubt about 
things, we have started to doubt consciousness.” (Ricoeur, 33)) 
13 
 
Being. While recognizing the plurality of humanism’s historical incarnations, Heidegger, 
viewed it in monolithic terms, as a quintessential philosophical dead-end:  
“However different these forms of humanism may be in purpose and in principle, 
in the mode and means of their respective realizations, and in the form of their 
teaching, they nonetheless all agree in this that the ‘humanitas’ or ‘homo humanus’ 
is determined with regard to an already established interpretation of nature, history, 
world, and the ground of the world, that is, of beings, as a whole.”16 
In Heidegger’s opinion philosophical language since Plato has been constantly 
shifting away from its role as the means for the thinking of Being. In particular, the 
anthropocentrism inherent in all humanistic and metaphysical thought is, according to the 
philosopher, forever falsifying the true essence of humanity. Instead of humanistically 
envisaging man as presiding over the rest of creation, Heidegger suggests that it is possible 
to conceive of human dignity as a derivative of his ministry to Being: 
 “Man is not the lord of beings. Man is the shepherd of Being. Man loses nothing 
 in this “less”; rather he gains in that he attains the truth of Being. He gains the 
 essential poverty of the shepherd, whose dignity consists in being called by Being 
 itself into the preservation of Being’s truth”17  
It is clear that by denouncing humanism the philosopher did not intend to make 
himself an apostle of the “inhumane”. Rather, he was trying to state the special status of 
                                                          
16 Heidegger, 225. 
17 Heidegger, 245. 
14 
 
men in different, non-humanistic terms. According to Heidegger, man is an extraordinary 
creature in virtue of his special relation to Being: he is the only being which questions 
his/her being. In fact, it seems that Heidegger’s philosophy wanted to surpass humanism, 
but at the same time strived to reclaim some forgotten sense of it:     
 “Does it not think ‘humanitas’ in a decisive sense, as no metaphysics has thought 
 it or can think it? Is this not ‘humanism’ in the extreme sense? Certainly. It is a 
 humanism that thinks the humanity of man from nearness to Being”18  
Heidegger’s “Letter on humanism”, as is well-know, was a response to Sartre’s 
inclusion of his name in the ranks of existentialists. The German philosopher wanted to 
distance himself from the existentialist movement and from Sartre’s type of humanism 
which, while critical of the tendency to glorify man (as exemplified in Auguste Comte’s 
positivism) was, in his eyes, still too naively anthropocentric.19 Jacques Derrida and 
Emmanuel Levinas were both greatly influenced by Heidegger’s idea that humanism is 
essentially metaphysics.20 However, these two thinkers were much more aware of the 
ethical corollaries built into a humanistic metaphysics thus understood. While for 
Heidegger humanism was objectionable for it prevented the thinking of humanity “from 
nearness” to Being, for Levinas it prevented the thought of humanity from “nearness to the 
Other”. For Levinas, humanism was not just bad philosophy: it became a moral vice.  
                                                          
18 Heidegger, 245.  
19 Cf. Jean-Paul Sartre, L'existentialisme est un Humanisme (Paris: Éditions Nagel 1946). 
20 Cf. Jacques Derrida, “The Ends of Man,” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 30.1 (1969): 31-
57; Emmanuel Levinas, Humanism of the Other (Urbana – Chicago: Illinois University Press, 2006). 
15 
 
Levinas’ position was very close in that respect to Michel Foucault’s who saw 
humanism in all its diverse historical incarnations as a general moral attitude of European 
societies, characterized invariably by some discriminatory practices:   
 “un ensemble de thèmes qui ont réapparu à plusieurs reprises à travers le temps, 
 dans les sociétés européennes; [...] toujours liés à des jugements de valeur, [...] 
 toujours beaucoup varié dans leur contenu, ainsi que dans les valeurs qu'ils ont 
 retenues”21 
For him humanism, in its many guises, amounted always to some dogmatic and 
oppressive ideology of exclusion. Derrida, Levinas, Foucault and other post-modern 
thinkers following in their footsteps are mostly invested in exploring the ethical 
implications of humanism viewed as the mainstay of the philosophical convictions of the 
West. Somewhat different is the perspective of the post-colonial critics whose discussions 
of humanistic ethics are primarily nourished by political, sociological, cultural and literary 
analyses.   
  The founding figure of this brand of criticism was Frantz Fanon, who in his 1961 
The Wretched of the Earth famously denounced Europe as the place “where they are never 
done talking of Man, yet murder men everywhere they find them, at the corner of every 
one of their own streets, in all the corners of the globe.”22 For Fanon there was no doubt as 
                                                          
21 Michel Foucault, “Qu’est-ce que les Lumières,” in Dits et écrits 1956-1988, 4 vols, ed. Daniel Defert and 
Francois Ewald (Paris: Gallimard, 1994), 339.  
22 Cf. Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1967), 251. Fanon thinks of 
colonialism as a corollary of humanism because of the narrowness of its definition of humanity. By the 
same logic, Holocaust is sometimes considered as an ugly result of a “humanist” project of redefining the 
human. (concerning this last point cf. Hannah Arendt Origins of Totalitarianism (San Diego, New York, 
London: Harcourt, Inc., 1973). In fact, Aimé Césaire links colonialism and Holocaust in his celebrated 
“Discourse on colonialism”: “[I]t would be worthwhile to study clinically, in detail, the steps taken by 
16 
 
to the essential complicity between European humanism and the violence of colonialism. 
Sartre, in his Preface to The Wretched of the Earth said that the book forced the Europeans 
to face an embarrassing “striptease of humanism”. The ugliness of “humanism” unveiled 
by Fanon was its pretense to ground the supposedly universal concept of “the human” in 
the European (i.e. local) values and its consequent predication of “humanity” on the 
exclusion of the “Other”.  
Post-colonial critics generally identify humanism with the aggressive and 
objectifying tendencies typical of the European ways of thinking and acting.23 A good 
illustration of this approach is Robert Young’s explanation of the anti-humanist24 position 
contained in his White Mythologies:  
                                                          
Hitler and Hitlerism and to reveal to the very distinguished, very humanistic, very Christian bourgeois of 
the twentieth century that without his being aware of it, he has a Hitler inside him, that Hitler inhabits him, 
that Hitler is his demon, that if he rails against him, he is being inconsistent and that, at bottom, what he 
cannot forgive Hitler for is not the crime in itself, the crime against man, it is not the humiliation of man as 
such, it is the crime against the white man, the humiliation of the white man, and the fact that he applied to 
Europe colonialist procedures which until then had been reserved exclusively for the Arabs of Algeria, the 
‘coolies’ of India, and the ‘niggers’ of Africa. And that is the great thing I hold against pseudo-humanism: 
that for too long it has diminished the rights of man, that its concept of those rights has been - and still is - 
narrow and fragmentary, incomplete and biased and, all things considered, sordidly racist.” (Cf. Aimé 
Césiare, “Discourse on Colonialism,” trans. Joan Pinkham (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1972), 36-
37.) 
23 Cf. for instance: “humanism […] often validates amongst the highest values of European civilization, 
was deeply complicit with the violent negativity of colonialism, and played a crucial part in its ideology. 
The formation of the ideas of human nature, humanity and the universal qualities of the human mind as the 
common good of an ethical civilization occurred at the same time as those particularly violent centuries in 
the history of the world know as the era of Western colonialism” (Robert Young, White Mythologies: 
Writing History and the West, 2nd edition  (New York: Routledge, 2004), 160.) 
24 There seems to have been a rather significant shift in meaning between the term “anti-humanism” as it is 
used at present and the way it was understood by Louis Althusser, who first coined the term in 1963/64. 
Althusser applied the term “anti-humanism” to what he considered an orthodox form of Marxism, rejecting 
the more recent tendencies of some Marxist critics to overemphasize the human aspect in Marx’s social 
theory. (Cf. Louis Althusser, “The Humanist Controversy,” in The Humanist Controversy and Other 
Writings (1966-67), ed. François Matheron, trans. G. M. Goshgarian (London – New York: Verso, 2003), 
221 – 306.  
17 
 
“To criticize humanism […] does not mean that you do not like human beings and 
 have no ethics – the gist of certain attacks on ‘anti-humanism’ - but rather the 
 reverse. It questions the use of the human as an explanatory category that 
 purports to provide a  rational understanding of ‘man’ – an assumed universal 
 predicated on the exclusion and marginalization of his Others, such as 
 ‘woman’ or ‘the native’.”25    
Similar concerns are shared by theoreticians invested in the issues of class, race, 
gender, and sexual identities, who define their critical standpoint in opposition to the 
previous modes of literary studies rooted in the so-called “liberal humanist”26 approaches 
to literature. These would include as much Paul Elmer More and Irving Babbitt’s New 
Humanism (rooted in the “phantasy” of a universal human nature) as John Crowe Ransom 
and Allen Tate’s New Criticism (overly fetishizing the written word and, consequently, 
depriving it of any political relevance). The rejection of logocentrism, fallocentrism, 
eurocentrism, normative discourses and essentialism spells out the refusal to think 
humanity along the lines of the traditional conceptions of what it means to be human. 
Significantly, this is done in the name of human values, such as freedom, dignity, tolerance 
and respect.      
Another kind of redefinition of the meaning of humanity seems to be at the core of 
post-humanism, as traced by Robert Pepperell in his provocative (yet somewhat 
                                                          
25 Young, 161. (italics mine) The understanding of humanism as an ideology aimed at universally imposing 
an image of man modeled on the Modern European White Male and thus an instrument of oppression 
informed another one of Fanon’s epoch-making books, “Black Skins, White Masks” (Cf. Franz Fanon, 
Black Skins, White Masks (New York: Grove Press, 1967)) 
26 For a definition of “liberal humanism” cf. Terry Eagleton, “Conclusion: Political Criticism,” in Literary 
Theory: An Introduction (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2008), 169-189. 
18 
 
contradictory and chaotic) “Post-humanist manifesto”. Pepperell advances a vision of a 
new world order in which humans are no longer central and machines become new 
deities.27 At the same time, he propounds a very vast conception of human beings, as 
coextensive with Nature.28 A post-humanist blurring of boundaries between nature, 
humans and machines informs also Donna Haraway’s “ironic dream” of the cyborg as a 
new Adam/Eve, who “would not recognize the Garden of Eden” because it would be free 
from the myths of origin dominating “Western humanism”.29 However, some scholars 
understand “post-humanism” to be largely synonymous with “anti-humanism”, as is 
evident from the following explanation offered by Ian Chambers:  
 “To be post-humanist does not mean to renounce the human; on the contrary, it 
 announces something that is more human precisely through its attempt to exit 
 from the abstract confines and controls of a universal subject who believes that all 
 commences and concludes with such a self. To accept the idea of the post-
                                                          
27 Cf, “1. 1. It is now clear that Humans are no longer the most important things in the Universe. This is 
something the Humanists have yet to accept. 1.2. All technological progress of Human society is geared 
towards the redundancy of the Human species, as we currently know it. 1.3. In the Posthuman era many 
beliefs become redundant - not least the belief in Human Being. 1.4. Human Beings, like Gods, only exist 
in as much as we believe them to exist. […] 1.7. In the Posthuman era machines will be Gods. […]1.13. 
Complex machines are an emergent life form. 1.14. A complex machine is a machine whose workings we 
do not fully understand or control.” (cf. http://www.robertpepperell.com/Posthum/cont.htm) 
28 Cf. “2.7. Human bodies have no boundaries. 2.8. No finite division can be drawn between the 
environment, the body and the brain. The human is identifiable, but not definable. […] 2.12. First we had 
God, Humans and Nature. The Rationalists dispensed with God leaving Humans in perpetual conflict with 
Nature. The Post-Humanists dispense with Humans leaving only Nature. The distinction between God, 
Nature and Humanity does not represent any eternal truth about the human condition. It merely reflects the 
prejudices of the societies which maintained the distinction, etc.” (Ibid.) 
29 Cf. Donna Haraway, “A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist-Feminism in the Late 
Twentieth Century,” in Simians, Cyborgs and Women: The Reinvention of Nature (New York: Routledge, 
1991), 149-181. 
19 
 
 humanism means to register limits; limits that are inscribed in the locality of the 
 body, of the history, the power and the knowledge that speaks.”30 
Now, both anti-humanism and post-humanism (according to Chambers’ definition 
of it) seem to strive to overcome traditional humanism in the name of a kind of “super-
humanism”. Let me explain this by returning briefly to the opening of this chapter and 
Kristeller’s objections against calling humanistic “any kind of concern with human 
values”. It seems to me that, at present the temptation is to do the opposite, and call such 
concerns “anti-” or “post-humanistic”. In the wake of colonialism and Holocaust we are no 
longer comfortable thinking of ourselves as heirs to the legacy of humanism. If humanism 
was not able to protect us from slipping into bestiality, the suspicion arises that it itself 
must have been the very cause of inhumanity. 
Are we then morally obliged to discard it or is there a possibility of redemption? 
The most basic question that must be answered before we can weigh our chances of 
preserving some positive notion of humanism is what we mean by it. Answering this 
fundamental query, will involve addressing a number of related problems. Is there really 
such a thing as Humanism, or just various humanisms? Also, is there such a thing as a 
“humanistic outlook”, a basic nucleus of ideas shared by all the multiple incarnations of 
humanism? Finally, what is the nature of the relationship between Renaissance humanism 
and that postulated “humanistic outlook”? I suggest we begin by looking at the history of 
the term itself.     
                                                          
30 Iain Chambers, Culture after Humanism. History, Culture, Subjectivity (London-New York: Routledge, 
2001), 26. (italics mine) 
20 
 
 
The Double Genealogy of Humanism 
James Hankins in his essay on “Humanism, scholasticism, and Renaissance 
philosophy” makes a useful distinction between the two basic “families of meaning” 
coexisting in the term humanism. One set of meanings points to classical education, i.e. the 
study of ancient texts in original languages, whereas the other associates it with a certain 
philosophical outlook.31 This dichotomy is likely due to the word’s double origin. As the 
oft-repeated narrative has it, the term humanism first materialized as Humanismus in 
Germany in 1808. It was originally used by F. J. Niethammer to refer to a type of education 
emphasizing Greek and Latin classics as opposed to more practically and scientifically 
oriented training.32  
 The German Humanismus was derived from the Renaissance term humanista 
(Lat.), meaning a professor or a student of the classics. The word “humanist” in turn, comes 
from an even older notion of studia humanitatis, which in the writings of the Roman 
authors, Cicero and Aulus Gellius, and, subsequently, in those of the XIV and XV century 
                                                          
31 Cf. Hankins, 30-31. 
32 Cf. Kristeller, Renaissance Thought. The Classic, Scholastic, and Humanist Strains, 9. Niethammer’s 
focus on “humanistic education” struck a chord in the souls of educated Germans, many of whom were 
disturbed by the exclusively scientific-materialistic weltanschauung which threatened to engulf Europe. 
This felt-need for a robust humanism was expressed by one gymnasium director at Nuremberg, whom 
Niethammer had appointed in the same 1808. “If this humanistic training is done right, however, young 
people enter their profession with an indestructible sanctuary in their souls. In our modern world of 
practical specializations and complexities it is more necessary than ever that we have a concrete 
comprehension of life as organic whole.” (from a graduation day speech by G. W. F. Hegel; taken from: 
Gustav E. Mueller, Hegel. The man, his vision and work (New York: Pageant Press, Inc., 1968), 269.) 
21 
 
Italian scholars, denoted broadly understood literary studies.33 The label of 
Humanismus/humanism was then retrospectively applied to the scholarly pursuits of the 
Italian umanisti first, by Karl Hagen in “Deutschlands literarische und religiöse 
Verhältnisse im Reformationszeitalter” (1841) and then by Georg Voigt in “Die 
Wiederbelebung des Klassischen Altertums, oder das erste Jahrhundert des Humanismus” 
(1859).34  
The lesser-known part of the story is that about the time Humanismus was born in 
Germany, his French twin Humanisme had already begun teething. Unlike the German 
term, the French humanisme was originally used in a philosophical sense. It seems to have 
appeared for the first time in 1765 in the review Ephémérides du citoyen, ou Bibliothèque 
raisonnée des sciences morales et politiques, where it was suggested as a suitable name for 
“l’amour général de l’humanité”.35 In the first half of the XIX century it was used by 
Proudhon in the sense of “culte, déification de l’humanité” and by Renan, who expressed 
his conviction that humanism will be the religion of the future.36  
The term humanisme was officially recognized as a part of the French vocabulary 
in 1882 when it appeared in the Supplement to Littré. By this stage, its original 
philosophical denotation was supplemented by the “philological” one linked to its German 
                                                          
33 Studia humanitatis were articulated into 5 scholarly disciplines: grammar, rhetoric, history, poetry and 
moral philosophy, all of which were taught on the corpus of standard Latin, and some Greek texts.   
34 Cf. Vito R. Giustiniani, “Homo, Humanus and the Meanings of ‘Humanism’,” Journal of the History of 
Ideas 46.2 (1985): 172.   
35 Cf. Giustiniani, 175 n.38. It is interesting to note that in the Encyclopédie the similar idea (“un sentiment 
de bienveillance pour tous les hommes”) is given as the definition of humanité.      
36 Cf. Ibid. 
22 
 
equivalent. As a result, humanisme was defined as both the culture of humanities and as a 
philosophical theory “qui rattache les développements historiques de l’humanité à 
l’humanité elle-même”.37 Meanwhile, analogous, if inverted, process of semantic extension 
took place in Germany, where since 1840-ties the term Humanismus started acquiring 
philosophical connotations. It appeared in the philosophical sense in the writings of Arnold 
Ruge, in Karl Marx’s “Manuscripts of 1844”38, and, above all, in Ludwig Feuerbach’s 
coinage of of the term “humanistic realism”/”real humanism”.39  
The confluence of the literary and philosophical themes in the use of the term 
humanism is already present in Voigt’s “Die Wiederbelebung des Klassischen Altertums” 
(1859) for he portrays the humanists as not only a new brand of scholars, but also as a new 
breed of men, harbingers of a new, modern ethos. This is true also of Jacob Burckhardt’s 
“Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy” (1860), where the humanists are described as 
embodying the moral and philosophical outlook of the Renaissance period, including its 
unbridled individualism as well as of Jules Michelet’s “Histoire de France au seizième 
siècle: Renaissance” (1855) where the period is famously characterized as marked by the 
discovery of the world and the individual.  
From our historical vantage point we can safely claim that the interpretation of 
Renaissance humanism offered by the founders of Renaissance studies was deeply 
influenced by the philosophical attitudes of their own times. Jules Michelet, Georg Voigt 
                                                          
37 Cf. Pierre Magnard, “Nietzsche et l’humanisme,” Noesis 10 (2006): 19-27. 
38 Cf. Giustiniani, 175. 
39 Cf. Sydney Hook, “Marx and Feuerbach,” New International 3.2 (1936): 47. 
23 
 
and Jacob Burckhardt published their works respectively in 1855, 1859 and 1860, around 
the time when the philosophical content associated with the notion of humanism was 
imbued with anthropological reflections elaborated by the young Hegelians lead by 
Feuerbach with his reductionist humanism and positivists presided by Auguste Comte with 
his project of the religion de l’Humanité.40  
When Hankins distinguishes between two families of meaning associated with the 
term “humanism”, he locates the birth of “humanistic philosophy” at the beginnings of 
XIX century and associates it with the themes developed originally by Feuerbach.41 
Hankins further argues that, although philosophical humanism was taken in a number of 
different directions by its successive proponents, the essential cluster of foundational ideas 
remained unchanged:   
 “[It] reduced the divine to the human, was opposed to any sort of religious dogma 
 or revelation, and based philosophical reflection on a conception of the human 
                                                          
40 Michelet’s positivist creed finds a very eloquent expression in his Bible de l’Humanité (Cf. Jules 
Michelet, Bible de l’Humanité (Paris: Chamerot, 1864). Cf. also Nietzsche’s comments in “Human all too 
human” (1878): “The Italian Renaissance contained within it all the positive forces to which we owe 
modern culture: liberation of thought, disrespect for authorities, victory of education over the arrogance of 
ancestry, enthusiasm for science and the scientific past of mankind, unfettering of the individual, a passion 
for truthfulness and an aversion to appearance and mere effect” (Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too 
Human. A Book for Free Spirits, trans. R. J. Hollingdale, intr. Richard Schacht (Cambridge: Cambridge 
University Press, 1996), 113.) 
41 Cf. “The philosophical sense of humanism begins essentially with the “humanistic realism” of Ludwig 
Feuerbach (1804-72), but later included Marxist humanism (Antonio Gramsci), existentialist humanism 
(Jean-Paul Sartre), humanist pragmatism (F.C.S. Schiller, following William James), ethical humanism 
(Irving Babbitt), as well as “the odd brew of Enlightenment rationalism, utilitarianism, scientific 
positivism, evolutionary biology, and pragmatism” concocted by the American Humanist Association.  (Cf. 
Hankins, 31)  
24 
 
 being as a purely biological entity formed as the result of an evolutionary process, 
 without an immaterial spiritual nature”.42  
As Jean-Luc Nancy puts it in “Dis-Enclosure: The Deconstruction of Christianity”: 
“Humanism was atheism. It was its truth, its breadth, its expression, and its function”. But 
for Nancy it is a broad metaphysical point, inasmuch as he argues that Christianity was the 
religion which “offered exit from religions”. Humanism whether Christian or atheistic is 
always spelled out in terms of ontology/metaphysics, so the XIX century rejection of 
religious faith was simply about replacing one idol with another and it changed nothing in 
the way European philosophers thought of the world: 
 “Because it turned the essence of god into the essence of man, it merely imprinted 
 on the premise a pivoting or rotation on itself (a revolution?). Thus, on the one 
 hand it modified nothing in the onto-(a)-theological construction, nor could it 
 situate, on the other hand, its own form as principle in a place worthy of it: 
 ‘humanism does not think high enough the humanitas of man writes 
 Heidegger’.”43  
 Hence, we are back with Heidegger and humanism as the defining trait of Western 
thought. Heidegger, as we remember, equated “humanism” and the entirety of Western 
philosophy starting with Plato. Yet, it seems that for an average educated person a more 
natural association is that between “Western thought” and “Modern” thought: Descartes’ 
meaning-giving cogito and Bacon’s knowledge as power. Consequently, humanism as the 
                                                          
42 Hankins, 30. 
43 Nancy, 19. 
25 
 
paradigmatic expression of “Western spirit” is itself usually associated with the Modern 
Era. Tzvetan Todorov for example, rather than identifying humanism with the entirety of 
the Western tradition, leans towards equating it with European Modernity.44 In fact, the 
author stresses continuity between the Renaissance “centrality of man”, the French 
Revolution’s motto of Liberté-fraternité-égalité, Kant’s man-grounded ethics and liberal 
democracy. In his eyes, throughout this genealogy there transpires the concept of 
humankind as at one the source, the goal and the framework of every individual’s actions:  
 “The distinctive feature of modernity is constitutive of humanism: man also (and 
 not only nature or God) decides his fate. In addition, it implies that the ultimate 
 end of these acts is a human being, not superhuman entities (God, goodness, 
 justice) or infrahuman ones (pleasures, money, power). Humanism, finally, marks 
 the space in which the agents of these acts evolve: the space of all human beings 
 and of them alone.”45   
                                                          
44 Tzvetan Todorov, Imperfect Garden: The Legacy of Humanism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 
2002). 
45 Todorov, Imperfect Garden, 30. Todorov’s definition of humanism as grounded in the “autonomy of the 
I”, the “finality of the you”, and the “universality of the they” appears to be mostly informed by its 
Enlightenment component and seems to be implicitly responding to the criticisms advanced by Adorno and 
Horkheimer in their Dialectic of Enlightenment (Cf. Max Horkheimer, Theodor W. Adorno, Dialectic of 
Enlightenment (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2002). While Horkheimer and Adorno claimed that 
instead of liberating man from nature, the process of enlightenment imprisons him, Todorov (like 
Habermas) tries to distinguish between the ideological content of Enlightenment and its failure to deliver its 
own promises. He sees Enlightenment as still a valid project and considers its previous shortcomings 
(including the Holocaust) as a simple “deflection.” (Cf. “It is not only possible, but necessary to criticize 
modern ideology by means of an ideal which is not foreign to it and does not imply rejecting it out of hand. 
In order to denounce scientism, nationalism, and egocentrism, we are not obliged to renounce the principles 
that make up the humanist ideal and are inherent in the idea of democracy. Our present governments are far 
from being a perfect embodiment of the latter. Too often, they have allowed themselves to be guided by 
principles profoundly incompatible with it. If only for this reason, the humanist ideal still has a very 
promising future ahead of it.” (Tzvetan Todorov, The Deflection of the Enlightenment (Stanford: Stanford 
Humanities Center, 1989), 13) 
26 
 
Todorov’s approach towards the question of humanism is helpful in that it betrays 
some of the common habits of thought that render our understanding of humanism difficult. 
Todorov, while relying unquestioningly on the association between humanism and 
Modernity, defines the former with concepts drawn from the Enlightenment. Then, he 
assumes that humanism thus defined is identical with the Renaissance humanism. But, if 
the question of humanism is really the question of modernity, then we must look at the 
stereotypically modern notions of individuality, interiority and subjectivity46 as they were 
understood in the Renaissance.  
 
Individuality, Interiority and Subjectivity 
One of the most memorable (and most contested) claims of Jacob Burckhardt’s 
monumental “Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy” (1860) was that it was the epoch 
which made the “discovery of man” as an individual.47  
 “In the Middle Ages both sides of human consciousness - that which was turned 
 within as that which was turned without – lay dreaming or half awake beneath a 
 common veil . The veil was woven of faith, illusion, and childish prepossession, 
                                                          
46 In singling these three out for closer scrutiny I am following the lead of Robert C. Solomon, who in a 
somewhat unorthodox way begins his retelling of the story of the “rise and fall of the Self” with Rousseau’s 
discovery “of the self that he shared with all men and women the world over”. Cf. “What Rousseau 
discovered […] was the transcendental pretence. It appeared as innocence and common sense, but it 
embodied a profound arrogance that promoted self-righteousness, prohibited mutual understanding, and 
belied human diversity. Fully developed, the transcendental pretence has two central components: first, the 
remarkable inner riches and expanse of the self, ultimately encompassing everything; and secondly, the 
consequent right to project from the subjective structures of one’s own mind, and ascertain the nature of 
humanity as such.” (Robert C. Solomon, Continental Philosophy since 1750. The Rise and Fall of the Self 
(Oxford – New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 1-2)    
47 That claim was contemporaneously advanced in yet another book which became a classic, Michelet’s 
Renaissance.   
27 
 
 through which the world and history were seen clad in strange hues. Man was 
 conscious of himself only as member of a race, people, party, family, or 
 corporation – only through some general category. In Italy this veil first melted 
 into air; an objective treatment and consideration of the State and of all the things 
 of this world became possible. The subjective side at the same time asserted itself 
 with corresponding emphasis; man became spiritual individual, and recognized 
 himself as such.”48 
For Burckhardt, the Renaissance Italians were the “first-born among the sons of 
Modern Europe”49 and the leading intellectuals of the time, the humanists, were 
characterized by “an unbridled subjectivity”.50  
 Appealing though Burckhardt’s vision was,51 a dissident opinion was soon to 
emerge with scholars such as Ernest Renan, Henry Thode and Émile Gebhart linking the 
emergence of individuality with the spiritual movements of the Late Middle Ages.52 The 
idea that individuality was born in the XII rather than XIV or XV century gained wider 
                                                          
48 Jacob Burckhardt, The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy, 2 vols, trans. S.G.C. Middlemore (New 
York: Harper and Row, 1958), 143. 
49 Burckhardt, 143. 
50 Burckhardt, 274. 
51 As Cesare Vasoli observes: “L’immagine del Rinascimento delineata da Burckhardt era troppo 
suggestiva, esteticamente compiuta nella sua dimensione mitica, per non influenzare a lungo il lavoro degli 
storici e dei critici. […] I vari tentativi d’interpretazione generale del Rinascimento che furono elaborati 
dopo il 1860, si mossero sempre nella sfera delle idee e delle immagini burckhardiane, accentuando magari 
questo o quel particolare, questa o quella personalità, quando addirittura non esasperarono fino all’estremo 
quei caratteri della civiltà rinascimentale già tracciati con assi maggior maestria ed equilibrio estético.” 
(Cesare Vasoli, Umanesimo e Rinascimento (Palermo: Palumbo 1969), 131.)   
52 Cf. Henry Thode, Franz von Assisi und die Anfänge der Kunst der Renaissance in Italien (Berlin: G. 
Grotesche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1904); Ernest Renan, Joachim de Flore et l'évangile éternel (Paris: 
Calmann Lévy, 1884); Émile Gebhart, L’Italie mystique. Histoire de la Renaissance religieuse au Moyen 
Âge (Paris : Librairie Hachette, 1890). 
28 
 
currency in the period between the two World Wars thanks to the works of a group of 
distinguished medievalists among whom Charles Homer Haskins53, Johan Huizinga54 and 
Étienne Gilson55 and it was restated more recently in Colin Morris’ “The Discovery of the 
Individual, 1050-1200” (1972).56  
And yet, even though the idea of the “Renaissance individual” lost a lot of its 
original vitality with the demise of its shadowy double (that of the cowed and insipid 
“Medieval man”), the prevalent opinion seems to be that there indeed was something new 
about the self-consciousness of the XV century man of culture. As Federico Chabod rightly 
put it, the question is not so much whether the Medieval and the Renaissance people shared 
similar emotions and acted in comparable ways, but whether, on a meta-level, they also 
reflected on their life situations in an analogous fashion.57 The answer to this query seems 
to be that there was a qualitative difference, and even a critic as unsympathetic to any 
simplistic notions of Renaissance individualism as Greenblatt, agrees that this period is, 
nonetheless, the founding moment of the modern sense of the self.58       
                                                          
53 Cf. Charles Homer Haskins, The Renaissance of the Twelfth Century (Harvard University Press, 1927). 
54 Cf. Johan Huizinga, Herfsttij der Middeleeuwen (Haarlem, H.D. Tjeenk Willink & Zoon, 1928). 
55 Cf. Étienne Gilson, Humanisme médiéval et Renaissance, Les Idées et les Lettres (Paris: Vrin, 1932). 
56 Colin Morris, The Discovery of the Individual, 1050-1200 (University of Toronto, 2004). 
57 Cf. Federico Chabod, “Il Rinascimento”, Studi sul Rinascimento (Torino: Einaudi, 1967), 75-85. 
58 Cf. Greenblatt on the parallels between the “anxieties and contradictions” of the Renaissance and those 
of our own period: “We continue to see in the Renaissance the shaping of crucial aspects of our sense of 
self and society and the natural world […] We sense too that we are situated at the close of the cultural 
movement initiated in the Renaissance and that the places in which our social and psychological world 
seems to be cracking apart are those structural joints visible when it was first constructed. […] To 
experience Renaissance culture is to feel what it was like to form our own identity, and we are at once more 
rooted and more estranged by the experience.” (Stephen Greenblatt, Renaissance Self-Fashioning. From 
More to Shakespeare (Chicago - London: The University of Chicago Press, 2005), 174-175). 
29 
 
Petrarca and Montaigne, with their unabashed egocentrism and penchant for self-
scrutiny are often viewed as paradigmatic examples of that new, modern self-
consciousness. And yet it cannot be claimed that self-analysis was a defining feature of 
modernity. Introspection was known to humanity well before these two men turned their 
gaze inwards. Charles Taylor sees important strides towards the modern sense of selfhood 
first in the Platonic “centering or unification of the moral self”59 and secondly in 
Augustine’s conceptualization of interiority. Augustine’s famous motto “noli foras ire, in 
te ipsum redi; in interiore homine habitat veritas” points to self-scrutiny as prerequisite for 
the knowledge of what surpasses the individual and even the human. His introspection is 
not a narcissistic exercise, but an act of piety for it is the pathway towards the divine. 
Augustine’s belief that one has to turn inwards to search for the truth paves the way for the 
radical epistemological formulations of Descartes.60  
For Taylor Augustine is the crucial link between Plato and Descartes. Yet, Ernst 
Cassirer sees in the Renaissance philosophy a decisive step towards the XVII century 
formulations of “subject-object problem”.61 According to him, virtually all the various 
branches of Renaissance thought contributed to “loosen up [...] the earth out of which will 
come forth the new, specifically modern view of the relationship of ‘subject’ and 
‘object’”.62 That granted, there is a substantial difference between the Renaissance 
                                                          
59 Charles Taylor, Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge: Cambridge 
University Press, 2006), 120.  
60 Cf. “Augustine was the first to make the first-person standpoint fundamental to our search for the truth” 
(Taylor, Sources of the Self, 133) 
61 Cf. Ernst Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos in Renaissance Philosophy, trans. Mario Domandi 
(New York: Harper and Row, 1963). 
62 Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos, 123-124. 
30 
 
epistemology and the Cartesian Cogito. In fact, Cassirer is quite emphatic about the 
unresolved dialectic inherent in the Renaissance man’s relationship with the cosmos:     
 “Man, the Ego, appears to the universe, the world, at once as the enclosing and 
 the enclosed. Both determinations are equally indispensable to express his 
 relationship to the cosmos. And thus a continuous mutual reaction and a 
 continuous interaction takes place between them, […] Like Goethe’s Ganymede, 
 the man of the Renaissance confronts the divinity and the infinite universe as both 
 ‘captor and captive’. The philosophy of the Renaissance never resolved the 
 dialectical antinomy that is enclosed in this double relationship.”63 
A view close to Cassirer’s in that it recognizes the novelty of the Renaissance 
individual’s altered stance with respect to the realm “without” while at the same time 
acknowledging elements of continuity with previous modes of thinking is that of Louis 
Dupré: 
 “The creative impulse of the Renaissance changed the relation to nature. The 
 artist completed and corrected nature, yet he never ceased to consider himself an 
 integral part of it. His attitude, unlike that of later thought, was not that of a 
 subject opposed to a cosmos to which it conveys its entire meaning and value. 
 […] What for early humanists and Renaissance artists had been a constructive 
 dialectical tension turned into an opposition between mind and nature. This 
                                                          
63 Cassirer, 190-191. 
31 
 
 reversal occurred in the philosophy of the seventeenth century when mind alone 
 became the source of meaning.”64   
Cassirer and Dupré both underscore the ambiguity of Renaissance reflection on the 
relationship between man as a creative and thinking subject and the realm of objectivity, 
cosmos, Nature. They either see the Renaissance as the birthplace of duality (Cassirer) or 
as the historical moment that further deepened the original split already present in medieval 
nominalist thinking (Dupré). While Cassirer’s analysis rests on the philosophical 
investigations into the thoughts of a group of thinkers whom he considers spokesmen of 
the entire period, Dupré’s tries to find a broader base in considering more fully aspects of 
Renaissance art and literature. Their Renaissance is the harbinger of the new modes of 
thinking that fully asserted themselves in the XVII century, yet it falls short of embracing 
a properly modern standpoint, because, as Cassirer puts it, human mind is with relation to 
the alterity of the world both captor and captive. 
 
Renaissance Humanism and Philosophy 
Now, Cassirer’s project of finding textual “proofs” for the role of the Renaissance 
as the source of modern ways of thinking, even though it purports to give substance to the 
still predominant association between humanism and modernity, is not very popular among 
Renaissance scholars. In fact, Renaissance specialists still struggle with the very notion of 
humanism as endowed with a coherent philosophical content. This brings us back, to Paul 
                                                          
64 Louis Dupré, Passage to Modernity. An Essay in the Hermeneutics of Nature and Culture (New Haven – 
London: Yale University Press, 1993), 50.  
32 
 
Oskar Kristeller and his censures. Kristellers’ argument for a narrower definition of 
humanism was based on his conviction that what we came to think of as Renaissance 
culture, though deeply influenced and transformed by the humanists, was rich also in 
strands which are hardly reducible to humanism.65 His refusal to think of humanism as a 
Renaissance weltanschauung tout court was clearly linked to his interpretation of it as an 
education ideal:  
 “Renaissance humanism was not as such a philosophical tendency or system, but 
 rather a cultural and educational program which emphasized and developed an 
 important but limited area of studies. This area had for its center a group of 
 subjects that was concerned essentially neither with the classics nor with 
 philosophy, but might be roughly described as literature.”66  
Eugenio Garin, another giant of Renaissance scholarship of the past century and 
Krsisteller’s perennial, if amiable, opponent, dismisses the latter’s caution that humanism 
should not be confused with “the philosophy, the science, or the learning of the period as 
a whole”.67 The Italian scholar, more in line with the traditional interpretations of the 
period, argued for humanism’s crucial role in shaping the intellectual and cultural 
panorama of the Renaissance in its entirety: 
 “it would be completely erroneous to reduce this development of western 
 civilization to a collection of libraries of ancient texts offered to the thinkers by 
                                                          
65 Cf. for instance Kristeller, Renaissance Thought: The Classic, Scholastic and Humanist Strains. 
66 Kristeller, Renaissance Thought: The Classic, Scholastic and Humanist Strains, 10.  
67 Ibid. 
33 
 
 “grammarians”. The real change was a change in intellectual attitude. […] The 
 expositions of the grammarians about the language of ancient texts began to 
 involve all other texts and all other languages, i.e. institutions, habits, norms, 
 procedures in logic and visions of the world. They developed an unprejudiced 
 method of criticism, which took a variety of forms and affected all fields of 
 human activity […]”68  
The general outlines of Garin’s position were not very different from Cassirer’s. 
The scholar believed, as did Cassirer, Burckhardt and Michelet before him, that the 
Renaissance had been no more and no less than the first chapter in the history of Modern 
science and philosophy. Yet Garin’s reasons for holding that Renaissance humanism was 
a departure from previous modes of thinking were very different from Cassirer’s. While 
Cassirer focused on the highly abstract problem of the relationship between subject and 
object in the Renaissance philosophers; for Garin, it was the philological methods of the 
humanists that rose to the rank of the essence of a new philosophy.69  
In a way, Kristeller’s own position can be considered as occupying a middle ground 
between Cassirer’s focus on systematic thought and Garin’s privileging of the “philological 
method”. While he defined humanism in terms of a cultural and literary movement, he did 
not claim that it had no philosophical import whatsoever. In fact, the German scholar 
admited that, even though humanism was not philosophical “in its substance”, it 
                                                          
68 Garin, Science and civic life in the Italian Renaissance, IX-XI.   
69 Cf. “è precisamente quell’attegiamento ‘filologico’ che, come aveva ben visto una storiografia oggi 
troppo facilmente disprezzata, costituisce appunto la nuova ‘filosofia’, ossia il nuovo metodo di prospettarsi 
i problemi, che non va considerato dunque, come taluno crede, accanto alla filosofia tradizionale, come un 
aspetto secondario della cultura rinascimentale, ma proprio effettivo filosofare.” (Eugenio Garin, 
L’umanesimo italiano. Filosofia e vita civile nel rinascimento (Bari: Editori Laterza, 1986), 11.) 
34 
 
nevertheless had some “important philosophical implications and consequences”. The 
writings of humanists might have lacked systematized philosophical doctrine, but they all 
expressed a “belief in the value of man and the humanities and in the revival of ancient 
learning”.70 Indeed, while Kristeller considered the humanists’ achievements in speculative 
philosophy to be negligible71 (due their self-avowed lack of interest in metaphysics) he 
nevertheless believed that they all had a considerable interest in ethics.     
Let us briefly consider some of the famous “programmatic statements” contained 
in writings of the early Italian humanists. Petrarca, the eternal school-boy and truth seeker72 
was notorious for his aversion towards the professional philosophers of his times (i.e the 
late scholastics, especially Latin Averroists) and, like Montaigne after him, doubted that 
metaphysical questions can be settled on the basis of reason alone. In On his own ignorance 
and that of many others he charges his opponents with impiety and states his preference 
for the name of a “Christian” over that of a “philosopher”.73 The Aristotelians are mistaken 
trying to pry the “secrets of nature and the mysteries of God” for such metaphysical 
                                                          
70 Kristeller, Renaissance Thought: The Classic, Scholastic and Humanist Strains, 22.   
71 That claim is being made of course about literary figures, not professional philosophers such as Ficino, 
Pico della Mirandola or Pomponazzi. While Kristeller dismissed the philosophical significance of 
humanism, he did have an interest in Renaissance philosophy, as embodied in Renaissance Platonism and 
Renaissance Aristotelianism.   
72 Cf. the endearing self-portrayal from the letter to Francesco Bruni (Sen I,6 [5]): “I am a fellow who never 
quits school, and not even that, but a backwoodsman who is roaming around through the lofty beech trees 
all alone, humming to himself some silly little tune, and – the very peak of presumption and assurance – 
dipping his shaky pen into his inkstand while sitting under a bitter laurel tree. I am not so fortunate in what 
I achieve as passionate in my work, being much more a lover of learning than a man who has got much of 
it. I am not so very eager to belong to a definite school of thought; I am striving for truth.” (taken from: 
Ernst Cassirer, P.O. Kristeller; John Herman Randall (eds.), The Renaissance Philosophy of Man (Chicago: 
The University of Chicago Press, 1948), 34). 
73 Cf. “Let them certainly be philosophers and Aristotelians, though they are neither, but let them be both: I 
do not envy them these brilliant names of which they boast, and even that wrongly. In return they ought not 
to envy me the humble and true name of Christian and Catholic.” (Petrarca “On his own ignorance and that 
of many others,” in The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, 76). 
35 
 
questions are to be accepted on faith and on the authority of Revelation, as handed down 
by the Church. The essence of philosophy for Petrarca is not metaphysics, but rather ars 
bene beateque vivendi, to use Cicero’s expression, i.e. moral philosophy. Furthermore, he 
believes in the close relationship of that discipline with rhetoric: dry and abstract 
disquisitions on virtue cannot move hearts to embrace it, and knowledge of morals is 
useless if it is not translated into practice:          
 “What is the use of knowing what virtue is if it is not loved when known? What is 
 the use of knowing sin if it is not abhorred when it is known? […] However, 
 everyone who has become thoroughly familiar with one of our Latin authors 
 knows that they stamp and drive deep into the heart the sharpest and most ardent 
 stings of speech, by which the lazy are startled […] and those who stick to the 
 ground lifted up to the highest thoughts and to honest desire.”74  
Petrarca was persuaded that the study of the classics bore true spiritual benefits. 
Literary pursuits in Petrarca’s eyes were not merely an abstract exercise in erudition, a goal 
in itself, but rather they were meant to result in the formation of a desirable human being. 
One finds a very similar conviction in the famous letter of Poggio Bracciolini to Niccolò 
de' Niccoli: 
 “Sed ego mi Nicolae, paulo tepidior factus sum in hac cura perquirendi novos 
 libros. Tempus esset iam de somno surgere ac danda opera, ut aliquid mihi 
 prodessent ad vitam et mores illi quos habemus et quos quotidie legimus. Nam 
                                                          
74 Petrarca, “On his own ignorance and that of many others”, 104.  
36 
 
 congregare semper ligna, lapides, coementa, stultissimum videri potest, si nihil 
 eadifices ex illis.”75     
According to Poggio, the study of the classics must be conducive towards the 
ethical goal of a “good life”. It has to be useful, yet not according to some material criteria, 
as it became later for the Enlightenment philosophes.76 The usefulness of the studia 
humanitatis is measured in terms of moral and spiritual excellence which they are believed 
to engender. In fact, the role of classical studies is to render man more “humane”, i.e. to 
chisel and form his character. The same idea transpires in the famous letter on the merits 
of humanist education which Leonardo Bruni addressed to one of his young friends: 
 “Licet enim iuris civilis studium vendibilius sit, utilitate et dignitate longe ab 
 iustis studiis superatur. Nam studia quidem ista ad faciendum virum bonum tota 
 contendunt, quo nihil utilius excogitari potest.”77 
 The complex interplay between the scholarly and the ethical dimensions of the 
Renaissance humanistic ideal can perhaps best be glimpsed in the letter from Marsilio 
                                                          
75 “I am however, dear Niccolò, growing a bit weary of that constant search for new books. The time has 
come for me to wake up and put to some use in my life those principles of which we daily read. Indeed, 
constant collecting of wood, stones and cement would seem rather silly, if one was not to build anything 
with all that material.”[translation mine] (Eugenio Garin (ed.), Il Rinascimento italiano (Milano: Istituto 
per gli studi di política internazionale, 1941), 70-71.) 
76 Cf. for instance Diderot’s discussion of usefulness in the article Art in the Encyclopédie, where a useful 
man is defined as one that with his labor produces useful goods. It has been argued however, that there are 
important links between humanist culture and western pragmatism. Cf. Jerry H. Bentley, “Renaissance 
Culture and Western Pragmatism in Early Modern Times,” in Humanity and Divinity in Renaissance and 
Reformation. Essays in honor of Charles Trinkaus, ed. John W. O'Malley, Thomas M. Izbicki and Gerald 
Christianson (E. J. Brill: Leiden, 1993), 35-52. 
77 “Although the study of civil law is more marketable, it is by far surpassed in utility and dignity by 
literary studies. It is so, because the latter aim at making a good man, which is the most useful thing than 
can be thought.” [translation mine] (Leonardo Bruni, “Epistola de studiis humanitatis,” in Il Rinascimento 
italiano, 115).          
37 
 
Ficino to Tommaso Minerbetti, in which the word “humanitas” appears in its triple 
meaning to refer to “charity/philanthropy”, “human race”, and “humanities”.78 The co-
existence of all these meanings of the term humanitas illustrates how deeply rooted in the 
language itself was the humanistic belief in the connection between the literary studies, the 
insight about the fundamental unity of all humankind and the moral uprightness of properly 
(i.e. humanistically) educated individuals. In fact, the three denotations of Ficino’s 
humanitas point towards the ethical dimension of studium as the source of charitable deeds:        
 “Singuli namque homines sub una idea et in eadem specie sunt unus homo. Ob 
 hanc, ut arbitor, rationem sapientes solam illam ex omni virtutum numero hominis 
 ipsius nomine, id est humanitatem, appellaverunt, que omnes homines 
 quodammodo ceu fratres ex uno quondam patre longo ordine natos diligit atque 
 curat. Ergo vir humanissime, in officis humanitatis persevera: nihil Deo gratius 
 quam charitas, nullum certius aut dementiae inditium aut miseriae portentum 
 quam crudelitas. Persevera etiam in familiaritate Caroli Valgulii Brixiensis nostri: 
 est enim vir humanitate humanitatisque studiis tam Grecis quam Latinis excellens. 
 Vale.”79      
                                                          
78 Cf. Stéphane Toussaint, Humanismes/Antihumanismes. De Ficin à Heidegger. T. 1 Humanitas et 
rentabilité (Paris: Les Bellrs Lettres, 2008), 54-55.   
79 Marsilio Ficino, “De humanitate”, Epistolarum familiarum liber 1, ed. Sebastiano Gentile (Firenze: 
Olschki, 1990), 107. « Car les hommes individuels sont un seul homme sous une seule idée et dans une 
même espèce. C’est pourquoi, comme je pense, les sages n’ont nommé d’après l’homme lui-même qu’une 
seule d’entre toutes les vertus et c’est l’humanité, qui aime et prend soin de tous les hommes comme des 
frères nés d’un seul père dans une longue descendance. Donc, homme très humain, persévère au service de 
l’humanité (in officis humanitatis): rien n’est plus agréable à Dieu que la charité, il n’y pas de signe plus 
certain de démence ou de présage de malheur que la cruauté. Persévère aussi dans la familiarité de notre 
Carlo Valguli de Brescia: c’est un homme qui excelle dans l’humanité comme dans les humanités grecques 
et latines. Salut. » (French translation of Stéphane Toussaint: Toussaint, Humanismes/Antihumanismes, 54 
no. 13) 
38 
 
 It seems to me that the above examples illustrate some very important aspects of 
Renaissance humanism’s “philosophy”. Toussaint spoke of the connection that the 
humanists drew between literary studies, the feeling of solidarity with other human beings 
and charity. I suggest organizing the humanist’s “platform” under the following rubrics: 1) 
the belief that there are commonalities to human nature that can be better understood via 
literacy and reading. 2) the belief that literacy should shape character 3) the belief that 
human beings are communitarian creatures, whose very condition is to be with the others 
and for the others.  
 The readings that the early humanists would recommend to expand their students’ 
understanding of human nature were, what we would call today, classics. From our point 
of view, this might seem restrictive, but it was not so for the XIV and XV century readers. 
In fact, the emphasis on the classic was a result of an extension of the canon, so to speak. 
New books were being discovered and read avidly, opening up new horizons and teaching 
that while human nature is identical across centuries, human customs and institutions are 
not. There was no notion of circumscribing the area from which the new books should 
come – the idea was rather to absorb as many diverse sources as possible, as we witness in 
the intellectual attitude of one of the protagonists of this dissertation: Giovanni Pico. It 
must have been the same desire to expand horizons through literacy that inspired Peter 
Martyr (Pietro Martire), an Italian humanist at the service of the Spanish Crown and one 
of the first sources of information about America for the European reading public. Yet 
arguably, the desire to write about the New World produced some mixed results.  
 
39 
 
Humanism and the Renaissance Travel Literature 
 According to one important trend in travel writing criticism, the bookish culture of 
the Renaissance writers was a serious impediment to an accurate perception of the New 
World:                
 “In some respects the Renaissance involved, at least in its earlier stages, a closing 
 rather than an opening of the mind. The veneration of antiquity became more 
 slavish; authority staked fresh claims against experience. Both the boundaries and 
 the content of traditional disciplines such as cosmography or social philosophy 
 had been clearly determined by reference to the texts of classical antiquity, which 
 acquired an extra degree of definitiveness when for the first time they were fixed 
 on the printed page. Fresh information from alien sources was therefore liable to 
 seem at worst incredible, at best irrelevant, when set against the accumulated 
 knowledge of the centuries.”80  
J.H. Elliott, the author of these remarks further states that very often, humanist 
authors used the narratives about the New World instrumentally: to implicitly criticize the 
Old one. In order to do that, they were projecting onto America an idyllic picture, for the 
most part drawn from Greek and Roman Antiquity.81 As a result, one reads about Indian 
caciques, who make speeches that seem to have been taken straight from Livy. (Elliott 
mentions in that context Peréz de Oliva’s Historia de la Invención de las Yndias, but this 
                                                          
80 John Huxtable Elliott, The Old World and the New (1492-1650) (Cambridge: Cambridge University 
Press, 1970), 15-16. 
81 “The humanists […] projected onto America their disappointed dreams. In the Decades of Peter Martyr, 
the first popularizer of America and its myth, the Indies have already undergone their subtle transmutation. 
[…] It was an idyllic picture, and the humanists made the most of it, for it enabled them to express their 
deep dissatisfaction with European society, and to criticize it by implication. ” (Elliott, 26) 
40 
 
remark might as well apply to the famous harangue Peter Martyr puts in the mouth of an 
old Indian chief in the 3rd book of the First Decade of his De Orbe Novo82). According to 
this line of criticism, by thinking “through” the European imagery acquired in the process 
of reading the classics, the humanists were virtually unable to perceive the radical otherness 
of American civilization.  
Walter Mignolo gives Elliott’s basic thesis a different twist, by underscoring the 
humanist dependence on the classical models not so much for the imagery, as for the 
“conceptualization of discursive types”.83 He claims that the European historiographers 
who appointed themselves to write the histories of what they believed to be “nations 
without history”, while trying to “give” the Ameridians their past, in fact, dispossessed 
them of it. The Argentinean scholar targets above all the humanist authors who undertook 
to reconfigure the Amerindian non-alphabetic systems of record-keeping to fit European 
presuppositions as regards historiography’s ineluctable ties with alphabetic writing84. 
 Moreover, quite apart from reliance on classical models for either content or form, 
(which arguably, was more predominant in elite authors) all travel writers were subject to 
the general tendency of the human mind to interpret the new data on the basis of already 
                                                          
82 Cf. “It is reported to us that you have visited all these countries, which were formerly unknown to you, 
and have inspired the inhabitants with great fear. Now I tell and warn you, since you should know this, that 
the soul, when it quits the body, follows one of two courses; the first is dark and dreadful, and is reserved 
for the enemies and the tyrants of the human race; joyous and delectable is the second, which is reserved 
for those who during their lives have promoted the peace and tranquility of others. If therefore you are a 
mortal, and believe that each one will meet the fate he deserves, you will harm no one.” (Peter Martyr 
d’Anghiera, De Orbe Novo, trans. Francis MacNutt (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1912), 102) 
Incidentally, Rubiés proved that this speech has been based on Columbus’s own account of that encounter 
and, consequently, the most one could accuse Matrire of, is to have relied on the classical tradition for the 
rhetorical flair, not for the content. (Cf. Rubiés, “Travel writing and Humanistic Culture”, 161) 
83 Walter Mignolo, The Darker Side of the Renaissance: Literacy, Territoriality, and Colonization (Ann 
Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1995), 140. 
84 Cf. Mignolo, 125-169. 
41 
 
acquired notions. In fact the need to “fall back on the familiar object and the standard 
image, in order to come to terms with the shock of the unfamiliar”85 is felt by any outside 
observer, regardless of how much they have read. Anthony Pagden explains this perceptive 
disability through the notion of the “principle of attachment”:    
 “culturally foreign practices are made understandable by supplying them with 
 explanations which would work for similar actions performed by the Europeans. 
 The practice of “attaching” interpretations which make sense for the European 
 observer to otherwise incomprehensible aspects of native culture result in an act 
 of recognition of the Amerindians as fellow human beings. Needless to say, such 
 “reading” of indigenous practices is always performed at the expense of detaching 
 them from their original framework and “re-locating” them “in a context which 
 would have made them unintelligible to their original actors.”86  
 Furthermore, the “re-location” into a foreign context is accompanied, according to 
Pagden, by the act of dispossessing the original holders of the perceived/apprehended 
cultural practices. “Having made the attachment, we name the unknown for the known. 
Having named, we have recognized and, having recognized, we have also taken 
possession”87 states the author. On a more positive note, such cultural translations allowed 
                                                          
85 Elliott, 21.  
86 Anthony Pagden, European Encounters with the New World. From Renaissance to Romanticism (New 
Haven: Yale University Press, 1993), 21.   
87 Padgen, 26. In fact, the process of perceiving (which fits the observed reality into a pre-existent 
conceptual framework) and its immediate corollary: re-naming in the perceiver’s language has been linked 
with aggressive possessiveness also by Stephen Greenblatt: “The founding action of Christian imperialism 
is a christening. Such a christening entails the cancellation of the native name – the erasure of the alien, 
perhaps demonic, identity – and hence a kind of making anew; it’s at once an exorcism, an appropriation, 
and a gift [from God]. Christening then is the culminating instance of the marvelous speech act: in the 
wonder of the proper name, the movement from ignorance to knowledge, the taking of possession, the 
42 
 
the Europeans to recognize the humanity of the natives and were conducive to more 
humanitarian attitudes. Yet, this partial recognition seems to have stemmed from the same 
fundamental refusal to acknowledge true difference as gave rise to utter rejection. 
According to Todorov both attitudes coexisted in Columbus, who either:   
 “conceives the Indians (though without using these words) as human beings 
 altogether, having the same rights as himself; but then he sees them not only as 
 equal, but also as identical, and this behavior leads to assimilationism, the 
 projection of his own values on the others. Or else he starts from the difference, 
 but the latter is immediately translated into terms of superiority and inferiority (in 
 his case, obviously, it is the Indians who are inferior). What is denied is the 
 existence of a human substance truly other, something capable of being not 
 merely an imperfect state of oneself.”88  
 Todorov asks himself how Columbus could have fathered both the myth of the 
Indian as noble savage and its apparent opposite, the myth of Indians as “dirty dogs” and 
concludes that they are two sides of the same coin. According to the author both these 
myths rest on the same fundamental failure to recognize the radical otherness of the Indians 
and “the refusal to admit them as a subject having the same rights as oneself, but 
                                                          
conferral of identity are fused in a moment of pure linguistic formalism” (Stephen Greenblatt, Marvelous 
Possessions: The Wonder of the New World (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 83). 
Greenblatt’s association between the act of naming and taking possession exposes the use of the rhetoric of 
the marvelous as both failure to respond properly to alterity (even though, at first sight, marvel seems to 
indicate precisely a recognition of otherness) and as a strategy for appropriation. 
88 Tzvetan Todorov, The Conquest of America: The Question of the Other (New York: Harper Collins, 
1992), 42. 
43 
 
different.”89 Columbus is torn between his role as the Evangelizer (Cristoforo = the Christ 
Bearer) of the Indians and that of a man of business90, but both types of concern seem to 
leave him blind to the New World alterity.  
 Some scholars believe that the two discourses coexisting in the Discoverer, later on 
split into two separate currents of Americanist literature: the humanist/secular and imperial 
one (of authors like López de Gómara, Fernández de Oviedo y Valdés or Ginés de 
Sepúlveda) and the religiously-inspired one (of Bartolomé de las Casas or Francisco de 
Vitoria).91 Claudia Alvarez considers the second current to be an important subtext of Early 
Modernity, a true “‘counterdiscourse of domination’, a self-critical and self-reflexive 
conscience that questions modernity’s totalizing impulse.”92 For Pagden and Todorov the 
more humanitarian approaches of the missionaries and the scholastic lawyers are only 
                                                          
89 Todorov, The Conquest of America, 49. 
90 This conflict between two systems of values, incarnated in Colombus’s often contradictory remarks 
about the natives epitomizes the entire conflicted nature of Spanish conquest as historically situated in a 
transitional period between the religiously-oriented Middle Ages and the modern period which places the 
greatest value on material goods. (Cf. Todorov, The Conquest of America, 42)  
91 Cf. Joan-Pau Rubiés, “Travel Writing and Humanistic Culture”, 165. This division is however only 
roughly accurate: it seems to be applicable only to the Spanish authors and even then with some caution. 
For example, it seems doubtful that this scheme could accommodate narratives such as Cieza de León’s or 
Inca Gracilaso’s, who, while accepting the providential dimension of the discovery, praise highly the native 
cultural achievements and denounce the Spanish atrocities. Rubiés suggests that perhaps these authors 
could best be described as Christian humanists. (Cf. ibid.)     
92 Claudia Alvarez, Humanism after Colonialism (Oxford-Bern-Bruxelles-Frankfurt am Main-New York-
Wien: Peter Lang, 2006), 59-60. Alvarez further contrasts the Early Modern uneasy conscience with regard 
to colonization and slavery with the properly Modern attitudes of the 17th century colonialism: “Spain’s 
preoccupation with justifying its colonization of the Americas on a legal basis, emphasizing the necessity 
of papal approbation for any step taken in the colonial enterprise, reflected an attempt to incorporate a new, 
market-oriented system into an existent medieval scholastic conceptual framework of alterity. The fact that 
no other nation felt subsequently compelled to justify either its bid to colonize or its reliance on slavery 
reveals a gradual naturalization of the link between skin color and slave status, which was to characterize 
seventeenth-century racial ideology” (Alvarez, 61)  
44 
 
another aspect of the same agenda: in both cases alterity is subjected to violence (either 
physical or epistemic). 
 Personally, I find the most complete and compelling criticism of the role of 
humanism in colonialism and imperialism the one formulated by Mignolo. As already 
mentioned, Mignolo blamed the humanist fetishistic approach to alphabetical writing for 
the tendency to dismiss as irrelevant the alternative means pre-Columbian societies used 
to foster a sense of their own identity. With the weapon of the written word, the European 
self-appointed “experts” on the Amerindian peoples overtook control over the native 
meanings and dispossessed the indigenous of their subjectivity. Literacy, according to 
Mignolo acted as an instrument of violence and a means of centralization and control at 
the service of the emerging European empires. 
 In Mignolo’s interpretation, the European man’s pretense to be an authority on the 
New World found a natural extension in the authorship of books that aspired to be 
“definitive” on the subject of the indigenous cultures as well as in the actual political 
authority over the subjugated native.93 In this perspective of a radical distrust towards “the 
letter”, any writing that purported to tell about America according to the “discursive 
modes” of Europe was a violation of alterity and the humanist dream of expanding the 
horizons of humanity through writing was distorted into a tool of violence.  
                                                          
93 The interplay between “authority” in the sense of expertise/knowledge and “authority” in the sense of 
political governorship is a leading theme in Stephen Greenblatt’s Marvelous Possessions. Analyzing one of 
the entries in Columbus’ 1492 diary, Greenblatt remarks on the easiness with which its author passes from 
admitting ignorance to claiming authority. Cf. “I am fascinated by the move, here as elsewhere, from 
knowing nothing (‘they did not understand me nor I them’) to imagining an absolute possession (‘the whole 
island was at my command’).” (Greenblatt, Marvelous possessions, 13) 
45 
 
 Mignolo’s criticism of Renaissance non-indigenous “Americanist” literature is 
built on the premise that alphabetical writing was invariably at the service of a self-
possessed and self-confident European ego, convinced of being “the measure of all things” 
to use Protagoras’ famous adage. In the following chapters, I will strive to show that the 
humanist idea of selfhood is essentially relational, always presupposing an Other as the 
grounding and foundation for one’s sense of self-identity. Moreover, I hope to illustrate 
that the confident self-possession of the humanistic individuals writing on the New World, 
especially within the genre of autobiography, is a myth fuelled by well-meant, but 
fundamentally one-sided readings. 
 
46 
 
 
CHAPTER III 
 GIOVANNI PICO DELLA MIRANDOLA: THE SELF AS THE IMAGELESS 
IMAGE OF GOD 
  
 For Burckhardt, Pico della Mirandola’s Oratio represents the clearest expression of 
the Renaissance thought of man, indeed “one of the noblest bequests of that great age”94. 
Ernst Cassirer agrees with Burckhardt that “it summarizes with grand simplicity and in 
pregnant form the whole intent of the Renaissance”, claiming moreover that it represents 
the epoch’s “entire concept of knowledge.”95 Eugenio Garin, for his part, not only hails it 
as the “manifesto of the Renaissance”96, but believes its significance to be on a par with 
Bacon’s Novum Organum and Descartes’ Discourse on Method97. As well as being the 
most anthologized and the best-known piece of Renaissance writing, it is commonly held 
to be “characteristic of its author and its time”98. In fact, one is sometimes under the 
                                                          
94 Burckhardt, 351-352. 
95 Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos, 86. 
96 Eugenio Garin, “Introduzione.” in Pico della Mirandola, De hominis dignitate. Heptaplus. De ente et 
uno, ed. Eugenio Garin (Vellecchi: Firenze, 1942), 23.  
97 Cf. “Del resto alla fine del 400, e in uno scritto che può collocarsi accanto al ‘Discorso del Metodo’ e al 
‘Novum Organum’, Giovanni Pico determinava con molta precisione la portata sovvertitrice della nuova 
immagine dell’uomo, che faceva consistere appunto nella sua indipendenza da ogni specie e forma 
predeterminata, quasi sporgente oltre il mondo delle forme, signore non solo della propia forma, ma, 
attraverso l’opera magica, di tutto il mondo delle forme, che può combinare, trasformare, rinnovare.” 
(Eugenio Garin “Interpretazioni del Rinascimento,” in Medioevo e Rinascimento. Studi e ricerche (Laterza: 
Bari, 1965), 99-100.  
98 The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, 217.  
47 
 
impression that the work’s standing as the key to our understanding of Renaissance 
humanism often locks the two into a hermeneutic circle in which one is interpreted in light 
of the other and vice versa. In accordance with this quasi-metonymic logic, Oratio is 
claimed as a proof of Renaissance modernity99 while the latter serves as a guide and a 
starting point underlying many a reading of Pico’s text.         
 In view of Oratio’s standing as the most perfect incarnation of the Renaissance 
humanist spirit, it is somewhat ironic that its very credentials as a piece of humanistic 
writing are somewhat debatable. Notably, William B. Craven draws a parallel between 
Oratio (especially its first part) and Pico’s letter to Ermolao Barbaro which is often 
interpreted as a statement of Pico’s preference for philosophy over rhetoric100. According 
to that scholar, in both instances Pico turns his humanistic eloquence to the defense of its 
very rival: the academic philosophy. Even though Oratio, unlike the letter to Barbaro, is 
not a polemic, “there are grounds for calling it an anti-rhetorical, anti-humanist 
document.”101 Craven’s skepticism as to Pico’s humanistic credentials echoes similar 
                                                          
99 A case in point is the way Garin uses parts of God’s celebrated address to man from Oratio as the chief 
support of his interpretation of Renaisance culture as marked by anxiety of indetermination and 
directionlessness: “[U]n configurarsi tutto nuovo dei rapport fra l’uomo e la realtà ultima, fra l’uomo e le 
cose, fra l’uomo e le istituzioni umane […] indicano, soprattutto, se si guardi a fondo, la fine di una 
sicurezza, la nascita di una ricerca tormentata, in una direzione ancora non chiara, proprio perché la 
rivendicata figura dell’uomo ‘libero’ si poneva al limite della distruzione di ogni direzione, di ogni forma 
predeterminata: ‘tu che non sei cittadino né del cielo né della terra, che non sei immortale né soggetto alla 
morte; tu, di te stesso quasi libero e sovrano artefice , plasmati e scolpisciti nella forma che vuoi.’” (Garin, 
Interpretazioni del Rinascimento, 91) 
100 This interpretation of the Letter to Barbaro is by no means conclusive. Suffice it to say that both 
Eugenio Garin and Paul Oskar Kristeller see in it rather an effort at reconciliation of the two disciplines. 
For Garin this happens through the “integration” of the scholastic tradition within the generally humanistic 
framework of Pico’s thinking, while for Kristeller they coexist as two separate traditions that both 
command Pico’s allegiance.   (Cf. Eugenio Garin, “Le interpretazioni del Pensiero di Giovanni Pico della 
Mirandola,” in L’Opera e il Pensiero di Giovanni Pico della Mirandola nella Storia dell’Umanesimo. 
Convegno Internazionale, Mirandola: 15-18 Settembre 1963, vol. 1 (Firenze, 1965), 3-33) 
101 William B. Craven, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola: Symbol of His Age. Modern Interpretations of a 
Renaissance Philosopher (Genève: Libraire Droz, 1981), 44.  
48 
 
reservations expressed by Lynn Thorndike in volume IV of his imposing “History of Magic 
and Experimental Science”102. Giovanni Gentile who, unlike Thorndike, does not doubt 
the weight and significance of Pico’ thought, nevertheless, does not consider it as 
paradigmatically humanistic. While Thorndike and Craven view Oratio as traditionalist 
and contained within the scholastic paradigm, Gentile believes it to adhere to an ethos 
larger than humanism.103        
 Gentile’s distinction between humanism as the preparatory stage and the later 
development of Renaissance thought towards naturalism bears some similarity to 
Kristeller’s division of the Italian Renaissance philosophy into the humanistic, the Neo-
Platonic and the Aristotelian currents. Kristeller championed a “narrow” definition of 
humanism, arguing that it must be understood as a cultural and educational program with 
only a limited and indirect impact on philosophy outside of the domain of ethics. Clearly, 
within the parameters of such a scheme, Pico’s Oratio cannot be considered a typical 
humanistic text. It is all the more remarkable that even Kristeller believed Oratio to reflect 
                                                          
102 Cf. “One cannot but feel that the importance of Pico della Mirandola in the history of thought has often 
been grossly exaggerated. […] Why should we today be compelled to assent to loose eulogies of the 
sublimity of his mind or the many-sidedness of his learning? More of a scholastic disputant than a 
humanist, and not so good a Hebrew scholar as Raymond Martini or Nicholas of Lyra, he did little but add 
to medieval scholastic interests the Platonism and mystic theology of Ficino.” (Lynn Thorndike, A History 
of Magic and Experimental Science. Vol. IV: Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries (New York: Columbia 
University Press, 1934), 485.) 
103 Vital in this context is Gentile’s understanding of humanism as just the preparatory stage for the more 
mature Renaissance thought. Cf. “L’Umanesimo è la preparazione o, se si vuole, l’inizio del Rinascimento. 
[…] Ma l’orientamento generale del pensiero del Rinascimento propriamente detto è diverso da quello 
dell’Umanesimo […] C’è di mezzo un mutamento spirituale, che si manifesta principalmente 
nell’estensione della sfera d’interesse intellettuale e morale, per cui l’umanista pare si ristringa tutto nello 
studio e nella celebrazione di quello che è strettamente umano, nell’animo suo stesso o nella memoria e 
nella tradizione, a cui egli ama affacciarsi per ingrandire e rinvigorire il suo animo; laddove l’uomo del 
Rinascimento gira intorno lo sguardo fuori dell’uomo, e abbraccia con l’intelletto la totalità del mondo a 
cui l’uomo appartiene e in cui gli tocca di vivere. Il punto di vista umano diventa punto di vista naturale: 
che è lo stesso punto di vista di prima, ma ampliato, in guisa da ricomprendere nel suo orizzonte la natura.” 
(Giovanni Gentile, Giordano Bruno e il pensiero del Rinascimento (Firenze: Vallecchi Editore, 1925), 3-4.) 
49 
 
the “humanistic spirit” inasmuch as it continues and develops the anthropological reflection 
already pursued by the humanists themselves:   
“When Pico, and Ficino before him, worked out a philosophical theory of the 
dignity of man in the universe, they were merely giving a more systematic and 
speculative development to a vague idea that had dominated the thought and 
aspirations of their Humanist predecessors for several generations.”104  
 In fact, he considers the humanists’ “thought of man” as an essential component 
and possibly the only unquestionable contribution of humanism to Renaissance 
philosophy105. Despite the fact that the reflection on human dignity is not particular to the 
Renaissance – it was a prominent theme in both classical and patristic literature106 - 
Kristeller argues that with the advent of Renaissance humanism, “the emphasis on man and 
his dignity [became] more persistent, more exclusive, and ultimately more systematic than 
it had ever been during the preceding centuries and even during classical antiquity”.107  
 That a concern for man and his dignity should play a central role in the intellectual 
lives of scholars pursuing studia humanitatis or studia humaniora comes as no surprise. 
                                                          
104 Paul Oskar Kristeller, “Introduction” to Pico’s Oration on the Dignity of Man, in The Renaissance 
Philosophy of Man, 221. In fact, the key difference that Kristeller perceives between the ideas on human 
dignity developed by the humanists and the subsequent contributions by a Ficino or a Pico is that the 
latter’s reflection on the subject takes place within “a well-developed metaphysical system of the universe”, 
an aspect absent in the earlier humanists. (Cf. Paul Oskar Kristeller, Renaissance Concepts of Man and 
Other Essays, Renaissance Concepts of Man and Other Essays (Harper & Row: New York, 1972), 9)   
105 “[The] emphasis on man is one of the few ideas – perhaps the only philosophical idea – contained in the 
program on the early Humanists.” (Ibid.)   
106 Cf. Alain Michel, “La dignité humaine chez Cicéron,” in La dignité de l’homme. Actes du Colloque tenu 
à la Sorbonne-Paris IV en novembre 1992, ed. Pierre Magnard (Paris: Honoré Champion, 1995), 17-24; 
Eugenio Garin, Lionello Sozzi, La dignitas hominis e la letteratura patristica; La dignitas hominis dans la 
litterature francaise de la Renaissance (Torino: Giappichelli, 1972). 
107 Paul Oskar Kristeller, Renaissance Concepts of Man and Other Essays, 6. 
50 
 
The grounding factor is of course the humanists’ belief in the character-shaping influence 
of such studies; a conviction which finds copious expressions in their letters, oratory and 
moral treatises.108 However, apart from these pedagogically-oriented reflections, human 
nature - its mystery and excellence - becomes a subject in its own right. As Charles 
Trinkaus observes in his two-volume work dedicated to the idea of man as the Image of 
God in the Italian Renaissance: 
“[T]he aspiration among the humanists and other thinkers towards an exaltation of 
human powers, and certainly of man’s ultimate destiny, to the level of the divine 
was widespread, dramatic and influential.”109 
 Petrarch expresses the conviction that human soul is the only matter worthy of 
intellectual inquiry and wonder in a famous letter describing his ascent of Mount Ventoux. 
The poet tells us that after reaching the summit and admiring the view for a moment, he 
randomly opened a copy of Augustine’s Confessions which he was in the habit of carrying 
in his pocket. Presently, he was overcome with shame for he stumbled upon the passage in 
which the author talks about people’s admiration of the wonders of nature and neglect of 
themselves:  
                                                          
108 Cf. previous chapter. 
109 Cf. Charles Edward Trinkaus, In our image and likeness: humanity and divinity in Italian humanist 
thought, 2 vols (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), XIV. 
51 
 
“I closed the book and was angry at myself since I was still admiring earthly things 
although I should have learned long ago from pagan philosophers that nothing is 
admirable but the soul in comparison with which, if it is great, nothing is great.”110       
 Petrarch weaves his ideas on man into his biographical De secreto conflictu 
curarum mearum (‘Secret Conflict of my Cares’) and De sui ipsius et multorum ignorantia 
(‘On His Own Ignorance and That of Many Others’). Ripe with anthropological reflection 
are also his treatises on religion and morality De vita solitaria (‘The life of solitude’), De 
otio religioso (‘The Repose of the Religious’) and De remediis utriusque fortunae 
(‘Remedies for both kinds of Fortune’). Man’s condition finds extensive treatment in 
Coluccio Salutati’s De fato et fortuna and De nobilitate legum et medicinae and Lorenzo 
Valla’s Dialogus de libero arbitrio and De vero falsoque bono.111 More explicitly 
concerned with human dignity as such are Bartolomeo Fazio’s 1447/1448 ‘De excellentia 
ac praestantia hominis’112 and Giannozzo Manetti’s 1452 ‘De dignitate et excellentia 
hominis’.  
 It used to be a part of the stereotypical image of the Renaissance (and it still holds 
sway over the imagination of the general public) that the period’s anthropological 
reflection was buoyantly optimistic and as such was a decisive rupture with its medieval 
                                                          
110 Quoted after Paul Oskar Kristeller, Renaissance Thought and Its Souces (New York: Columbia 
University Press, 1979), 171. 
111 Cf. Trinkaus, In our image and likeness. 
112 Fazio portrayed himself as the first one to have attempted a treatise of this sort. He viewed his work as a 
response to (and a continuation of) Innocent III’s 1195 De contemptu mundi (De miseria conditionis 
humanae). His De excellentia was intended as a remedy for the pope’s failure to compose the promised 
volume on human dignity. Yet, Fazio’s claim to originality has to be qualified since he wrote on the 
instigation of Fra Antonio da Braga and following the latter’s outline. Braga’s blueprint is sometimes 
treated as a philosophical work in its own right. (Cf. Trinkaus, In our image and likeness, 200 – 229.) 
52 
 
predecessor. This view has been demolished in Garin’s “La ‘dignitas hominis’ e la 
letteratura patristica”, which demonstrated the indebtedness of the humanistic discourse 
on human dignity towards patristic and medieval sources113. Furthermore, Giovanni di 
Napoli and Charles Trinkaus, both argued convincingly that the themes of human misery 
and human dignity, far from being incompatible, were treated as complementary and 
coexisted within the humanistic treatises on human excellence.114 In reality, the humanists 
often struck a darker tone while talking about man. Notable examples include Poggio 
Bracciolini’s “De miseria humanae conditionis libri II” (1455) and Leon Battista Alberti’s 
“Momus”.  
 However, Pico della Mirandola’s Oratio is almost universally believed to be an 
expression as well as an apex of the tendency to glorify man’s nature. The scholars, while 
generally accepting Oratio’s anthropological optimism, disagree often on the issue of its 
metaphysical foundation. Is man a “great miracle” because he is made in the Image of God 
and capable of being united with his Creator in the beatific vision? Or, is man’s special 
dignity due to the fact that he is free from natural determinism and endowed with the power 
to shape his own destiny? In other words, is Pico’s text an expression of a decidedly modern 
spirit – or - does it remain within the orbit of the medieval ways of thinking?   
 Broadly speaking, there seem to be two major lines of interpretation concerning 
Oratio. There are those who consider Pico’s work to be ushering in the key concepts and 
                                                          
113 Cf. Eugenio Garin, Lionello Sozzi, La dignitas hominis e la letteratura patristica; La dignitas hominis 
dans la litterature francaise de la Renaissance. 
114 Cf. Giovanni Di Napoli, “‘Contemptus Mundi’ e ‘Dignitas Hominis’ nel Rinascimento,” Rivista di 
filosofía neoscolastica XLVIII (1965): 9-41; Charles Trinkaus, Adversity's noblemen; the Italian humanists 
on happiness (New York: Columbia University Press, 1940).  
53 
 
preoccupations of modernity and those who believe it to be fundamentally in line with the 
preceding medieval and scholastic tradition. Scholars in the former category tend to 
consider Pico’s views as both radically novel and representative of the Renaissance 
“thought of man”115. This line of interpretation starts with Burckhardt and is characteristic 
of the main-stream of Renaissance scholarship. Among its advocates one can count 
Cassirer, Gentile, Garin, Kristeller and many others. It was recently reiterated vigorously 
by Stéphane Toussaint.116 All of these authors lean towards the interpretation of Oratio as 
a text concerned chiefly with the idea of man’s freedom and its corollaries: the mastery 
over himself (through will/moral action) and over Nature (through knowledge).117 
Needless to say, such double mastery involves a new (modern) way of conceptualizing 
one’s relationship with God and Nature. As Cassirer puts it: 
“The being of man follows from his doing; and this doing is not only limited to the 
energy of his will, but rather encompasses the whole of his creative powers. For all 
                                                          
115 Within this group there exists a minority opinion according to which Pico’s views, while new and 
radical must nevertheless be considered as essentially incompatible with the predominant intellectual 
tendencies of his times. (Cf. Charles Nauert, Humanism and the Culture of Renaissance Europe, 2nd ed. 
(Cambridge University Press, 2006): 75-76. (“this view of human nature is Pico’s special blend of Neo-
Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy and must not be equated with ‘humanism’. It must be regarded as the 
opinion of only this one philosopher” (Nauert, 76)).    
116 Cf. Stéphane Toussaint, “Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (1463-1494). The Synthetic Reconciliation of 
All Philosophies,” in Philosophers of the Renaissance, ed. Paul Richard Blum (Washington, D.C.: The 
Catholic University of America Press, 2010), 69-81. (Cf. especially: “the various recent attempts to reduce 
Pico’s work to a purely humanistic scholarship and rhetoric, or to a Scholastic or even “reactionary” 
interpretation, must be regarded as a thorough watering down of the Philosophical Renaissance that Pico 
embodies, and as a gradual philosophical dumbing down of his thinking” (Toussaint, “Giovanni Pico della 
Mirandola (1463-1494). The Synthetic Reconciliation of All Philosophies”, 81.)   
117 The accent shifts slightly from freedom to universalism of thought in Toussaint. Cf. “The basic idea in 
the discourse about the human person is […] generated by the ability to reshape the history of Western and 
Eastern thought in accordance with a mental process typical of the new epoch, a process aiming at the unity 
and infinity of all human knowledge.” (Toussaint, “Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (1463-1494). The 
Synthetic Reconciliation of All Philosophies”, 74). Still, Toussaint’s insistence on the idea that Pico’s Adam 
is a type for the “new intellectual” is very akin to Cassirer’s opinion that Pico’s anthropology marks “a new 
advance” in the understanding of the relationship between man and God and man and Nature.     
54 
 
true creativity implies more than mere action upon the world. It presupposes that 
the actor distinguishes himself from that which is acted upon, i.e. that the subject 
consciously stands opposed to the object. […] What is required of man’ will and 
knowledge is that they be completely turned towards the world and yet completely 
distinguish themselves from it.”118      
 The second category of scholars rejects this understanding of Pico as anachronistic. 
They focus rather on the continuities between his work and the medieval reflection on man 
which considered the essence of humanity to be consummated in the unity with the divine. 
This school of interpretation was inaugurated by Avery Dulles’ famous 1941 Harvard Phi 
Beta Kappa Prize Essay “Princeps Concordiae. Pico della Mirandola and the Scholastic 
Tradition”119 and was continued by scholars such as Giovanni Di Napoli and Henri de 
Lubac.120  Its more recent supporters include William B. Craven, Brian P. Copenhaver, F. 
Roulier, and M. V. Dougherty121. Craven notoriously deems Oratio as one of the most 
misconstrued documents of the Renaissance. He claims that there is “a wide and sometimes 
startling disparity between most historical accounts of [Pico’s] thought and the texts on 
                                                          
118 Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos, 84-86. 
119 Cf. “Pico did not think of man as a pure spirit forging his own destiny regardless of Providence and of 
Fortune. His anthropology was in all essentials that of the Christian Middle Ages.” (Avery Dulles, Princeps 
Concordiae: Pico Della Mirandola and the Scholastic Tradition (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 
1941), 127) 
120 Cf. Henri de Lubac, Pic de la Mirandole, études et discussions (Paris: Aubier-Montaigne, 1974); 
Giovanni di Napoli, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola e la problematica dottrinale del suo tempo (Roma: 
Desclée & Co, 1965). 
121 Cf. Craven, op. cit.; Brian P. Copenhaver, “Magic and the Dignity of Man: De-Kating Pico’s Oration,” 
in The Italian Renaissance in the Twentieth Century, ed. Allen J. Grieco et al. (Florence: Olschki, 2002), 
295-320; Fernand Roulier, Jean Pic de la Mirandole (1463-1494), humaniste, philosophe et théologien 
(Genève: Slatkine, 1989); M. V. Dougherty, “Three Precursors to Pico della Mirandola’s Roman 
Disputation and the Question of Human Nature in the Oratio,” in Pico della Mirandola. New Essays, ed. 
M.V. Dougherty (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 114-151. 
55 
 
which they are supposedly based”.122 This is especially true of Oratio which, in his opinion, 
is rarely read in the context of its genre and in conjunction with Pico’s other writings. 
Craven insists that neither the question of human freedom, nor that of human nature were 
central to Pico’s philosophy. His statements on the subject in the Oratio are not 
metaphysical in nature, but rather moral, and “they function as part of an inflated rhetorical 
argument for the educational effectiveness of philosophy and theology”.123 He stresses the 
text’s envisaged function as the inaugural speech for the projected Roman debate on Pico’s 
900 theses124. Such inaugural speeches were a typical part of medieval academic life and 
would traditionally consist of two parts, one praising the speaker’s discipline and the other, 
explaining and justifying his method or approach.125 The Oratio seems to adhere to this 
pattern, pointing to the intellectual life of the Cherubs (the discipline of philosophy) as the 
model for human perfection.   
 The deeper reasons for the objections that these scholars raise against the more 
traditional interpretations of Pico are probably best articulated by Brian Copenhaver. 
Copenhaver believes that most Pico criticism suffers from the tendency to see in the author 
of Oratio a proto-Kantian bard of man’s autonomy. As is well-known, the perception of 
the conflict between Nature (i.e. necessity) and human freedom was at the basis of the 
                                                          
122 Craven, 4.   
123 Craven, 45. 
124 Craven’s opinion in this regard coincides with S. A. Farmer’s as expressed in his “Syncretism in the 
West”. Farmer is yet another scholar, who considers Pico more of an epigone than an innovator. (Cf. 
Stephen Alan Farmer, Syncretism in the West: Pico’s 900 Theses (1486) (Tempe, AR: Medieval and 
Renaissance Texts and Studies 167, 1998) 
125 Cf. Brian P. Copenhaver, Charles B. Schmitt, A History of Western Philosophy 3. Renaissance 
Philosophy (Oxford-New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 166. 
56 
 
entire Kantian project. Kant thought it to be his philosophical mission to make a case for 
human liberty and dignity in the face of the inexorable determinism of Newtonian physics. 
The post-Kantian interpreters of Pico saw the count of Mirandola as anticipating Kant’s 
duality of nature and freedom. Ernst Cassirer, who is the most eloquent spokesman for this 
school of interpretation126, conceived of Pico’s exclusion of man from the great chain of 
being as a proto-Kantian gesture: a separation between the moral law by which humans 
govern themselves and the natural laws which operate on the rest of Nature. Such 
distinction would reflect the famous dichotomy of the “starry heavens above” and “moral 
law within” from the conclusion to Kant’s Critique of Practical Reason.127     
 Let us turn to Oratio and read the crucial passages containing Pico’s reflection on 
human freedom and separateness from Nature. In Pico’s famous re-writing of the story of 
creation, when God is about to crown his work with “someone to ponder the meaning of 
so great a work, to love its beauty, and to wonder at its vastness” he has no more archetypes 
to use in fashioning this “new offspring” nor can he find “anything which he might bestow 
on his new son as an inheritance, nor among the seats of the universe any place where the 
latter might sit to contemplate the universe.” Indeed, all creation is already complete: “all 
things had been assigned to the highest, the middle, and the lowest orders”.128  
                                                          
126 It is quite telling that in “The Individual and The Cosmos in Renaissance Philosophy” Cassirer’s 
reflections on Pico’s Oratio are contained in the chapter on “Freedom and Necessity”.  
127 Cf. Copenhaver, “Magic and the Dignity of Man: De-Kating Pico’s Oration”, 305. 
128 Cf. “Sed, opere consumato, desiderabat artifex esse aliquem qui tanti operis rationem perpenderet, 
pulchritudinem amaret, magnitudinem admiraretur. Idcirco iam rebus omnibus (ut Moses Timeusque 
testantur) absolutis, de producendo homine postremo cogitavit. Verum nec erat in archetipis unde novam 
sobolem effingeret nec in thesauris quod novo filio hereditarium largiretur nec in subsellis totius orbis, ubi 
universi contemplator iste sederet. Iam plena omnia; omnia summis, mediis infimisque ordinibus fuerant 
distributa.” (Pico § 4. 12-15) 
57 
 
 It is in this passage, immediately preceding God’s famous speech to man that Pico 
draws the vital divide between Man and Nature. The crucial scene in which we see God 
short of archetypes before the creation of man suggests strongly that God’s work is, in 
some ways, done. In fact, Pico portrays God’s intention to create Man almost as an 
afterthought conceived “when the work was finished” and “when everything was done”.129 
Needless to say, this implies that Nature is complete without man and that there is no place 
in the great chain of being that must necessarily be filled by his existence. This is a 
significant departure from the traditional imagery in which man is placed at the center of 
the universe as the essential link between the lowest and the highest creatures.  
 That to overcome this idea was in fact Pico’s intention we can gather from the 
opening passages of the Oratio. Right at the outset, the prince of Mirandola states that the 
reasons given traditionally to justify the opinion that man is a great miracle all seem 
insufficient to him. These reasons, although formulated in a variety of ways, are all 
centered around the basic notion of man as the link between the lower and the higher order 
of creation130. Pico breaks out of this scheme. His man, rather than being the crucial middle 
link, remains outside of the great scale of being. As a matter of fact, in his explanation of 
the wondrous nature of man, the author follows the traditional ecclesiastical understanding 
                                                          
129 Cf. “But when the work was finished, the Craftsman still longed that there were someone to ponder the 
meaning of so great a work, to love its beauty, and to wonder at its vastness. Therefore, when everything 
was done (as Moses and Timaeus testify), He finally bethought himself of bringing forth man.” (Pico § 4. 
12-13)  
130 “I weighed the reasons for these sayings, the numerous considerations advanced by many men to 
explain the excellence of human nature did not fully persuade me: that man is the intermediary between 
creatures, the familiar of the higher beings, the king of the things beneath him; by the acuteness of his 
senses, by the inquiry of his reason and by the light of his intelligence the interpreter of nature; set midway 
between fixed eternity and fleeting time and, (as the Persians say) the bond, or rather the wedding-song of 
the world, on David's testimony, but little lower that angels” (Pico § 2.3)  
58 
 
of miracle as a phenomenon operating outside of the limitations of nature. In reality, Pico 
tells us that man is a great miracle because, like a miracle, he remains outside of the natural 
order.131    
 The fact that in Pico’s scheme man is created after Nature has already been 
“completed” excludes him from the bonds of natural necessity. He is separate from Nature 
which does not seem to need him. His relationship with the realm of natural necessity is 
loosened, which indeed gives Pico’s rewriting of the story of creation a certain proto-
Kantian flavor. Nevertheless, for Pico separating man from Nature does not have the same 
consequences as it did for Kant. Pico’s man inhabits a world in which Nature is neither the 
only, nor the principal Other for human beings. The central point of reference for Pico’s 
man is not physical Nature with its inexorable laws, but God. While Nature’s grip on Man 
might be loose in Pico’s eyes, he still rests firmly in the hand of God. Kant separates man 
from Nature to reassert human autonomy (and dignity) against the mechanistic and 
materialistic interpretations of man advanced by some Enlightenment thinkers.132 Nature 
does not pose the same kind of threat for Pico’s Man for the natural law operating within 
it is the reflection of the divine law. When Pico separates man from Nature, he leaves him 
all the more emphatically in the hand of God as the Other who is the source of his being 
and the ultimate goal of his existence as becomes apparent later on in the text.   
                                                          
131 “Pico views human being as a ‘great miracle’ precisely because miracles are traditionally understood to 
be events that operate outside the limitation of a nature, or collectively, outside the order of nature” 
(Dougherty, 135-136.) 
132 Julien Offray de La Mettrie’s Man-Machine is the most notorious example, but the tendency to offer 
materialistic explanations of human spiritual and mental processes was more widespread. Cf. for instance 
Diderot’s “D’Alembert’s Dream” (Cf. Denis Diderot, Rameau's Nephew and Other Works, trans. Jacques 
Barzun and Ralph H. Bowen, intr. Ralph H. Bowen (Indianapolis, IN: Hackett, 2001), 89 – 176) 
59 
 
 God in creating the World has exhausted all the available archetypes, but since his 
will to engender yet another creature cannot be frustrated, He decides to give man instead 
of a nature of his own “whatever belonged to every other being”133. The Creator then places 
“this creature of indeterminate image”134 in the middle of the world and speaks the 
following words:  
“We have given you, Adam, no fixed seat nor features proper to yourself nor 
endowment peculiar to you alone, in order that whatever seat, whatever features, 
whatever endowment you may responsibly desire, these same you may have and 
possess according to your desire and judgment. Once defined, the nature of all other 
beings, is constrained within the laws prescribed by us. Constrained by no limits, 
you may determine it for yourself, according to your own free will, in whose hand 
we have placed you. I have placed you at the world's center so that you may thence 
more easily look around at whatever is in the world. We have made you neither of 
heaven nor of earth, neither mortal nor immortal, so that you may, as the free and 
extraordinary shaper of yourself, fashion yourself in the form you will prefer.”135  
 Man is thus a “creature of indeterminate image”. Pico dwells on the particularity 
of man’s make-up and on his ability to shape his own nature, but nowhere does he speak 
                                                          
133 “Statuit tandem optimus artifex, ut cui dari nihil proprium poteratr commune esset quicquid privatum 
singulis fuerat.” (Pico § 5.17) 
134“ indiscretae opus imaginis” (Pico § 5.18) 
135 “Nec certam sedem, nec propriam faciem, nec munus ullum peculiare tibi dedimus, o Adam, ut quam 
sedem, quam faciem, quae munera tute optaveris, ea, pro voto, pro tua sententia, habeas et possideas. 
Definita caeteris natura intra praescriptas a nobis leges cohercetur. Tu, nullis angustiis cohercitus, pro tuo 
arbitrio, in cuius manu te posui, tibi illam prefinies. Medium te mundi posui, ut circumspiceres inde 
commodius quidquid est in mundo. Nec te celestem neque terrenum, neque mortalem neque immortalem 
fecimus, ut tui ipsius quasi arbitrarius honorariusque plastes in quam malueris tute formam effingas.” (Pico 
§ 5. 18-22) 
60 
 
explicitly of him being created in the image of God. Does he abandon this idea as well as 
that of man as the universal link? It seems that Man’s endowment with the “indeterminate 
image” is for the author the very meaning of his being made in the image of God. To 
understand this, we need to look at the traditional scholastic notion of “nature” as the 
limiting principle. In scholastic metaphysics a thing’s nature is synonymous with its 
essence and stands for the defining principle which makes each thing what it is, distinct 
from all other things. This nature or essence determines and, consequently, limits the 
existence of each thing, situating it in a fixed position in the hierarchy of beings.136 At the 
top of this hierarchy is God, the only being in which the essence does not limit, but rather 
coincides with existence. In Pico’s scheme, man, inasmuch as he is deprived of a 
“determinate” image (nature) is also free from the limitation that it would impose on him. 
In fact, he seems to share with God his status of a being beyond limitations. As a result, 
man’s lack of a “fixed image” can be considered as precisely the possession of the Image 
of God. This interpretation is further substantiated by the fact that the adjective indicretus 
used by Pico in the expression “indiscretae opus imaginis” is traditionally referred to 
God.137 
 Man is like God also in that he possesses “whatever belong[s] to every other being”. 
Pico tells us that “The Father infused in man, at birth, every sort of seed and sprouts of 
every kind of life”138. This means that, like God, he encloses in himself all the existing 
                                                          
136 Cf. Dougherty, 135. 
137 Cf. Francesco Bausi, Nec rhetor neque philosophus: Fonti, lingua e stile nelle prime opere latine di 
Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (1484-87) (Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 1996), 135.  
138 “Nascenti homini omnifaria semina et omnigenae vitae germina indidit Pater” (Pico § 6.28) 
61 
 
natures. However, the difference between the way God possesses all the natures and the 
way man does is that God has all the natures in actuality, whereas man has them only in 
potency (i.e. in seminal form). Whereas God is everything, man is nothing: he only has the 
potential to become. This fundamental contrast alerts us to the way the Image of God is 
different from God himself. As in a mirror, the Image is but an inverted version of the 
Original: while God is the ultimate fullness, man is the ultimate emptiness. His possession 
of the “seeds” of all things, while seemingly pointing to completeness, really signifies 
lack139. It is due to this ontological insufficiency that man’s freedom has to be necessarily 
directed towards something beyond him.   
 As we have seen above, Pico’s treatment of freedom in the Oratio is deeply 
intertwined with his understanding of human nature. In fact, it has been often argued that 
the idea of freedom in this text owes its radicalism to the abolition of the notion of human 
nature. Man, as a creature without “determinate image”, is free to choose his own 
“features”. His nature will result from his actions, or to put it in Sartrean terms, his essence 
will follow his existence.140 This “moral ontology”141 at first could strike one as an extreme 
statement of auto-sufficient autonomy, the uttermost exaltation of human freedom. 
Nevertheless it seems to me that there is far more ambiguity in Pico’s treatment of both the 
                                                          
139 Pier Cesare Bori points out the correspondence between Pico’s idea of man’s ontological lack and the 
figure of Eros in Plato’s Symposion. Eros’ nature is flawed for he is trapped between ignorance and 
knowledge and always aspiring towards the latter. Pico’s man shares moreover the imperfect nature of 
Epimetheus, as portrayed in Protagoras. (Cf. Pier Cesare Bori, Pluralità delle vie. Alle origini del Discorso 
sulla dignità umana di Pico della Mirandola (Milano: Feltrinelli, 2000), 38)  
140 Pico’s ideas on freedom have been famously compared to Sartre’s existentialism by Hiram Haydn. (Cf. 
Hiram Haydn, The Counter-Renaissance (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1950), 349-350.) 
141 Dougherty, 136. 
62 
 
issue of human nature and that of freedom. Let us consider the concept of human nature 
first.  
 On the one hand, Pico seems to do away with any such notion when he deems man 
“creature of indeterminate image” and gives man liberty to “fashion [himself] in the form 
[he] will prefer.” Nevertheless, the fact that man has no “image” of his own, this very lack 
of essence, constitutes man’s unique condition, i.e. his defining trait, his nature. Is this a 
glorious condition or a deficient one?142 It seems to be both: man possesses the God-like 
dignity of existing beyond limitations but, in virtue of his ontological “lack” is also utterly 
dependent of what is outside of him. Having nothing properly his, nothing to define him, 
he depends entirely on the Other as the source of his identity. In fact, Pico’s Man has to go 
beyond himself in order to become himself and as he realizes his potential, he inevitably 
departs from his original “empty” self. This process could be styled as “acquiring a face”, 
for Pico’s man does not have “proper features” (“nec propriam faciem”). As man acquires 
a face (which is not his own to begin with), he moves away from his original sterile 
autonomy. He lets his void be inscribed by that towards which he opens himself. Let us see 
how Pico explains this process:  
“If he cultivates his vegetable seeds, he will become a plant. If he cultivates his 
sensitive seeds, he will become brutish. If he cultivates his rational seeds, he will 
                                                          
142 This question amounts really to asking whether Pico’s understanding of man was Pelagian. Is Pico’s 
man capable of “storming the heavens” without the aid of divine grace? This point will be considered in 
more detail further on. 
63 
 
become a heavenly animal. If he cultivates his intellectual seeds, he will be an angel 
and a son of God.”143   
 Man can choose among the vegetal, the sensual, the rational or the intellectual life. 
He thus possesses the freedom to choose which form of life will mark him, inscribe itself 
on the empty space of his identity and, ultimately, limit him. The meaning of freedom in 
Oratio is hence linked, on the one hand, with the idea that man is not bound by any 
predetermined nature (negative freedom), but also (and perhaps more importantly) with the 
idea that he is free to chose which limitations to impose upon himself (positive freedom).144 
And yet, choosing one’s own limitations from among the variety of created natures does 
not exhaust the full array of possibilities open to Pico’s man:    
“And if [man] is not contented with the fate of any creature, he will gather himself 
into the center of his own unity and, become one spirit with God, will join the 
solitary darkness of the Father, who is above all things, and will stand ahead of all 
things.”145  
 Man must go beyond himself in order to “acquire a face” and become himself, but 
he is invited to refuse identification with any aspect of the created world. He is to transcend 
all the particular “natures” in order to attain unity with God. This will be achieved if man 
chooses to “gather himself into the center of his own unity” and to “become one spirit with 
                                                          
143 “Si vegetalia planta fiet, si sensualia obrutescet, si rationalia caeleste evadet animal, si intellectualia 
angelus erit et Dei filius.” (Pico § 6.30) 
144 For the distinction between positive and negative freedom cf. Isaiah Berlin, Two Concepts of Liberty 
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1958). 
145“Et si nulla creaturarum sorte contentus in unitatis centrum suae se receperit, unus cum Deo spiritus 
factus, in solitaria Patris caligine qui est super omnia constitutus omnibus antestabit.” (Pico § 6.31)  
64 
 
God.” This itinerary, although not the only path open to Man is the only one worthy of 
him. As we see then, freedom for Pico is not a value in itself, but it is valued as that which 
enables man to strive towards God.146 Consequently, human nature in Oratio has to be 
conceived as the impossible point of convergence between freedom and finality. The Image 
is meant to become one with its Source. This is the true vocation of man, the true nature of 
a creature without nature. This is deificatio in which man’s original emptiness can become 
fullness.147  
 Significantly, for Pico the mystical union with divinity happens at the center of 
man’s internal cosmos.148 Man appears to realize his natural vocation when he meets God’s 
limitlessness by embracing his own limitlessness. In both, choosing the cultivation of the 
seeds implanted in him at creation and in his pining for God, man seems to be reaching 
within, not outwards. And yet in doing so, he identifies with something different than 
himself, and in that sense can be said to be reaching towards the Other. This said, man’s 
only proper Other is God. If man is defined by his essential incompleteness, his Other must 
be characterized by supreme fullness. Man’s radical lack can only be fulfilled by God’s 
absolute plenitude. Thus, Man must strive towards the ultimate Otherness of God:    
                                                          
146 Cf. “La dignità umana non consiste [...] nella libertà come tale. Consiste certo, nella libertà, ma questa 
può-deve attuarsi in una tensione verticale verso una meta non creaturale” (Pier Cesare Bori, Pluralità delle 
vie. Alle origini del Discorso sulla dignità umana di Pico della Mirandola (Milano: Feltrinelli, 2000), 38) 
147 An important observation by Dougherty: “By including divinity in the range of actualizations open to 
multipotential human beings, Pico appears to escape a particularly thorny metaphysical problem vexing to 
some medieval thinkers, namely, how the intrinsic limitations of nature are to be overcome in the 
divinization or deification of human beings when they become one with God.” (Dougherty, 144) 
148 Cf. Bori, 37. 
65 
 
“Yet, what is the reason of all this? It is in order for us to understand that, because 
we were born with the option to be what we want to be, we must take most care of 
this; lest people say of us that, being held in honor, we did not realize that we 
reduced ourselves to brutes and mindless beasts of burden. Let us rather remember 
the saying of Asaph the prophet: “You are all gods and sons of the most high,” 
unless abusing the most indulgent liberality of the Father, we turn from beneficial 
to harmful the free choice he bestowed on us. Let a holy ambition pervade our soul, 
so that, not satisfied with mediocre things, we strive for the loftiest and apply 
ourselves with all our strength to pursue them (because we can achieve them, if we 
want). Let us spurn earthly things, disregard the celestial, and reject all that is of 
this world, in order to fly to the otherworldly court near the most eminent 
divinity.149     
 Is the invitation to “spurn earthly things” in order to “strive for the loftiest” an 
incitement to asceticism? It seems that what Pico commends is not so much an escape from 
the created realm, but rather the refusal to fully immerse oneself in it. Rather than evading 
creation, Man has to think of it as the pathway towards divinity. The ultimate goal is 
knowing God immediately in the act of contemplation, but before this can be achieved man 
has to approach Him indirectly, through the study of His creation. While philosophizing 
                                                          
149 “Sed quorsum haec? Ut intelligamus, postquam hac nati sumus conditione, ut id simus quod esse 
volumus, curare hoc potissimum debere nos, ut illud quidem in nos non dicatur, cum in honore essemus 
non cognovisse similes factos brutis et iumentis insipientibus. Sed illud potius Asaph prophetae: «Dii estis 
et filii Excelsi omnes», ne, abutentes indulgentissima Patris liberalitate, quam dedit ille liberam optionem, e 
salutari noxiam faciamus nobis. Invadat animum sacra quaedam ambitio ut mediocribus non contenti 
anhelemus ad summa, adque illa (quando possumus si volumus) consequenda totis viribus enitamur. 
Dedignemur terrestria, caelestia contemnamus, et quicquid mundi est denique posthabentes, 
ultramundanam curiam eminentissimae divinitati proximam advolemus.” (Pico § 10.47-51) 
66 
 
according to the grades of Nature, man draws closer to the knowledge of God through 
analogy, which is the preparatory stage for the more perfect immediate knowledge of Him 
achieved in deification.150  
 In other words, this itinerary towards God leads Man through the Otherness as 
instantiated, albeit in a limited form, in Nature. Man is to imitate the life of the Cherubs151, 
completing an intellectual journey, in which his intellect is to open itself to the otherness 
of creation. This itinerary consists of 3 stages.152 Firstly man has to purify himself, 
mastering his passions with moral philosophy and perfecting his intellect with dialectic. 
Secondly he is to study natural philosophy.153 Finally, he attains the true wisdom and peace 
of mind through the practice of holy theology in preparation for the union with the Divine. 
The use of reason is paramount in this journey towards God. The cause for this is that in 
                                                          
150 Pico here seems to seek agreement between the idea that in this life knowledge of God is possible only 
through analogy (as held by Thomas Aquinas) and the idea that God can be known immediately (as 
exemplified for instance by Anselm of Canterbury). Since the former position is Aristotelian in nature and 
the latter - Platonic, Pico could be said to offer here some preliminary exploration of the theme of the 
fundamental agreement between Aristotle and Plato, which he addresses more fully in De Ente et Uno.  
151 “Hence the Cherub, located in the middle position, prepares us for the Seraphic fire and likewise 
illuminates us for the judgment of the Thrones. This is the bond of the First Minds, the order of Pallas, the 
guardian of contemplative philosophy. First we must emulate him, thirst after him and to the same degree 
understand him in order that we may be raised to the heights of love and descend well taught and prepared 
to the duties of action.” (Pico § 12.68-69)  
152 Cf. Bori, 40. 
153 “We, emulating the Cherubic life on Earth, curbing the drive of the emotions through moral science, 
dispersing the darkness of reason through dialectic (as if washing away the squalor of ignorance and vices), 
therefore purge our souls lest our emotions run amok or our reason imprudently run off course at any time. 
Then well we imbue our purified and prepared soul with the light of natural philosophy so that afterwards 
we may perfect it with the knowledge of divine things.” (Pico § 13. 74-75) 
67 
 
the mystical union man burns with Seraphic love towards God and, according to Pico, it is 
impossible to love what is not known.154  
 In Pico’s thinking being one with God, loving Him and knowing Him are 
inseparable. The route towards unity with God leads thus through knowing Him, and the 
route towards the knowledge of God leads through the knowledge of God’s creation.155 
Moreover, it is necessary to consider nothing short of its entirety, moving up and down 
through the complete scale of being in order to be able, at last, to find peace in the perfect 
knowledge of God in “theological bliss”:   
“Once we, inspired by the Cherubic spirit, have reached this point through the art 
of speaking or of reasoning, that is, philosophizing according to the grades of 
Nature, penetrating the whole from the center to the center, we will then descend, 
dashing the one into many with Titanic force like Osiris, and ascend, drawing 
together with Apollonian force the many into one like Osiris' limbs until at last, 
resting in the bosom of the Father Who is at the top of the ladder, we will be made 
perfect in theological bliss.”156 
 Pico’s ideas on the relationship between Man as the being capable of knowing 
God’s creation and the world as that which is knowable has been famously interpreted by 
                                                          
154 Cf. Pico § 12.66. In other words love which springs from the will has to be preceeded by knowledge 
which belongs to the faculty of reason. Cf. the relationship between will and reason in Oratio in the pages 
to follow. 
155 Cf. for example “These things Moses truly commands of us and in commanding instructs, incites and 
encourages so that through philosophy we may prepare for ourselves, while we are able, the path to the 
future celestial glory.” (Pico § 19.108) 
156 Pico § 15.87. 
68 
 
Cassirer in terms of the subject-object dichotomy. Understood within these parameters, 
knowledge becomes an act of knowing, a form of activity performed by the human agent 
on the passive, receiving world.157 Conceiving of the reason’s quest for knowledge as an 
expression of human agency puts it at the same plane as the operations of the will. Man is 
a subject which not only knows, but also wills.158 Will (which often operates within the 
material sphere), and intellect (with its immaterial operations) are both manifestations of 
human agency. For Cassirer there seems to be a clear connection between the intellectual 
knowledge of Nature and the practical mastery over it and physical control over its 
workings. Such an association is but a staple of modern ways of thinking, surmised by the 
maxim “scientia potentia est”, traditionally ascribed to Francis Bacon.159 In fact, some of 
the eminent interpreters of Pico’s thought read it in this radically baconian fashion, 
insisting on Pico’s notion of human intellect as divinely creative, i.e. possessing, beyond 
the mere capacity of shaping its own notions, the faculty of willful “shaping” of the material 
world around. Exemplary in that sense is Gentile’s interpretation: 
                                                          
157 Cf. “What is required of man’s will and knowledge is that they be completely turned towards the world 
and yet completely distinguish themselves from it. Will and knowledge may, or rather, must devote 
themselves to every part of the universe; for only by going through the entire universe can man traverse the 
circle of his own possibilities. But this complete openness towards the world must never signify dissolution 
in it, a mystical-pantheistic losing of oneself. For the human consciousness possesses itself only inasmuch 
as it is conscious that no single goal will fulfill it; and human knowledge possesses itself only inasmuch as 
it knows that no single object of knowledge can suffice for it” (Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos, 86 
(italics original).) 
158 Cf. Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos, 87.  
159 This said, Cassirer was nevertheless quite explicit about the “unresolved dialectic” between Man and 
Cosmos in Renaissance thought, about  man’s status as both “container” and “contained”, “captor” and 
“captive.” Cf.:“Man, the Ego, appears to the universe, the world, at once as the enclosing and the enclosed. 
Both determinations are equally indispensable to express his relationship to the cosmos. And thus a 
continuous mutual reaction and a continuous interaction takes place between them, […] Like Goethe’s 
Ganymede, the man of the Renaissance confronts the divinity and the infinite universe as both ‘captor and 
captive’. The philosophy of the Renaissance never resolved the dialectical antinomy that is enclosed in this 
double relationship.” (Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos, 190-191)  
69 
 
“La mente, in cui Pico non trova la peculiare natura dell’uomo, è l’intelletto 
astratto, che ha fuori di sé la realtà; l’intelletto aristotelico, quel motore immobile, 
che non poteva concepirsi creatore del mondo, poiché questo è materia oltre che 
forma, ed esso è pura forma. La mente invece, che si può attribuire in proprio 
all’uomo e a Dio, sarebbe attività  non contemplatrice, bensì creatrice, realizzatrice 
dell’essere della sostanza”160  
 The tradition of viewing Pico, after the manner of Gentile, as a “philosopher of the 
will” is present, to a greater or lesser extent, in the works of all the scholars who insist on 
Pico’s modernity. Of particular interest must be considered Frances Yates’ interpretation 
of Pico’s ideas on Magic as the proof of his being the forerunner of the modern 
scientific/technological mentality. Yates considers Oratio to be concerned chiefly with 
Magic and Cabbala161 and hails it as “the great charter of Renaissance Magic, of the new 
type of magic introduced by Ficino and completed by Pico”.162 Yates thinks of the 
Renaissance magic as characterized by the same striving for manipulative power over 
Nature that was the distinguishing feature of the XVII century scientific revolution.163. She 
                                                          
160 Gentile, 60-61. 
161 “Pico’s oration on the Dignity of Man echoes throughout with the words of Magia and Cabala; these are 
the basic themes of his whole song. […] The praise of magic and man as Magus in the oration is couched in 
general rhetorical terms, and only hints at the secrets of magical procedures. But it is certainly in praise of 
both Magia and Cabala, and it would therefore seem that the complete Renaissance Magus, as he burst 
upon the world for the first time in Pico’s oration in his full power and Dignity, was a practitioner of both 
natural magic and also of its ‘supreme form’, practical Cabala.” (Frances A. Yates, “Giovanni Pico della 
Mirandola and magic,” in L’opera e il pensiero di Giovanni Pico della Mirandola nella storia 
dell’umanesimo. Atti del Convegno internazionale (Mirandola, 15-18 settembre 1963), 180-181.) 
162 Frances A. Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition (Chicago: The University of Chicago 
Press, 1964), 86. 
163 Notably, by claiming that the Renaissance magic was nourished by Ficino’s translation of Corpus 
Hermeticum, Yates draws a direct genealogy between humanism and science. Her narrative runs from 
Ficino’s emblematically humanistic enterprise of recovery of Ancient texts, through the consequent revival 
of magic only to culminate with the birth of modern science. This interpretation is akin to Eugenio Garin’s 
70 
 
admits that perhaps Pico’s magic could not yield any concrete scientific results or involve 
real scientific methods164, but she insists that it, nevertheless, marks the beginning of the 
new “technological” attitude towards Nature: 
“Quite apart from the question of whether Renaissance magic could, or could not, 
lead on to genuinely scientific procedures, the real function of the Renaissance 
Magus in relation to the modern period […] is that he changed the will. It was now 
dignified and important for man to operate; it was also religious and not contrary 
to the will of God that man, the great miracle, should exert his powers. It was this 
basic psychological reorientation towards a direction of the will which was neither 
Greek nor medieval in spirit, which made all the difference.”165 
 Farmer objects to Yates’ reading of Pico’s natural magic. He points out that the 
interpretations which see in Pico a “philosopher of the will” are borne out of the confusion 
between the pre-modern and XIX and early XX century conceptions of the will. The former 
                                                          
understanding of humanism as a “new philosophy” intimately connected with the subsequent scientific 
revolution and in direct conflict with a number of canonical works in the history of science. Cf. for instance 
Alistair Crombie’s comments from the chapter on “The Continuity of Medieval and 17th Century Science”: 
“15th century humanism, which arose in Italy and spread northwards, was an interruption in the 
development of science. The ‘revival of letters’ deflected interest from matter to literary style and, in 
turning back to classical antiquity, its devotees affected to ignore the scientific progress of the previous 
three centuries.” (Alistair Cameron Crombie, “The Continuity of Medieval and 17th Century Science,” in 
Medieval and Early Modern Science, Vol. 2 (Garden City, N.Y.: Anchor Books, 1959), 103.)   
164 Cf. Lynn Thorndike’s unsympathetic remarks in his “History of Magic and Experimental Science”: 
“The temper of Pico was indeed far from scientific. […] Natural magic was a conception more palatable to 
Pico’s paradoxical and marvel-mongering mind than was mathematical discipline and scientific method.” 
(Thorndike, 495)  
165 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 156. 
71 
 
understood will as a faculty of desire/choice whereas the latter along the romantic lines as 
an “unconditioned creative power”.166 
 Farmer embraces a position which is the exact opposite of Gentile’s, namely that 
Pico’s reason is a vehicle of contemplation, not of creation. Needless to say, the conflict 
between the image of man as contemplator and that of man as creator is in reality the same 
that opposes vita contemplativa and vita activa, or sapientia and prudentia. There is no 
doubt that in the Oratio Pico gives preference to the contemplative life and, even though 
he is not altogheter dismissive of the active life (which is represented by the Thrones and 
their faculty of judgement), he is most certainly scornful of the notion that knowledge must 
serve a practical purpose and be “useful”.167 The author praises himself for always having 
practiced philosophy for philosophy’s sake and deplores the contemporary attitudes which 
treat study as an instrument of personal gain or demand that it have practical application 
(be marketable): 
“this whole philosophizing is now (and this is the misfortune of our age) considered 
with contempt and insulted, rather than being occasion for honor and glory. Thus 
this deadly and monstrous persuasion has much invaded the minds of almost 
everybody - so that either no one or few persons must philosophize. As if it were a 
                                                          
166 Cf. Farmer, 105-106.  Farmer also points out the irony of considering Pico a voluntarist, given the fact 
that he seems to lean rather “heavily towards the opposing intellectualist camp.” In fact, Pico goes as far as 
claiming (in one of his Theological Conclusions) that even religious dogmas could not be accepted by the 
will alone, but had to first past the test of reason. (Ibid.)    
167 It is worth noting that this is an important point of divergence between Pico and some of the leading 
humanists who held a more positive view of both personal gain and utility. In fact, the rehabilitation of these 
“questionable” (at least to the medieval mind) aspects of life is often associated with the essence of the new 
humanistic ethos with its embracing of the earthly aspects of life. Such sentiments can be said to be common 
to the “civic” strain of humanism and were expressed for instance by Salutati, Bruni, Bracciolini and Palmieri.  
72 
 
thing of very little worth to have before our eyes and at our hands, with the evidence 
resulting from the most accurate research, the causes of things, the ways of nature, 
the reason of the universe, the plans of God, the mysteries of heaven and earth, 
unless by it one may avidly seek after some favor or procure a profit for oneself. 
Rather, we lowered ourselves to the point (and it’s such a sorrow) that now those 
only are considered wise who reduce philosophy to a merchandise”.168 
 Even though Pico in Oratio speaks of man as the “free and extraordinary shaper” 
of himself, he does not speak of man’s creativity beyond the realm of his own substance. 
Nature in Pico’s thought is in the condition of fullness and perfection, unlike man. It does 
not call for man’s creativity, which, instead, he must exercise within, through the pursuit 
of the Cherubic life. In fact, there is no trace of an “instrumental” approach to reason in 
Pico. For him, the knowledge of Nature does not lead to mastery over it, but beyond itself, 
towards God. The soul’s ultimate peace is achieved through the study of the “most holy 
theology” and the contemplation of the Divine, not through active engagement with the 
world in the vita activa.  
 It has been argued that Pico’s vision involves shunning the world.169 However, I 
would claim that neither the language of agency and mastery, nor that of escaping the world 
and ascetism are appropriate. Pico’s man does not escape from the world, but opens itself 
                                                          
168 Pico § 24. 152-155. Cf. Toussaint’s comments about rentabilité in Toussaint, 
Humanismes/Antihumanismes. 
169 Cf. [Pico’s] “aim, quite literally, is a kind of death, the extinction of the self achieved by the mystic who 
ascends to union with God. The technique of that ascent is the main content of the Oration, whose opening 
hymn to free choice concludes that one must choose the Cherubic life and rise finally to the Seraphic blaze 
of divine union, a journey open only to those who abandon the body and flee the world. Not to master 
nature but to escape from it is Pico’s aim.” (Copenhaver, “Magic and the Dignity of Man: De-Kating Pico’s 
Oration.”, 320)  
73 
 
towards it in preparation for his ultimate destiny. That very openness means that he is not 
intent on leaving his imprint on the created world, but rather he lets himself be inscribed 
by the variety of God’s creation. The study of Nature changes man, makes him more perfect 
in preparation for the unity with the divine. By contrast, Nature does not suffer change as 
a result of the fact that man knows it. His knowing does not violate Nature’s otherness, 
because Pico’s man (unlike Descartes’) is not an arbiter of meanings. Truth for Pico exists 
eternally and independently from man’s endeavors. It is just the question of unveiling it, 
making it manifest.170 To put it bluntly, in the economy of knowledge according to Pico, 
man is at the receiving end. As a result, the relationship between man and Nature cannot 
be cast in simple terms of (active) subject – (passive) object dichotomy. Moreover, there 
is textual evidence that Pico did not think of man in purely Promethean terms. His man 
does not storm heavens, but rather is “drawn”, “roused” and “borne” towards Divinity.171 
In fact, there is a turn from more active vocabulary in the first part of Oratio towards more 
frequent passive constructions in the second which deals with the ideal of Cherubic life, 
                                                          
170 Interestingly, Cassirer recognizes that Pico’s thinking itself operates within this conception of truth: “He 
is convinced that what is true requires no "discovery," no finding out through any personal inquiry of the 
individual; rather it has existed from time immemorial. What is characteristic for Pico is hence not the way 
in which he increased the store of philosophic truth, but the way in which he made it manifest.” (Ernst 
Cassirer, “Giovanni Pico della Mirandola. A Study in the History of Renaissance Ideas,” Journal of the 
History of Ideas 3.2 (1942): 124) 
171 Cf. “Then Bacchus, the leader of the Muses, through his mysteries (that is, through the visible signs of 
nature) will show us, who philosophize, the invisible things of God, and will make us drunk with the 
abundance of God's house, in which, if we prove entirely faithful, like Moses, most sacred theology shall 
draw close to us, animating us with redoubled frenzy. For we, raised to her most eminent height, thence 
comparing to indivisible eternity all things that are and shall be and have been and admiring their primeval 
beauty, shall be the Phoebean seers; of this beauty we shall become the winged lovers. And at last, roused 
by ineffable love as if by a sting, and borne outside ourselves like burning Seraphim, filled with the 
godhead, we shall be no longer ourselves, but He Himself Who made us.” (Pico § 20.118-119) 
74 
 
especially in the passages dedicated to the higher stages of mystical ascent towards the 
plenitude of knowledge/the divine.172    
 Man’s itnerary towards himself is also the itinerary away from himself, or rather 
his original emptiness. He becomes most himself when he is furthest removed from his 
original self.173 In fact, the essence of humanity in Pico’s system seems to be going beyond 
what is human in achieving unity with God: “roused by ineffable love as if by a sting, and 
borne outside ourselves like burning Seraphim, filled with the godhead, we shall be no 
longer ourselves, but He Himself Who made us.”174 It is, doubtless a sort of death, but this 
death must be understood as a death to nothingness and birth to plenitude. It is also death 
to facelessness and the acquisition of an image. Yet, this newly acquired face turns out to 
be the Face of the Other, the incommensurable Other, the ineffable Other, his Other by 
excellence, God.   
 The dialectic of freedom in Oratio always leads towards alterity. Man, in virtue of 
his lack of proper nature is free from natural determination. Not owning anything of his 
own, he cannot be “owned” by his nature either. However, that very freedom from 
determinism is bought at the expense of a constitutional incompleteness, which renders 
man utterly dependent on what is beyond him. Yet, the ultimate discovery, the discovery 
which must be consummated after the entire spectrum of natural knowledge is perused 
from the top to the bottom, and from the bottom to the top of Jacob’s ladder, is the discovery 
                                                          
172 Cf. Farmer, 112; Dougherty, 146 and Roulier, 559. 
173 Cf. “In Pico’s system the soul’s ipseitas or self-identity is paradoxically most preserved when it loses 
that identity in the intellectual nature” (Farmer, 114). 
174 Pico § 20.119. 
75 
 
of the Otherness beyond all speech and all representation. This in Oratio is referred to as 
the “solitary darkness of the Father”, and in Pico’s system it somehow coincides with the 
“the center of [man’s] own unity”. Pico’s man at the end of his mystical journey discovers 
the Other within. 
 
76 
 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 CHARLES DE BOVELLES: THE SELF AS THE MIRROR OF THE OTHER      
 
 In “Individual and Cosmos” Cassirer claims that Charles de Bovelles’ De Sapiente 
“constitutes the immediate continuation and the systematic development of the basic ideas 
in Pico’s oration”.175 As we remember, Pico is styled there as a sort of Kantian avant-la-
lettre and his text is portrayed as concerned chiefly with the idea of man’s autonomy and 
freedom from natural determinism. De Sapiente, for its part, is interpreted by the German 
philosopher as offering an early intuition of the Hegelian distinction between “being-in-
itself” and “being-for-itself”176. Cassirer was fascinated by Bovelles’ work, considering it 
“the most curious and in some respects the most characteristic creation of Renaissance 
philosophy”, unique in the way it blends “old and new ideas”177. In fact, the first German 
edition of “Individual and Cosmos” (1927) contains in the appendix a critical Latin edition 
of the Liber de Sapiente prepared by Cassirer’s student at the time, Raymond Klibansky. 
                                                          
175 Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos, 88.   
176 Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos, 91. Cassirer sees Bovelles also as the precursor of Leibnitz: an 
observation made already by the XVIII century historian of philosophy, Jacob Brucker in his Historia 
critica philosophiae (Leipzig, 1743-44). For an interesting exploration of the relationship between Bovelles 
and Leibnitz cf. Jean-Claude Margolin, “Identité et différence(s) dans la pensée de la Renaissance et dans 
la philosophie de Leibnitz,” in J.-C. Margolin, Philosophies de la Renaissance (Orléans: Paradigme, 
1998), 323- 346.          
177 Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos, 88. 
77 
 
 Cassirer’s enthusiasm for Bovelles’ thought had all the makings of a “rediscovery” 
of a philosopher, whose writings, despite early accolades of his person (by Giordano Bruno 
for example178), were quickly forgotten by posterity.179 And yet, it did not usher in a period 
of renewed interest in the Picard thinker. Bovelles is a figure of some importance in 
Bernard Groethuysen’s “Anthropologie philosophique”180 (Paris, 1953, p. 190-200), in 
Albert Rivaud’s “De la scolastique à l’époque classique” (II volume of « Histoire de la 
Philosophie », Paris 1950, p. 337-356)181, and in Eugene F. Rice’s “The Renaissance Idea 
of Wisdom” (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1958, p. 106-123). However, 
Joseph M. Victor’s 1978 Charles de Bovelles (1479-1553). An Intellectual biography is, to 
date, the only monograph dedicated to the philosopher after Joseph Dippel’s pioneering 
1865 work. The fact that it was penned by an American comes as a surprise when one 
discovers that Bovelles is almost completely absent from the general histories of 
Renaissance philosophy available in English. He is not included in the volume of portraits 
of Renaissance thinkers edited by Paul Richard Blum, “Philosophers of the Renaissance” 
                                                          
178 Cf. Charles de Bovells, Il libro del sapiente, ed. Eugenio Garin (Torino: Einaudi, 1987), XXVIII. 
179 The very first one to appreciate Bovelles importance in Germany was Martin Deutinger in “Das Princip 
der neueren Philosophie und die Christliche Wissenschaft” (Regensburg, 1857). This scholar seems to have 
been also the driving force behind the first thesis ever written on the Picard philosopher, Joseph Dippel’s 
“Versuch einer systematischen Darstellung des Philosophie des Carolus Bovillus” (Würzbourg, 1865). (Cf. 
Emmanuel Faye, Philosophie et perfection de l'homme. De la Renaissance à Descartes (Paris: Vrin, 1998), 
16 n.1). In France A. Renaudet included Bovelles in his 1916 “Préréforme et humanisme à Paris pendant 
les premières guerres d’Italie (1494-1517) (Paris: Champion, 1916), but portrayed him as a minor and 
scarcely original thinker.      
180 Rice hails Bovelles as having no pair among the XVI century wisdom writers. Cf. “no sixteenth century 
thinker has described the encyclopedic capacities and Promethean nature of the wise man more admirably 
or in more precise detail than Carolus Bovillus.” (Eugene Franklin Jr. Rice, The Renaissance Idea of 
Wisdom (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1958, 106)  
181 Rivaud describes him as “peut-être le plus remarquable penseur français du XVe et du début du XVIe 
siècle.” (Albert Rivaud, Histoire de la Philosophie. Tome II. De la scolastique à l'époque classique (Paris: 
Presses universitaires de France, 1950), 339)  
78 
 
(2010).182 He does not get a single mention in “The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance 
Philosophy” (2007) edited by James Hankins or in Brian Copenhaver and Charles B. 
Schmitt’s “Renaissance Philosophy” (1992). In “The Cambridge History of Renaissance 
Philosophy” (1988) he is mentioned once in a footnote and in the main body of the text he 
figures twice, being the protagonist of four sentences altogether183. The situation improved 
significantly with the recent (2011) publication of a special issue of Intellectual History 
Review dedicated to Bovelles’ De sapiente.184 Further signs of growing interest in 
Bovelles’ work within English speaking academia include the foundation of an 
International Charles de Bovelles society in 2009 (with founding members based in the 
USA and Canada) and an imminent publication of an English translation of De Sapiente.       
 In France, after Groethuysen and Rivaud, Maurice de Gandillac was the one who 
kept the interest in Bovelles alive with a lecture on “Lefèvre d’Etaples et Charles de 
Bovelles lecteurs de Nicolas de Cues” at the conference dedicated to “L’humanisme 
français au début de la Renaissance” (Paris, 1973). That interest was further promoted by 
an International Conference dedicated to Bovelles held in Noyon in 1979 which, among 
others, saw Gandillac present on “L’art bovilien des opposés”. Bovelles and his texts were 
granted a lengthy section in 1987 “Prosateurs latins en France au XVI siècle” (p. 93-155) 
co-edited by Jean Claude Margolin and Pierre Magnard. Magnard apart from being the 
driving force behind the 1992 conference on “La dignité de l’homme” which occasioned 
Emmanuel Faye’s outstanding article “La dignité de l’homme selon Charles de Bovelles” 
                                                          
182 First published in German in 1999, 2010 is the date of the English edition.  
183 There is also a very brief bibliographical note at the end of the volume. 
184 Cf. Intellectual History Review 21:3 (2011). 
79 
 
is also the editor of the French translations of Bovelles’ De Sapiente, De nihilo and Ars 
Oppositorum.185 Jean Claude Margolin, for his part, is the author of a number of excellent 
articles on Bovelles, including one on “La vie intérieure selon Charles de Bovelles”.186 
While it is impossible in the present setting to offer a thorough commentary to all of the 
above-mentioned literature on Bovelles, I would like to look at what seems to me the most 
crucial, and yet, somewhat problematic recent contribution to Bovillian studies. The 
scholar whose position I would like to examine is, in my opinion, the third most important 
Bovelles scholar after Magnard and Margolin: Emmanuel Faye. His work is especially 
relevant to my own project for two reasons. Firstly, Faye addresses the issue of the 
relationship between Bovelles and Modern thought. Secondly, he is no less adamant about 
Bovelles’ importance for the history of philosophy than Ernst Cassirer himself.      
 Emmanuel Faye’s “Philosophie et perfection de l’homme” constitutes a challenge 
to the idea, popularized at the beginning of XIX century by Victor Cousin, that there was 
a decisive break between Renaissance and Modern philosophy as inaugurated in the XVII 
century by Descartes. Faye insists on the continuities between Descartes and a number of 
Renaissance thinkers, among whom Bovelles is singled out as the trend-setter: 
                                                          
185 Cf. Pierre Magnard, L'homme délivré de son ombre, traduction du Livre du sage de Charles de Bovelles 
(Paris: Vrin, 1982); ID., L'étoile matutine, traduction du Livre du néant de Charles de Bovelles (Paris: Vrin, 
1983); ID., Soleil noir, traduction du Livre des opposés de Charles de Bovelles (Paris Vrin, 1984). 
186 There was also some work done in Italy (notably Eugenio Garin’s publication of the Italian translation 
of De Sapiente and C. Vasoli’s article on the solar themes in that same work). In Poland Bovelles inspired 
interesting articles by Jan Czerkawski, S. Świerzawski and B.S. Kunda. In Germany, although Bovelles’ 
name appears regularly in works dedicated to the history of Renaissance philosophy, the Picard philosopher 
does not command attention comparable to what he once instigated in Cassirer. (Cf. Emmanuel Faye, 
Philosophie et perfection de l'homme, 16, n.3).      
80 
 
“C’est à partir de Charles de Bovelles que se constitue véritablement la philosophie 
renaissante en France. Bovelles est en effet le premier penseur de la Renaissance à 
concevoir une philosophie de l’homme ayant sa valeur propre, distincte des 
‘christologies’ qui prévalaient encore au XVe siècle dans les œuvres de Nicolas de 
Cues ou Jean Pic de la Mirandole […]. La philosophie de Bovelles prend 
directement appui sur la conscience que l’homme a de soi, de son origine et de la 
continuité de sa vie intérieure, affranchissant ainsi la pensée du discours 
théologique traditionnel et toujours ressassé sur la corruption de l’homme 
pécheur.”187   
 Faye’s book is quite remarkable in suggesting that the ideal of philosophical life as 
the quintessence of human perfection is the long-overlooked crucial link between French 
XVI and XVII century thought, the true bridge between Renaissance thinkers and 
Descartes188. On the other hand, Faye’s thesis suffers from the author’s somewhat 
doctrinaire insistence on the incompatibility of the theological and the philosophical 
discourses – a divide that, as Jean-Claude Margolin points out, is, in Bovelles, rather less 
obvious than Faye is willing to admit189. Faye sees the entire span of XVI century French 
thought (especially Bovelles, Montaigne and Charron) as working towards a new, properly 
philosophical conception of man. This new conception involves, in his view, the 
emancipation of the idea of human perfection from the religious context in which it is 
                                                          
187 Faye, Philosophie et perfection de l'homme, 7-8. 
188 Similar vindications of philosophy can be found also in a number of XIII century Parisian arts masters, 
notably Siger of Brabant and Boetius of Dacia. (Cf. Faye, Philosophie et perfection de l'homme, 25) 
189 Cf. Jean-Claude Margolin, “Reflections on the Nature of the Homo Sapiens and On the Ideal of Wisdom 
According to Charles de Bovelles,” Intellectual History Review 21:3 (2011): 283 n. 11. 
81 
 
always footnoted by a consideration of human insufficiency and the need for redemption. 
Faye further suggests that the question of human perfection as envisaged by XVI century 
French thinkers (and XIII century Parisian arts masters), should not be confused with the 
similar idea of human dignity, so powerfully articulated by the Quattrocentro humanists. 
While human perfection is a self-contained notion, human dignity always presupposes its 
opposite – human misery190.  
 Faye argues that the first steps towards the new understanding of human perfection 
were taken by the Catalan Raymond Sebond (or Sibiuda), whose “defense” penned by 
Montaigne gained well-deserved notoriety. However, while Sebond’s Liber Creaturarum 
is the battleground between the old and the new anthropology, Bovelles makes the proper 
transition from thinking man “theologically” to thinking him “philosophically”.191 For the 
Picard philosopher, Faye says, human perfection is no longer a religious issue: it is a 
philosophical problem, as it will be later for Descartes as well. Engaging though it is, 
Faye’s thesis relies excessively on what seems to be a rather simplistic understanding of 
the difference between the theological and the philosophical thought of man.192 In his zeal 
                                                          
190 Faye of course is not correct in claiming that the question of human dignity is emblematic of 
Quattrocento only. In XVI century France Pierre Boaistuau with his diptych “Le Théâtre du monde” (1558) 
and “Bref discours de l’excellence et dignité de l’homme” (1559) belongs rather to the “human dignity” 
tradition. Similarly, in XVI century Spain we find an eloquent representative of this tradition in Fernán 
Pérez de Oliva, the author of “Diálogo de la dignidad del hombre” (1546).     
191 A similar case is made by Eugene F. Rice Jr., who argues that Bovelles secularizes the notion of 
deification framing it as independent of grace and “the result of a naturally achieved perfection, a passage 
from potency to act, a willed development of all human potentialities.” (Rice, 120) The main difference 
between Rice and Faye is that while the former views the Bovillian idea of wisdom as purely intellectual 
and contemplative, Faye insists on its practical and moral dimension.     
192 Cf. “La théologie ne présente aucune connaissance unifiée de l’homme, mais une double représentation 
de sa grandeur et de sa misère: grandeur de l’homme fait à l’image et à la ressemblance de Dieu, misère de 
l’homme après la chute. La dignité et la valeur de l’homme ne tiennent pas à ce qu’il est homme, mais à 
l’idée qu’il soit créé à l’image de Dieu. […] Faute d’être considéré par et pour lui-même, l’être humain est 
écartelé entre des représentations antithétiques: dignité et misère, vieil homme et homme nouveau, homme 
pêcheur et homme rédimé, homme pérégrin et homme bienheureux. C’est pourquoi la théologie n’apporte 
82 
 
to distill from Bovelles’ works purely “philosophical” content (i.e. those elements which 
are not “contaminated” by considerations of transcendence), though stopping short of 
denying the overall importance to the Picard thinker of theological issues, Faye 
nevertheless ends up compromising the unity of Bovillian thought. Pierre Magnard appears 
to be closer to the spirit of the author of De Sapiente when he states that: 
“Promouvoir l’idéal du sage, c’est dire précisément que […] l’homme lui-même, 
loin d’être un simple donné naturel, doit, par nature et vertu conjointe, rendre 
effective une identité de soi à soi, qui ne s’accomplira en plénitude que dans le 
retour de l’esprit humain à son principe, c’est-à-dire à Dieu. […] Bien que le mot 
assurrectio ne se trouve pas dans le De Sapiente les mots sont très nombreux – 
subveho, subvectio, scandere, etc. – qui évoquent une démarche ascensionnelle, 
comme si l’identité humaine ne se réalisait que dans un mouvement de 
« transascendance »”193  
 In my opinion, Magnard’s superior understanding of the internal dynamics of 
Bovelles’ theory of wisdom might stem from this author’s intimacy with the text acquired 
through the work of edition and translation. De Sapiente can be divided into two parts, of 
which the first one focuses on the figure of the wise (chapters 1-33) and the second 
(chapters 34-50) – on the nature of wisdom. In the first part the sage is considered primarily 
                                                          
pas une synthèse de l’homme, mais présuppose toujours une dualité, qui dépossède l’homme de la 
compréhension qu’il pourrait avoir directement de soi-même. On comprend donc que la définition 
théologique des deux états de l’homme interdise l’accès à la question philosophique de la perfection de 
l’homme […] ” (Faye, Philosophie et perfection de l'homme, 23) 
193 Pierre Magnard, “Le sage dans le ‘De sapiente’,” in Charles de Bovelles en son cinquième centenaire 
1479-1979. Actes du Colloque International tenu à Noyon les 14-16 septembre 1979 (Paris: G. Trédaniel, 
1982), 102. Similar perspective is shared by de Lubac. Cf. Henri de Lubac, “Le sage selon Charles de 
Bovelles,” in Mélanges offerts à M.D. Chenu (Paris: J. Vrin, 1967), 385–97. 
83 
 
in relation to himself and the world, whereas in the second part human wisdom is pondered 
in relation to angelic and divine wisdom.194 The concluding chapter LI brings together the 
themes of the first and second part. While Magnard reads the work as an organic whole, 
Faye tends to privilege the initial chapters over and above the ones where Bovillian 
reflection becomes more obviously theological in character. And yet, the intimate 
connection between the opening and the subsequent chapters of De Sapiente cannot be 
denied in light of the final exhortation to the reader, in which Bovelles (much like Pico 
before him) warns man against the limitations inherent in purely human knowledge 
(humana doctrina):  
“[Ô homme] Par ta sensibilité, tu es porté vers le monde pour y errer. Par ta raison, 
tu te recueilles en toi-même. À l’aide de celle-ci, sonde sans cesse le ciel, pense 
toujours aux choses d’en haut, habite en pensée les demeures célestes. […] Attache-
toi à Dieu, unis-toi à lui, sois en communion avec lui: la sagesse qui exorcise et 
dissipe tous les maux te rendra aimable à lui. […] La science humaine nous laisse 
en effet complètement à jeun et assoiffés. La science divine est cette nourriture qui, 
selon le mot de Bigi, ‘rassasie nos cœurs d’un aliment vivant.’”195      
 In fact, Bovelles defines wisdom in a two-fold manner. In the dedicatory letter to 
Guillaume Briçonnet, bishop of Lodeve he focuses on the idea that wisdom is self-
knowledge. This first understanding of wisdom dominates the first part of the work, in 
which Bovelles explains how self-knowledge is to be achieved. In the second part, where 
                                                          
194 Cf. Margolin, “Reflections”, 283. 
195 Charles de Bovelles, Le livre du sage, ed. and trans. Pierre Magnard (Paris: Vrin, 1982), 309 and 315. 
84 
 
an attempt is made to define wisdom as such, the preferred definition is the one according 
to which all true knowledge is the knowledge of God.196 The fact that Bovelles works with 
two notions of wisdom at the same time should not be treated as a mark of incoherence. 
The Picard philosopher feels very much at home with such re-doublings, to such an extent 
in fact, that one could view dichotomies as his trademark. As a result, the attempt to think 
the paradoxes of sameness and otherness, identity and alterity (already present in Pico’s 
Oratio), now in De Sapiente achieves almost the rank of a philosophical method. To be 
sure, this is hardly surprising in an author of two works dedicated to ars oppositorum, and 
an admirer of Cusanus.197   
 In De Sapiente the presence of dichotomies is especially felt in the chapters 
dedicated to the figure of the sage, in which the author elaborates on the parallelisms 
between the macrocosm and the microcosm. The organizing idea of these pages is that the 
degrees of human perfection correspond to the degrees of perfection in nature and to the 
four elements. Along with these correspondences, the reader is introduced to the pairs of 
opposites: Fortune and Virtue, the ignorant and the sage, the natural man and the man of 
culture, the external and the internal eye. However, Bovelles, much like Cusanus, does not 
believe these redoublings and oppositions to be the ultimate organizing principle of reality. 
The latter, in his eyes, is essentially one, or better even: triune. In fact, in De Sapiente many 
of the initial dichotomies are resolved in some form of Trinitarian arrangement. For 
instance, the original distinction between the natural man and the man of culture makes 
                                                          
196 Cf. “Chaque puissance cognitive, dans la mesure de ses moyens, s’efforce vers Dieu, comme vers son 
objet propre, son vrai soleil, sa fin et son achèvement.” (Bovelles, 241) 
197 Cf. Maurice de Gandillac, “Lefèvre d’Étaples et Charles de Bouelles, lecteurs de Nicolas de Cues,” in 
L’Humanisme français au début de la Renaissance (Paris: J. Vrin, 1973), 155–71. 
85 
 
way later on for the definition of an accomplished man as the one who is borne out of the 
coupling of the one with the other, a “three times man” (homo homo homo). These 
Trinitarian arrangements are predominant especially in the chapters dedicated to the nature 
of wisdom and betray another source of inspiration for Bovelles – the works of Lull198 and 
Sibiuda. Following in the footsteps of these authors, convinced as they were that Christian 
revelation can be “read” from the book of Nature, Bovelles sees Trinitarian patterns in all 
aspects of the created world, a coded message of the true nature of God available to all 
rational beings.   
 De Sapiente shares with Oratio the basic idea that humanity must be understood in 
dynamic terms and man is but a project. Bovelles, like Pico, tells us that humans have no 
nature particular to them, but participate in the natures of the rest of creation in two ways. 
Firstly, man contains within him all the degrees of natural perfection. After the manner of 
rocks and inanimate objects he possesses existence, like plants he has life, with animals he 
shares sensibility and as a human being he is capable of understanding. And yet, all these 
degrees of perfection are present in human beings only in potentiality and it is man’s task 
to actualize them. On the one hand, existence, life, sensibility and understanding belong to 
different stages of human life. A baby in a mother’s womb in its immobility possesses only 
existence; a newborn is attached to her mother’s nourishing breast like a plant to the earth 
and can be said to have life and capacity for growth. A young child can be compared in his 
mobility to an animal enjoying the faculty of sensibility. Finally, an adult human being has 
the privilege of reason.199 Still, even among men who physically reached their full potential 
                                                          
198 Cf. Jordi Gaya, “Réminiscences lulliennes dans l’anthropologie de Charles de Bovelles,” in Charles de 
Bovelles en son cinquième centenaire, 143–56. 
199 Cf. Bovelles, 69-71. 
86 
 
there are degrees of spiritual accomplishment as not all of them make proper use of their 
rational powers. If a man succumbs to the vice of acedia (sloth, spiritual laziness) he 
thereby abdicates from all his higher faculties and, like a rock, contents himself with pure 
being. The vice of gluttony turns man into a plant whose basic vital function is nourishment 
and that of luxury – into an animal. Only the man of culture (homo studiosus) leads a life 
worthy of human beings, turning his capacity for understanding into an on-going 
actualization of rationality. Furthermore, only the last kind of man is truly human, for 
wisdom is the only virtue capable “de mettre l’homme sur ses pieds, de le maintenir et de 
le fixer en son humanité, ou si l’on veut, de lui interdire de sortir des bornes humaines en 
partageant le destin des êtres inférieurs.”200  
 But man participates in the natures of the rest of creation also as the universal 
contemplator and the site of rational representation of all that is. That second understanding 
of man’s capacity to become everything is rooted in the third book of Aristostle’s De Anima 
where the Philosopher argues that in the cognitive process the human soul assumes the 
form of what it knows.201 No doubt, the two understandings of man’s “naturelessness” are 
intertwined. However, while Pico’s Oratio focuses more on the moral dimension of man’s 
unique ontological status (engaging the question of human freedom and his divine 
vocation), Bovelles seems to privilege somewhat the theme of human “naturelessness” as 
a prerequisite for the faculty of understanding:           
                                                          
200 Bovelles, 55. 
201 Cf. Rice, 107.  
87 
 
“Rien n’est le propre de l’homme mais tout ce qui est le propre des autres êtres lui 
appartient. Tout ce qui est la particularité de tel ou tel, de celui-ci et de celui-là, 
individuellement, appartient à l’unité de l’homme. Celui-ci en effet porte en lui la 
nature de toutes choses, voit tout, reproduit la nature entière. Butinant et absorbant 
tout ce qui est dans la nature des choses, il devient toute chose. En effet, l’homme 
n’est pas tel être particulier ou tel autre et sa nature n’est pas telle ou telle, mais il 
est tout à la fois, le concours, l’aboutissement rationnel et la récapitulation de toutes 
choses.”202 
 Man as the microcosm contains within him the entire world in potentiality. In line 
with the first understanding of man’s indeterminate ontological status, Bovelles 
distinguishes between man by nature and man by art (virtue). The former possesses only 
the external characteristics of humanity, but is yet to realize his full potential. If he forgets 
his natural capacity to reason and uses only his lower faculties – simply existing (esse), 
living (vivere), sensing (sentire), he descends to the level of minerals, plants or animals. A 
wise man, a man of culture (by art and virtue) as the one who makes use of the full array 
of his potentialities is the only one who achieves full humanity. It is so because wisdom is 
defined in De Sapiente as self-knowledge and one must have a knowledge of oneself to 
realize that one is human (or to use Bovelles’ wording he only is man who knows himself 
to be man: “qui se novit homo, hic solus homo est”203).  
                                                          
202 Bovelles, 171. 
203 Bovelles, 54-55. Based on statements such as this one, Cesare Catà argues that for Bovelles Sapientia 
must be interpreted as man’s understanding of his own specificity. (Cf. Cesare Catà, “Viewed Through the 
Looking- Glass: Human Nature as a Mystical Mirror in Charles de Bovelles’ Conception of Sapientia,” 
Intellectual History Review 21:3 (2011): 307)  
88 
 
 On the other hand, man can be said to contain the entire world in potentiality also 
in virtue of his ability to grasp the forms of everything in his thought. While Oratio de 
hominis dignitate thematizes man’s faculty to “fashion” himself into the form of his choice 
through a moral decision to opt for a given form of existence (vegetative, sensible or 
rational and intellectual), De Sapiente ties human freedom to the idea of wise man as 
capable of becoming everything through the actualization in his thought process of the 
seminal forms of the world already present in him. This particular re-interpretation of 
Pico’s topos of man as an artifex can be glimpsed in the following passage:    
“[Le sage] comprend tout en son esprit et actualise en lui-même toute chose; comme 
le plus habile sculpteur, il sculpte en lui-même toute image; comme le mime, qui 
imite toutes choses, toutes choses lui sont présentes, offertes et sans secret; enfin il 
est implanté en tout, comme tout est, nous le croyons, à la façon des espèces, 
implanté en lui.”204  
 Man contains everything in two senses: firstly, because all degrees of natural 
perfection dwell in him and secondly, because in the process of acquiring knowledge of 
the world, the forms of everything become imprinted in him. All men can be said to be 
microcosm in the first sense, but only the sage who pursues knowledge is microcosm in 
the second sense.205 However not only does Bovelles call man the little world, but he goes 
                                                          
204 Bovelles, 147. The word “pantomimus” should be noted for it is of great importance in Vives’ Fabula de 
homine and constitutes a vital link between Bovelles and the Valentian polymath whose anthropology 
centers around the image of man-as-mime. (Cf. the next chapter) 
205 The language Bovelles uses in the description of this self-fashioning through thinking the world strikes 
one as very corporeal. Cf. “En tout être du monde en effet se cache quelque chose d’humain. En chacun se 
loge quelque atome propre à l’homme: l’homme cultivé doit en être composé et formé; […] Cet homme 
donc […] demande à chaque chose qui est sienne, il extrait de toute substance du monde l’atome constitutif 
89 
 
as far as calling the world the “big” man.206 This rather radical equation between man 
(especially wise man) and the world has serious implications for the definition of wisdom 
as self-knowledge, pointing to interdependence if not synonymy, in Bovelles’ system, 
between knowing oneself and knowing the world.  
 Here too, as in Pico’s Oratio we are told that self-awareness or the sense of self-
identity is inextricably intertwined with the awareness of something beyond the self. Of 
course, such interdependence leaves open the question of what is prior. Is humanity what 
grounds Nature, or the other way round? The relationship envisaged in De Sapiente seems 
to be perfectly symbiotic: the rational man is the product of Nature, but Nature’s 
intelligibility is produced within man. Man is, in fact, is the soul of the world.207 One needs 
the other for each is lacking in some respect and over-abundant in another. Man is poor in 
being, but rich in understanding, while the world is rich in being and devoid of reason.208 
This relationship has all the marks of reciprocity: the world gives man his being and the 
man confers on the world its meaning. Man in his physical concreteness resides in the 
physical world, but the world’s intelligibility resides within man:     
                                                          
de sa forme propre. Cet atome il le récolte et se l’incorpore et d’atomes entrant en de nombreuses formes il 
dégage et produit sa propre forme.” (Bovelles, 173) 
206 Cf. “La nature a donc engendré et produit deux homes: le grand que nous dénommons le monde, le petit 
qui est désigné plus spécialement du nom d’homme. Le grand est toutes choses en acte, le petit toutes 
choses en puissance. Grâce à l’application, à l’activité, au travail et à l’élan de celui-ci, l’acte est tiré de la 
puissance et la lumière jaillit des ténèbres […] dans la mesure où le petit homme a embrassé le grand tout 
entier et où, une fois dissipe la nuée de son ignorance originelle, il connaît tout sans exception, comprend 
absolument tout et sait tout. De cette manière, le petit parvient à sa perfection. ” (Bovelles, 173) 
207 Cf. Bovelles, 161. 
208 Cf. Bovelles, 153. 
90 
 
“Si le monde embrasse tout, il ne sait ni ne connaît rien. Si l’homme est infime au 
point de n’être rien, il sait et connaît tout. Celui-ci est aussi grand par la science que 
celui-là par la substance; l’un est le lieu des raisons, l’autre celui des existences; 
l’un abrite la similitude, l’autre la vérité. Le monde est l’agent de toute présence, 
l’homme celui de tout jugement, vision et représentation. Le monde est l’objet dans 
sa généralité, tenant en soi toute vérité; l’homme est le miroir de toutes choses, 
embrassant toute image et la réfléchissant. L’homme enfin est l’éclat, la 
manifestation, la brillance, l’âme du monde, tandis que le monde est comme le 
corps même de l’homme. L’un comme l’autre sont un maximum et un minimum, 
le monde maximum d’être et minimum de science ; l’homme maximum de savoir 
et minimum d’être. Chacun se tient en l’autre, chacun contient l’autre; l’être de 
l’homme se trouve dans le monde, la science du monde se trouve en l’homme.”209  
 Man is, in Bovelles’ thought, the means through which Nature comes to know 
itself.210 Human reason is indeed “the daughter of Nature and in proximity to her mother, 
the only one capable of emulating it”.211 Now, the notion that Nature somehow “thinks 
herself” through man is reminiscent of the Hegelian idea that human reason is the means 
through which Absolute Spirit thinks itself. In fact, Bovelles’ entire scalar ontology is read 
by Cassirer as representing figuratively the stages on “the path from the object to the 
                                                          
209 Bovelles, 153.  
210 Cf. “Nous définissons […] la raison comme cette force par laquelle la mère nature fait retour sur elle-
même, le cycle de la nature se bouclant et la nature étant rendue à elle-même.” (Bovelles, 85) 
211 Cf. “Il est clair que la raison est de toutes les filles de la nature la seule qui soit achevée, elle qui seule 
peut rencontrer sa mère et […] de lui donner des baisers, seule donc à être présente auprès de sa mère, faite 
pour la comprendre et l’embrasser.” (Bovelles, 83) 
91 
 
subject, from simple ‘being’ to ‘consciousness of self’”.212 Similarly, Bovelles’ 
organization of created reality into various degrees of perfection is interpreted by the 
German philosopher as standing for the different phases though which “being runs in order 
that it may arrive at itself, at its own concept”.213 Commenting on what indeed appears as 
an uncanny affinity between Bovelles and Hegel Cassirer affirms that:  
“Bovillus anticipates the Hegelian formula according to which the meaning and 
aim of the mental process of development consists in the ‘subtance’ becoming 
‘subject’. Reason is the power in man by which ‘mother nature’ returns to herself, 
i.e. by which she completes her cycle and is led back to herself.”214 
 Faye does not like this Hegelian interpretation and accuses Cassirer of glossing over 
the fact that in Bovelles’ philosophy there is no identification between human and divine 
thought (or Absolute Spirit).215 Faye’s reservation is very justified, but the striking affinity 
between Hegelian and Bovillian ideas should not be dismissed too nonchalantly. After all, 
in both systems reason is the means through which “a return to itself” of something greater 
than man is accomplished. In the case of Bovelles it is Nature and in Hegel’s, Spirit.216 The 
difference between the two thinkers seems to be twofold. Firstly, while for Hegel there is 
a certain continuity between Nature and the Absolute (in the sense that Nature is the most 
                                                          
212 Cassirer, The Individual and the Cosmos, 89. 
213 Ibid. 
214 Ibid. 
215 Cf. “dans la philosophie de Bovelles, la subjectivité de la pensée humaine ne s’identifie pas à l’Esprit 
Absolu, à la mens divine” (Faye, Philosophie et perfection de l'homme, 101) 
216 Admittedly, Hegel’s Spirit is Nature become conscious of itself, or to use Schellings’s felicitous phrase, 
“Nature is slumbering Spirit”. In any case, the parallels are unmistakable.  
92 
 
basic and primitive way the Absolute unfolds itself), for Bovelles Nature is by no means a 
simple emanation of God. As a result, for the Picard philosopher being the instrument of 
Nature’s self-recognition is in no way to render the same service to God. Secondly, while 
Hegel’s man is capable of reaching the Absolute standpoint, in Bovelles there is always a 
rift between human and divine knowledge. In other words, while Hegel’s Absolute cannot 
be separated from the human (and hence, must be articulated therein), Bovelles’ God does 
not need to be “thought” by man: He contemplates his own essence in a perfectly self-
enclosed manner. Nature, on the other hand, does need the wise man to achieve 
intelligibility and, as it will be argued in the pages to follow, redemption.       
 But there is also (and I say this well-aware of the risk of further irritating those who 
disparage the “old-fashioned” style of doing the history of ideas, i.e. drawing parallels 
between thinkers distant historically or geographically) a certain correspondence between 
the Bovillian notion of reason’s “proximity” to Nature217 and Heidegger’s definition of 
human beings from the proximity to Being218. Firstly, in Heidegger’s thought we discover 
a similar symbiotic relation between human beings and the world – just as Bovelles’ Nature 
needs man to ground its meaning, so Heidegger’s Being relies on humans for the 
“preservation” of its truth. The proximity between human beings and Being in Heidegger 
is both what brings humans to their essence and what grounds the truth of Being. 
Nevertheless, as Hegel’s Absolute is more than Bovillian Nature, so is Heidegger’s Being. 
In fact, referring to God as simply “Being” was a rather common practice among the 
                                                          
217 Cf. “La raison est […] la seule qui jouisse du voisinage de sa mère (matris vicinia gaudeat) et de la vue 
de sa taille, elle qui est faite pour se tenir auprès d’elle la refléter, et profiter de sa aimable conversation” 
(Bovelles, 84-85). Emphasis mine. 
218 Cf. Heidegger, Letter on Humanism. 
93 
 
medievals, based on Exodus 3:14 where God reveals his name to Moses as “He who is”. 
Bovelles, as already mentioned, is very far from claiming that God somehow needs humans 
to think Him and yet he clearly holds that Nature does. 
 But there is an even more fruitful way to pursue the theme of the correspondence 
between the two thinkers. Even though Heidegger would view himself as challenging the 
entire Western philosophical tradition after Plato, it seems that his objections target more 
specifically post-Cartesian thought and that he deems the pre-modern developments 
questionable inasmuch as they led to the modern standpoint. Being is not something that 
can be apprehended: it must be revealed, thus man’s coming into the “clearing” of Being 
presupposes both an openness/trust and a willingness to be informed and thus, ‘molded’. 
This attitude is certainly incompatible with Cartesian universal doubt, and yet it presents 
some affinity to the Ancient and Medieval brands of epistemology in positing the object of 
knowledge as independent from the knower. Bovelles, despite appearances, is very pre-
modern in the way he understands the process of cognition. He relies on the Thomistic 
version of the Aristotelian notions of passive and active intellect. According to this scheme 
the forms of things offer themselves to the senses and are inscribed in memory. The passive 
intellect (called also the ‘possible intellect’) is the receptive faculty of the spirit, absorbing, 
so to speak, the intelligible forms from without. The active intellect is the agent of the 
actual thinking for it actualizes these received forms in the thought process. The domain of 
the former is potentiality, the domain of the latter - actuality. 
 Bovelles illustrates the properties and workings of the two faculties of intellect with 
the image of a mirror. Man, when considered as the locale of passive intellect, is the mirror 
Nature holds to Herself. This analogy deserves particular attention for it sheds further light 
94 
 
on the meaning of human lack of proper nature/essence. Firstly, as mirror is not part of the 
reflected image, man-the mirror has to be outside of Nature to be able to reflect it. 
Secondly, just as any good mirror must have a smooth and flawless surface devoid of pre-
existing images, similarly man-the mirror has to be empty and imageless. Standing outside 
of the order of Nature and the lack of proper image are both required in order that man may 
reflect Nature.219  
 Yet, the capacity to reflect is of no consequence if there is no eye to perceive the 
reflected image. Now, man, considered from the point of view of the operations of his 
active intellect, is equivalent to the eye which contemplates the image in the mirror. In fact, 
he can be said to be Nature’s eye through which She can behold herself. Furthermore, as 
the eye of Nature man must be understood as her integral part, and, hence will also be part 
of the image reflected in the mirror. Indeed, as the eye while looking in the mirror is 
perhaps most struck by the appearance of its own likeness220, man, as well as being the eye 
and the mirror of Nature, is also the image reflected in the mirror. Consequently, man sees 
himself (or: becomes aware of himself) through reflecting his Other, in this case Nature.221   
                                                          
219 Cf. Bovelles, 103. 
220 Cf. “L’œil ne peut rien voir de plus remarquable dans le miroir que son propre simulacre. Aussi la vue 
véritable et essentielle est celle qui a l’œil même pour objet. Le même œil, qui projette et qui darde son 
simulacre sure le miroir, se réjouit de se voir dans le reflet offert par le miroir.” (Bovelles, 103) 
221 It is important to notice that in De Sapiente the capacity to reflect the world never leads to what Vico 
called “la barbarie delle riflessione”. Reflection for Bovelles is not an operation of the intellect “formed as 
an instrument of desire.” (Cf. Donald Phillip Verene, Philosophy and the Return to Self-Knowledge (New 
Haven – London: Yale University Press, 1997), 42.) It is not symptomatic of a misguided love of the object 
and search for control over it. For Bovelles man’s ability to reflect is conceived as both a means of self-
knowledge and a sort of ministry to the world. (More on that latter aspect can be found in the following 
pages). Man-the-mirror is thought in connection to the world, but not as world’s manipulator.    
95 
 
 The active and passive intellect collaborate in bringing man to himself, a process 
in which knowing the World and being the World are quasi-synonymous. The 
“penetration” of external realities into human mind in the passive intellect is necessary for 
the operations of the intellect agent.222 The latter uses the received forms of things to 
produce an intellectual equivalent of the material world and, in the process, to forge human 
essence.223 In other words, the “intrusion” of externality is necessary for human beings to 
realize their own nature. Explaining this dependence on the World for self-knowledge, 
Bovelles compares man to the soul of the universe and the world is its body. Just as the 
soul first learns about the body only later to return to itself, so man has to first know the 
world before he can know himself.224 In fact, the itinerary of the wise is circular: from the 
insufficiency of the natural man, through the representation of nature in his intellect, 
towards full self-recognition. In this scheme, wisdom (or self-knowledge) involves both 
                                                          
222 Youkovsky in her “Thème plotiniens dans le De Sapiente de Charles de Bovelles” insists on the interior 
operations of the active intellect to underscore Bovelles’ indebtedness to the Neo-Platonic epistemology. 
(Cf. “Comme Plotin et comme Ficin, Bovelles affirme donc que la contemplation est exercée par l’âme 
dans l’âme. C’est une plongée dans le monde intérieur, à la différence des plus bas degrés de la 
connaissance, la Sensatio et l’Imaginatio, dont le domaine est celui de la matière, et qui dépendent du 
temps. Dana la contemplation, l’âme ne reçoit pas sa connaissance de l’extérieur, comme une empreinte 
des choses, mais elle la conçoit en elle-même.” (Françoise Youkovsky, “Thèmes plotiniens dans le De 
Sapiente de Charles de Bovelles,” Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance 43:1 (1981): 143.)) While it 
is true that in the last stage of cognition, i.e. in its contemplative moment the intellect does not receive 
knowledge from without and works exclusively within the limits of interiority, that moment is preceded 
and made possible by the “intrusion” of the forms of the world without. 
223 I am well aware that the passive and active terminology has a tangled history of usage. Nonetheless, it 
should be evident by now, that the transition from Medieval to Renaissance thought involves both 
continuity and discontinuity in philosophical/theological language.  
224 Cf. “L’apprentissage de cette connaissance de soi s’effectue selon un processus successif; l’âme ne 
connaît pas le corps en même temps qu’elle se connaît, la connaissance du corps précédant en elle la 
connaissance de soi” (Bovelles, 163) 
96 
 
knowing the Other and becoming the Other, it is “le passage, la transformation […] de 
l’homme en toutes choses et de toutes choses en l’homme.”225    
 Wisdom, through the transformation of everything into man and of man into all 
things bears fruit of the discovery of the Other within. Although unorthodox at first glance, 
such belief is, in some respects, very close to our everyday ways of thinking and speaking. 
One tends to associate a higher sense of self-awareness with the ability to take a fresh look 
onto oneself, so to speak. An unreflective person, somebody treating themselves in a simple 
matter-of-factly way, never experiences the surprise of the face-to-face with oneself. The 
self can only be experienced as something different than what one pre-reflectively took it 
to be. And yet, in Bovelles, the Other that reveals to man his own face, is the World (the 
macrocosm), an idea which disagrees with the modern sense of the inviolable space of 
interiority. The fact that World is something to be found in the intimacy of the self is a 
paradox testifying to the complicated interplay between interiority and exteriority in 
Bovillian thought. The image Bovelles chooses to illustrate the intimate connection 
between the two poles of this dichotomy is that of the Roman double-faced god Janus.226 
After the manner of Janus, who looks simultaneously in two opposite directions: outwardly 
and inwardly, the sage must learn to use both his internal and his external eye.227 True 
                                                          
225 Bovelles, 165. 
226 Cf. Tamara Albertini, “Charles de Bovelles' Enigmatic Liber de Sapiente: A Heroic Notion of Wisdom,” 
Intellectual History Review 21:3 (2011): 301-302. 
227 “Est sage en effet non pas celui qui se contente de porter un regard extérieur sur le monde pour en être le 
spectateur, mais celui qui possède, lucides parce qu’en acte, l’un et l’autre œil, qui peut se voir lui-même 
aussi bien que le monde, à qui sont connues, accessibles et manifestes comme à un Janus à double visage 
les réalites du dedans aussi bien que celles du dehors.” (Bovelles, 301) 
97 
 
wisdom belongs to sapiens bifrons whose one face is turned towards the world and the 
other towards himself.  
 It was said that for Bovelles man acquires his true nature though the realization in 
himself of the image of the Other. What still needs to be clarified is which Other. Namely, 
how can we reconcile the idea that man recognizes himself as he becomes the image of 
Nature and man’s possession of the image of God? How can we reconcile the notion that 
man becomes himself (i.e. becomes human) through the contemplation of Nature and the 
idea that man’s finality (the actualization of his human potential or simply: of his humanity) 
lies in the knowledge of God? In fact, how can we reconcile the two definitions of wisdom 
at work in De Sapiente?  
 The connection between knowing Nature and knowing God becomes more evident 
when we consider Bovelles’ thoughts on immortality. In fact, the discussion of the passive 
and active intellect in the context of the image of the mirror must be understood within the 
framework of a long-standing controversy surrounding the issue of the immortality of the 
soul. The most celebrated moment of the debate in question was the confrontation between 
the XIII century Averroists and Aquinas, but in the Renaissance it was reignited by Pietro 
Pomponazzi. The disputed point concerned the proper locale of the active intellect – is it 
to be understood as available to all men, but existing outside of particular human beings or 
is it a part of each individual soul? The answer to this question had serious consequences 
for the teaching on personal immortality. Active intellect is, as Aristotle taught, by its very 
nature immortal and incorruptible. If it forms a part of the human soul it guarantees that 
she possesses the same characteristics. If, on the other hand, it exists independently from 
individuals, it persists even if the human soul should perish.  
98 
 
 Now Bovelles reiterates several times in the chapter we have just analyzed that the 
“eye” and the “mirror” of the spirit, i.e. the active and passive intellect are inseparable and 
form one substance228. He states it even more forcefully in the passages dedicated explicitly 
to the discussion of immortality.229 Since the locale of the passive intellect is human soul, 
in practice, this amounts to stating that active intellect belongs to individual men and, hence 
that men are immortal. In this context, tapping into ones’ intellective faculty, using ones’ 
intellect agent is tantamount to reclaiming ones’ immortal, and hence, divine nature.230 In 
fact, the ignorant, due to their ignorance of themselves remain unaware of their own 
immortality and hence fall into despair, which in turn leads them to indulge in debauched 
life.231 In this light the link between the pursuit of wisdom and the realization in oneself of 
the image of God becomes more obvious as is Bovelles’ unorthodox claim that although 
the image of God is “naturally” available to all man, it is effectively achieved only by the 
                                                          
228 Cf. “L’œil et le miroir s’approchent tellement l’un à l’autre qu’ils constituent la substance indivise d’une 
seul esprit, qu’ils sont immédiatement présents l’un à l’autre, qu’aucun écran ne s’interpose entre eux, ni ne 
contrarie leur face à face.” (Bovelles, 103). 
229 Cf. “Entre l’intellect agent et l’intellect possible, il ne peut y avoir […] aucune béance, par laquelle la 
spéculation de l’agent c'est-à-dire l’action propre de l’âme, et la contemplation seraient disjointes, séparées, 
écartées l’une de l’autre. L’intellect agent cultive donc avec zèle l’intellect patient, comme la terre soumise 
à son labour, puissance latente d’une même nature, immatérielle, toujours présente, inséparable, 
immortelle, consubstantielle enfin à lui-même.“ (Bovelles, 119-121) 
230 Cf. “L’homme réel et naturel participe de l’âme immortelle et raisonnable: il est pourtant privée de cette 
lumière et cette illumination du cœur, par laquelle il pourrait connaître les dons qu’il a reçus, avoir le 
bonheur de savoir qu’il est doué de raison, immortel et image de Dieu. […] Le sage, par contre, est regard 
lucide, oreille attentive, cœur disposé à s’instruire, ne comprenant, ne saisissant, n’intériorisant que ce qui 
achemine à l’immortalité.” (Bovelles, 91-93) 
231 Cf. “Puisque, en raison de son ignorance de soi, aucun espoir d’immortalité ne l’habite, c’est à bon droit 
qu’il se déchaîne. […] Abandonné, du fait même de ce malheureux désespoir, aux séductions terrestres et 
périssables, l’insensé, tandis qu’il cherche à chasser la représentation de d’une mort cruelle et punitive, hâte 
ce funeste dénouement, ajoute encore au châtiment et « donne tête baissée, comme le dit l’éloquence 
sacrée, dans la tombe qu’il s’est creusée.” (Bovelles, 93) 
99 
 
wise. The origin and destinies of all men are equal, but only the wise man accomplishes 
his ultimate human vocation: 
“Le sage et l’insensé ne diffèrent ni de nature ni d’être; ils sont l’un et l’autre 
homme, pour avoir tous deux en partage l’âme et le corps. […] Le commencement 
de l’un et de l’autre est semblablement Dieu, l’unique fin de même: mais seul celui-
là par sa vertu et sa sagesse devient semblable à Dieu, retourne en son principe et 
accomplit sa fin naturelle.”232 
 Man is meant to return, via Nature, to his divine source in God. Bovelles’ insistence 
on the idea that this itinerary belongs to the wise makes for a rather Promethean conception 
of wisdom233. The original man is for Bovelles, like for Pico, no more than just raw 
material, a creature which is not distinguished by anything belonging particularly to her. 
In other words, the “natural man” is an unfinished being for the only pathway towards true 
humanity is wisdom. In fact, the wise man brings wisdom to the natural man in himself 
just as Prometheus brought fire to the man of clay.  
“Le sage […] imite le célèbre Prométhée qui, […] après avoir visité avec la plus 
grande attention tous les palais du ciel, ne trouva rien en eux de plus saint, de plus 
précieux et de plus vivant que le feu. Aussitôt dérobé ce feu […] il l’introduisit sur 
notre globe pour animer l’homme de limon qu’il avait auparavant modelé. De 
même le sage […] pénétrant dans le royaume du ciel, après y avoir recueilli au giron 
immortel de son esprit le feu très  clair de la sagesse, le porte au monde d’en bas et 
                                                          
232 Bovelles, 91. 
233 Cf. Tamara Albertini, op.cit. Faye and Rice also privilege the Promethean theme.  
100 
 
cette flamme pure et très vivante vivifie, réchauffe et anime l’homme naturel et 
terrestre qui est en lui.”234  
 However, not only is God the ultimate goal of man’s existence, He is also the 
universal goal of all creation.235 Into the nature of all created beings a natural yearning for 
the Supreme Being is inscribed. That natural drive can only be accomplished through the 
mediation of the wise one who, in his thinking, carries out the elevation of the inferior 
beings towards the superior ones, and ultimately towards God. Hence, Bovelles’ man is 
heroic also in a Christ-like manner for as Christ reconciled heaven and earth, so the sapiens 
through the operation of his intellect brings Nature back to her Creator.236 In other words, 
there is a redemptive quality to man’s “cognitive mission” which transcends the more 
immediate aim of his own perfection and aims at bringing the World to its ultimate resting 
place in God. In Pseudo-Dionysius wisdom is referred to as the “conjunctrix”, as she who 
brings together the knower and the known237. Bovelles’ sapientia weds the wise man to the 
world and makes them share the same destiny. As Bernard Groethuysen aptly puts it:  
“Le monde [sans l’homme] perdrait tout son sens et ne pourrait pas même subsister. 
Il est lié à lui, comme l’est son corps à son âme. [Le] macrocosme n’est pas tout 
                                                          
234 Bovelles, 95-97. 
235 Cf. “toute connaissance, intuition et spéculation est une élévation continue des êtres inférieurs vers ceux 
qui sont supérieurs, c'est-à-dire un effort et une tension naturelle vers Dieu, l’objet suprême universel” 
(Bovelles, 283)  
236 Cf. “l’homme ne récapitule-t-il l’univers que pour permettre à la création de faire retour à son Créateur. 
La connaissance, essentiellement réflexive, est retour sur soi, l’œil découvrant sa propre forme dans les 
formes des choses, mais ce retour sur soi n’est que le prélude du retour de l’univers créé tout entier à son 
origine, quand l’homme en Dieu s’achève et s’accomplit. Le détour par le monde extérieur a révélé 
l’homme à lui-même dans sa puissance cognitive et dans sa fonction de miroir universel chargé de ramener 
toute réalité à son principe divin.” (Magnard, Le sage dans le De Sapiente, 105) 
237 Cf. Albertini, 301. 
101 
 
simplement un monde qui existe en soi, et dans lequel se trouverait placé l’homme. 
Il entre dans l’homme, devient en lui vision, pensée, et remplit ainsi sa destination. 
Si le macrocosme n’avait pas comme complément nécessaire l’homme, si l’homme 
ne le pensait pas, il n’existerait plus, il serait sans vie, tout comme le corps, une fois 
que l’âme l’a quitté.”238 
 Man in thinking the world “spiritualizes” it – it becomes thought, just as it was 
thought (in the mind of God) before creation. Therefore, the sage through contemplation 
brings Nature back to its divine source in an act which rather than being a simple “re-
creation” is a creation à rebours239. He acts as the reconciler between the material world 
and God who is spirit. That reconciliation/unification is modeled after his own mixed 
nature as in man converge the material body and the immaterial soul. And yet for Bovelles, 
the human body-soul compound is not self-contained, it presupposes a third, 
complementary element: the world. The three are, in Bovelles’ thought, inseparable.240 In 
fact, in De Sapiente man’s relationship with the world amounts to the rank of the defining 
feature of humanity.241 The Picard philosopher drives this point home by repeatedly 
insisting on the distinction between man and angel. Man unlike the angel (who is pure 
spirit), consists of both body and soul. In the worldly existence his body is sustained by the 
                                                          
238 Bernard Groethuysen, Anthropologie philosophique (Paris: Gallimard, 1952), 192-193. 
239 Cf. Groethuysen, 196. 
240 Cf. “L’âme, le corps et le monde forment pour Bovillus une unité indissoluble. Non seulement l’homme 
retrouvera son corps après la mort, mais aussi le monde, son monde lui apparaîtra sous un aspect nouveau. 
Sans ce monde, il ne serait pas lui-même, aussi peu que l’âme sans le corps serait encore homme, ou que le 
monde sans l’homme serait encore ce monde” (Groethuysen, 193) 
241 On this point again, the correspondence between Bovelles and Heidegger is quite striking.  
102 
 
natural world, but his relationship with the world transcends the limits of his bodily 
existence, for as argued before, he is the instrument of the world’s redemption.  
 Indeed, man’s connectedness to the world in Bovelles’ anthropology cannot be 
underestimated. Not only does Bovelles argue that in the future, eternal life, soul will be 
reunited with the body as its natural dwelling, but he goes as far as claiming a similar 
“resurrection” for the world itself, as the natural abode of the human body! 
“Immortelle est donc la matière, immortel aussi cet acte dont elle est le théâtre, 
l’âme raisonnable; l’ouvrage même que Dieu a tiré de la matière, nous voulons dire 
le corps humain, Dieu doit le ressusciter et il serait immortel. Et non seulement le 
corps humain à cause de l’âme, mais le monde lui-même à cuase du corps humain 
dont il est véritable séjour.”242  
 The human body takes part in the redemptive mission of the sage first and foremost 
because the senses provide the rational soul with the raw material for her contemplative 
activity. But that is not all. Together with the soul it is the instrument and venue of the 
coincidencia oppositorum on two levels. In this life it renders possible the process through 
which in the human soul the sensible world is transmuted into the intelligible world. But 
in the life to come it brings about the actual “penetration” of the sensible world into the 
intelligible realm and, consequently, its eternity.  
“En une admirable harmonie, grâce à l’homme est en lui, l’un et l’autre monde se 
change l’un dans l’autre. En cette vie, le monde intelligible se produit sous le ciel 
                                                          
242 Bovelles, 127. My emphasis. 
103 
 
grâce à l’esprit de l’homme; dans la vie à venir, c’est le monde sensible qui, grâce 
au corps de l’homme; pénétrera  le royaume de l’intelligible, le matériel 
l’immatériel, le corporel le spirituel.”243   
 On the other hand, the possession of the body poses limits to the heroism of the 
sage, be it of the Promethean or Christly sort. As already mentioned, for Bovelles, like for 
Pico, the contemplation of Nature is not a goal in itself, but rather the pathway towards 
man’s ultimate, divine Other244. Man strives to know the world in order to come to know 
himself and that self-knowledge signifies the realization in the person of the wise of the 
image of God.245 The image however is different from the object it reflects. In fact, the 
French humanist is more careful than his Italian predecessor in tracing the human-God 
divide. While man can know Nature immediately, in virtue of his own intellective powers, 
he cannot comprehend God in the same fashion. Human intellect does not see God directly, 
but only through the intermediary of the Angel, who is a sort of a diaphragm separating 
humanity from divinity.246 How does the angelic mediation operate in practice? The Angel 
is the first image of God and the first one to know Him. As he contemplates his Creator, 
he “passes into God” and is “inserted” into Him.247 Man, as the second contemplator of 
                                                          
243 Bovelles, 157. 
244 Cf. “La puissance cognitive s’accomplit dans son véritable objet qui n’est en définitive ni le monde, ni 
l’œil humain, mais à travers l’ange, Dieu.” (Magnard, “Le sage dans le ‘De Sapiente’”, 105) 
245 Cf. “Le sage et l’insensé ne diffèrent ni de nature ni d’être; ils sont l’un et l’autre homme, pour avoir 
tous deux en partage l’âme et le corps. […] Le commencement de l’un et de l’autre est semblablement 
Dieu, l’unique fin de même: mais seul celui-là par sa vertu et sa sagesse devient semblable à Dieu, retourne 
en son principe et accomplit sa fin naturelle.” (Bovelles, 91) 
246 “L’homme en effet voit Dieu non pas comme il est, purement et simplement à découvert, en vision 
directe, mais dans une certaine ombre, sous le brouillard et le nuage angélique, en un climat qui en estompe 
et en tempère l’éclat, bref selon un aspect second.” (Bovelles, 247) 
247 “Face à Dieu, placé dans son voisinage immédiat, l’ange le premier puise l’éclat resplendissant de la 
lumière divine en son regard clair qui ne cille pas et sans intermédiaire passe le premier en Dieu, se 
104 
 
God, perceives Him not in pure and simple form, but through the veil of the angelic 
intellect.248 Thus, direct knowledge of God is not possible for human beings. To bridge that 
gap, man must, as Magnard felicitously puts it, take the detour of the Angel, and before 
that of Nature-herself.249  
 Indeed, the persistence of the angelic diaphragm between God and man suggests 
that the Divine Other in De Sapiente is the Absolute Other which cannot be conquered by 
the human power of cognition. On the other hand, for Bovelles, perfect unity with God is 
still the ultimate goal of human existence - the thing which is not united with God will be 
barred from achieving unity with the others and with itself250. The author resolves this 
contradiction by arguing that through the contemplation of the Divine, Man, like the Angel 
before, him is received (recipi) and inserted (inseri) into God.251  
 Magnard suggests that the question whether the absorption into God is the result of 
human or divine agency is a false problem.252 In fact the Latin text has both passive and 
                                                          
recueille en Dieu même, se fait Dieu, se greffe sur Dieu, s’unit à Dieu et devient le premier voile du soleil 
divin pour les regards qui viennent après.” (Bovelles, 259) 
248 Cf. “Ce que contemple l’entendement de l’homme, ce n’est pas Dieu simplement en lui-même et à 
découvert, mais […] Dieu auquel s’est joint le greffon de l’entendement angélique. Ce dernier passe en 
Dieu avant  celui de l’homme et lorsqu’il est attaché à Dieu […] il le recouvre, le cache et le voile de son 
ombre à la vue de l’entendement humain qui vient après lui.” (Bovelles, 259)  
249 Cf. “L’objet et la fin de l’homme ne sont connus que par détour, détour par ange, mais détour aussi par 
la nature elle-même” (Magnard, “Le sage dans le ‘De sapiente’”, 106)   
250 “Celle qui n’est pas unie à Dieu, ne pourra réaliser d’unité ni avec aucune autre ni avec elle-même.” 
(Bovelles, 295) 
251 Cf. Bovelles, 260-261. Cf. also “Ce mouvement d’élévation n’est pas désigné ici du terme 
« assurrectio », mais de celui de « subvectio ». L’intelligence angélique directement, la raison humaine 
indirectement sont ravies en Dieu « subvehitur »” (Magnard, “Le sage dans le ‘De sapiente’”, 107) 
252 Cf. “L’identité du mouvement descendant et du mouvement ascendant, conçus dans leur relativité, 
permet d’éluder ce qui est faux problème: la puissance – qui est toujours capacité de connaître – tend vers 
son objet, tandis que l’objet, rayonnant de sa lumière propre sollicite la puissance.” (Magnard, “Le sage 
dans le ‘De sapiente’”, 108)  
105 
 
active verbal constructions. Nevertheless, even with the use of verbs in the active mood, 
man’s “passage” into God is still portrayed as the effect of illumination by the divine light:  
“Derrière l’ange, l’homme, à travers la transparence angélique, commence par être 
frappé par la lumière divine, puis passe en Dieu sous l’effet de cette clarté."253   
 Divine light is what draws man into God. It is also what enables any human vision, 
including man’s perception of Nature and himself for the Mirror and the Eye would be 
useless in the dark. In fact, the lengthy passages dedicated in the second part of De Sapiente 
to the theme of light as the metaphor for God serve to further illuminate the optical imagery 
of the first part of the treatise. Moreover, they help one to understand the deep connection, 
in Bovelles’ thought, between wisdom as the knowledge of Nature/oneself and wisdom as 
the knowledge of God. Even though all wisdom is the knowledge of the same by the 
same254, human wisdom can only flourish in the light coming from without, namely the 
light of Divine Otherness. Indeed, Bovelles, like Pico before him presents us with a 
conception of the Self which can only come to itself via alterity. Like the Florentine he also 
depicts the relationship between the two, as one in which Otherness is always more than 
just an instrument of self-recognition. The Other is found within and yet it always 
transcends the Self. Nature is what man discovers in the search for his own image: it is 
intimate and yet entirely separate and in need of redemption. God, as the ultimate resting 
place towards which all things are drawn is the Other through whom (divine light) and in 
                                                          
253 Bovelles, 259. 
254 Cf. Bovelles.  
106 
 
whom (deification) Man finds himself. An Other, in fact, who rather than being absorbed 
by the all-encompassing Ego, bestows upon it its self-identity. 
 
 
107 
 
  
CHAPTER V 
 JUAN LUIS VIVES: THE SELF BETWEEN DIVINE MIMICRY AND 
SOCIETAL RESPONSIBILITY  
 
 Juan Luis Vives’ Fabula is the only piece by a non-Italian included in “The 
Renaissance Philosophy of Man” (1st ed. 1948), a landmark selection of translations from 
Renaissance authors from Petrarch to Pomponazzi. This book, produced under the triple 
aegis of Cassirer, Kristeller and John H. Randall Jr. is still the most readily available 
anthology of Renaissance philosophical works in English translation, rivaled only by Jill 
Kraye’s (ed.) 1997 “Cambridge Translations of Renaissance Philosophical Texts” (2 vols.). 
Vives’ Fabula is included in the “Renaissance Philosophy of Man” as an example of “the 
diffusion of the ideas of humanism and Platonism outside Italy”255 and in the translator’s 
introduction, it is presented as “directly based on Pico’s conception of the dignity of 
man”256. The terms of Fabula’s inclusion in this “best-selling textbook”257 still weigh upon 
the way Vives’ piece is sometimes perceived, namely as an interesting, but modestly 
original postscript to Pico’s Oratio.258 Vives, who is customarily hailed as “Erasmus’ 
                                                          
255 Cf. the cover of The Renaissance Philosophy of Man. 
256 The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, 385. A similar opinion is advanced also in the general introduction 
to the volume (16)    
257 Cf. Copenhaver, Magic and the Dignity of Man, 309.  
258 In Blum’s recent collection of essays on Renaissance philosophers, D. C. Andersson refers to Fabula as 
“the entertaining (and almost card-carryingly humanist) little sketch” (D. C. Andersson, “Juan Luis Vives 
(1492/93 – 1540) A Pious Eclectic,” in Philosophers of the Renaissance, ed. Paul Richard Blum 
(Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2010), 141). A similar (i.e. vaguely dismissive) 
108 
 
friend” and a thinker altogether more sympathetic to Aristotle than Plato,259 in this early 
work is often thought to be “Pico’s imitator” and a starry-eyed glorifier of human nature.260 
On the other hand, some scholars see greater continuity between Fabula and the rest of 
Vives’ rich corpus, reading it as prefiguring the author’s later theories on society, education 
and psychology.261 
 In fact, before Fabula’s appearance in “The Renaissance Philosophy of Man” 
Vives’ main reasons for fame were his contributions to pedagogy, and psychology.262 The 
Kristeller-Cassirer-Randall Jr. anthology has drawn attention to Vives’ philosophical 
anthropology, a dimension of his thought heretofore somewhat neglected.263 Although the 
                                                          
attitude characterizes also Manfred Lentzen’s “Il libero arbitrio e la dignità dell’uomo. A proposito 
dell’Oratio de hominis dignitate di Giovanni Pico della Mirandola e della Fabula de homine di Juan Luis 
Vives,” in Il concetto di libertà nel Rinascimento. Atti del Convegno Internazionale (Chianciano-Pienza 
17-20 luglio 2006, ed. Luisa Secchi Tarugi (Firenze: Franco Cesati Editore, 2008), 401-411. 
259 The Swiss philosopher Johannes Thomas Fregius (1543-1583) considered him a “modern Peripatetic”. 
(Cf. D. C. Andersson, 135.)    
260 Cf. for instance: “Vivès passe de l’apothéose de l’homme (contenue dans la Fabula) à la condition 
naturelle, qui ne s’exprime pas seulement dans la pensée, mais encore dans la vie et aussi dans la vie 
irrationnelle.” (Mario Sancipriano, “La pensée anthropologique de J. L. Vives: L’entéléchie,” in Juan Luis 
Vives. Arbeitsgespräch in der Herzog August Bibliothek Wolfenbüttel vom. 6 bis 8. November 1980, ed. 
August Buck (Hamburg: Dr. Ernst Hauswedell & Co, 1982), 67. 
261 Cf. J. A. Fernández-Santamaría, The Theater of Man: J. L. Vives on Society. Transactions of the 
American Philosophical Society, New Series, Vol. 88, No. 2 (1998); Valerio del Nero, “L’educazione in 
Vives,” in Luis Vives y el humanismo europeo, ed. F. J. Fdez.Nieto, A. Melero and A. Mestre (Universitat 
de València, 1998), 131- 146; Marcia L. Colish, “The Mime of God: Vives on the Nature of Man,” Journal 
of the History of Ideas 23.1 (1962): 3-20. 
262 Cf. “The perspective of Vives as a psychologist and pedagogue, a precursor of countless pedagogues of 
different countries, was centered on a very limited aspect of his intellectual activity, but it put his name in 
circulation again from the second half of the nineteenth century through the first decades of the twentieth. 
The theme, which has greatly declined in the last half-century, is far from being forgotten. Entrenched in 
historical dictionaries and encyclopedias, it is still a standard description, and undoubtedly will remain so 
for a long time – like every good commonplace – in numerous locations in Europe and America” (Enrique 
González González, “Fame and oblivion,” in A Companion to Juan Luis Vives, ed. Charles Fantazzi 
(Leiden: Brill, 2009), 398) 
263 Cf. Marcia L. Colish, “The Mime of God: Vives on the Nature of Man,” Journal of the History of Ideas 
23.1 (1962): 3. In fact, it is 1950-ties that saw the first among Mario Sancipriano’s many contributions to 
109 
 
most fundamental source for Vives’ anthropological thought is his De Anima et vita, 
Fabula de homine remains the work which is most programmatically concerned with 
depicting what one might venture to call “the essence of humanity”. This notwithstanding, 
it is usually only marginally mentioned either in the context of its relation to other aspects 
of Vives’ thought or in connection with Pico’s Oratio. Marcia L. Colish offered in 1962 
the first study of Fabula in its own right (and a well-argued rejection of the opinion that it 
conveys views essentially identical to those voiced in Oratio) in her article “The Mime of 
God: Vives on the Nature of Man”.264 Entirely devoted to Fabula is also Erik de Bom’s 
“Homo ipse Ludus ac Fabula. Vives’ views on the dignity of man as expressed in his 
Fabula de homine”.265 J. A. Fernández-Santamaría dedicates to the Fabula the penetrating 
opening chapter of his book on Vives’ views on society. Last, but not least, Fabula is 
placed within the context of post-modern legal studies in Michael FitzGerald’s article on 
“Law, play and the self in Aristotle and Vives”.266   
 Although Vives’ fame cannot rival Pico’s status as the popular icon of the 
Renaissance, he has never been quite as reduced to oblivion as Bovelles’.267 His works 
continued to be widely read and remained influential for the first century after his death. 
After a period of diminished notoriety, he was studied again in the XIX century by 
                                                          
the study of Vives’ psychology in anthropological rather than pedagogical terms. (Cf. Mario Sancipriano, Il 
pensiero psicologico e morale di G. L. Vives (Firenze: Sansoni, 1957).  
264 Cf. the previous note. 
265 Cf. Erik de Bom, “Homo ipse Ludus ac Fabula. Vives’ views on the dignity of man as expressed in his 
Fabula de homine,” Humanistica Lovaniensia 57 (2008): 91 – 114. 
266 Cf. Michael FitzGerald, “Law, play and the self in Aristotle and Vives,” Law Text Culture 11 (2007): 
129-150.  
267 Despite claims to the effect by Vives scholars. Cf. Fernández-Santamaría, The Theater of Man: J. L. 
Vives on Society, VII. 
110 
 
Friedrich Albert Lange (1828–1875), Wilhelm Dilthey (1833–1911), Ernst Cassirer (1874–
1945), and José Ortega y Gasset (1883–1955) among others.268 In Spain, Vives became the 
subject of endless studies throughout the XIX century and in the first half of the XX. 
Regrettably, these were for the most part of dubious quality, displaying exuberant 
nationalistic sentiment, rather than sound scholarship.269 The recognized exception to this 
rule is Adolfo Bonilla y San Martin’s monumental monograph “Luis Vives y la filosofía 
del renacimiento” (1929).270 From the middle of the XIX century a new interest in Vives 
arose also in Belgium, a country of the humanist’s residence. The Belgian scholars focused 
on the Valentian’s rapport with humanist circles in the Low Countries and England. Their 
archival researches contributed to supplementing what was known of Vives’ life and 
resulted in the retrieval of a number of his previously unknown letters.271 Germany, from 
the middle of the XIX century saw the rediscovery of Vives as a pedagogue and 
psychologist with Lange and Dilthey hailing him as the father of modern empirical 
psychology (as opposed to the metaphysical psychology of Aristotle and the scholastics).272 
                                                          
268 Cf. Lorenzo Casini, “Juan Luis Vives [Joannes Ludovicus Vives],” in The Stanford Encyclopedia of 
Philosophy (Winter 2012 Edition), ed. Edward N. Zalta, forthcoming URL = 
<http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2012/entries/vives/>  
269 Cf. González González, 395-406. Vives was adopted as a national hero by both the Catalan scholars of 
the Renaixença movement and by the Spanish nationalists. As an interesting example of the strong 
nationalistic feelings surrounding the figure of Vives might serve the following words of Marcelino 
Menéndez Pelayo (1856-1912): “Que Vives es la más elevada personificación de la España científica […] 
el más prodigioso de los artífices del Renacimiento [… que] renovó el método antes de Bacon y Descartes 
[…] que de él procede la filosofía escocesa […] que el espíritu de la doctrina de Vives informa a toda 
nuestra civilización […]” (quoted ibidem 403). Vives became less suitable for the purposes of nationalistic 
propaganda only with the 1964 publication by M. de la Pinta y Llorente and José María Palacio of Procesos 
inquisitoriales contra la familia judía de Luis Vives (Madrid: Instituto Arias Montano, 1964).    
270 Cf. Adolfo Bonilla y San Martín, Luis Vives y la filosofía del renacimiento (Madrid: L. Rubio, 1929). 
271 Cf. González y González, 406-409. 
272  Cf. Lorenzo Casini, “Self-knowledge, Skepticism and the Quest for a New Method: Juan Luis Vives on 
Cognition and the Impossibility of Perfect Knowledge,” in Renaissance Scepticisms, ed. Gianni Paganini, 
José R. Maia Neto (Dordrecht: Springer, 2009), 34. 
111 
 
Vives – the great pedagogue was introduced to the English-speaking readers by Foster 
Watson in his many articles and the first (and for many years the only) English-language 
monograph on the Spaniard “Luis Vives: El Gran Valenciano (1492-1540)”.273 After 
Watson, The Vivesian studies in English were resumed and brought up-to-date again with 
Carlos G. Noreña’s 1970 biography of Vives and his subsequent monograph on his theory 
of emotions (1989).274 Since then, the number of studies dedicated to Vives in English has 
been on the rise.275 At the same time, areas other than pedagogy and psychology began 
receiving increased attention. An excellent example is José A. Fernández Santamaría’s 
exploration of Vives’ social thought.276 The same author studied moreover the issue of 
Vives’ position vis-à-vis skeptical tradition, a line of inquiry continued later by Lorenzo 
Casini.277 Casini, like Sancipriano is interested in Vives’ anthropology. His studies on 
Vives’ understanding of the soul and free will seek to establish Vives’ relationship with his 
explicitly denounced training in scholastic metaphysics, and hence his uneasy rapport with 
                                                          
273 Cf. Foster Watson, Luis Vives. El gran valenciano (Oxford, 1922). 
274 Cf. C. G. Noreña, Juan Luis Vives (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1970); ID., Juan Luis Vives and the Emotions 
(Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1989).  
275 An invaluable recent addition to Vivesian studies is Brill’s Companion to Juan Luis Vives, ed. Charles 
Fantazzi (Leiden: Brill, 2009). The excellent collection Luis Vives y el humanismo europeo, ed. F.J. 
Fernández Nieto, A Melero and A. Mestre (Universitat de Valencia, 1998) contains articles in English, 
Spanish, Italian and French.           
276 Cf. Fernández Santamaría, The Theater of Man: J. L. Vives on Society. An interesting older study of 
Vives as a social theorist is M. Bataillon, “J. L. Vives réformateur de la bienfaisance,” Bibliothèque 
d’humanisme et Renaissance 14 (1952): 141–58. There is also Charles Fantazzi’s “Vives and the 
emarginati,” in A Companion to Juan Luis Vives, 65-113. 
277 Cf. José A. Fernández Santamaría, Juan Luis Vives: Esceptismo y prudencia en el Renacimiento 
(Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad de Salamanca, 1990); Lorenzo Casini, “Self-knowledge, Skepticism 
and the Quest for a New Method”, 33-60. Vives’ skepticism is discussed also in D. C. Andersson, “Juan 
Luis Vives (1492/93-1540). A Pious Eclectic”, 133-147. 
112 
 
medieval philosophical tradition.278 Cesare Vasoli and Peter Mack, for their part, are 
concerned with identifying Vives’ contributions to the Renaissance re-definition of rhetoric 
and dialectic.279  
 The reason for Fabula’s inclusion in this dissertation is, as in the case of Bovelles’ 
De Sapiente, its relation to Pico’s Oratio. Moreover, as in the case of De Sapiente the lead 
to juxtapose the two texts comes from scholars with neo-Kantian sympathies: Cassirer and 
Kristeller as the co-editors of “The Renaissance Philosophy of Man”.280 Vives’ allegorical 
story about man, the chameleon-like actor on the stage of the world is presented to us as 
yet another exaltation of human freedom, an allegory of man’s autonomous self-creation. 
This interpretation is endorsed for example by Mario Sancipriano, who in his study of 
Vives’ anthropology contrasts Fabula’s presumed apotheosis of man with the more sober 
                                                          
278 Cf. Lorenzo Casini, “‘Quid sit anima’: Juan Luis Vives on the soul and its relation to the body,” 
Renaissance Studies 24.4 (2010): 496 – 517; ID., “Juan Luis Vives’ Conception of Freedom of the Will and 
Its Scholastic Background,” Vivarium 44.2-3 (2006): 396-417. 
 
279 Cf. Cesare Vasoli, “Giovanni Ludovico Vives e la logica come strumento delle ‘arti’” in La dialettica e 
la retorica dell’Umanesimo.‘Invenzione’e ‘Metodo’della cultura del XV e XVI secolo (Milano, Feltrinelli, 
1968), 214-246; Peter Mack, “Vives’ De ratione dicendi: Structure, Innovations, Problems” Rhetorica, 23: 
65–92; ID., “Vives’ Contributions to Rhetoric and Dialectic” in A Companion to Juan Luis Vives, 227-276. 
Other aspects of Vives’ thought recently explored include Vives’s reflections on historical study and his 
theology. Cf. Istvan Bejczy, “‘Historia praestat omnibus disciplinis’: Juan Luis Vives on History and 
Historical Study,” Renaissance Studies 17(2003): 69–83; Marcia Colish, “The De veritate fidei christianae 
of Juan Luis Vives,” in Christian Humanism: Essays in Honour of Arjo Vanderjagt, ed. A. A. MacDonald 
et al. (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 173-197; Miquel Batllori, “Juan Luis Vives: Comentarista del De civitate Dei 
de San Agustín. Apuntes para una lección en torno a la ortodoxia de Vives,” in Luis Vives y el humanismo 
europeo, 147-159.  
280 Cf. James Hankins, “Garin and Paul Oskar Kristeller: existentialism, neo-Kantianism, and the post-war 
interpretation of Renaissance Humanism,” in Eugenio Garin: Dal Rinascimento all'Illuminismo, ed. 
Michele Ciliberto (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2011) 490; Brian P. Copenhaven, “Magic and 
the Dignity of Man”, 310. Cf. also K. Schiller, “Paul Oskar Kristeller, Ernst Cassirer and the ’humanistic 
turn’ in American emigration,” in Exile, science and bildung: the contested legacies of German intellectual 
figures (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 125-138.   
113 
 
approach of De Anima et Vita281. In my reading of Vives’ fable I am closer to the 
perspective of a number of scholars who, notwithstanding Fabula’s undeniable kinship 
with Pico’s Oratio, allow for a greater intellectual continuity between the young and the 
mature Vives (Colish, Fernández Santamaría, Del Nero). At the same time, I do not 
consider Vives a philosopher of one grand idea, be it in the area of education, politics or 
ethics, a temptation to which many of those writing on Vives seem to succumb.282 In the 
following pages, I am striving to achieve balance between the two approaches to Vives’ 
Fabula by recognizing it as a text in its own right while remaining mindful of the general 
context of Vives’ intellectual world.     
 Let us begin with a brief summary of the text. Fabula’s action is set during a 
sumptuous feast held by Juno in celebration of her birthday. Along with refreshments, the 
birthday guests are treated to a theatrical performance which takes place in an amphitheater 
                                                          
281 Cf. Mario Sancipriano, “La pensée anthropologique de J. L. Vives : L’entéléchie”, 67. For another 
example of the emphasis on freedom as the leading theme of Fabula see D. C. Andersson, 141.  
282 Cf. “Al abordar la obra de Luis Vives, uno cae inmediatamente en la cuenta de la centralidad del 
problema de la sabiduría en la misma, y, en consonancia con ello, de la figura emblemática del sabio, como 
aquél que dedica su vida a la prosecución del saber, en cuanto forma superior de existencia. En este sentido, 
se ha podido afirmar con razón que todo el empeño mostrado por el gran humanista a lo largo de su obra ha 
consistido en la "búsqueda de la sabiduría".” (Arsenio Ginzo Fernandez, “El problema de la sabiduría en la 
obra de Luis Vives I,” Revista de Filosofía, 51 (2005-3): 39); “L’educazione è questione central nel 
pensiero di Vives. Sarebbe legittimo sostenere che tutta la sua riflessione filosofica manifesta un marcato 
accento educativo. […] Nell’articolata e variegata produzione di Vives, molte delle sue opere 
maggiormente significative presentano aspetti e risvolti educativi innegabili.” (Valerio del Nero, 
“Educazione in Vives,” in Luis Vives y el humanismo europeo, 131); “The one idea that ties together into a 
single coherent whole the extensive literary production of Juan Luis Vives and informs his thought 
throughout is the conviction that man has the potential to recover the most important thing lost through the 
Fall. Man is therefore fully capable, by his own efforts alone, of attaining to that earthly bonitas that is the 
indispensable first step to be taken in the direction of everlasting salvation. But bonitas becomes accessible 
only within the context of a well-ordered society. This explains why there is no thinker during the Spanish 
Renaissance who applied himself more diligently to the study of the origin, evolution, nature, and reform of 
society than this humanist” (J. A. Fernández Santamaría, The Theater of Man, VIII). My emphases. 
114 
 
created by Jupiter especially for that purpose. World is the stage and Man, along with the 
rest of creation is an actor in a play directed by the Supreme God himself: 
“The great Jupiter was director of the plays and […] since he was the maker, he 
ordered everything and explained it to all that they might understand. Lest 
something be done differently from what he himself liked, he prescribed to the 
company of actors the entire arrangement and sequence of the plays, from which 
not even by the breadth of a finger […] should they depart.”283  
 Man, although bound to the script like the other performers, is also very different 
from them in that he alone shows “a great resemblance to Jupiter”: 
“Verily, man, peering oft through the mask which hides him, almost ready to burst 
forth and revealing himself distinctly in many things, is divine and Jupiter-like, 
participating in the immortality of Jupiter himself, in his wisdom, prudence, 
memory, sharing so many of his talents that it was easy to know that these gifts had 
been bestowed upon him by Jupiter from out of his treasury and even from his own 
person.”284 
 Apart from revealing his resemblance to Jupiter through the exercise of wisdom, 
prudence and memory, Man appears to share his Celestial Progenitor’s ability to be “all 
things”. In fact, he is described as pantomimus, a word of Greek origin, which literally 
                                                          
283 Juan Luis Vives, “A Fable about Man,” in The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, trans. Nancy Lenkeith, 
387-388. (from now on: Vives, Fabula) 
284 Vives, Fabula, 388-389. 
115 
 
translated means imitator of everything.285 After his initial appearance in the human guise, 
he wears the mask of a plant, then an animal before finally putting his human costume back 
on. When he returns to the stage to play his own part, his divine nature reveals itself in his 
ability to live in society with his fellow men. He is “in every way a political and social 
being” and his virtues all relate to life in community. Man is “prudent, just, faithful, human, 
kindly and friendly”. He lives “in the cities with others, h[olds] the authority and obeys in 
turn, [and] car[es] for the public interest and welfare”286. At this moment, Man appears to 
have reached the full measure of his humanity and the gods do not expect to see him in any 
new roles.  
 And yet, this is not the end of Man’s performance. To the astonishment and 
admiration of the lesser gods, he is “remade” (a passive construction: “reformatus”) into 
their very own form. Consequently, the play is interrupted by the heart-felt applause of the 
immortals and it is decided that man should be admitted to the celestial company. In fact, 
Juno is about to obtain that favor from her spouse when, unexpectedly, Man returns to the 
stage “upholding the great Jupiter, the worthiest of gods and with marvelous and 
indescribable gestures impersonating his father”.287  After this ultimate proof of the range 
of his talent, the gods insist that Man be seated among them. Jupiter gladly grants their 
request which is in accordance with what “he himself, long before, had decided”.288 Man 
is revoked from the stage, and having deposited his mask, i.e. body, reveals to his 
                                                          
285 De Bom, 102. 
286 Vives, Fabula, 389. 
287 Vives, Fabula, 389-390. 
288 Vives, Fabula, 390. 
116 
 
commensals the full splendor of his true divine nature. While recognizing their kinship 
with man, the immortals are all the more intrigued by Man’s body, which made his multiple 
transformations possible. They admire its “harmony and beauty and the whole efficacy”.289 
In fact, Man’s “mask” is held in such great esteem by the gods that once seated at the 
banquet table, he puts it back on, a reference, of course, to the doctrine of bodily 
resurrection.        
 Even from the above short summary it is clear that although Fabula, like Bovelles’ 
De Sapiente, finds in Pico’s Oratio a fruitful source of inspiration, it is nonetheless a very 
different text. It is enough to consider its formal aspects – the playful tone and a certain 
premeditated levity contrast with both Oratio and De Sapiente. Michael FitzGerald 
suggests that the choice of the literary format of fable is itself an integral part of Vives’ 
conception of man.290 In fact, the very opening of the Fabula seems to state as much:    
“I should like to begin this essay of mine on man by some fables and plays, since 
man is himself a fable and play.”291  
 Vives’ lighthearted overture is the first caution against reading Fabula as a simple 
re-statement of Pico’s lofty ideas on human dignity. By the same token, Fabula’s lighter 
tone never drifts towards mockery and by no means does it convey any radically different 
                                                          
289 Vives, Fabula, 391. 
290 Cf. “That anthropological truths should be represented in the form of a fable rather than that of a treatise 
would be apt, because human being itself and in its selfhood is, in Vives’ risqué verdict, a play and a fable: 
homo ipse ludus ac fabula est. There is something properly human about play. What the text does, then, ‘is 
to offer a definition of man in which the very form of the definition becomes part of the definition itself” 
(Michael FitzGerald, 133) 
291 Vives, Fabula, 387. 
117 
 
vision of humanity. It will be shown in the pages to follow that Vives shares with Pico and 
Bovelles some fundamental ideas about human intrinsic incompleteness and built-in 
orientation towards alterity. Needless to say, they operate within the same Christian 
framework and imagine the ultimate human destiny in all-but-identical terms. Rather than 
debunking Pico’s grand vision, Vives proposes a number of subtle correctives, in 
accordance with his own more general understanding of issues such as the meaning of 
wisdom, the role of philosophy and education in human life, and man’s communitarian 
nature.  
 In fact, Vives’ choice of the playful format of fable might be understood as 
motivated by these very preoccupations. The work was dedicated to Vives’ young 18-year 
old pupil, Anton van Bergen. Erik de Bom suggests that it was consequently written with 
a pedagogical goal in mind, namely to stimulate the young nobleman’s interest in the 
question of human dignity. Unlike Pico, whose Oratio was addressed to the learned, Vives 
did not write for theologians and philosophers and thus naturally favored the narrative form 
as more congenial to his envisaged young audience.292 While Oratio is a very self-
consciously constructed piece of rhetoric, as far as persuasiveness goes, Fabula’s narrative-
embedded mythologizing is no less rhetorically effective.293 In fact, Fabula’s use of 
                                                          
292 De Bom, 97-98.    
293 In fact Marcia Colish considers it to be more so. Cf. “[The] use of of a narrative rather than a rhetorical 
style makes the Fabula a work with more economy and integrity than the rambling Oratio.” (Colish, “The 
Mime of God”, 7) 
118 
 
narrative for the treatment of philosophical subject-matter is in harmony with humanist 
practice; suffice it to mention the “table-philosophy” of Alberti’s “Intercenales”.294  
 The concern for audience signaled by Vives’ choice of a lighter tone is related to 
his more general (and very humanistic indeed) preoccupation with language and its 
communicative potential. That reflection on language was an important part of Vives’ 
intellectual life around the time of Fabula’s composition is clear when one looks at his 
1519 invective “In pseudodialecticos”. In this work, the Valentian argues, very much in 
the manner of a Petrarch or a Valla, against the “linguistic barbarism of scholastic 
discourse” which compromises language’s ability to signify. The purity of language must 
be restored, so that it might become again an effective tool of communication.295 In the 
Fabula itself language - both spoken and written - features as the noblest invention of 
human reason:  
“There indeed was a mind full of wisdom, prudence, knowledge, reason, so fertile 
that by itself it brought forth extraordinary things. Its inventions are: towns and 
houses, the use of herbs, stones and metals, the designations and names of all things, 
which foremost among his other inventions have especially caused wise men to 
wonder. Next and no less important, with a few letters he was able to comprise the 
immense variety of the sounds of the human voice. With these letters so many 
doctrines were fixed in writing and transmitted, including religion itself and the 
knowledge and cult of Jupiter the father and of the other brother-gods. This one 
                                                          
294 Cf. Leon Battista Alberti “Intercenales”, a cura di Franco Bacchelli e Luca d’Ascia, premessa di Alberto 
Tenenti (Bologna: Edizioni Pendragon, 2003).  
295 Cf. Cesare Vasoli “La concezione filosofica in Vives,” Luis Vives y el humanismo europeo, 119. 
119 
 
thing, which is found in no other animal but man, shows his relationship to the 
gods.”296 
 Reason produces language which, in its written form, accounts for the creation and 
transmission of all learning (doctrina). Yet Vives, rather than enumerating all the 
disciplines codified through language, focuses on a single one of them – religion, 
understood as both the knowledge of God and the expression of that knowledge in human 
actions – cult.297 It is striking that the only domain of learning mentioned by name in this 
passage is religion and that it is spoken of as not merely the religious doctrine, but also 
practice. This, I think, is very telling of the way Vives thinks of language and learning as 
necessarily connected with the practical and societal aspects of life. In fact, the source of 
both, i.e. rationality itself, is, in Fabula, linked with the sphere of human activity rather 
than with any purely speculative exercise. Although language is reason’s noblest progeny, 
the former also produces “towns and houses”, and the “use of herbs, stones and metals”. 
Doubtless, Fabula exudes a strong sense that rationality for Vives is always somehow 
expressed in the practical aspects of life. This of course, is a significant departure from 
Pico and Bovelles. Whereas Oratio and De Sapiente talk about human rationality in the 
context of a philosophical quest for knowledge, Fabula thematizes man’s god-like, i.e. 
intellectual qualities as applied to human societies.  
 At the heart of the differences between Vives’ fable and the other two texts are the 
discrepancies in the understanding of philosophy between the Valentian and his Florentine 
                                                          
296 Vives, Fabula, 392.  
297 “Jovis patris cognitio et cultus” (J. L. Vives, Opera Omnia, 8 vols, ed. Gregorio Mayans y Siscar and 
Francisco Fabian y Fuero (London: Gregg Press, 1964) t. IV, 7). 
120 
 
and Picard counterparts. To put it bluntly, Vives’ conception of philosophy (which in some 
ways is quintessentially humanistic) is quite far removed from what either Pico or Bovelles 
would associate with this discipline.298 While Bovelles and Pico view philosophy as the 
pursuit of the hidden truths of Nature and God, Vives is a thinker more interested in the 
question of the good life. Oratio, De Sapiente and Fabula give very clear indications as to 
the kinds of philosophical reflection favored by their authors. The “humanizing” potential 
of disinterested intellectual inquiry, advocated by the first two texts, is a theme virtually 
absent from Vives’ fable. Whereas Pico and Bovelles portray philosophical life as an end 
in itself (albeit not in absolute, as ultimately it serves as a pathway towards God), Fabula 
is clearly a work of a thinker for whom “the purpose of philosophy is the better to live the 
human life”299 (again with the caveat that ethical life for Vives is firmly embedded in the 
Christian context of man’s transcendental destiny).   
 The Man of the Fabula is not a contemplator, but a city-dweller: 
“[Man] went about the cities with the others, held the authority and obeyed in turn, 
cared for the public interest and welfare, and was finally in every way a political 
and social being.”300   
 The view of man as a societal creature agrees with Vives’ life-long interest in the 
disciplines considered to be vital to “organizing and guiding human life”: moral 
                                                          
298 For the discussion of Pico and Bovelles’ relationship to humanism, cf. previous chapters.  
299 D. C. Andersson, 135. 
300 Vives, Fabula, 389. 
121 
 
philosophy, history, politics and economy.301 It also goes hand-in-hand with his well-
known concern for educational reform and impatience with certain aspects of philosophical 
reflection of his own day. In fact, Vives’ most rigorously philosophical work “De prima 
philosophia” concludes with a section on the limitations of human understanding and 
similar sentiments are expressed throughout the entire body of his writings.302  
 Vives’ reservations not only as to the power of human understanding, but even as 
to its relevance303 contrast diametrically with Bovelles’ idea of the sage who “knows and 
understands everything”. Importantly, the realization of man’s intellectual inadequacy is 
not particularly troubling to the Valentian. Fabula with its blatant lack of concern for man’s 
vocation to know (so emphatically stated in Oratio and De Sapiente) proposes a vision of 
human life in which metaphysical insight is not necessary to the fulfillment of the goal of 
human existence.  
 It seems that the difference of perspective between Pico and Bovelles on the one 
hand and Vives on the other ultimately boils down to their divergent views as to the essence 
of wisdom. A good idea of Vives’ conception of wisdom can be derived from his “Ad 
sapientiam introductio”. Despite agreeing in principle with Bovelles’ opinion that wisdom 
consists in knowing oneself, the Valentian gives a very different interpretation of the notion 
                                                          
301 Cf. “Giacchè il dovere del filosofo, dopo aver restituito al linguaggio la sua funzione e i suoi compiti, 
consiste nell’esercitare piuttosto quegli studi che organizzano e guidano la vita degli uomini; e quindi egli 
indagherà la filosofia morale che adorna i costumi e la mente, la storia madre della cognizione delle cose e 
della prudenza, la política e l’economia che insegnano a governare rettamente la città e la famiglia” (Cesare 
Vasoli, “La concezione filosofica in Vives”, 122) 
302 Cf. D.C. Andersson, 135-140. 
303 Cf. the often quoted passage from De Anima et Vita: “We are not interested in knowing what the soul is, 
but very much want to know how it is and what its operations are. Nor did the one who exhorted us to 
know ourselves refer to the essence of the soul, but to the actions that mould our character” (quoted after 
Lorenzo Casini, “Quid sit anima”, 498)   
122 
 
of self-knowledge. While for Bovelles knowing oneself is inseparably connected with the 
knowledge of Nature and God, for Vives it amounts to knowing what constitutes one’s 
good in accordance with his/her Christian calling. In “Ad sapientiam introductio” Vives 
states:  
“learning exists in the very mind itself for this purpose: that we may more easily 
know sin and avoid it, and know virtue and attain to it, holding all other things to 
be superfluous. If learning does not accomplish this in him who has it, she leaves 
her whole duty undone.”304  
 In fact, the reason for learning and the very essence of wisdom for Vives is to 
provide human beings with intellectual tools necessary to live virtuously. More concretely, 
wisdom is what makes one capable of discerning between good and evil and is a 
precondition for seeking one and avoiding the other. In other words, wisdom consists of 
having true opinions (veras habere opiniones) and acting in accordance with them (bene 
agere).305 While Bovelles’ sapiens is striving to know the immutable essences of things 
(and in that sense is pursuing what Aristotle would prefer to call scientia), sapientia in 
Vives has little to do with “true” knowledge in the Aristotelian sense and everything to do 
with the moral life.306 It is simply the foundation for ethics. Consequently, wisdom for 
                                                          
304 Marian Leona Tobriner, S. N. J. M. (ed.), Vives’ Introduction to Wisdom. A Renaissance Textbook (New 
York: Columbia University Press, 1968), 88-89.  
305 Cf. Rice, 156-163. 
306 Strictly speaking, Aristotle admits that moral knowledge exists in the form of, what he calls, phronesis, 
in order to distinguish it from other knowledge types such as episteme and techne. By denying that moral 
knowledge is “true knowledge” for Aristotle, I simply draw attention to the fact that Aristotle considered 
episteme a higher or more dignified occupation of the human intellect than a preoccupation with the 
question of how to live.  
123 
 
Vives has a very concrete application in the active life, and a very strong affinity to the 
traditional virtue of prudence.307 Such association of wisdom and prudence is often viewed 
as emblematically humanist and found in important Renaissance figures such as Salutati, 
Bruni, Petrarca and Erasmus to name but the most illustrious. At the same time, the 
prudential conception of wisdom and the concomitant focus on the vita activa is not 
strongly present either in Pico or in Bovelles.308  
 At this point we must ask firstly, how does Vives’ interest in education fit with his 
understanding of philosophy’s task and his prudential idea of wisdom; and secondly, 
whether it finds expression in the Fabula.309 The answer to the first question is simpler – 
the ability to live virtuously is a skill and must be acquired through study. The second query 
is harder to address. However, it has been argued that although not explicitly dealing with 
pedagogy as such, Fabula’s tale of the progression of man-the-actor from his initial 
mimicry of a plant until his final impersonation of divinity must be understood as an 
allegory of the transformational power of education: 
“[N]ella Fabula de homine del 1518, <libellus de mundana scena>, come la 
definisce l’autore, di chiaro sapore pichiano, la scena dell’uomo che nell’anfiteatro 
del mondo, in un primo tempo <sub persona plantae>, si trasforma <deformatus in 
mille species belluarum> […] per tornare nella sua condizione consueta ed 
                                                          
307 “Vives and Erasmus went about as far in the direction of moralizing wisdom as it was possible to go 
without actually identifying wisdom and prudence.” (Rice, 163)  
308 Cf. previous chapters.  
309 The interest in pedagogy is another quintessentially “humanist” aspect of Vives’ thought. Cf. “Si 
potrebbe […] dire che, in analogía con la posizione di tanti altri umanisti, anche in Vives agisce una 
premurosa attenzione nei confronti dei risvolti educativi, pratici, utili del sapere.” (Del Nero, 131.) 
124 
 
innalzarsi quindi ad angelo ed infine a divinità, implica un preciso messaggio 
educativo […] Non a caso il breve scritto si conclude con la descrizione – 
esaltazione della perfetta proporzionalità delle membra dell’uomo e della sua 
capacità intellettiva […]: siamo di fronte ad una pagina esemplare, incentrata su un 
concetto di disciplina che si connota di un robusto taglio educativo […]”310   
 Del Nero sees in Fabula’s use of the theme of man’s protean nature an allegory of 
human improvement through education. Although this brings to mind Bovelles’ distinction 
between man by nature (homo ex natura) and man by culture (homo ex arte), there is an 
important difference. Bovelles uses the image of man as chameleon as a metaphor for the 
process of cognition itself, while Vives, if Del Nero is right, uses it to illustrate the process 
of moral advancement through education. In De Sapiente man becomes all things as he 
embraces all things with his intellect. In Fabula the different guises that man can assume 
stand for different moments on his way towards educational accomplishment.  
 Del Nero’s reading of Fabula’s musings on man’s chameleonic nature might be 
tinged by the scholar’s more general commitment to studying Vives’ pedagogical theories. 
Still, it is motivated by a very accurate intuition as to an essential difference between 
Fabula and Pico’s Oratio, namely Vives’ far greater attention to the practical side of human 
affairs. Another striking difference between the way the two authors speak of man’s power 
of self-transformation is the fact that Vives’ man, unlike Pico’s, is a scripted character. He 
is an actor following a screenplay devised by Jupiter himself. There is nothing in the text 
that would suggest that Man, unlike the rest of the performers, is exempt from Jupiter’s 
                                                          
310 Del Nero, 143-144.   
125 
 
hands-on direction.311 Man’s progression through the various degrees of natural perfection 
is thus somehow written into his role. Must the script which precedes and underlies all 
man’s activities on the stage of the world be understood as man’s God-given nature, prior 
to whatever man’s later “transformations” might be? And, importantly, are Vives’ ideas 
about human nature incompatible with Pico’s?  
 It is best to begin this reflection on the question of human nature in Fabula by 
stating the obvious. Vives’ man is written by Jupiter, but he is written as an impersonator, 
a mime. Hence the paradox: he is a character in his own right and yet, he almost 
compulsively assumes identities of all the other personae on the stage of the world. This 
changeability, which puts in question his very essence, is, in fact, a fundamental part of it. 
Thus Vives’ Man shares with the Man of Oratio a nature which is both present (Man acting 
his own part, the image of God) and absent (Man, the self-forging imitator of everything). 
Fundamentally, the ability of both Pico’s and Vives’ Man to assume a “shape” which is 
not “recognizably human” results from their kinship with God. Here is how Fabula speaks 
of it: 
“Then, as he of gods the greatest, embracing all things in his might, is all things, 
they saw man, Jupiter’s mime, be all things also. He would change himself so as to 
appear under the mask of a plant, acting a simple life without any power of 
sensation. Soon after, he withdrew and returned on the stage as a moral satirist, 
brought into the shapes of a thousand wild beasts: namely, the angry and raging 
                                                          
311 Cf. “The great Jupiter was director of the plays and […] since he was the maker, he ordered everything 
and explained it to all that they might understand. Lest something be done differently from what he himself 
liked, he prescribed to the company of actors the entire arrangement and sequence of the plays, from which 
not even by the breadth of a finger […] should they depart.” (Vives, 387-388) 
126 
 
lion, the rapacious and devouring wolf, the fierce and wild boar, the cunning little 
fox, the lustful and filthy sow, the timid hare, the envious dog, the stupid donkey. 
After doing this, he was out of sight for a short time; then the curtain was drawn 
back and he returned a man […] The gods were not expecting to see him in more 
shapes when, behold, he was remade into one of their own race, surpassing the 
nature of man and relying entirely upon a very wise mind. […]  ”312 
 In the above passage we first witness Man’s departure from what makes him 
“recognizably human” as he imitates creatures of the lower order. Ironically, the capacity 
to be less than human springs from his very resemblance to “that than which no greater can 
be conceived” (to use St. Anselm’s formula),313 Jupiter himself: “ut ipse deorum maximus, 
virtute sua omnia complecitur, omnia est, sic et hunc ipsius Pantomimum esse videbant”314. 
But the kinship with the Supreme God presupposes also Man’s ability to surpass what 
constitutes the “recognizably human”. Man-the-actor proves himself capable not only of 
imitating the lesser gods (the angels), but even of impersonating Jupiter himself. Vives 
does not tell us exactly how Man achieves this other than that he was using “marvelous 
and indescribable gestures”.315 We are also told that it involved “piercing into that 
inaccessible light surrounded by darkness where Jupiter dwells”.316 How are we to 
understand this? It would seem that since Man in his role as a human being already displays 
                                                          
312 Vives, Fabula, 389. 
313 Cf. Anselm’s Proslogion 2: “id quo nihil maius cogitari potest”. 
314 Vives, Opera Omnia, 4.  
315 Vives, Fabula, 390. 
316 Ibid.   
127 
 
the full range of divine attributes, trespassing into the more-than-human realm is just a 
question of degree. In other words, Man becomes more-than-human when his humane traits 
exceed or overflow the scope of humanity’s domain. 
 By the same token, we could say that Vives’ Man remains within the limits of 
humanity, when he applies the attributes that betray his divine lineage to the human sphere 
of operation. He is recognizably human when he uses “wisdom, prudence and memory” in 
the service of a life in society “cum allis”. In fact, in the Fabula, sociability, after the 
possession of the image of God, emerges as the second most important distinguishing trait 
of humanity. Another aspect of human make up which in Vives’ fable receives great 
attention is the human body. In fact, embodiment is within the Fabula the third hallmark 
of humanity after the possession of the image of God and sociability. In his exultation of 
the beauty and usefulness of Man’s body Vives continues the tradition initiated in Cicero’s 
V book of De finibus317 : 
“There was the lofty head, stronghold and court of the divine mind; in it the five 
senses arranged and placed ornately and usefully. The ears, accordingly, did not 
droop with soft skin, nor were they firmly fixed with a hard bone, but both were 
rounded by a sinuous cartilage. Thus they could receive sounds from all directions, 
and the dust, straw, fluff, gnats which might be flying around would not penetrate 
into the head but be caught in the folds. The eyes in equal number, two indeed, were 
high up so that they could observe all things and protected by a fine wall of lashes 
and eyelids against the same bits of straw and fluff, dust and tiny insects. They were 
                                                          
317 Cf. Alain Michel, “La dignité humaine chez Cicéron,” in La dignité de l'homme. Actes du colloque tenu 
à la Sorbonne-Paris IV en novembre 1992, ed. Pierre Magnard (Paris: Champion, 1995), 17. 
128 
 
the gauge of the soul and the noblest part of the human face. Then came the very 
attire of the mask or the mask itself, so handsomely shaped, divided into arms and 
legs which were long and ending with fingers, so good-looking and useful for all 
purposes. […] All is so well-fitted and interrelated that if one were to withdraw or 
change or add something, all that harmony and beauty and the whole efficacy would 
be immediately lost.”318 
 The Ciceronian319 inspiration of this passage notwithstanding, Vives’ validation of 
the human body goes beyond Cicero’s in that he imagines its usefulness as transcending 
the limits of earthly existence. In fact, the Valentian’s ideas on the ultimate sublimation of 
the human body are strikingly similar to those expressed by Bovelles. This comes to the 
fore in the passages dedicated to man’s ultimate feat of mimicry (the imitation of Jupiter) 
and his subsequent inclusion in the banquet of the immortals. Man’s ability to appear as 
Jupiter is indeed formidable: 
“When the gods first saw him, they were roused and upset at the thought that their 
master and father stooped to the stage. Soon however, with composed minds, they 
glanced repeatedly at Jupiter’s stall […] Seeing him there, they gazed back again 
at man and then at Jupiter. With such skill and propriety did he play the Jupiter’s 
part that, up and down, from Jupiter’s stall to the stage, they kept glancing, lest they 
be misled by a likeness or the accurate mimic of an actor. Among other players 
                                                          
318 Vives, Fabula, 391. 
319 Perhaps via Giannozzo Manetti’s De dignitate et excellentia hominis (1452/53).  
129 
 
there were some who swore that this was not man but Jupiter himself, and they 
underwent severe punishment for their error.”320 
 The gods are not deceived. By frequently glancing at both man and Jupiter they 
realize that Man is but a skillful impersonator.321 Rather than achieving a real divinization 
and becoming Jupiter, he remains what he originally was: Jupiter’s mime and image. This 
is true even after his final apotheosis and invitation to the banquet of the immortals. Even 
though initially, upon leaving the stage, he “puts off his mask”, showing gods “his nature 
akin to theirs”, he eventually puts it back on: 
“Since it had so well met the needs of man, it was deemed worthy of the most 
sumptuous feast and of the table of the gods. Thus it was given the power of 
perception and enjoyed the eternal bliss of the banquet.”322    
 The fact that the body-mask is not forsaken even as man is seated at the eternal 
banquet means that although Man shares one Heavenly Progenitor with the immortals, he 
nevertheless is not one of them. His body is the marker of his human nature, and if man is 
to be honored, so must be that which ultimately distinguishes him from his divine siblings.  
                                                          
320 Vives, Fabula, 390. 
321 The other actors (i.e. the plants and animals) do not enjoy the same insight, an error which costs them 
dearly. Cf. “Among the other players there were some who swore that this was not man but Jupiter himself, 
and they underwent severe punishment for their error” (Vives, Fabula, 390). This reminds one of the 
passages of De Sapiente where Bovelles talks about the “opaqueness” of man’s body. Man unlike the 
Angel is an opaque screen, which “captures” the image of God and thus blocks the lower order of creation 
(animals) from the vision of true God. Being the closest to divinity thing that the lower creatures will ever 
know he might be rightly considered “the second god” or “god on earth”.  
322 Vives, Fabula, 393. 
130 
 
 Now, for Vives there are three hallmarks of humanity: the possession of the image 
of God, sociability and embodiment. They are all part of the profound structure of each 
human being, a reality one might be inclined to call human nature. Thus, to return to our 
original question: is Vives making more of the idea of human nature than Pico or Bovelles? 
In some respects, it seems that Pico’s concept of man as virtually “natureless” leaves a 
greater margin for human freedom. Although Pico presupposes a specific teleology to 
man’s existence, Oratio sketches also a very real possibility that he should reject his true 
vocation and “be content” with the fate of the lower creatures. Fabula, on the other hand, 
speaks of man’s transformations as if they were no more than a virtuoso piece by an 
accomplished actor, keen on proving the range of his histrionic ability. It might seem that 
while in the Oratio man is constantly at risk of falling short of his true destiny, in the 
Fabula he is rather unlikely to prove unworthy of Jupiter’s special favor. In fact, Vives’ 
man, inasmuch as he is script-bound to act in complete accordance with his Creator’s 
preexistent plan, seems rather surely headed for the seat of honor at the banquet of the 
gods.323   
 And yet, Vives is no bard of predestination in any sense of the word and he believes 
in human freedom of action. The fact that Jupiter’s hand is felt in the ultimate shape of 
Man’s destiny indicates simply Vives’ heightened concern for the problem of 
reconciliation between human freedom and God’s omnipotence. In the Fabula there is 
Jupiter’s script, but Man still needs to play the part. If the script remains unfulfilled by the 
acting, it is just an idea in the mind of God: it has no reality in the physical, material world. 
                                                          
323 Cf. Jupiter grants to Man the favor of being admitted to the banquet of the immortals as that “what he 
himself, long before, had decided” (Vives, Fabula, 390) 
131 
 
Hence, if we understand Man’s script as his nature, Vives’ ideas are not as dissimilar from 
those voiced by Pico and Bovelles as it might seem at a first glance. Vives’ Man, like Pico’s 
Adam and Bovelles’ Sage, must actualize through his own activity the possibilities written 
into his role. Without his active participation on the stage of the world, Jupiter’s script 
remains pure letter, a never-realized potentiality.324   
 As we have seen, for Vives the primary field of human activity is life in society and 
this is also the area where Man’s agency is most properly employed. Although, unlike 
Oratio and De Sapiente, Fabula thematizes Man’s engagement with the world in the active 
life, it nevertheless imagines his ultimate destiny in very similar terms. Vives, like Pico 
and Bovelles, sees the human itinerary as leading towards unity with the divine, in the 
Fabula represented as sharing the table of the immortals. Man is ultimately admitted to the 
celestial company, but Vives never quite speaks of this event in terms of actual 
“deification”.325 As a matter of fact, he is even more careful than Bovelles in tracing the 
divide between humanity and divinity (cf. the punishment for those who assume that man 
is actually god, the re-endorsement of the body). Vives insists both on the non-identity 
between Man and God (despite the fact that the former is endowed with the qualities of the 
latter) and on Man’s calling to ultimately dwell in the proximity of his Creator. As Man-
the-Actor reclines at the eternal banquet, Vives’ reader is invited to realize that his ultimate 
                                                          
324 For a compelling different interpretation of the meaning of Man’s script cf. Marcia Colish, “The Mime 
of God: Vives on the nature of man”. (Cf. especially “Man is given a script of the scenario; he may 
extemporize only within the limits of the stock situations and stock characters he is called upon to 
represent.” (Colish, “The Mime of God”, 9).)  
325 In the Fabula Man and God are never exactly “co-essential” despite Nancy Lenkeith’s claim to that 
effect in the introduction to her translation of the text. (Cf. Colish, “The Mime of God”, 9-10).  
132 
 
resting place, the point where the script ends and human nature reaches its completion is 
the alterity of the Divine.   
 Yet, God is not the only kind of otherness which in Vives’ anthropology is 
constitutive of human identity. In the first instance, it is the life in a community with other 
human beings which functions as the necessary precondition for Man’s realizing his 
humanity on Earth. Recognizing others as fellow human beings and being in turn 
recognized as such by them is what makes one human. On the eschatological plane, Man’s 
return to himself after his performance on the stage of the world is possible only in virtue 
of his use of the body-costume to represent and imitate what is other-than-human. In fact, 
Man is invited to the eternal banquet only after he has proved himself capable of both 
impersonating the lower creatures and miming the gods. However, he is invited to join the 
immortals not as another god but as man. After he has been everything, including God, in 
the theatre of the world, he becomes human again at the eternal banquet. Within the Fabula 
this is the point at which man is most himself - having fulfilled both his earthly and his 
heavenly destiny, at the banquet of the gods and yet clothed in his own resurrected body, 
the image of Supreme God, but distinct from Him.  
 In Pico, Bovelles and Vives alterity is what shapes human identity. There is no 
struggle, there is no desire to dominate, alterity is not only a stage of subject’s way towards 
self-recognition, it is not just a means towards the double goal of self-possession and 
dominance of the other, it is always elusive “presence deferred yet imminent”. In Pico the 
human subject opens himself to the alterity of God. In Bovelles, the otherness announces 
itself firstly as Nature, and in Vives it is articulated initially in the community. All three 
thinkers represent identity as a project, a becoming. There is a horizon towards which this 
133 
 
becoming is striving, but identity as such is always presented as a lack, rather than a stable 
given. The humanism of Pico, Bovelles and Vives is not the ego-centered humanism of 
Modernity. It is the kind of humanism which thinks man as a creature before God, bound 
to physical Nature in a reciprocal and not technological relationship, connected with his 
fellow men in ways which define his very mode of existence.       
 
 
134 
 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 ÁLVAR NÚÑEZ CABEZA DE VACA: THE AMERICANIZED SELF 
 
 In the first part of this work, we focused on the Renaissance philosophical thought 
of Man, particularly on the central idea of an original human incompleteness. The idea that 
human beings are not born but made runs through much of Renaissance literature. In fact, 
there is a large body of texts dealing with the practical aspects of fashioning 
accomplished/consummate human beings. One could mention for instance the pedagogical 
and religious treatises of the time, such as Vives’ De Institutione feminae cristinae, 
Erasmus’ De pueris instituendis or the same author’s Enchiridion militis christiani. 
Another good example are the manuals for rulers continuing the speculum principis 
tradition such as Machiavelli’s Il Principe and Erasmus’ Institutio principis christiani and 
the books of manners such as Castiglione’s Il Libro del Cortegiano, Giovanni della Casa’s 
Galateo, Stefano Guazzo’s La civil conversatione. These treatises, while dealing with the 
question of human formation from the diverse perspectives of pedagogy, piety, politics and 
manners are unanimous in considering “man” as the final product of human endeavor. They 
are also uniform in considering man’s task of self-shaping as related to his/her role in 
family and society.   
 In fact, in these works, just as in Oratio, De Sapiente and Fabula de homine, man’s 
original insufficiency is linked to the notion that something external must mediate to make 
him whole. They recognize, albeit in a more practical fashion, the role of alterity in the 
135 
 
process of self-shaping. But after a man is “accomplished” through education and reaches 
excellence in his domain of choice in such a way that his life seems worthy of being written 
down for the edification (or simply pleasure) of others, can he not be considered finally an 
autonomous self rather than a being caught up in a myriad of relations which constitute his 
very essence? In fact, biographies and autobiographies (as well as portraiture and self-
portraiture) were traditionally the chief supporting evidence in the narrative of Renaissance 
individualism.326 It is the premise of this chapter that, contrary to the traditional view of 
autobiography as the expression of autonomous individuality, this genre poses the question 
of the relationship between self and other with much urgency. It illustrates perhaps more 
eloquently than any other type of writing that the search for an “I” (which is its primary 
object) cannot but bring into the focus otherness in all the multiplicity of its meanings.   
 There is no doubt that the Renaissance saw a dramatic increase in the number of 
“ego-documents”327 from such landmarks as the famous Vitas of Benvenuto Cellini328 and 
                                                          
326 Needless to say, to the exclusion of some other important sources. As the idea of the “birth of the 
individual” in the Renaissance was meeting with growing criticism, ricordanze and libri di famiglia were 
mined for evidence that the Renaissance “individual’s” sense of identity was inextricably intertwined with 
his sense of belonging to a larger group or collective: a family, a lineage, a particular trade. Following the 
advent of Michel Foucault’s ideas on the emergence of interiority as called into being by external 
authorities interested mainly in controlling it, Stephen Greenblatt showed that all kinds of literary 
production could be read as instruments of an author’s all but autonomous “self-fashioning”. Venetian 
inquisitorial records were analyzed with the question of Renaissance subjectivity in view by an author 
critical both of the Burckhardian and the post-modern approaches the question, John Jeffries Martin.    
327 Cf. Martin McLaughlin, ‘Biography and autobiography in the Italian Renaissance’, in Mapping Lives: 
The Uses of Biography, ed. Peter France and William St. Clair (British Academy, London: Oxford 
University Press, 2002), 37 – 65. I borrow the term “ego-documents” from Rudolf Dekker. (Cf. Rudolf 
Dekker, “Egodocuments (Autobiographies, Diaries, Travel Journals) in the Netherlands, 1500-1814,” 
Dutch Crossing 39 (1989): 61-71).   
328 For a compelling study of Cellini’s autobiography as a document bearing witness to the twin processes 
of secularization and divinization of the artist in the Renaissance cf. Massimo Lollini, “L’autobiografia del 
artista ‘divino’ tra sacro e secolarizzazione,” Annali d’Italianistica 25 (2007): 275-310.   
136 
 
Gerolamo Cardano329, through para-autobiographical works such as Petrarca’s Secretum 
or Montaigne’s Essais, to voyage journals and travel narratives. These broadly-defined 
autobiographical works seem especially suitable for the study of Renaissance self-making 
in that they frame the issue in the concrete terms of lived human experience. Firstly, on the 
level of content, they portray selves as gaining coherence as their lives unfold (with all the 
implications of this process, such as the role of others in contributing to this accumulative 
self-coherence). Secondly, on the rhetorical level, they can be considered the closest we 
have to a workshop of the self as the locus wherein the process of self-fashioning can be 
observed as it is being (verbally) accomplished.330  
 There is one more compelling reason to draw on autobiographical writings in this 
study of Renaissance subjectivity. For the past 30 years or so there has been an important 
tendency to view the autobiographical mode of thinking as fundamental for the emergence 
of self-consciousness. In fact, before we engage the question of autobiography as a form 
of writing, it seems crucial to address the idea that autobiography, or the act of self-
narrating is the deepest structure of self-identity. In Time, Narrative and History David 
Carr argued for a conception of identity as inherently narrative. According to this view, 
human beings have no access to the raw material of their life experiences otherwise than 
within the structures of temporality and through narrative modes331. Similarly, a number of 
                                                          
329 Cf. Guido Giglioni, “Autobiography as self-mastery: writing, madness, and method in Girolamo 
Cardano,” Bruniana & Campanelliana 7.2 (2001): 331-362; ID., “Fazio and his demons. Girolamo 
Cardano on the art of storytelling and the science of witnessing,” Bruniana & Campanelliana 16.2 (2010): 
463-472.  
330 On the importance of appreciating rhetoric aspects of biography/autobiography see: Thomas F. Mayer, 
D. R. Woolf, “Introduction,” in The Rhetorics of Life-Writing in Early Modern Europe, ed. Thomas F. 
Mayer and D. R. Woolf (Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press, 1995), 1-37.     
331 Cf. David Carr, Time, Narrative and History (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986). 
137 
 
studies in developmental psychology suggested that the work of self-construction in 
toddlers goes hand-in-hand with their growing linguistic mastery, understood not merely 
as the knowledge of the lexicon and grammar, but also as the awareness of the rhetorical 
conventions governing the construction of narratives.332 It has been shown that in patients 
suffering from Alzheimer’s dementia the inability to narratively relate the immediate past 
with the present and future creates a sense of loss of oneself333. In short, there are strong 
arguments supporting the view that the way we experience ourselves is according to 
narrative structures. In other words, autobiography appears to be the unique mode through 
which human beings can be present to themselves. In fact, it seems that the only way of 
“knowing” ourselves is through the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. There is no 
original chaos waiting to be organized/emplotted through narratives (as Hayden White 
would see it334) – the narrative is there right from the outset.  
 This said, beyond the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, there are the stories 
we tell others about ourselves, both orally and in writing. No doubt, the written 
autobiography is a more radical version of the usual internal autobiographical stringing 
together of our lives or the extemporaneous efforts at self-presentation in our daily dealings 
with others. In all of these activities we are moved by the same instinct to maintain self-
coherence, but in writing autobiography we are attempting something far more 
comprehensive than the humble task of routine self-construction: we are striving to give 
                                                          
332 Cf. Katherine Nelson, ed., Narratives from the crib (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989).  
333 Cf. Glenn Weaver, “Losing Our Memories and Gaining Our Souls: The Scandal of Alzheimer’s 
Dementia for the Modern or Postmodern Self,” in The Self Beyond the Postmodern Crisis, ed. Paul C. Vitz 
and Susan M. Felch (Wilmington, Delaware: ISI Books, 2006), 129 – 145. 
334 Cf. Hayden White, Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe (Baltimore: 
Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973), 1-42. 
138 
 
ourselves a “final” and “permanent” image, or “face”. It seems unavoidable that such a 
gambit for permanence should create a greater distance between the “I” doing the narration 
and the “I” featured in the story. The intuitive sense of self-coherence resulting from the 
never-ending process of telling ourselves about ourselves is different from the conscious 
effort of self-narrating occasioned by autobiographical writing. While in the former 
identity is a matter of self-presence, in the latter, there is a hiatus between the narrating and 
the narrated “I”.335 Stepping outside of oneself and speaking of oneself as a character in a 
story is the condition of writing autobiography. In fact, in autobiographical texts the self is 
always, up to a point, cast as another.336 Thus, autobiography as a genre illustrates how the 
stability and coherence of the self is dependent on the act of self-estrangement, on being 
able to see oneself as another. In fact, in autobiographical works we observe “in practice” 
that self must be “othered” to become itself.   
                                                          
335 On the question of non-identity between the narrating “I” and the narrated “I” cf. Jean Quigley, The 
Grammar of Autobiography: A developmental account (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 
2000), 107. Even though according to the classical definition of autobiography, its author, its narrator and 
its protagonist are identical (cf. Philippe Lejeune, “The autobiographical pact,” in On Autobiography 
(Minneapolis: Minnesota University Press, 1989), 3-30), there must be at least minimal distancing between 
the two in order that value judgments might be passed about past experiences. At the very least, the 
autobiographer must be considered a wiser, more experienced version of his protagonist.    
336 The non-identity between the author and the protagonist in autobiography was probably most forcefully 
stated in the 1979 essay by Paul de Man, in which it was proposed that autobiography is not a genre, but “a 
figure of reading and understanding that occurs, to some degree, in all texts” (Paul de Man, 
“Autobiography as De-Facement,” Modern Language Notes 94 (1979): 921). De Man then went on to 
argue (on the basis of his analysis of Wordsworth’s Essays Upon Epitaphs) that autobiography by calling 
into being a linguistic representation (a “face”) produces a “de-facement” of the author, his effective 
demise. Linda Anderson explains that according to de Man: “Autobiographies […] produce fictions or 
figures in place of the self-knowledge they seek. What the author of an autobiography does is to try to 
endow his inscription within the text with all the attributes of a face in order to mask or conceal his own 
fictionalization or displacement by writing. Paradoxically, therefore, the giving of a face, prosopopoeia, 
also names the disfigurement or defacement of the authorial subject through tropes.” (Linda Anderson, 
Autobiography (London – New York: Rutledge, 2011), 11- 12).    
139 
 
 Furthermore, autobiography (as it is rarely written for one’s personal use) creates 
the paradoxical situation in which the authorial intention to self-create and fashion the 
image of self for the others to behold unavoidably leads to at least partial loss of control 
over it. By offering one’s life story to the readers, the narrator somehow delegates the 
question of his personal identity to the public square, as something that ultimately cannot 
be contained within his authority, as something eminently negotiable.337 So the very act of 
taking possession of one’s life through narration results in losing control over it as soon as 
it is read by another338.  
 Now, the autobiographer engages in the negotiation of his personal identity within 
the community of readers which is usually the community with which he feels solidarity, 
his “group of reference”. Writing for the members of this community to be viable must be 
roughly in harmony with the popular wisdom and the cultural norms embraced by the 
group. At the same time, it must, to a degree, question and subvert it – if the compliance 
with the societal norms were complete there would be nothing singular about the life 
experience recounted and no need for autobiography.339 So the autobiographer inevitably 
                                                          
337 Cf. similar remarks in Jerome Brunner’s “Self-making and world-making”: “Self-making is powerfully 
affected not only by your own interpretations of yourself, but by the interpretations others offer of your 
version. One anomaly, of course, is that while Self is regarded (at least in Western ideology) as the most 
"private" aspect of our being, it turns out on close inspection to be highly negotiable, highly sensitive to 
bidding on the not so open market of one's own reference group.” (Jerome Bruner, “Self-Making and 
World-Making,” Journal od Aesthetic Education 25.1 (1991): 76) 
338 Although important for all kinds of autobiographical writing, the presence of the other – the 
listener/reader is especially paramount in testimonial literature. Without the audience the act of giving 
testimony cannot happen, the listening other is the necessary prerequisite for testimony to take place. (Cf. 
Shoshana Felman, Dori Laub, Testimony: crises of witnessing in literature, psychoanalysis and history 
(New York – London: Routledge, 1992), especially Chapter II “Bearing Witness, or the Vicissitudes of 
Listening”, 57-74) 
339 Cf. “An autobiography serves a dual function. On the one hand, it is an act of “entrenchment”, to use 
Nelson Goodman’s term. That is to say, we wish to present ourselves to others (and to ourselves) as typical 
or characteristic or “culture-confirming” in some way. That is to say, our intentional states and actions are 
comprehensible in the light of the “folk psychology” that is intrinsic in our culture. In the main, we laugh at 
140 
 
will be lead to portray himself as the same and other with respect to his readers. This 
notwithstanding, the balance of identity and difference will tend to tip in the direction of 
the author’s identity with his readership, resulting in the possible silencing of certain 
elements of the story to be told. Needless to say, such life-editing associated with 
autobiographical writing calls into being another locus of alterity – either instinctively 
rejected or disingenuously concealed constituents of the self. 
 Moreover, for the story to be “readable”, it must rely on pre-existent models. In his 
analysis of Western autobiography Jerome Bruner draws attention to the trope of “turning 
points”, i.e. moments which are cast as re-defining the self, often in opposition to its 
previous configuration. A good illustration of this practice is found in the Bible, wherein 
practically all the stories of Old Testament patriarchs and prophets, not to mention New 
Testament figures, are structured according to the “turning points” paradigm. Suffice it to 
mention Abraham and the sacrifice of Isaac, Moses and killing of the Egyptian, Jesus’ 
baptism, the calling of Peter or Paul’s conversion on the way to Damascus.340 It can be said 
that reliance on the trope of the “turning points” enhances the legibility of texts within the 
                                                          
what is canonically funny, sorrow for what is canonically sad. This is the set of “givens” in a life. But if it 
is all “givens”, then there is no individuality […] To assure individuality (and I am speaking of Western 
culture only), we focus upon what, in the light of some folk psychology, is exceptional (and, therefore, 
worthy of telling) in our lives. […] It is the case, then, that a story (to meet the criterion of tellability) must 
violate the canonical expectancy, but do so in a way that is culturally comprehensible. That is to say, it 
must be a violation of the folk-psychologically canonical that is itself canonical – that is the breach of 
convention must itself be conventional” (Jerome Bruner, 71-72)      
340 I am calling attention to the Bible as the most ready point of reference for an average-educated European 
in XVI century – the time which interests us here. But this seems to be a general rule applicable to the 
entirety of Western literature. As a matter of fact, we could quote for instance the beginning of Gilgamesh’ 
search for immortality after the death of Enkidu, or the end of “Achilles’ wrath” against Agamemnon after 
the death of Patroclus. 
141 
 
broadly-understood genre of life-writing (biography, autobiography, hagiography, 
encomium, etc.).341 It makes them appear as sensible and coherent.       
 Yet the reliance on pre-existent models might amount to more than just recourse to 
individual literary tropes within a storyline unique in its originality. It can involve modeling 
the entire story, so that it might fit a ready-made framework. My 2 year old daughter, 
Natalia, particularly enjoys stories which involve mommies and babies being reunited after 
a period of separation (e.g. about a kitten who gets lost, but who soon is found by his mom). 
She feels uncomfortable with tales in which mothers are absent (e.g. Finding Nemo) and 
often “re-writes” these narrations to make them fit her preferred mother – infant paradigm. 
What is at stake in these “re-tellings” is intelligibility: Natalia understands life and world 
mainly in terms of mother - infant relationships. It seems that the same principle of 
intelligibility underlies the instinct to cast one’s life-story in terms of the prevalent cultural 
symbols, such as for instance the tropes of pilgrimage or chivalry in the case of Medieval 
and Renaissance culture. This urge can be irresistible and destructive as it was in the case 
of Don Quixote – it might lead to a complete erasure of the individual self in favor of the 
pre-existent model. But the fabric of real life and the type might also coexist peacefully – 
as in the case of Dürer’s autoportrait of 1550 in which the artist is both himself and 
Christ.342 In autobiography the self (as called into being through his individual life-story) 
                                                          
341 For an inclusive approach towards the various forms of life-writing in the Renaissance cf. The Rhetorics 
of Life-Writing in Early Modern Europe. For an inclusive approach towards the genre of autobiography cf. 
Georg Misch, Geschichte der Autobiographie (Frankfurt am Main: G. Schulte-Bulmke, 1949-1969).   
342 Cf. John Jeffries Martin, “Myths of Renaissance Individualism,” in A Companion to the Worlds of the 
Renaissance, ed. Guido Ruggiero (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell, 2002), 211.  
142 
 
can be sustained and upheld by alterity (as embodied in the symbolic framework that 
contributes to its coherence).   
 Furthermore, autobiography bears witness to the role alterity plays in the shaping 
of individual selves simply by introducing other characters besides the narrating “I”. In 
telling our life stories we can hardly do it without speaking of our dealings and interactions 
with others. These encounters are necessary to move the story forward. In fact, they are 
what gives our story a concrete direction and, even though the autobiographer might choose 
to exclude some of his experiences from his narration, he cannot do away with the influence 
of others on the course of his/her life. As the nature of our interactions and relationships 
with others is not entirely within our control, neither is the shape of our lives, and by 
extension, our identity. In a way then, the characters in a person’s autobiography are its co-
writers.343  
 To recapitulate, in autobiographical narratives the loci of alterity are as follows: 1) 
the gesture of appraising oneself as another as the precondition for the writing of 
autobiography, 2) the recognition of oneself as different from society (a prerequisite for 
having something to talk about), 3) the suppression of certain elements of one’s experience 
so as not to challenge societal norms in too radical a way (the story must be palatable to 
the readers) 4) the instability of the written self which is at the mercy of its readers and the 
implicit recognition of the fact that the self is subject to negotiation within community, 5) 
the accommodation of alterity as embodied in pre-existing stories: arriving at a vision of 
oneself as facilitated by the exercise of fitting oneself into an alien mold, 6) the otherness 
                                                          
343 For the role of others as co-authors of our narrative identities cf. Paul Ricoeur, Oneself as Another 
(University of Chicago Press, 1992). 
143 
 
of the remaining characters in the story – the encounters with others as the narrated matter 
and their role as co-authors of the narrated life. 
 This last dimension, the presence of acting others within the story of the 
protagonist, although true in all forms of autobiography, is particularly visible in travel 
narratives. No doubt, it is a matter of degree: these are not the “domesticated” others of the 
protagonist’s own social context, but the incommensurable others from without the cultural 
framework known to the narrator. These unfamiliar others gain prominence also because 
of the very nature of travel writing, motivated as it is not only by the urge to tell the story 
of the narrator, but also to speak of the exotic places and people, a mixture, in fact, of self-
writing and world-writing.  
 Now, there are good reasons to believe that the two are inseparable. Ever since the 
advent of the theory of indeterminacy in contemporary physics (positing the act of 
observation as inevitably interfering with the observed phenomena), there has been a 
growing suspicion that knowledge can never be completely innocent, that it must be 
understood as “produced” by concrete individuals, shaped for their part, by concrete social 
and historical circumstances.344 This has been a problem early recognized by 
ethnographers, conscious of the difficulties inherent in trying to understand alien cultures 
on their own terms, leaving aside Eurocentric projections and biases.345 In fact, 
ethnography is one of the most self-conscious academic disciplines, preoccupied as it is 
                                                          
344 In the philosophical world, the suspicion that a detached viewpoint does not sit well with one’s 
subjective standpoint was memorably articulated by Thomas Nagel in his book The View from Nowhere 
(Cf. Thomas Nagel, The View from Nowhere (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989)) 
345 Cf. Bronislaw Malinowski, “Introduction: Subject, Method and Scope,” in Argonauts of the Western 
Pacific (London – New York: Routledge – Dutton, 1932), 1- 25. 
144 
 
with the irresolvable contradiction between its methodology (fieldwork) and the (inevitably 
disruptive) impact of the presence of European researchers on the structures of societies 
under study. Famously, Clifford Geertz held that the writing of cultural anthropology 
inasmuch as it cannot avoid posing the question of authorship is also, up to a point, an 
exercise in autobiography.346 In the field of literary studies, the recognition of the role of 
the personal story of the researcher, and of the historical moment of the study as significant 
variables at least partially responsible for the results yielded by the study in question are 
techniques employed for instance by Steven Greenblatt347 and Walter Mignolo.348   
 The embracing of such a self-conscious perspective would be unimaginable to an 
academic of the first part of the last century, let alone, to a XVI century author. And yet, 
in a way, the first-hand stories about the New World preannounce this technique of the 
post-structuralist scholars in that they put the author of the narration/history “in the 
picture”, so to speak. There is a sense in which this “self-inclusion” makes the authors of 
travel narratives more honest than the “humanist” historians of the Indies who aspire to 
authorial invisibility. Of course, some of these first-hand accounts are rather triumphalist 
in tone, (and perhaps inaccurate in their depictions of the dealings between the Spaniards 
and the natives), yet they cannot help protagonizing “the others” as “co-makers” of the life 
stories of their European authors. These are all stories of men “made” by America, even if 
they are meant to be read as the stories of heroic individuals who came by their success by 
                                                          
346 Cf. Clifford Geertz, “Being Here: Whose Life Is It Anyway?” in Works and Lives. The Anthropologist 
as Author (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1988), 129- 151.   
347 Cf. Stephen Greenblatt, “Preface,” in Renaissance Self-Fashioning, 2nd edition (Chicago: University of 
Chicago Press, 2005).   
348 Cf. Walter Mignolo, “Preface,” in The Darker Side of the Renaissance, VII-XXII.  
145 
 
their own effort alone. In a way, the making of Cortés, the vanquisher of Montezuma, was 
as much his own doing as that of the Aztecs. In other words, regardless of the actual 
purpose of the narrative, there is a level of the text which, somehow, speaks for the other.  
 Still, that presence of the Other, is much more felt in the narratives of failure. 
Failure has a destabilizing effect. The stories our narrators would normally tell themselves 
about themselves had to be reconsidered: it was necessary to re-imagine the self. Moreover, 
as people generally have a tendency to blame others when faced with a fiasco, and claim 
credit for themselves in the case of success, the authors of the narratives of failure were in 
a better position to recognize their American others’ agency. In other words, they were 
more inclined to see Alterity as a factor in their undoing, and more eager to look at 
themselves as influenced (or perhaps: hindered) by external factors. In fact, it seems 
reasonable to claim that ethnographic sensibility in these writers was enabled by the 
experience of disappointment. The frustration of unfulfilled goals created a situation in 
which the “Other” had to be seen so that the “I” might reach an insight into itself; 
observation and introspection had to go hand in hand and complement each other. As a 
result, the narrators of Cabeza de Vaca’s Ralación, Cei’s Relazione and Jean de Léry’s 
Voyage, like Bovelles’ sage, engaged in two kinds of gaze, one turned inwards and the 
other: outwards. Moreover, as they attempted to sustain these two kinds of scrutiny 
simultaneously, they spun narrations in which the two emerged deeply affected by one 
another349. 
                                                          
349 Although in a different context, Massimo Lollini makes a compelling case for a notion of autobiography 
in which the other is no less important than the narrating self. In an article on Primo Levi he writes: “Levi’s 
autobiographical perspective is focused on a subject inextricably open to the presence of the other […] 
Levi’s works help us appreciate the subject’s position in autobiographical text, which is different form that 
conceived by traditional notions of autobiography. Levi forces us to discover a subject whose memory is 
146 
 
 Just as the notion of success conjures up the images of agency, the idea of failure 
suggests passivity. The experience of failure in drawing attention to passivity not only 
makes room for the recognition of the agency of other human beings; it also contributes to 
a perception of the entire environment (including the non-living beings) as endowed with 
the ability to actively interfere with the plans of the impeded agent. It is no coincidence 
that in the narratives of failure American Nature is often portrayed as the locus of Alterity, 
and not simply as “different”, but more radically, as foreign, hostile and intractable.350 
Nature’s otherness is experienced through the body. The body is weakened by the 
unhealthy climate, it is affected by the cold, hunger and diseases; it is wounded. It might 
even become estranged – it becomes the body of another, one belonging to an 
“Americanized” self which cares not for clothing or a bed to sleep on. Often, it stands in 
the way of accomplishing what might otherwise be accomplished. All of our protagonists, 
the would-be conquistador (Cabeza de Vaca), the star-crossed merchant (Cei) and the 
hapless evangelizer (Léry) experienced in the New World a heightened sense of themselves 
as corporeal beings. They found themselves in situations in which their bodies became 
particularly present to them as a result of extreme physical hardships. Their encounter with 
                                                          
driven not by personal remembrance, but by the death of the other.” (Massimo Lollini, “Primo Levi and the 
idea of autobiography,” in Primo Levi. The Austere Humanist, ed. Joseph Farrell (Bern: Peter Lang, 2004), 
77.) 
350 Cf. “In the narrative of failure, the landscape disappears altogether as an aesthetic concept or category 
of perception to be replaced by the environment. This includes the geography, climate, flora, and fauna of 
America, whose qualities, although varying from text to text, are always shown to be negative. The narrator 
of failure […] always perceives the environment as his worst enemy, relentlessly hostile and threatening.” 
(Beatriz Pastor Bodmer, The Armature of Conquest. Spanish Accounts of the Discovery of America, 1492- 
1589 (Standord University Press, 1992), 124) 
147 
 
Otherness in the New World extended thus to what according to Paul Ricoeur amounts to 
the primary experience of alterity within – the experience of the Alterity of the body.351  
 The choice of Naufragios as a sui generis introduction to the overall problematic 
of the second part of this project is motivated by its iconic status within the realm of early 
Encounter literature. Along with Columbus’ diary it possesses within the body of 
Renaissance Americanist writing a status comparable perhaps to that of Oratio within the 
domain of humanist philosophical reflection.352 Not only has it been read and re-read 
countless times by critics (often offering dramatically discordant interpretations), but it was 
re-written and re-interpreted by several other authors, beginning with a number of early 
writers on the New World (Las Casas, Oviedo, Gómara, Inca Garcilaso and Antonio de 
Herrera to name just a few).353 Cabeza de Vaca’s status in popular culture was furthermore 
consecrated with the production of the eponymous 1991 Mexican film by Nicolás 
Echevarría.   
                                                          
351 Cf. Paul Ricoeur, “What ontology in view?” in Oneself as Another, 297-356. The second dimension of 
alterity is “inherent in the relation of intersubjectivity and the third – “in the relation of the self to itself” as 
embodied in the voice of conscience. (318)  
352 Cf. Margo Glantz, Notas y comentarios sobre Álvar Núñes Cabeza de Vaca (México: 
Conaculta/Grijalbo, 1993). Cf. also Santiago Juan-Navarro, “Constructing Cultural Myths: Cabeza de Vaca 
in Contemporary Hispanic Criticism, Theater, and Film,ˮ in A Twice-Told Tale: Reinventing the Encounter 
in Iberian/Iberian American Literature and Film, ed. Santiago Juan Navarro and Theodore Robert Young 
(Cranbury, NJ: Associated University Press, 2001), 67-79; Enrique Pupo-Walker, “Notas para la 
caracterización de un texto seminal: los Naufragios de Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca,” Nueva Revista de 
Filología Hispánica 38.1 (1990): 163-164. 
353 Some aspects of it were transformed within these secondary narrations, notably the aspect of miraculous 
cures performed by the group of Cabeza de Vaca assumed dimensions never intended by the author. (Cf. 
Jacques Lafaye, “Los ‘milagros’ de Álvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca (1527-1536),” in Mesías, cruzadas, 
utopías: el judeo-cristianismo en las sociedades ibéricas, trans. Juan José Utrilla (México City: Fondo de 
Cultura Económica, 1984).)   
148 
 
 Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca’s Relación is the fruit of the disastrous expedition of 
Pánfilo de Narváez to Florida undertaken in 1527. Narváez was sent to establish the 
Spanish Crown’s sovereignty over the lands between Pánuco in Northern Mexico and the 
peninsula of Florida354, but due to his poor leadership and the incompetence of the 
expedition’s pilot (guilty of underestimating grossly the distances involved), the whole 
venture turned into an unprecedented fiasco. The Relación, known also as Naufragios 
recounts the story of this ill-fated conquest, the hardships of the years the narrator spent 
among the Indians and his gradual return to the Spanish communities in Mexico. 
 Nuñez tells us that Narváez’ armada which sailed from San Lúcar de Barrameda on 
June 17, 1527 originally consisted of 5 ships and about 600 men. Of these, more than 140 
deserted in Santo Domingo and had to be replaced by others in Cuba. After the loss of two 
ships and many men in a hurricane, Pánfilo de Narváez decided to winter in Cuba, acquired 
a pilot and purchased two new vessels to take his now 440 men to Florida. Once in Florida, 
the disastrous decision was made to abandon the ships and explore the interior of the 
country. The ships with about a hundred men on board were to sail along the coast in the 
direction of Pánuco, find a safe port and wait there for the remaining members of the 
expedition. The meeting never materialized. After searching in vain for a year for Narváez 
and his men, the ships sailed to New Spain. Meanwhile, the majority of the expedition 
members explored north-western Florida without finding any of the hoped for riches, 
facing growing hunger, exhaustion and a creeping sense of futility. Finally, in a desperate 
effort to leave the inhospitable land by sea 5 makeshift rafts were made and the men headed 
                                                          
354 “para conquistar y gobernar las provincias que están desde el río de las Palmas hasta el cabo de la 
Florida, las cuales son en Tierra Firme” (Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca, Naufragios y comentarios (Mexico, 
D.F.: Colección Austral, 1985), 15.) 
149 
 
westward in the direction of Pánuco. After initially sailing together, the rafts got dispersed 
after passing the mouth of the Mississippi. Cabeza de Vaca found himself in charge of one 
of the rafts, which eventually ran aground on an island in Galveston Bay on November 6, 
1528. After a failed attempt to take to sea again, the survivors surrendered themselves to 
the local Indians, becoming de facto their slaves. Once among the Indians they learned of 
another group of shipwrecks, among whom were Alonso del Castillo, Andrés Dorantes and 
Estebanico, Núñez’s future companions in his trek towards New Spain. The level of 
mortality due to extreme cold, malnutrition and, in one case, cannibalism (among the 
Christians themselves) was tremendous. Very soon, out of the total of 80 men coming from 
two rafts, only 16 were left alive. All of these men, apart from Cabeza de Vaca and two 
others who were ill at the time, decided to head west in search of New Spain. Our narrator 
went on living (and trading) among different tribes of the coastal area adjacent to Galveston 
Island for the next 6 years. At the end of this period, he and one of the other two men who 
were left behind (the other one died) started on their way towards Pánuco. Confronted with 
new and fierce natives, Cabeza de Vaca’s companion lost heart and decided to return to his 
original captors. Our narrator, however, was determined to continue his trek, especially 
having received news of other Spaniards living not far from there. These were the 
aforementioned Dorantes, del Castillo and Estebanico, who were the only survivors of the 
original group who left Galveston Island 6 years earlier. From them Cabeza de Vaca 
learned of the fate of the other expedition members whose rafts were sunk along the coast 
further west. The stories of their extinction were tales of cold and hunger, but also of 
cannibalism (again among the Christians) and of execution for trivial reasons by their 
Indian “owners”. After another year and a half among the natives, the four survivors finally 
150 
 
undertake their journey towards Mexico, assuming on the way the role of “holy men” and 
healers.     
 The entire Naufragios can be read as a narrative of the othering influence of the 
encounter with otherness. Initially a conquistador-to-be, Núñez was forced to assume a 
variety of unforeseen roles during his stay among the natives: the slave, the merchant, the 
healer/shaman. His willingness and ability to adapt to the indigenous ways of life was a 
crucial factor in his survival and constitutes the leading theme of the narrative. Moreover, 
these identity adjustments are portrayed towards the end of the Relación as enduring even 
as he finds himself back amidst his own folk. In short, Cabeza de Vaca traces a personal 
history suggestive in the extreme of a radical discontinuity between the identity of the 
protagonist as he enters the New World and as he emerges back from it. In fact, many 
interpreters starting with his early XVI century readers believed it to be a tale of a profound 
spiritual transformation: a transformation of a ruthless conquistador into a defender of the 
Indians.355  
 Nevertheless, more recently, many scholars have expressed skepticism as to the 
authenticity of Núñez’s “conversion”. These doubts are fed by both textual and 
biographical evidence, especially Cabeza de Vaca’s controversial conduct as the governor 
of Río de la Plata later on.356 The Relación, according to this alternate reading, is no 
                                                          
355 Cf. for instance: “A lo largo de ese viaje [...] se producen una serie de inversiones de la realidad 
comúnmente aceptada según la óptica del lector convencional, bajo el signo general de una progresiva 
identificación del autor con el mundo indígena que había partido para sojuzgar. Entre otras cosas, los 
Naufragios son el relato de una conversión” (David Lagmanovich, “Los Naufragios de Alvar Núñez como 
construcción narrativa,” Kentucky Romance Quarterly 25 (1978): 32). Similar opinions are expressed by 
Luisa Pranzetti, Sylvia Molloy and Pastor-Bodmer. (Cf. Luisa Pranzetti, “Il naufragio come metafora (a 
proposito delle relazioni di Cabeza de Vaca),” Letteratura d’America 1 (1980): 5-28.)  
356 The most vitriolic criticism of Cabeza de Vaca’s integrity was formulated by Juan Maura (Cf. for 
instance Juan Francisco Maura, “Nuevas aportaciones documentales para la biografía de Álvar Núñez 
151 
 
different from other works of its time and scope. It does not subvert the rhetoric of empire; 
it simply finds new ways to perpetuate it. Needless to say, Núñez engages in the 
legitimization of empire in the hope of obtaining kingly recognition and favor.357 To obtain 
this favor, one critic argues, the author forges a text which attempts to “relocate” his 
American experience “from the annals of failure to a space that will allow it to engage a 
discourse of triumph.”358 Although the Relación cannot pretend to speak of any measurable 
military success, it provides information that can be used to facilitate future conquest.359 
Similar logic governs Nan Goodman’s interpretation in which Cabeza de Vaca’s famed 
sensitivity towards cultural difference is read as simply a manifestation of mercantilist 
ways of thinking360.    
                                                          
Cabeza de Vaca,” Bulletin Hispanique 106.2 (2004): 645-685). However, there is a more general tendency 
to be suspicious of Núñez’ story of spiritual rebirth. This tendency is tangible in Enrique Pupo-Walker’s 
“Pesquisas para una nueva lectura de los Naufragios de Álvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca” (Revista 
Iberoamericana 53 (1987): 517-539) and quite pronounced in José Rabasa’s “Reading Cabeza de Vaca, or 
How We Perpetuate the Culture of Conquest,” in Writing Violence on the Northern Frontier: The 
Historiography of Sixteenth Century New Mexico and Florida and the Legacy of Conquest (Durham: Duke 
University Press, 2000). A number of other authors who share similar views will be named in what follows.      
357 Cf. “un texto que pretende avanzar los intereses de su autor asociándose con la empresa colonial y que a 
su vez sirve como un instrumento literario para la legitimación del Imperio” (Michael Agnew, “Zarzas, 
calabazas y cartas de relación: el triple peregrinaje imperialista de Alvar Núñez Cabezade Vaca (Jerusalén, 
Compostela y Roma),” Revista Canadiense de Estudios Hispánicos, 27.2 (2003): 218) 
358 Claret M. Vargas, “‘De muchas y muy bárbaras naciones con quien conversé y viví’: Álvar Núñez 
Cabeza de Vaca’s Naufragios as a War Tactics Manual,” Hispanic Review 75.1 (2007): 2. The eagerness of 
Núñez to underscore the “usefulness” of his account for future conquest was noticed already by Robert E. 
Lewis, the first scholar to talk at length of the author’s Prologue to his Relación. (Cf. Robert E. Lewis, 
“Los Naufragios de Alvar Núñez: historia y ficción,” Revista lberoamericana 48 (1982): 681- 694.) 
359 Lee argues that the discourse of triumph is engaged in more direct a fashion: the whole story is really 
about Núñez’ personal success, which proves all the more impressive as it is sketched against the backdrop 
of the disaster that befell the rest of the expedition members. According to him, Cabeza de Vaca 
““translated the official report on the failure of the expedition into a private memoir on the success of a 
self-ordained saint's missionary pilgrimage” (Kun Jong Lee, “Pauline Typology in Cabeza de Vaca’s 
Naufragios,” Early American Literature 34.3 (1999): 241)    
360 Cf. Nan Goodman, “Mercantilism and Cultural Difference in Cabeza de Vaca’s Relación,” Early 
American Literature 40.2 (2005): 229-250. 
152 
 
 One of the main threads of criticism focuses on the literary as opposed to historical 
value of Cabeza de Vaca’s narration.361 Robert E. Lewis argues that the Relación takes on 
literary characteristics because it purports to be more than just a report on the services 
rendered to the king. Since there is no material evidence of any such services, the narration 
itself must become the service: a sort of verbal compensation for the never accomplished 
conquest.362 Lewis admits that Núñez’ self-interest is what shapes the story, but this does 
not lead him to dismiss entirely its historical value. Juan Maura, for his part, considers the 
Relación to be largely fictitious, a compelling literary result of an act of cynical 
dissimulation.363 Maura’s refusal to believe in the image of Cabeza de Vaca as it comes 
across in his account is grounded in convincing biographical evidence, including facts 
predating Narváez’s expedition.364 In other words, Maura insists on comparing and 
contrasting the “real” Núñez and Núñez - the literary creation.  
 A number of critics tend to be less concerned with the problem of what kind of a 
person the author “really” was and focus on considering how his “I” is created at the same 
time as the story of Naufragios is told and unfolds. The shortcomings of Cabeza de Vaca, 
                                                          
361 Cf. Lagmanovich, op. cit. and Lewis, op. cit. José Rabasa’s article “De la allegoresis etnográfica en los 
Naufragios de Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca” (Revista Iberoamericana 61.170 – 171 (1995): 175-185) is an 
attempt to overcome this binary opposition.  
362 Cf. “El autor así propone otro tipo de ‘servicio’, uno que no consiste en grandes hechos que se han 
llevado a cabo, sino en un recuento de lo que se ha visto y sabido en las tierras desconocidas” (Lewis, 684) 
363 Cf. “Es sabido que Cabeza de Vaca, una vez presentada su versión de los hechos, consigue del 
emperador Carlos V los títulos de Adelantado, Gobernador y Capitán General del Río de la Plata. Habría 
que plantearse, por lo tanto, si toda la construcción narrativa de su relato no es otra cosa que una cuidada 
elaboración de situaciones ficticias y sobrenaturales, combinadas magistralmente con hechos y 
descripciones reales de las tierras por donde anduvo con otros tres compañeros. ” (Juan Francisco Maura, 
“Veracidad en los Naufragios: la técnica narrativa de Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca,” Revista 
Iberoamericana 61.170-171 (1995): 187)  
 
364 Cf. Maura, “Nuevas aportaciones”, 645-685. 
153 
 
the hidalgo who wanted to make his fortune serving the Spanish monarch in the Americas, 
are to all effects and purposes, indisputable. Yet, the divergence between what an 
individual aspires to be or even believes themselves to be and their actions is a common 
fact of life. The author might have had an image of himself very different from the one 
contemporary scholars derive from historical documents. On the other hand, it is not 
impossible that Núñez was bent on deceit and wrote an autobiographical narration which 
had absolutely nothing to do with his “true” sense of self. In fact, I don’t believe that the 
question of sincerity can very easily be brushed off, by the postmodern gesture of assuming 
that the self is a creation existing only on the surface. Yet, for the purposes of this study, 
we need not look beyond what Cabeza de Vaca wanted to tell us. What interests us here is 
how the author of Relación preferred to portray himself or how he was compelled to think 
of himself, in the context of the network of relations that circumscribed his place in the 
world.  
 I find helpful José Rabasa’s suggestion not to put too much emphasis “en la figura 
de un Álvar Núñez que, habiéndose supuestamente convertido en crítico del imperialismo, 
vendría al final de los Naufragios a abogar por una evangelización pacífica a la ‘Las 
Casas’” but instead to “desentrañar un testimonio mucho más radical sobre la temporalidad 
y la conciencia histórica que se dan en la vivencia de los encuentros coloniales”.365 Rabasa 
argues that, regardless of whether or not Cabeza de Vaca emerged from his trek a “new 
man”, his account depicted a new kind of colonial encounter. Núñez portrayed the 
indigenous world with an unprecedented degree of cultural insight and attention to detail 
                                                          
365 Rabasa, “De la allegoresis etonográfica en los Naufragios”, 181. 
154 
 
and, at the same time, did not hesitate to expose the fragility of the occidental mores under 
duress. These two elements: the disillusionment in the face of the obvious shortcomings of 
his own men and the unusual perceptiveness with regard to the native cultures are 
complementary in Naufargios. In a way, within the economy of Núñez’ narration, the 
breakdown of the structures of European society (as embodied in Narváez’ leadership, 
loyalty to the king, solidarity among the expedition members) seems to act as a catalyst for 
the ethnographic discourse. In fact, as the disintegration of the expedition increases 
(leading ultimately to Narváez’ suggestion that all men fend for themselves), so too does 
Núñez’ ability to observe and understand the ways of life and organization of the 
indigenous societies.  
 With the description of the initial stages of his stay among the natives of Galveston 
Island, there coincide the first genuine observations of the indigenous customs. After the 
original fear of being sacrificed and eaten is overcome, Núñez begins to notice various 
aspects of the society of which he now is a part. He mentions for instance the natives’ 
extraordinary love for their children and the long periods of mourning observed by them366. 
In fact, the melting away of all the distinctive markers of European culture (horses are 
eaten, weapons and clothes lost) creates the discursive space in which the natives might 
appear, at last, as more than just barbarians: they can be seen as endowed with a culture of 
their own. As Beatriz Pastor Bodmer points out, the clothes, weapons and horses were, in 
the New World narratives one of the key features that distinguished the Europeans from 
the natives and thus, the loss of them must be read as an “absolute dispossession of the 
                                                          
366 Cf. Cabeza de Vaca XIV, 47-48. 
155 
 
cultural and ideological context that had given the image of the conquistador and his 
enterprise its identity.”367 Especially, the narrator’s shedding of clothes reflects his “loss of 
contact” with the European culture and his return to a pre-civilized state. He is thus 
symbolically reduced to the most basic level of humanity in which dichotomies such as 
that between the conquerors and the conquered lose all meaning and a new kind of gaze 
might be turned towards the native world.368 This new kind of gaze is much more attentive 
and perspicacious than that of the initial stages of the narrative where the indigenous were 
figured “in cluster” so to speak, as the generic object of conquest. 
 Moreover, with the disintegration of Narváez’ expedition the book begins to 
operate surprising role-reversals between the conquistadors and the natives. Instead of 
fearful Indians, we are given timid Europeans369, instead of enslaved and murdered Indians, 
we are told of Spaniards reduced to slavery and killed “por pasatiempo”370. Even more 
shockingly, in Cabeza de Vaca’s account, it is the white men who engage in cannibalism 
and the Amerindians, who are outraged at such an aberration:  
                                                          
367 Pastor Bodmer, 137. 
368 Cf. “Así desnudo, el yo sería una suerte de espacio despojado (España ha quedado atrás) que se irá llenando 
con lo desconocido - América […]. De particular interés son las frecuentes descripciones de los distintos 
indios: ni hiperbólicas ni interesadas, como las de muchos cronistas que informan sobre el otro a distancia, 
son éstas, descripciones de un otro cotidiano cuyo contacto da forma al yo. Este contacto, cultural y a la vez 
específicamente personal, se registra a menudo en el texto (Sylvia Molloy, “Alteridad y reconocimiento en 
los naufragios de Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca,” Nueva Revista de Filología Hispánica, 35.2 (1987): 425-
449). An interesting counter-argument is offered by Goodman, who perspicaciously points out that Núñez 
does not speak of any personal relationships he might have had with individual Indians. In fact, only one 
native is identified by name. (Cf. Nan Goodman, 240-241) 
 
369 Cf. e. g. Cabeza de Vaca XII, 45.  
370 Cf. Cabeza de Vaca XVI, 53. 
156 
 
“cinco cristianos que estaban en rancho en la costa llegaron a tal extremo, que se 
comieron los unos a los otros, hasta que quedó uno solo, que por ser solo no hubo 
quien comiese. […] De este caso se alteraron tanto los indios, y hobo entre ellos 
tan gran escándalo, que sin duda si al principio ellos lo vieran, los mataran.”371 
 After the collapse of the expedition, the Spaniards slip into savagery, committing 
atrocities associated previously only with the aboriginal peoples.372 Meanwhile, the natives 
emerge as, at least relatively, civilized in their abhorrence of these acts. In fact, Núñez 
makes no mention of any tribes practicing cannibalism. Furthermore, as the Europeans turn 
against each other and consume each other’s bodies, the native communities emerge in 
Relación as singularly cohesive, united not only by common custom, but also by strong 
family ties. As a result, the narrator is forced to see both the Europeans and the indigenous 
in a different way and must undertake the effort of positioning himself with respect to these 
uneasy realizations. This leads firstly to the discovery of the natives as defined not simply 
in terms of privation, i.e. of what they lack with respect to Europeans, but also in virtue of 
their own culture. Secondly, it results in the discovery of himself as a European man in 
relation to the Amerindian otherness. His growing understanding of the native culture goes 
hand-in-hand with his pragmatic (and often necessitated by circumstances) adoption of 
some of its elements, from nakedness, through alimentary habits, to spiritual practices and 
rites.  
                                                          
371 Cabeza de Vaca XIV, 46-47. Further on, one more case of cannibalism among the Spaniards is 
mentioned (Cabeza de Vaca XVII, 56-57).  
372 Although these passages of Naufragios are reminiscent of Montaigne’s reflections on Europeans as 
“cannibals” due to their cruelty towards one another (Cf. Montaigne, Des Cannibales), the difference is that 
here we are faced with literal acts of cannibalism.  
157 
 
 Moreover, since Cabeza de Vaca comes into contact with various indigenous 
groups (first in his role as a trader, then as an itinerant healer) he must constantly be ready 
to rethink his relationship with the encountered communities. Even in his relatively stable 
role as a shaman, he is constantly witnessing “new customs” accompanying his party’s 
transferals from one indigenous group to another.373 In other words, the new order of things 
is variable and does not afford stability: since it is in constant flow, it requires multiple 
renegotiations of self-identity on the narrator’s part. As Sylvia Molloy put it: Relación 
speaks of “el descubrimiento del yo con respecto al otro, el permanente replanteo de un 
sujeto ante una alteridad cambiante que determina sus distintas instancias.”374  
 In fact, in his dealings with the Amerindians our narrator is caught up in a never-
ending, liminal moment, having lost his heretofore role/identity and never 
unproblematically settled into a stable new one.375 Liminality clearly marks the initial 
moments after the disintegration of the expedition when the familiar order of things no 
longer holds and the new one is as yet to be comprehended. His situation does not change 
dramatically when definitively despoiled of his European garb and rank, Núñez begins to 
                                                          
373 The four survivors advance towards New Spain accompanied by natives, from one village to the other. 
Initially, when received, they perform the healings and are presented by the new hosts with gifts, which 
they give over to the party which accompanied them heretofore. Later on, the gifts are freely offered to the 
four “pilgrims” before any actual healings take place (these are also immediately transferred to the previous 
hosts). In the last stages of the trek, the group accompanying the “holy men” sacks the villages receiving 
the Spaniards and customarily advises the new hosts that they are to do the same when they take their 
guests to a new settlement. These modifications of the “routine” are implemented without consultation with 
Cabeza de Vaca’s party.       
374 Molloy, 426. 
375 For the concept of liminality cf. Arnold van Gennep, The Rites of Passage (Chicago: University of 
Chicago Press, 1960); Victor Turner, “Betwixt and Between: The Liminal Period in Rites de Passage,” in 
The Forest of Symbols. Aspects of Ndembu Ritual (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1967), 93 - 111. 
Silva analyses in terms of liminality only the moment of the narrator’s transformation from conquistador 
into ethnographer. I prefer to think of the entire history of Núñez’ dealings with the natives as marked by 
an unstable dialectic between belonging and not-belonging.    
158 
 
be conversant with local ways and customs. In the period preceding the trek of the four 
survivors towards New Spain (occupying chapters 20-36)376 he assumes different roles 
(with varying degree of independence) but is as yet reluctant to embrace wholeheartedly 
the part of the awe-inspiring itinerant healer which he will eventually become.377 He first 
engages in full-scale medicinal practices after having escaped with his 3 companions from 
the fearsome and cruel Mariames to the friendly Avavares. This escape marks also their 
final assumption of shamanic identity and the beginning of their “pilgrimage” towards New 
Spain.378 Yet, the decision to play the part of tribal healers is subordinated to the survivors’ 
ulterior goal of homecoming: it is a transitional identity meant to facilitate their journey 
towards their old selves. From that perspective, the acceptance of the shamanic status 
cannot be understood as a transition towards a post-liminal phase, but must be viewed as 
an extension (albeit under changed conditions) of the liminality that characterized the 
survivors’ previous cohabitation with various native groups.    
 Moreover, this role is inextricably connected with the fact that he is a white man, 
i.e. an other, set apart from the rest of the community and as such potentially endowed with 
                                                          
376 E.g., the two instances of cannibalism by Europeans are related in chapters XIV and XVII respectively. 
There is a correlation between the “point of view” of the protagonist and his narrated circumstances as far 
as his perception of the native cultures is concerned. The story of Núñez’ vicissitudes among the natives is 
also one of his growing cultural awareness and cultural adaptation. Cf. “the course of the narration itself 
[…] in the story's unfolding reproduces an emerging process of cultural adaptation and, consequently, 
physical survival” (Rolena Adorno, “The Negotiation of Fear in Cabeza de Vaca's Naufragios,” 
Representations 33 (1991): 164-165) 
377 Initially, he is forced to engage in shamanic practices against his will while among the Indians of 
Galveston Island (called in the Relación Isla de Malhado). He finds the idea ludicrous at first, but complies 
when denied food. (Cf. Cabeza de Vaca XV, 49-50).  
378 Cf. “With the clarity of vision that hindsight provides, Cabeza de Vaca draws a definitive line at this 
place in the narration into a "before" and "after. Once freed from their Mariames masters, the group 
reunited seems to step neatly and unequivocally into a world of friendly natives.” (Adorno, “The 
Negotiation of Fear”, 172) 
159 
 
special powers. These powers are perceived as both dangerous and propitious, a possible 
source of both harm and healing. It is very likely that the survivors’ shamanic status among 
the natives can be at least partially attributed to a troubling tale which had some currency 
among the natives, the legend about the bearded “Mala Cosa” (Bad Thing) which Núñez 
somewhat incredulously reports:379   
“decían que por aquella tierra anduvo un hombre, que ellos llaman Mala Cosa, y 
que era pequeño de cuerpo, y que tenía barbas, aunque nunca claramente le 
pudieron ver el rostro, y que cuando venía a la casa donde estaban se les levantaban 
los cabellos y temblaban, […] y luego aquel hombre entraba y tomaba al que quería 
de ellos, y dábales tres cuchilladas grades por las ijadas con un pedernal muy agudo 
[…] y metía la mano por aquellas cuchilladas y sacábales las tripas […] y luego le 
daba tres cuchilladas en un brazo, y la segunda daba por la sangradura y 
desconcertábaselo, y dende a poco se lo tornaba a concertar y poníale las manos 
sobre las heridas, y decíannos que luego quedaban sanos”380 
 The narrator does not seem to be aware of the possible connection between the way 
he himself and his companions are perceived by the natives and the legend of Mala Cosa. 
While all in all skeptical about the veracity of the tale, he assumes that Mala Cosa, if real, 
must be the devil and advises the Indians that the only way to be free from the fear of the 
evil being is to embrace Christianity. The natives take comfort in the fact that Núñez as a 
                                                          
379 Cf. Daniel T. Reff, “Text and Context: Cures, Miracles, and Fear in the Relación of Alvar Núñez 
Cabeza deVaca,” Journal of the Southwest 38.2 (1996): 124 – 127; Adorno, “The Negotiation of Fear”, 
173-175. 
380 Cabeza de Vaca XXII, 68-69. 
160 
 
Christian considers himself immune from the attacks of the Mala Cosa and in his 
assurances that while the white shamans are among them they are safe from it as well. The 
presence of the European men acts thus as an antidote against the evil forces – but the logic 
behind this seems to be the same that governs a modern-day vaccine – a small and 
controlled dosage of the harmful to prevent a greater harm. To put it in slightly different 
terms: through their association with the bearded “Mala Cosa”, the four survivors are 
placed by the natives in the category of sacrum/taboo – set apart as both holy and 
untouchable/outcast.381 With respect to the native community they are both in and out, both 
desirable and unwanted. This can be gathered, among other things, from the way, the 
“pilgrims” are transferred from one group to another. Despite Núñez’ descriptions of the 
warm welcomes he and his companions receive from each new community, one has the 
impression that the heretofore hosts are usually quite eager to pass on their guests to a new 
group. The white shamans, it seems, are just as keenly disposed of as they are welcomed.   
 The success of Núñez’ shamanic career can be attributed to both the Europeans and 
the natives as active agents.382 One way to look at it is that Cabeza de Vaca embraces the 
identity of a holy man as a means to manipulate the natives. As a shaman he finally gains 
the upper hand and instead of fearing can inspire fear. In fact, the narrator mentions an 
                                                          
381 On the ambiguity of the categories of sacrum and taboo cf. Mircea Eliade, Sacrum, mit, historia. Wybór 
esejów, ed. Marcin Czerwiński, tł. Anna Tatarkiewicz (Warszawa: Państwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 
1970). 
382 Cf. “[…] the expectations of the group are a critical element. For Claude Levi- Strauss, the shamanic 
complex, consisting of the three inseparable elements of shaman, sick person, and the public, is organized 
around the poles of the intimate experience of the shaman and of group consensus. In Cabeza de Vaca's 
narration, and in others of the area in this period, the role of social consensus is obvious. He and his fellows 
no doubt did cure some psychosomatic maladies, yet this point is subordinate to a more fundamental one: it 
is not that they became great shamans because they performed cures but rather that they performed cures 
because they were perceived to be great shamans.” (Adorno, “The Negotiation of Fear”, 173) 
161 
 
occasion on which he consciously made the indigenous believe that he has the power to 
make them die.383 And yet, we don’t know how his role was understood by the natives – 
we can only make guesses based on what slips between the lines of Cabeza de Vaca’s 
narration, as we did in the case of the tale of Mala Cosa. The exact meaning of his role 
among the natives escapes the grasp of the narrator and ours as readers of Naufragios. But 
we would be mistaken to ignore the existence of a parallel story, running alongside the one 
told by the shipwrecked Spaniard and slipping in through the cracks in the main narration. 
The Other claims a voice of his own in the Relación through some of the statements the 
narrator “lets drop”, as Adorno puts it.384 The Amerindian perspective can be uncovered if 
we are willing to acknowledge that the natives are the un-credited and silenced co-writers 
of Núñez’ story, i.e. that they hold the key to fully understanding what happened to the 
narrator. The survivors’ transferals from one native group to another seem one example of 
an experience which cannot be fully understood by the Europeans involved in it. In these 
highly ritualized encounters between different native groups, Cabeza de Vaca and his 
companions, regardless of how it might appear to them, seem to be a bit of a commodity, 
a good (or a gift) to be exchanged. Despite their powerful shamanic status they are tokens 
of trade and sometimes peacemaking between the native tribes. They are used and 
manipulated by the indigenous communities in their dealings with neighbors and enemies, 
at the same time as they manipulate and use them to achieve their own goal of safely 
crossing the land in search of other Spaniards.  
                                                          
383 Cf. Cabeza de Vaca XXX, 87-88. 
384 Cf. Adorno, “The Negotiation of Fear”, 165. 
162 
 
 In short, while being a fully-fledged and awe-inspiring shaman, Cabeza de Vaca 
still functions as a gift or an item of exchange between various indigenous communities. 
He is not an integral part of any one of them, but inhabits the space in-between. Needless 
to say, this is the continuation of the intermediary role he played when trading in shells, 
furs and other native commodities in the mainland area adjacent to Galveston Island. 
Moreover, he will retain this in-between status once his party makes contact with the 
Spaniards of Nova Galicia, mediating between the latter and the surrounding indigenous 
tribes. He will also style himself a mediator between the Amerindians and the Spanish 
King, making the case throughout his Relación for the possibility of a peaceful takeover of 
the territories described.   
 In arguing for a non-violent expansion he deliberately displays a sense of loyalty 
not only to the king, but also to the indigenous inhabitants of the lands crossed. He seems 
to cherish this in-between status.385 Alan J. Silva approaches what I call here the in-
betweennes386 of Cabeza de Vaca’s identity in terms of hybridization as theorized by 
Bhabha.387 Along similar lines, Juan Bruce-Novoa sees in Núñez someone who, as a result 
of his American experience, resides in a space between two cultures and much like a 
                                                          
385 Of course, some would say, with a view to capitalizing on it. Cf. for instance Maura’s many articles on 
the subject.  
386 I borrow the idea of realm of “the between” (the metaxological sphere) from William Desmond. (Cf. 
William Desmond, Being and the Between (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995). 
387 Cf. Alan J. Silva, “Conquest, Conversion, and the Hybrid Self in Cabeza de Vaca's Relación,” Post 
Identity 2.1 (1999): 124-125. In direct opposition to Silva’s reading of Naufragios, Goodman argues that 
Cabeza de Vaca “remains throughout his narrative divided by the binary of Self and Other, a far cry from 
the later, nineteenth-century colonial subject that inspired Bhabha's understanding of hybridity” (Nan 
Goodman, 229). Rebeca Siegel locates hybridity in Naufragios inside the text, as an aspect of its 
protagonist’s make-up, and not of the autor’s extra-textual identity, speaking of  “discurso híbrido/ 
transcultural que el autor utiliza para hacer partícipe al lector de una transformación narrativa de sí mismo 
como personaje de su relato; una transformación discursiva” (Rebeca Siegel, “Transculturación, 
apropiación y el otro: de Cabeza de Vaca al Capitán Cook,” Prolija Memoria II.1 (2006): 10) 
163 
 
modern-day chicano cannot be fitted neatly into binary categories.388 I agree with both of 
these scholars that we cannot consider the return of Cabeza de Vaca to “civilization” to be 
the moment in which he simply regains his old self. Even after he is back among the 
Spaniards he still carries the marks of his “othering” experience within. His hybridization 
cannot be overcome, it is an ineradicable fact. He remains in between and for that reason 
ambiguous about the exercise of colonial power. 
 This ambiguity sets him apart from his fellow countrymen – makes him unique and 
his story eminently “tellable”. It certainly testifies to the narrator’s concern with the 
question of what mode of conquest would be morally most acceptable. It projects a vision 
of what the relations with the natives might/should be, even if the author’s later conduct as 
the governor of Río de la Plata does not live up to his own ideals. Paul Riceour argues that 
one of the most intimate experiences of otherness is through the voice of conscience: the 
experience of something within which acts as a judge of one’s actions and calls one to 
responsibility.389 The narrator’s awareness of the injustices of conquest can be considered 
as precisely such an experience of the Other within through the voice of conscience. Now, 
in experiencing otherness in the form of an uneasy conscience Núñez in reality can be said 
to be representative of the Spanish collective identity at the time in which the debates about 
the legitimacy and methods of conquest were hotly debated.390 From his own perspective 
                                                          
388 Cf. Juan Bruce-Novoa, “Naufragios en los mares de la significación: De la relación de Cabeza de Vaca a 
la literatura chicana,” Plural 221: 12-21.  
389 Cf. Paul Ricoeur, “What ontology in view?” 
390 Cf. Roger Ruston, Human Rights and the Image of God (London: SCM Press, 2004).  
164 
 
(and that of some of his early readers such as Las Casas), the author of Relación is himself 
that voice of national conscience.   
 Narratively, to achieve the status of the voice of national conscience the narrator 
must distance himself from his fellow countrymen, must become the figure of the Other. 
This seems to be the reason why in the Proem Cabeza de Vaca represents himself with the 
quintessential attribute of the Amerindians – as a naked man. In presenting his Naufragios 
to the Spanish monarch, the author frames it in terms of the only service a man who from 
his American adventure “emerged naked” can offer.391 While the nakedness while staying 
among the Indians was not a matter of choice for the narrator, his decision to “stay naked” 
and present himself naked in the Proem to the king clearly was. This nakedness brings to 
mind the image of a newborn emerging from his mother’s womb, in fact, this choice of 
words casts Cabeza de Vaca’s American experience in terms of a re-birth. It is also 
reminiscent of the Pauline theme of the death of the Old Man and the birth of the New. 392 
In fact, the narrator portrays himself as a new and superior incarnation of the Spanish 
colonizer, one who believes in the viability of a peaceful and benevolent coexistence with 
the natives under the Spanish rule.393 This was an ideal embraced by many in Spain at the 
time, so in impersonating the other under the guise of the voice of conscience, the narrator 
                                                          
391 Cf. “a Vuestra Majestad [...] suplico que [..] reciba [mi relación] en nombre del servicio, pues éste solo 
es el que un hombre que salió desnudo pudo sacar con sigo” (Cabeza de Vaca, Proemio) 
392 The relationship between the Relación and Pauline texts will be considered in more detail in the pages to 
follow. 
393 Cf. Rolena Adorno, “Peaceful Conquest and Law in the Relación (Account) of Alvar Núñez Cabeza de 
Vaca,” in Coded Encounters: Writing, Gender, and Ethnicity in Colonial Latin America, ed. Francisco 
Javier Cevallos-Candau, Jeffrey A. Cole, Nina M. Scott, and Nicomedes Suárez-Araúz (Amherst: 
University of Massachusetts Press, 1994), 75-86. 
165 
 
is not breaking away from his community of origin, rather he styles himself a better version 
of the Spanish national self.  
 The author’s gambit to represent himself as the other/voice of conscience is 
legitimized by the way the natives themselves saw the “pilgrims”. We are told that upon 
their return to civilization, the Indians who accompanied them along the way reject the 
notion that they might belong to the same nation as the Spaniards whom they know as 
oppressors. The natives point out that while Alvar Núñez and his companions heal the sick, 
the other Spaniards kill even those who are healthy, while the survivors are naked and walk 
barefoot, the other Spaniards wear clothes, ride horses and wield lanzas, while the 
survivors are foreign to greed, the other Spaniards think only of stealing as much as 
possible: 
“los indios […] unos con otros entre sí platicaban, diciendo que […] nosotros 
veníamos de donde salía el sol, y ellos donde se pone; y que nosotros sanábamos 
los enfermos, y ellos mataban los que estaban sanos; y que nosotros veníamos 
desnudos y descalzos, y ellos vestidos y en caballos y con lanzas; y que nosotros 
no teníamos cobdicia de ninguna cosa […] y los otros no tenían otro fin sino robar 
todo cuanto hallaban”394 
 As a result, the Indians are hard to persuade to leave their “healers” among the 
Spaniards of Nueva Galicia and it takes the greatest effort to convince them to go home. 
The narrator chooses to recount this episode from the perspective of the Indians: he lets it 
be their cognitive horizon which decides the issues of identity and difference. He allows 
                                                          
394 Cabeza de Vaca XXXIV, 99. 
166 
 
this native perspective to be voiced as a means of giving himself legitimacy as a true 
“other”, fit to speak for the natives. Yet, the Spaniards, we are told, also see the survivors 
as different/other. In fact, Cabeza de Vaca and his companions are not immediately 
recognized as compatriots by the first Christians they come across: 
“[...] otro día de mañana alcancé cuatro cristianos de caballo, que recebieron gran 
alteración de verme tan extrañadamente vestido y en compañía de indios. 
Estuviéronme mirando mucho espacio de tiempo, tan atónitos, que ni me hablaban 
ni acertaban a preguntarme nada.”395 
 This initial lack of recognition on the part of the Spaniards is the second 
legitimization of Núñez’ otherness. The third one stems from within. It finds expression in 
the difficulty of identifying with their fellow countrymen, of “putting on” Europe again as 
experienced by the pilgrims themselves:  
“[…] llegados en Compostela, el gobernador nos recebío muy bien, y de lo que 
tenía nos dío de vestir; lo cual yo por muchos días no pude traer, ni podíamos dormir 
sino en el suelo […]”396 
 So far, we considered alterity in the Relación as embodied in the otherness of the 
character with respect to himself (liminality, in-betweenness, hybridity), the otherness of 
the character with respect to his readers (the voice of national conscience). We also talked 
about the others acting in the story, the natives as the story’s co-writers. What remains is 
                                                          
395 Cabeza de Vaca XXXIII, 97-98. 
396 Cabeza de Vaca XXXVI, 104-105. 
167 
 
to consider the way Núñez deals with the alterity of the literary tradition, how he invites 
this otherness to inscribe his own story. The fact that literary tradition is so present in 
Relación, the author’s all-pervasive reliance on literary models and types makes it 
ambiguous, in a way that corresponds to the ambiguity experienced by the story’s 
protagonist. In fact, contemporary readers find Núñez’ predilection for portraying himself 
in situations that call to mind a number of iconic protagonists of Western culture highly 
disconcerting, even compromising. And yet, the fact that we find auto-representations 
which rely on typology so unreliable is perhaps the best indication of the difference 
between our understanding of what a “self” means and the one embraced by the renaissance 
men and women. We immediately tend to think of the use of typology as indicative of 
falsity because we believe that the essence of selfhood must be found in the uniqueness of 
personal experience and we place a great value on the idea of “authenticity”. Now, since 
to be “authentic” one must be true to one’s uniqueness, we consider all attempts to fit one’s 
life into a pre-existing mold (a type) to be spurious. Yet, if we are to believe Charles Taylor, 
“authenticity” is a romantic ideal, originating with Rousseau397 and arguably, for the 
Renaissance people representing the self as both an individual and a type was not 
considered to be as irreconcilably dissonant as it is for us.  
 The case for that sort of twofold thinking was made by Peter Burke in the context 
of the visual arts in a study of Renaissance portraiture. Commenting on the disconcerting 
practice of Renaissance printers who used the same engravings to represent various 
historical individuals, including their own contemporaries (whose faces sometimes were 
                                                          
397 Cf. Charles Taylor, “The Sources of Authenticity,” in Ethics of Authenticity (Cambridge: Harvard 
University Press, 1995), 25-30. 
168 
 
otherwise well-known: a notable example being Dürer), Burke offers the following 
remarks which might as well be applied to the literature of life-writing:  
“At this point the ‘otherness’ of the sixteenth century becomes particularly clear. 
[…] There seems to have been a kind of coexistence between a realistic (individual-
centered) and a symbolic (or type-centered) mentality. In short, and in conclusion, 
the apparent dilemma of the historian, whether to describe the Renaissance in terms 
of realism or symbolism, is a false dilemma, like the choice between individualism 
and collective identity. There is no choice of interpretation to be made. The 
coexistence of contrasting attitudes and the tension between them were important 
structural features of Renaissance culture.”398   
 The first palimpsest of the Relación is the Bible399 and perhaps the most obvious 
model for Cabeza de Vaca’s self-portrayal is Saint Paul. The arch of personal story Cabeza 
de Vaca traces in Naufragios (from a conquistador to a defender of the Indians) is highly 
reminiscent of the story of Paul’s calling (from a persecutor of Christians to the apostle of 
nations). Lee claims that Núñez reconstructs his experiences exactly in parallel with major 
moments of Paul's life and thereby represents himself as the Spanish Paul among American 
                                                          
398 Cf. Peter Burke, “The Renaissance, Individualism, and the Portrait,” History of European Ideas 21 
(1995): 398. 
399 Pupo-Walker speaks in the context of literary models of hagiography, but refrains from concluding that 
this modeling was deliberate. Instead he argues that Relación “recupera e integra componentes de [la] 
tradición hagiográfica y legendaria; tradición convocada […] por un registro de asociaciones que son 
culturalmente inherentes al peregrinaje que Alvar Núñez nos describe.” (Pupo-Walker, “Pesquisas para una 
nueva lectura de los Naufragios de Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca”, 522)   
169 
 
Gentiles”.400 He offers a careful analysis of how the narrator in Núñez’s story re-creates 
various moments of St. Paul’s biography, finding direct parallels between the two texts.401  
 Another Biblical figure on which Cabeza de Vaca’s protagonist is modeled is 
Moses. The narrator styles himself Moses in the episode of the burning shrub in Capítulo 
XXI which evokes Ex. 3:1-6. Before the four properly begin their trek, they decide to 
winter with the kindly and welcoming Avavares. One day, Núñez gets separated from his 
companions and is lost in the wilderness all by himself:  
“aquella noche me perdí y plugo a Dios que hallé un árbol ardiendo, y al fuego de 
él pasé aquel frío aquella noche, y a la mañana yo me cargue de leña y tomé dos 
tizones, y volví a buscar [los indios], y anduve de esta manera cinco días, siempre 
con mi lumbre y carga de leña”402 
 After this episode, he becomes the most efficacious healer and the effective leader 
of the group of survivors, leading them, as Moses led the Israelites, out of captivity. Núñez’ 
somewhat exceptional status among the four is corroborated by the most memorable feat 
of faith healing in Relación, the story of the raising from the dead, which occurs almost 
immediately after the episode of the shrub. At first, it is Castillo, who is approached by the 
natives and asked to perform the healing on a gravely ill patient. However, Castillo is, 
                                                          
400 Cf. Kun Jong Lee, “Pauline Typology in Cabeza de Vaca's ‘Naufragios’,” Early American Literature 
34.3 (1999): 241-262. 
401 This leads him to believe that Cabeza de Vaca’s narration is largely fictitious, but as argued before, this 
is a non sequitur in the case of Renaissance representations of individuality. Also, the account of the 
expedition given by Oviedo, who used the now lost Joint Report prepared while still in the New World by 
three of the four survivors (to the exclusion of the non-white Estebanico) does not differ substantially from 
Núñez’ Relación. In fact, its main departure from Cabeza de Vaca’s narration is Oviedo’s decision to omit 
most of the ethnographic details present in Naufragios. (Cf. Nan Goodman, 239).  
402 Cabeza de Vaca XXI, 65. 
170 
 
according to the narrator a “timid” healer and is reluctant to undertake this task. Núñez 
volunteers to do it in his stead, but when he reaches the village of the sick man, the latter 
is already dead. Despite this, the narrator prays over him and it is later reported that the 
man rose, walked, talked and ate again – the vital signs that in the Bible would traditionally 
be reported about the resurrected persons403. 
 This episode is modeled on the raisings performed by Ancient Testament prophets 
Elijah (the widow's son at Zarephath in 1 Kings 17:17-23) and Elisha (the Shunammite 
woman’s son in 2 Kings 4:19-37) as well as those done by the apostles Peter (a woman 
called Tabitha in Acts 9:36-42) and Paul (a man named Eutychus in Acts 20: 9-12). Its 
more immediate models are however the resurrections accomplished by Christ: of the 
daughter of Jairus ((Mark 5:21–43, Matthew 9:18–26, Luke 8:40–56), of a widow’s son at 
Nain (Luke 7:11-17), and especially of Lazarus (John 11:1-46). The parallel between the 
figure of our protagonist and that of Jesus runs deep and seems very intentional. In the 
context of deliberate modeling himself on Christ critics often quote the episode in which 
the narrator compares his sufferings to those of Christ, as a way of comforting himself.404 
Yet, there are more parallels. The Indians accompany them on their way to New Galicia as 
the Jews followed Jesus and accompanied him into Jerusalem. Núñez, like Jesus performs 
                                                          
403 Cf. “[…] vinieron a nosotros unos indios de los susolas y rogaron […] que fuese a curar un herido y 
otros enfermos, y dijeron que entre ellos quedaba uno que estaba muy al cabo. […] y cuando llegué cerca 
de los ranchos que ellos tenían, yo vi el enfermo que íbamos a curar que estaba muerto, […] y ansí, cuando 
yo llegué hallé el indio los ojos vueltos y sin nigún pulso, y con todas señales de muerto, según a mí me 
paresció, y lo mismo dijo Dorantes. Yo le quité una estera que tenía encima, con que estaba cubierto, y lo 
mejor que pude supliqué a nuestro Señor fuese servido de dar salud a aquél y a todos los otros que de ella 
tenían necessidad; […] y hecho esto nos volvimos a nuestro Aposento, y nuestros indios […] se quedaron 
allá; y a la noche se volvieron a sus casas, y dijeron que aquel que estaba muerto y yo había curado en 
presencia de ellos, se había levantado bueno y se había paseado, y comido, y hablado con ellos, y que todos 
cuantos había curado quedaban sanos y muy alegres.” (Cabeza de Vaca XXII, 67-68)  
404 Cf. Juan Francisco Maura, “Alvar Núñez: Mesías del Nuevo Mundo,” Mundi 4 (1990): 97-116. 
171 
 
miracles on the way. He engages in messianic activities such as feeding the hungry, healing 
the sick and, as in the above mentioned episode, raising from the dead. The four men cross 
the indigenous lands “bringing peace and reconciliation”.405  
 Apart from the Bible the whole story is structured around the cultural symbol of 
pilgrimage, in particular the pilgrimage to Compostela. In fact, the survivors’ final 
destination in New Galicia is Compostela. The first allusion to the symbolism of 
Compostela and Santiago are the shells in which Núñez is a merchant among the 
indigenous populations. Shells were considered an attribute of the pilgrims to Compostela. 
Also, the symbol of shamanic authority wielded by the four, the calabaza or gourd, apart 
from being meaningful for the natives was also immediately associated by Núñez’ 
contemporaries as an attribute of the pilgrims to Compostela.406 Moreover, Núñez 
identifies not only with the pilgrims to the Galician sanctuary, but with Santiago himself. 
Saint Jacob was considered the evangelizer of Iberia and Cabeza de Vaca aspires to the 
role of the evangelizer of New Spain. In fact, towards the end of the Relación in Capítulos 
XXXV and XXXVI the narrator mentions his role in persuading the natives to erect crosses 
and build chapels. He also remarks on the ease of evangelization and the receptivity of the 
                                                          
405 Cf. “Por todas estas tierras, los que tenían guerras con los otros se hacían luego amigos para venirnos a 
recebir y traernos todo quanto tenían, y de esta manera dejamos toda la tierra en paz” (Cabeza de Vaca 
XXXI, 93) Here again, we must consider the example of Dürer’s autoportrait in which the artist is himself 
and Christ. 
406 Originally, the attention to Núñez’ skillful manipulation of the native symbol of calabaza was drawn by 
Maureen Ahern. (Cf. Maureen Ahern, “The Cross and the Gourd: The Appropriation of Ritual Signs in the 
Relaciones of Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca and Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo's Illustrations,” in Early 
Images of the Americas: Transfer and Invention, ed. Robert E. Lewis and Jerry M. Williams (Tucson, AZ: 
The University of Arizona Press, 1993), 215-244. However, only Michael Agnew pointed to its role in the 
symbolism of Compostela. (Cf. Agnew, op. cit.) 
 
172 
 
Amerindians to “true religion” due to certain similarities between their systems of beliefs 
and Christianity.407  
 In the previous chapters particular attention was paid to the humanist treatment of 
the question of the relation between self and other and the various formulations of the idea 
that alterity is in one way or another foundational for the formation of a human being (and, 
by extension, for the emergence of human consciousness, a sense of the self). Pico’s Oratio 
explored in particular the theme of divine alterity, Bovelles’ De Sapiente that of the alterity 
as embodied in Nature, while Vives’ Fabula focused on the relationship of the individual 
with his others in society. In this chapter an attempt was made to trace the othering 
influence of an experience of alterity more radical than that of the familiar alterity of one’s 
own social group, the experience of America. This discussion was further complicated by 
the nature of the text under study - the autobiography as itself an exercise in othering and 
an othering experience. The following two chapters explore two more examples of 
Renaissance biographical/ethnographic writing.  
 
  
                                                          
407 Cabeza de Vaca XXXI, 93. 
173 
 
 
CHAPETR VII 
 GALEOTTO CEI: HOMELESSNESS OF THE SELF  
 
Galetto Cei (1513-1579?), a native of Florence and a star-crossed merchant-
adventurer to the New World is the author of an as yet unedited memoir entitled 
Dell’origine e progressi della famiglia Cei408, and of a Viaggio e relazione delle Indie 
(1539-1553), published only in 1992.409 The former is a personal biography told in the 
larger context of family history.410 The latter is a more detailed account of one particular 
period in the life of the protagonist: his New World experience. Although in the pages to 
follow we will not be concerned with Dell’origine e progressi, the work is worth 
mentioning for two reasons. Firstly, the existence of yet another autobiographical 
document penned by Cei testifies to the strongly self-reflective temperament of our author. 
Secondly, it bears witness to his sense of personal identity as inseparably intertwined with 
an allegiance to his family and native city.411 Although Cei left Florence in early youth, (he 
                                                          
408 This manuscript is held by Biblioteca Nazionale di Firenze (II, IV, 14). A copy of the text is also 
inserted under the title of Memorie di Galeotto di Gio Battista Cei, in a manuscript collection of Memorie 
diverse della città di Firenze e di più famiglie e cittadini della medesima città, also in the possession of 
Biblioteca Nazionale di Firenze (II, IV, 380, cc. 1-20). Cf. Francesco Surdich, “Introduzione,” in Galeotto 
Cei, Viaggio e relazione delle Indie (Roma: Bulzoni Editore, 1992), VII, n. 5. 
409 The lack of an earlier edition and the text’s consequent unimpressive circulation is the most fundamental 
difference between the Viaggio and Naufragios, which from the moment of their first issue in 1542 became 
one of the classics of travel literature. 
410 Cf. Paolo Malanima, “Galeotto Cei” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani - Volume 23 (1979), 329-
331.  
411 In fact, in his very enterprise of writing a book of memorie he can be said to identify with the 
Renaissance Florentine culture, in which this type of writing is particularly abundant. (Cf. Angelo 
Cicchetti, Raul Mordenti, I libri di famiglia in Italia, vol I (Roma: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1985); 
174 
 
was 16) and was not able to return there until the ripe age of 47, he seems to have always 
considered himself a Florentine. Moreover, our author’s biography (the disgrace and 
execution of his father for political reasons, the confiscation of family assets, the long exile) 
suggests that he might have felt some urgency to reclaim that identity. In fact, a certain 
solicitude to make himself and his text as Florentine as possible is felt throughout the 
Viaggio, starting from the dedicatory prologue addressed to another Tuscan merchant, 
Bartolomeo Del Bene.   
In this dedication Cei declares that he took up the task of writing as a result of a 
streak of jibes, questions and rebukes from both friends and enemies. Among those 
inquiring about his American experience were some genuinely curious about the “Indies”, 
some keen on finding something to laugh about, some wondering about his reasons to go 
and his reasons to stay in America for such a long time and - the largest group - those 
wondering why he came back poor.:  
“Da diverse punture, dimande et riprehensione sono stato trafitto in questa mia 
tornata d’India, così da amici come nimici et da malivoli, che mai non mancano 
alcuni per sapere le cose di là, giusto et honesto desiderio; altri per tenere di che 
ridere, chi per sapere la causa di mia andata, chi di tanta tardanza, et li più perché 
sono tornato povero come se fussi vituperio a tornare di là sanza un gran thesoro”412 
                                                          
Raul Mordenti (ed.), I libri di famiglia in Italia, vol 2 (Roma: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2001); 
Leonida Pandimiglio, “Ricordanze e libri di famiglia: il manifestarsi di una nuova fronte,” in Lettere 
italiane 39 (1987): 3-19; Fulvio Pezzarossa, “La tradizione fiorentina della memorialistica. Con 
un’Appendice: Per un catalogo dei testi memorialistici fiorentini a stampa,” in La “Memoria” dei 
mercatores. Tendenze ideologiche, ricordanze, artigianato in versi nella Firenze del Quattrocento, ed. 
Gian-Mario Anselmi, Fulvio Pezzarossa and Luisa Avellini (Bologna: Patron Editore, 1980), 39-149).    
412 Galeotto Cei, Viaggio e relazione delle Indie, 1539-1553, ed. Francesco Surdich (Roma: Bulzoni, 1992), 
1. 
175 
 
This careful profiling of the target audience at the outset of the text signals both a 
certain apologetic impulse and a heightened sense of self-consciousness experienced by 
the author.413 Although the title of the Viaggio e relazione delle Indie itself promises a tale 
of exotic people and places, the dedication creates the contrary impression, namely that Cei 
will be far less invested in representing America than in narrating himself against the 
backdrop of the New World. As it turns out, Viaggio strikes a compromise: apart from the 
justificatory/autobiographical motivation spelled out in the dedication, it is also very 
strongly driven by a descriptive passion. As a result, America emerges in Cei’s account as 
a real protagonist, being allotted about the same amount of narrative space as the main 
character – the merchant himself. This is symbolic of the intimate bond existing between 
the two: America gives birth to Cei – the protagonist of Viaggio, and at the same time, she 
herself takes shape for the reading community through him.  
This interdependence between the autobiographical and the descriptive dimensions 
in Cei’s text is premised on a logic similar to that governing the paradigmatic Florentine 
autobiographic writings of the time, offering a portrayal of the author as a part of a larger 
canvass including his family/lineage and his times.414 From this angle, the life of a man 
cannot be explained outside of the context of the history of his family, that of other 
members of his trade/profession, and of the republic itself: the autobiographer’s relations 
                                                          
413 It is worth noting that unlike Núñez, who thought of the king as his paradigmatic reader, Cei feels forced 
to explain himself to his peers. 
414 I am referring here to the predominant tradition of ricordanze and libri di familia rather than the more 
immediate precursors of modern autobiography, such as Petrarch’s Letter to Posterity, Alberti’s Vita, 
Cellini’s Vita or Cardano’s De vita propria.  
176 
 
with these “others” make him what he is.415 Travel narratives, in their even greater reliance 
on telling of something other than the protagonist in order to make him understandable, 
take this practice to a whole new level. Otherness weighs more heavily on such narratives 
first and foremost due to the utter unfamiliarity of the context in which the protagonist is 
featured. Moreover, in this type of writing, the very existence of the traveler as a literary 
protagonist depends on the description of the places visited. The travel experience is 
constitutive of the travel-writing self and as such it paradoxically becomes part of the 
innermost self. Unwittingly then, the travel accounts upset the categories of “own” and 
“foreign”. As a result, they are inescapably ambiguous about their own locus of enunciation 
and never can be said to have been written “at home”, regardless of where the writing 
process occurred. In fact, travel literature is an intermediate zone, a place between the Old 
and the New Worlds, perhaps the only place that the traveler can call his own.    
And yet, there is a sense in which all travel writing is meant to facilitate return. The 
dedication clearly frames Cei’s writing as a sort of ritual of home-coming. It is suggestive 
of the author’s gambit to narrate himself back from America, into the fold of his own 
townsmen, and out of the danger zone of censure and ridicule. America, inasmuch as it is 
the place of the author’s financial fiasco, is a stigma which has to be addressed and Cei’s 
text is meant to do precisely that. In a way, the author is moved by the urge to disown it, 
as a means of reclaiming his credentials at home, reasserting his sense of belonging with 
his readers/compatriots and restating his self-identity as a member of the merchant class. 
And yet, he also somehow realizes that the only way of achieving these goals is through 
                                                          
415 Cf. Francesco Guicciardini, Ricordi, diari, memorie, ed. Mario Spinella (Rome: Editori Riuniti, 1981); 
Lorenzo Ghiberti, I commentarii, ed. Lorenzo Bartoli (Firenze: Giunti, 1998). 
177 
 
fully embracing his American experiences and taking possession (narratively) of this 
troubling portion of his life.  
Prima facie, it seems that Cei assumes the position of his critics in choosing to 
speak of the years spent in the New World in terms of a fiasco. Talking about his 
participation in the expedition to the province of Venezuela lead by Juan Carvajal, the 
author expresses a sense of loss and deplores having wasted “oltra alli danari et disagio, 
[...] el migliore tempo di [...] vita con assai pericoli.”416 And yet, he distances himself from 
those who judge everything from a myopically economic point of view: 
“ho preso questa fatica di porre scripte quelle cose mi sono accadute in processo di 
14 anni, che con Piero Aretino posso dire havere gittati via, secondo al giuditio di 
quelli che giudicono el tutto dalle riccheze et che senza esse si morrieno di fame in 
un forno di stiacciate.”417  
In the light of this ambiguous reference to Aretino, one is tempted to believe that 
while paying lip service to the notion of having squandered a significant portion of his life 
in futile pursuits, Cei is also attracted to the idea that money is not the ultimate gauge of 
everything and that there exists a kind of wealth which can hardly be cashed-in. In fact, the 
author implies that the experience he gained in America is an example of precisely such a 
kind of non-pecuniary capital. Furthermore, this experience is forged into a story, yet 
another asset, albeit unquantifiable. In other words, like Cabeza de Vaca, Cei thinks of his 
narrative as a means of exorcising the experience of personal failure, of turning it into 
                                                          
416 Cei, 41. 
417 Cei, 1. 
178 
 
something valuable. What is at stake in both cases is personal prestige, for the lack of 
financial gain is, in the eyes of Cei’s target readership, as disconcerting as the failed 
conquest is in the eyes of the audience of Cabeza de Vaca. Both transgressions can be 
alleviated if life experience and autobiographical storytelling can be recognized as 
possessing a value of their own. Núñez claims such value for his account in framing it as 
potentially instructive for the members of future expeditions to Florida. Cei, although 
openly eager to cater to his readers’ curiosities, even if they should be frivolous (cf. 
dedication), also includes advice and suggestions useful for those who might wish to invest 
in the “Indies”.   
Another kind of “fortune” which Cei’s readers might be reluctant to recognize as 
such is life itself. In fact, the author thinks himself lucky (it. fortunato) to have come back 
alive, even though destitute. Witnessing many a premature death of other Europeans taught 
him to consider himself wealthy, even if the only possession retained should be that of his 
own life. 418 The untimely deaths reported by the author are always in one way or another 
attributable to the nefarious influence of the New World, either as a result of its natural 
features (unhealthy climate419, flora and fauna420) or as a consequnece of the actions of its 
                                                          
418 Cf. “mi pare essere tornato ricco poi sono vivo e sano” (Cei, 76). Cf. also “vi affermo che da cento 
vanno a India se ne perdono novantocto, di modo che mi contento di essere tornato nel numero de dua per 
cento con la mia povertà” (Cei, 1)  
419 Cf. the harmful influence of climate on European men: “Se vi va un gran mangiatore, o uno di 
grandissime forze, avanti passi l’anno, ne perde la metà. Li huomini, cioè maschi, vi stanno sempre con 
pochissime forze, deboli, sdilinquiti per il gran caldo e sudori. […] È paese molto contrario a huomini 
sanguigni di pelo rosso, et biondi: così gran mangiatori e golosi non vivono molto tempo et sempre 
infermi.” (Cei, 7); “La maggiore parte delle donne vi muoiono è di parto: non è che muoiono sul partorire, 
o per non potere partorie, ma dopo el parto, di spasimo, perché el caldo vi è si vehemente che non possono 
sopportarlo et l’humidità et li venti vi sono sottili che, inviscierandosi un poco, subito entra loro nei nervi 
perché la carne et li pori vi sono sempre più aperti che ne’ paesi freddi” (Cei, 8)  
420 This will be discussed more fully in the following pages.   
179 
 
inhabitants, including those of European descent.421 America in the Viaggio is depicted as 
an Other which, although having claimed and continuing to claim many victims, was 
nevertheles unable to crush Cei himself. The narrator survived, but to strenghten his grip 
on life he must go beyond staying physically alive. He must make an effort to remember 
and tell the story of his narrow escape.422 If the American experience is not remembered, a 
part of his life and a significant element of his personal identity is lost to the Otherness of 
the New World. In order not to be absorbed into that shapeless Alterity, he must instead 
invite it to become a presence within his own sense of identity and let it be spoken through 
him. Ironically then, the price for taking possession of the traveller’s self, is giving voice 
also to the American Otherness. Not surprisingly, this results in a conflicted text, a text, in 
fact, which in some of its aspects seems to contradict its own raison d’être.  
A striking example of this internal tension of the Viaggio is the all-pervasive use of 
the personal pronoun “we” when talking about the European communities in the New 
World and exclusively “you” when speaking of the European perceptions 
thereof.423Although the use first person pronouns (either “I” or “we”) is unavoidable in an 
autobiographical text, Cei uses the group designator “we” not only to describe personal 
                                                          
421 Cf. for instance the arbitrary decisions and lawless conduct of the Spanish governors of the settlement of 
Toccuyo, especially Carvajal. (Cf. Cei, 46 – 49).    
422 Although Cei’s account is, no doubt, a story of survival (perhaps even a way of dealing with the trauma 
of his American experience), it is not a piece of testimonial literature in the way this genre is normally 
understood when applied to the literature of the Shoah. Cei does not intend to speak for those who perished 
and cannot speak for themselves (Cf. Massimo Lollini, “Primo Levi and the Idea of Autobiography”, 75-
77). He speaks on his own behalf only and as a part of a strategy of survival which extends beyond the 
moment of safely reaching the native shores.   
 423 Cf. “Indi che mangiano carne humana si chiamano Caribes et non Canibali, come dite qua” (Cei, 13); 
“[…] provincia di Vicaptan, che qua dite al Temistitanˮ (Cei, 15); “Et di questa ultima sorte facciamo noi 
Cristiani el vino per bereˮ (Cei, 17); “Tuna, o comobo, dichiamo noi, in India” (Cei, 31); “I rami di questo 
albero servono per pietra e fucile, con che l’Indi et noi Cristiani accendiamo el fuoco” (Cei, 33); etc. 
180 
 
events, but also to talk about the ways of life and various practices common in the New 
World. This could be interpreted as an element of a strategy aimed at reinforcing the 
credibility of the Viaggio as an eyewitness account.424 Yet, the personal pronoun “we” is 
also regularly accompanied by the present tense – a feature which is unnecessary in that 
respect and must be considered a matter of stylistic choice.425 As a result, even though 
Viaggio is meant to bring its author back into the fold, Cei’s use of personal pronouns and 
verbal tenses does not reflect the narrator’s allegiance to his compatriots in Florence, nor 
even a double allegiance, which could be conveyed by the use of a parallel expression 
along the lines of “we back home”. In fact, this is never done. On the contrary, Cei’s 
persistent use of the pronoun “we” and the present tense when speaking of the ways of life 
adopted by the Europeans overseas indicates rather a certain lingering sense of belonging 
to the colonial communities even as he is narratively searching for the way home.  
On the other hand, the urge to come home is a pervasive theme throughout the text. 
It is initially brought up in the context of his friends’ insistence that he should take a wife 
and settle down in Santo Domingo. Ironically, the intention to eventually go back, on this 
and subsequent occasions, sends him even further from home as he begins to look into 
                                                          
424 The narrator is quite adamant about the trustworthiness of his account, drawing almost exclusively on 
his own experience and, forewarning the reader when reporting hearsay.  Cf. for instance: “secondo dicono, 
che io non vi sono stato” (Cei, 21); “creda chi vuole, che io non so se ma la credo” (Cei, 23); “secondo si 
dice, ancora che io non l’ho visto” (Cei, 23); “ancora che io non li ho visto fare questi miracoli” (Cei, 32); 
“Se è cosa da credere o no giudichi ciascuno quello li pare: io non lo so se non per udita” (Cei, 80); “Io non 
ho mai visti et questa cosa ve la vendo come la comperai” (Cei, 120) etc.   
425 Cf. for instance: “Noi altri contrattiamo con loro più per forza che per amore, dando loro di que’ 
paternostrini, sale, uccelli […]” (Cei, 84); “Noi Cristiani costumiamo di armarci, andando alla guerra, 
simile e cavalli.” (Cei, 87); “detti rami […] ci servono tagliati con le foglie a coprire capanne per dormire al 
coperto” (Cei, 104) 
181 
 
business opportunities beyond the island of Hispaniola.426 He conjures up a plan to go to 
Peru, but a vice-royal ordinance prevents him from doing so.427 Eventually, he is persuaded 
to join an expedition to the province of Venezuela (1545), chiefly “per non stare in Santo 
Domingo a spendere et sentire importunazione di mariaggi”.428 Even as he ventures further 
and further into the American interior as a part of the aforementioned expedition, the 
protagonist’s long-term goal remains the same: collecting enough money to be able to 
return to Spain with a bit of profit. His prospects of doing so within a reasonable period of 
time become bleaker once the expedition members establish the village of 
Toccuio/Toccuyo. There ensue the years of very restricted freedom of movement, during 
which Cei repeatedly attempts to obtain the successive governors’ permission to leave the 
settlement. These appeals to authority remain unheeded for 5 years and the protagonist 
remains trapped in the American interior despite his determination to depart. By the time 
he is finally allowed to leave the village in order to sell his cattle in the province of New 
Granada (1550), he has accumulated a significant patrimony and some of his friends try to 
persuade him not to risk it in an uncertain venture.429 This advice notwithstanding, Cei 
                                                          
426 Cf. “Come questi si maritorno cominciorno ancora loro a conquidermi perché facessi altanto […] et, 
perché la vita di detta isola, nè d’India, mai mi contentò, per fuggire queste importunità  cominciai a fare 
viaggi sotto diversi colori” (Cei, 37).  
427 Cf. Cei, 40. 
428 Ibid. 
429 Cf. “non mancorno predicatori in contrario, mostrando con vive ragioni che la fatica era passata et che 
già nel popolo dove stavamo vi era bestiami assai et che non mi mancava già carne, latte, polli, fructa et 
grano senza andarlo a rubare et, con l’aumento de’ bestiami, potevo comperare alla giornata i mia bisogni e 
che tenevo 3 cavalli in istalla, 20 Indie et Indi di servizio et ragionevolmente vestito et che non ero delli 
ultimi del popolo, ma sempre chiamato fra li primi e [ …] non che fare quello, mi converria andare come 
vò al presente” (Cei, 55) 
182 
 
chooses freedom over the comfortable life in Toccuyo, where he cannot be a master of 
himself.430  
This decision is perhaps the only instance in the whole of Cei’s account where the 
protagonist’s concern for his material well-being is overshadowed by other considerations. 
In fact, throughout the Viaggio, the narrator carefully constructs an image of himself as 
compliant with the values professed at home, primarily those pertinent to responsible 
money management. The narrator’s sense of embarrassment at his financial failure so 
palpable in the dedication unfolds into an exceptional eagerness to explain to his business-
minded compatriots that it should not be attributed to a lack of entrepreneurial abilities. Cei 
portrays his decision to embark on and then to persevere in his American enterprise as 
strictly business-related. He is always depicted as driven by some practical and gain-
oriented reason, with the notable exception of the aforementioned decision to leave 
Toccuyo. And yet, in portraying himself as cherishing freedom more than anything else, 
Cei does not undermine his claims to a Florentine merchant’s identity, but rather furthers 
them by appealing to the value system of the Italian city states. By the same token, 
disinterested adventurousness not being particularly esteemed among his target audience, 
the narrator never explicitly refers to any sense of excitement he might have felt at the 
prospect of exploring heretofore unknown lands.431  
                                                          
430 Cf. “in quanto a me, mi bastava uscire di quella provincia, andare dove fussi libero” (Ibid.) 
431 Although adventurousness and curiosity are never portrayed as significant factors in the protagonist’s 
decision making process, Cei recounts an episode in which he decides to investigate for himself an unlikely 
story about a lake monster reported by one of his friends. Unable to find equally inquisitive (or brave) 
companions he goes off by himself and spots two strange creatures. Eager to continue his observations the 
next day, he tries to convince some friends to accompany him, to no avail: “così mi rimasi con questa 
voglia, nè mai in altri luoghi ne viddi, nè quivi intorno, che vi passai altra volta et mai ne possetti vedere” 
(Cei, 63)      
183 
 
Autobiographical writing is always, at least to a certain extent, motivated by a need 
of validation which is expected from the sympathetic readers. This is why the 
autobiographer cannot portray himself as too radically different from his prospective 
audience.432 The readers are a presence of Otherness within the autobiographical text 
inasmuch as the narrating I can never be truly intimate with the narrated I: the two are never 
left alone. This seems especially true of Cei’s account, for his pining for validation is 
motivated by a sense of inadequacy or even shame. In the attempt to make himself more 
like his audience, he strives to explain his financial debacle in the New World as a result 
of external difficulties rather than personal shortcomings or reckless love of adventure. 
Apart from depicting himself as governed by the type of rationality typical of the merchant 
class, his chief strategy consists of debunking the myth of America as the land of plenty. 
This is done as early as the dedicatory pages and throughout the text:   
“[T]utte le parti et provincie d’India, paese tanto grande [...] invero non sono [... 
ricche], ma di molte et infinite poverissime, che chi lo sa si maraviglia come vi si 
viva da que’ poveri Cristiani ci si trovano, acciecati et ritenuti da questa vulgare 
oppinione, et più presto vogliono starsi là a stentare che tornare poveri a casa loro, 
et così li più vi si conducono per pazia e vi stanno per vergogna.”433 
                                                          
432 This point was discussed in the previous chapter.  
433 Cei, 1. The same reasoning (and very similar wording) resurface again well into the main body of the 
Viaggio: “stetti in detta ciptà di Tungia sino in fin di febbraio proximo, che mi partii per andare al porto di 
mare, quando me ne venni di poi a Spagna, et, perché in fine di questo mio ragionamento dirò di questo 
viaggio, sendomi ditenuto nel contarvi el successomi sino qui forse troppo, ma, volendo dare risposta a chi 
m’incolpa di essere tornato povero, mi è convenuto essere più lungo di quello harei pensato et mi pare 
essere tornato ricco poi sono vivo e sano, poiché mia fortuna mi condusse nella più misera parte di tutta 
l’India, che di molti ancora pensono tutta la India essere el Perù, o il Perù tutta l’India s’ingannano ch’è il 
pure come dire Italia in Europa, et che ciascuno non vi possa andare già ho detto essere proibito dal re di 
Spagna” (Cei, 76) Emphasis mine. 
184 
 
America is not a land of indescribable riches. In fact, most of it is extremely poor 
and the life of the Europeans who go there has very little of the glamour so often associated 
with it.434 The real conditions of life in the New World remain unknown to the European 
public because only the lucky few who come back rich (“que’ pochi che tornono con le 
miglia”) receive attention and the uncountable stories of those who barely survive or die 
there (“quelli che vivono là stentando et vi si muoiono miseramente”435) remain untold. 
Although not attempting to speak on behalf of other hapless New World adventurers436, 
Cei nevertheless reminds his readers of their forgotten existence as a part of his self-
justificatory strategy. Producing a more accurate image of the New World and telling about 
the hard-knock realities of life there is meant to shed a more favorable light on his own 
difficulties. In fact, not even Peru lives up to its legend: 
“v’è tanti poveri, […] che, se non sono quelli che hanno Indi et ripartimenti, tutti 
son poveri et questi vivono sempre impegnati perché è costume e leggie, nel Perù 
e in tutta l’India, che chi è signore di ripartimenti d’Indi tenga casa aperta et, sendo 
nel Perù sempre guerra et ribellioni, bixogna s’intrattenghino con li soldati et che 
spendino con loro assai, così in tempo di pace per averli amici nella guerra, per non 
essere preda di tutti et, valendovi ogni cosa caro, spendono più di quello hanno di 
entrata e tutto el guadagno se ne portono i mercanti, i quali sono ancora taglieggiati, 
et quelli che mandano danari a Spagna sono rubati nel camino da’Franzesi, o in 
                                                          
434 Cf. “sono popoli non vi vorrei stare dipinto, ancora sia stato in simile e peggio” (Cei, 124) 
435 Cei, 1.  
436 Cf. above. 
185 
 
Spagna li toglie el re, et così si semina questo oro per tucto el mondo, contra la 
volontà delli Spagnioliˮ437   
Cei’s project of demystification is global. His report, as well as being “a 
disenchanted epopee of the daily existence in the New World”438, targets the deepest 
structures of the colonial mindset in showing the illusory nature of the wealth generated by 
the conquest. In fact, in questioning the myth/symbol of Peru, it undermines the logic of 
the colonial enterprise itself. This of course, situates Viaggio on the opposite pole with 
respect to the narratives of success, which are more readily associated with the New World 
writing, and in which marvel at the novelty of America goes hand in hand with providential 
explanations of the “discovery” and conquest.439 In general, Cei is quite indifferent to the 
grand-narrative of European domination according to which God himself willed, and 
hence, sanctioned European territorial expansion in the New World. One obvious reason 
for this is that Cei is not a Spaniard and he observes the colonial mores and institutions 
with a degree of detachment, often mixed with impatience. He is not keen on glorifying his 
own share in the “discoveries”, nor is he interested in singing the praises of the Spanish 
                                                          
437 Cei, 76. 
438 Cf. “el florentino no cedía a la tentación de suplir con la fabulación la riqueza material que no había 
podido alcanzar, sino que elegía contar el viaje en su concreta y escueta realidad, hasta recrear una 
desencantada epopeya del cotidiano en el Nuevo Mundo.” (Amanda Salvioni, “El desencantamiento del 
Nuevo Mundo. Viaje de un mercante florentino al país de la pobreza. (Galeotto Cei, 1539-1553),” Revista 
de Critica Literaria Latinoamericana 30.60 (2004): 169.) 
439 Cf. “The main paradigm for the appropriation of the New World was […] a language of marvels which 
would inscribe territorial expansion and profit-seeking within a providential plan” (Joan-Pau Rubiés, 
“Futility in the New World: Narratives of Travel in Sixteenth-Century America,” in Voyages and visions: 
towards a cultural history of travel, ed. Jaś Elsner, Joan-Pau Rubiés (London: Reaktion Books, 1999), 77) 
186 
 
Crown’s civilizing/Christianizing mission.440 In fact, the editor of Cei’ account, Francesco 
Surdich, compares it to Benzoni’s programmatically anti-Spanish Historia.441 Although 
there are limitations to this comparison, Cei’s sober and often cynical gaze makes of him 
a similar kind of “anti-Columbus” with his own, very particular vision of the nature of the 
American “marvelous”. In fact, in Cei’s text:   
“the nature of the marvelous is transferred from the particular observations of 
strange peoples and exotic products to the unexpected realization of overall material 
poverty and moral corruption. The merchant does not become wealthy because the 
Indies are not what they are supposed to be – and this distorted response to 
European desires becomes the key marvel, the marvel of unexpected truth.”442 
In other words, the marvel of America for Cei is the discovery that it just is not that 
marvelous. The sense of excited surprise experienced by Columbus and other earlier 
explorers, in Cei’s text often becomes the sense of a surprise afforded by a cruel joke, a 
mockery, a beffa. “E così rimanemmo beffati”443 remarks Cei as he reports on one of the 
exploratory expeditions in which the settlers of Toccuyo instead of finding another Peru 
come across a tribe of Indians barely familiar with gold. Cei does not simply reject the 
language of marvel – on a few occasions he marvels for instance at the abundance of 
                                                          
440 Cf. Nathalie Hester, “Bitter Laughter and Colonial Novellistica in Galeotto Cei’s Relazione delle Indie,” 
in Travel, Discovery, Transformation, ed. Gabriel R. Ricci (New Brunswick- London: Transaction 
Publishers, 2014), 244. 
441 Cf. “la relazione di Galeotto Cei rappresenta […] una fonte di primaria importanza rispetto alla quasi 
totalità della coeva cronachistica iberica, ufficiale o meno, logicamente improntata ad esigenze di natura 
apologetica e/o giustificatoria, e vada ricollegata in qualche misura a quella di Girolamo Benzoni, con la 
quale presenta alcuni punti di contatto ed affinità” (Surdich, “Intoduzione”, V).  
442 Rubiés, “Futility in the New World”, 91-92. 
443 Cei, 53. 
187 
 
American Nature.444 Nevertheless, the unpleasant surprises by far outnumber the positive 
ones and range from the mostly unhealthy climate and hostile landscape to weakened and 
demoralized criollos, lecherous women, disreputable mestizos, antagonistic natives and 
incompetent authorities. The passages dedicated to the human communities, in particular 
the remarks concerning the colonial society of Santo Domingo, are amongst the bitterest, 
most scathing, unsympathetic and biased to be found in the text. They are full of 
generalizations about different categories of people inhabiting the island, none of which 
can be said to have gained Cei’s favor. 
In fact, in these initial pages, Cei’s tone is that of profound resentment. He has no 
sympathy for any members of the colonial society with the rare exception of a few of his 
countrymen. The men of Santo Domingo are the very opposite of good citizens. They are 
dishonest and unreliable liars who have no respect for law:    
“Li huomini, parlando sempre di Cristiani, vi sono molto vili. […] Quivi non si 
truova verità, honestà, carità, né virtù alcuna. Chi può rubare non si cura d’essere 
tenuto ladro, né di mancare parola, né fede, n’è d’essere castigato per giustizia.”445     
The Christian women of that city are lascivious and given to all sorts of vice. They 
do not obey their husbands, neglect their households and drink excessively:    
                                                          
444 Cf. “Diverse altre quantità di pesci et di più sorte […] sono in detti fiumi e stagni maxime in que’ piani, 
che è una meraviglia da non lo potere credere chi non lo vedesse” (Cei, 117); “Presso al mare ho visto, in 
certi tempi dell’anno, passare tanti grilli, o cavellette, o locuste che è una maraviglia” (Cei, 119). 
445 Cei, 9. Cf. also: “li huomini, cioè maschi, vi stanno sempre con pochissime forze, deboli, sdilinquiti per 
il gran caldo e sudori” (Cei, 7); “ li huomini, parlando sempre di Cristiani, vi sono molto vili” (Cei, 9); 
“erono molto pigri, dati all’ozio, come sono tutti l’Indi [...] pare el paese lo causi, che i Cristiani  diventono 
anche loro così” (Cei, 18)  
188 
 
“Le donne cristiane in questa isola […] dominano li huomini, et sono in una sola 
cosa dissimili alle Amazone, che, dove queste tenevano un huomo per dieci donne, 
queste ne vogliono dieci per una […] Sono le venute di Spagna, et le nate quivi, 
calide, sfacciate, senza vergogna, né honestà, né rispetto […] Vergognonsi di saper 
cucinare et lavorare, loro studio et passatempo è lisciarsi straordinariamente, andare 
a spasso et banquectare l’una l’altra et di tale commodità ne risulta el resto et, dove 
in Ispagna poche sono che beano vino, là se ne trova pochissime beino acqua.”446   
The mestizos are lecherous, prodigal and cowardly:   
“[i mestizi sono] dati a ogni vitio di donne, giouco et gola, lascionsi ingannare da 
tutti et prodighissimi che, ancora sieno lasciati ricchi da’ padri loro, in poco tempo 
consumano ogni cosa, che sono come Indi che non si ricordano mai di quello sarà 
domani. Hanno poca fermezza, virtù nessuna, vili et dappochi et per ogni piccola 
adversità si sbigottiscono et piangono come bambini senza vergogna et senza 
honestà, né rispetto”447  
It is clear that in these initial passages the inhabitants of the New World are 
portrayed as utterly other and Cei, as the observer situates himself at the opposite pole with 
regard to them. His sense of allegiance is not yet textually problematized, he speaks from 
a purely European perspective, as if recalling his first impressions of America. This is the 
                                                          
446 Cei, 8. Cf. also: “et sono tanto calide, infocate et lussuriose che mi pare impossibile, alle cosec he fanno, 
che dorma un giovane con una di loro senza innamorarsene, et esse si guastano di lui tanto svisceratamente, 
che non rispettono mariti, né parenti, ma, senza alcuna vergogna, cercono et pigliono el piacere loro et di 
molted anno la roba, ma dura questo loro amore tanto quanto durano a trovare un altro che piaccia et in un 
subito si danno a questo et lasciano quello, come se mai l’havessino conosciuto”; “vivono al loro piacere, 
sommerse nella lussuria, nella gola et nella superbia del vestire” (Cei, 8) 
447 Cei, 12. 
189 
 
perspective of somebody freshly arrived, somebody who has not yet been affected by the 
corrupting influence of the country’s climate, which within a few years turns the most 
respectable European men, women and youth into “perfect Indians”:  
“vi si vede venire huomini vecchi, giovani, donne et fanciulle costumatissime et 
quello che in tutte quelle parti si può desiderare in persona nobile et dabbene, et in 
processo di poco tempo perdere la vergogna et farsi un perfetto Indio in tutti sua 
modi di vivere”448  
Becoming a “perfect Indian” is of course shorthand for becoming “othered” or 
failing at what is expected of a legitimate son or daughter of Europe. The actual “Indians” 
described in the Viaggio cause the narrator far less scandal than the “adoptive” ones, i.e. 
those who under the influence of the New World embrace disreputable habits. The narrator 
describes the characteristics of several indigenous groups with little sympathy for the 
human qualities of the natives, but with some ethnographic detail, a vivid curiosity about 
their customs and a remarkable attention to linguistic and other differences between various 
tribes.449 Moreover, he repeatedly praises one particular indigenous group, the 
Cacchettii.450 The indigenous inhabitants of the New World are simply other, without 
                                                          
448 Cei, 9.  
449 Cf. for instance: “L’Indi vi sono di diverse lingua et natione, nimici l’uno dell’altro, chiamati una parte 
Asciaguas, Bubures, altri Coyones; alcuni ve n’è di nazione Cacchettia e altri Scidabaras, altri chiamati 
Coibas: così diversi di parlare, come di nome, tutti cattiva et povera gente […]. Mangiono, tutti questi Indi, 
carne humana, excepto li Cacchetti. Alcuni mangiono li loro morti, altri li loro nimici, maxime li Cristiani, 
che di un corpo ne fanno cento parte, presentandolo alli loro amici […]; alcuni non mangiono, dell’Indi 
loro nimici, se non la testa; altri mangiono ogni cosa; mangiono detta carne fritta in certi teghami con il 
medesimo grasso d’essa; le donne loro non la vogliono lor cuocere, né la cuocono dentro nelle loro case, 
ma così un poco fuora” (Cei, 45)  
450 Cf. “[I] migliori Indi che sieno in tutto el discoperto [si chiamano] Cacchettios che vuol dire buone 
persone; non è stata, ne è generazione in India più humana et di migliore condizione che questa: non 
mangiano carne humana, nè usano sodomia, o poca, servono benissimo et mai feciono tradimento” (Cei 
41); “[la] nazione Cacchettia, di buona conditione et, con tutto el male si fa loro, sempre che li Cristiani 
190 
 
violating any reasonable expectations concerning the ways they should be. They can be 
described just like the other particularities of the New World, without resentment, even 
though very often with censure.451 In fact, the virulent tone of the descriptions of the 
colonial residents of Santo Domingo is considerably mitigated in the more factual 
descriptions of the indigenous groups452 and in the passages dedicated to natural aspects of 
America.  
Although Cei blames the climate for the degeneration of Europeans overseas, his 
portrayal of New World environment is not univocally negative. For instance, he speaks of 
the city of Nombre de Dios in quasi-infernal terms, but extolls the pleasurable climate of 
Capo di San Román, in the vicinity of the city of Coro.453 He reports in great detail the 
inclement weather and scarcity of food experienced during the expedition into Venezuela 
and the early stages of the settlement of Toccuyo, as well as during his trek to New 
Granada. On the other hand, his practical eyes are appreciative of Hispaniola’s potential as 
the perfect land for raising livestock and some types of agriculture.454  
                                                          
vogliono, sono amici” (Cei, 58); “questa lingua cacchettia è la più bella et più agevole di tutte le lingue 
d’India, con molti derivativi, et lingua che si potria scrivere facilmente” (Cei, 77) 
451 The greatest crimes of the natives apart from cannibalism are, in Cei’s eyes, those of a sexual nature. He 
condemns the Amerindians’ supposed penchant for sodomy and their acceptance of incest: “Sono 
ordinariamante huomini et donne senza vergogna et, fuora di questa generazione Cacchettia, sodomiti tucti, 
et maxime quelli della provincial di Cubagua, di Santa Marta et di Cartagena, et usono questo vizio alcuni 
con li huomini et alcuni con le donne […] Non hanno religione, né cosa buona nessuna, né leggie, né 
civiltà : el padre se giace con la figlia […] simile la madre con il figlio, el fratello con la sorella.” (Cei, 79)  
452 Cf. especially Cei, 77 – 100, where the narrator discusses among other things topics such as the native 
costume, the most common ways of hunting and fishing, the typical weapons and war, the houses and 
cooking utensils, the musical instruments and dances, the medicinal and religious practices. 
453 Cf. Cei, 39 - 41. 
454 Cf. Cei, 18 – 21. 
191 
 
As already mentioned, in his descriptions of the inhabitants of Santo Domingo, the 
author positions himself alongside his readers and views the inhabitants of the colonies as 
utterly other. It seems that the more fact-centered and concrete ethnographical and 
naturalist descriptions of the subsequent portions of the book reflect the author’s growing 
involvement with his project. In reality, every written paragraph represents the narrator’s 
further re-immersion into his American experience through the twin acts of recollection 
and retelling. As he strives to remember the details of his stay in the New World, the 
description takes precedence over judgment and Cei finds himself approaching American 
realities with greater ambiguity.    
The author’s factual and thus, rather sober attitude towards American nature (and 
up to a point to its native peoples) can be attributed also to his merchant mentality and the 
custom of viewing everything from the perspective of monetary gain. Yet, the acquisitive 
mindset alone does not explain the particular quality of Cei’s gaze: calculation and greed 
mix equally well with the rhetoric of marvel as can be seen in Columbus’ first letter.455 The 
most obvious difference between the two ways of looking consist in the attentiveness to 
detail and the ethnographic/naturalist curiosity combined with practical appraisal which in 
Cei take the place of Columbus’ summary aesthetic appreciation of Hispaniola. For Cei, 
Nature rarely affords aesthetic experiences. It is seen either through the prism of 
nourishment and fertility or as dangerous and hostile. As already indicated in the previous 
chapter, Pastor Bodmer speaks of the replacement of the category of landscape from the 
                                                          
455 In Columbus the language of marvel was put to use due to real or affected ignorance along the lines of: I 
don’t know what these trees/shurbs are, but I am sure they are all very precious. 
192 
 
earlier conquest narratives with the category of environment in the narratives of failure.456 
The length of Cei’s stay in the New World and, above all the difficulties experienced gave 
him the kind of intimacy with American Nature in which the gaze turns naturally from the 
generalities (landscape) to the particulars (environment). Without pretense to naturalist 
expertise, Cei is nevertheless remarkably thorough and precise in his descriptions of animal 
and botanical species seen.  
In fact, Cei emerges in his account as an extremely attentive observer of Nature. He 
offers methodical descriptions of a myriad of varieties of plants and animals, 
accompanying many of them with sketches on the margins of his manuscript. Apart from 
the remarkable thoroughness, his descriptions tend to have a very pronounced practical 
angle. He talks for instance about all the different uses to which various plants are put by 
the natives and the “Christians”, detailing also the methods involved. Exemplary in that 
regard are the paragraphs dedicated to yucca, which deal with its two main varieties, their 
similarities and differences, the different kinds of food and beverages that can be prepared 
with it, as well as the exact processes required, including their duration.457  
Along with an undeniable fascination with the various techniques used by the 
natives to grow, collect and prepare food, goes the author’s attention to the methods used 
in the production of native artifacts and weapons.458 Major points of interest are also the 
                                                          
456 Cf. Pastor Bodmer: “In the narrative of failure, the landscape disappears altogether as an aesthetic 
concept or category of perception to be replaced by the environment. This includes the geography, climate, 
flora, and fauna of America, whose qualities, although varying from text to text, are always shown to be 
negative.” (Beatriz Pastor Bodmer, 124) 
457 Cf. Cei, 13 - 15. 
458 Cf. Cei, 77-89. 
193 
 
different ways in which Europeans draw on the local resources. In the pages dedicated to 
Hispaniola, Cei discusses (very admiringly) the burgeoning sugar industry459 and offers 
informative sections on the methods of fishing for pearls.460 In the mainland, he learns all 
about the ways of mining and extraction of gold.461 The narrator seems to enjoy reporting 
on these practical aspects of life in the New World and in his descriptions achieves a level 
of precision comparable to that of the articles on crafts in Diderot’s Encyclopédie (1751-
1772). This vivid interest in traditional and emerging “technologies”, the constant attention 
to the possibilities of using America’s natural riches is, no doubt, part of a specifically 
European optic. Yet the author’s fixation on the ways of mastering Nature and claiming 
her resources rises in the shadow of scarcity and his quasi-perpetual fear of hunger. In a 
way then, focusing on the ways of mastering the New World is a way of coping with the 
unwelcome truth of man’s dependence on that unknown land for survival. America is the 
Other which the colonizer intends to master, but it is also the Other which, at a deeper 
level, presides over the latter’s life and death.           
Of special interest are the pages dedicated to Cei’s life in Toccuyo, where the author 
speaks unabashedly, even with a certain dose of pride, about physical work he was forced 
to perform.462 The experience of physical labor, along with the experiences of hunger, cold 
and sickness made the narrator conscious of the otherness of his body463, through the initial 
                                                          
459 Cf. Cei, 24 – 26. 
460 Cf. Cei, 35 – 37. 
461 Cf. Cei, 70-71. 
462 Cf. Cei, 43 – 46. 
463 Cf. previous chapter for reference to Ricoeur’s understanding of this phenomenon. 
194 
 
repulsion he felt before bowing to the necessity of engaging in a number of “lowly” 
activities.464 The fact of having been a farmer, of having worked the land and raised 
livestock certainly contributed to the author’s aforementioned sense of intimacy with 
American nature. In fact, that intimacy seems to be the very result of the experience of 
Nature’s resistance, as felt in and through the body. Moreover, the image the narrator 
creates of himself in the pages dedicated to his stay in Toccuyo is hardly compatible with 
that of a stereotypical merchant: apart from farming, our protagonist spends his time mainly 
on thieving expeditions to the nearby native villages.465 And yet, the story of his 
unexpected prowess as a small-scale farmer, the fact that through his industriousness he 
managed to achieve a measure of comfort and wealth is too an element of Cei’s auto-
creation, a way of proving that he is in fact a man able to achieve a lot even with limited 
resources. 
Now, Cei’s wealth in Toccuyo consisted mainly of having plenty to eat.466 In fact, 
one of the prominent features of Cei’s account is his attention to food. He meticulously 
chronicles all the different types of food available in the Indies, including wild animals, 
fish and fruit. He spends considerable amounts of time talking about the local alternatives 
to wheat as the staple of bread-making and to grapes as the source of wine. He lists the 
different bread-like products used by the natives and the bread substitutes embraced by the 
                                                          
464 Cf. “Le bestie si mi morivono piene di giudaleschi et io, di schifo, non le possevo, nè volevo curare, nè 
vedere, tanto che mi si morirno dua et cominciai a risentirmi e porvi le mani et imparare a medicarle et 
caricarle” (Cei, 43) 
465 Cf. Cei, 43 – 51. 
466 Cf. “non mi mancava già carne, latte, polli, fructa et grano senza andarlo a rubare et, con l’aumento 
de’bestiami, potevo comperare alla giornata i mia bisogni” (Cei, 55) 
195 
 
Europeans. He does the same for wine.467 While talking about the different local foods, as 
well as analyzing their taste, he displays concern for the effects they have on the digestive 
systems of the Europeans: 
“Tutto questo pane, sottile e grosso, è di poca sustanza et presto sciende dallo 
stomaco, tanto più quando si mangia solo senza carne o pescie, o altri mangiari, che 
con questi accompagna e diletta al gusto, et a me piaceva assai. Niente di manco, 
mangiato solo sta poco nello stomaco et manco nel ventre, di sorta che, venendo la 
voluntà naturale, bisogna tenere le redine preste, altrimenti le calze ne patirieno la 
pena; et mostra ancora essere di poco nutrimento la gran quantità di escrementi 
ch’escono per basso, che pare essere più di quello si mangia rispetto al gonfiore che 
fa.”468 
It is tempting to read these passages dedicated to the effects of American food on 
the Europeans allegorically. American food may be considered a metonymy of the 
American experience itself. According to this optic, the ingested food would embody the 
American otherness as infiltrating the very flesh of the traveler. The New World, like the 
new and unusual food it has to offer, represents a notable risk. In fact, Cei reports stories 
of deaths caused by reckless alimentary habits and misguided attempts at self-medication 
without proper knowledge of local flora and fauna.469 In one of these stories an ugly-
                                                          
467 Cei, 14 – 17. 
468 Cei, 15. 
469 Cf. for instance: “Un albero è […] che li Spagnoli chiamano manzaniglio, che vuol dire meluzzo […] 
Adoperano li Indi la frutta nella compositione del veleno che fanno per le freccie. […] A necessità si purga 
con essa, ma prima si prepara, mettendo la frutta a cuocere in un pane, nel forno, o in una batatta, in che 
rimane la perfidia d’essa. […] Alcuna volta, alla campagna, certi villanacci si purgono senza prepararla, 
196 
 
looking black fish is caught and consumed by a number of sailors, despite Cei’s warnings 
and his own refusal to share their meal. As a result, the majority of the commensals die.470 
Eating of the new kinds of food (just like embarking on the American experience) can 
prove mortal, but it can also be “purifying”. In fact, a number of American plants and fruits 
are reported by Cei to be potent laxatives and as such are praised by the author.471 These 
laxatives are often quite dangerous for those who are ignorant of their proper usage, but 
they can be a blessing for those who are willing to use them wisely. As in the case of the 
New World experience itself, they are either lethal or purifying. Cei learned how to use 
these powerful plants and always carried one of them (zeiba) in case of necessity for 
himself and his friends. He mastered it and used it to cure and strengthen himself and 
others, just like he managed to learn enough about America as not to succumb to it, but 
rather turn it into a survival story meant to both heal self and teach others.   
The allegory of America as food, as something penetrating into the very core of 
one’s flesh can also be read as the story of the forbidden fruit which causes the inevitable 
expulsion from the Garden of Eden. Embarking on the American adventure is a gambit for 
knowledge of something that has the prohibitive aura of the long ocean voyage and the 
inevitable risks to be encountered after the arrival. Like the fruit from the Tree of 
Knowledge, it holds the promise of enlightenment, but also the consequence of exclusion 
from the safety of previously known existence. To pursue this allegory we could say that 
                                                          
mangiandone dua o tre, così crude, et di poi sopra molta carne di vacca e di porco, per evitare che li fiumi 
non vadino alla testa, et spesse volte con questa pazzia vi lasciono la vita.” (Cei, 29-30) 
470 Cei, 23. 
471 Cf. “servonsene Indi et Cristiani per purgarsiˮ (Cei, 27); “5 o 6 ne pigli, purga benissimoˮ (Cei, 28); “ne 
portavo meco quantità per me, Indi et amici per purgare per le necessità” (Cei, 28) ; “a necessità si purga 
con essaˮ (Cei, 29).  
197 
 
Cei’s narrative as well as being an attempt at homecoming is a ploy to gain re-admittance 
into the Garden of Eden which, in accordance with the work’s demystifying logic, is 
represented here by the Old World. This of course is another departure from the modalities 
of earlier literature on Americas, such as Columbus’ First Letter or Pietro Martire’s 
Decades. In these, and some later works (e. g. Montaigne’s Des Cannibals) the Indies are 
portrayed as the land of beauty and innocence, where people still live in the Golden Age 
of humanity, without knowledge of property, laws or money, in other words, as the Earthly 
Paradise. For Cei the absence of these hallmarks of civilization does not afford an occasion 
for a wistful meditation on a simpler and more wholesome way of life, but it is a source of 
scandal:  
“Non hanno religione, né cosa buona nessuna, né leggie, né civiltà […] Non fanno, 
né tengono giustizia fra loro che castighi delitto o vitio, perché non conoscono vitio, 
né virtù; né hanno carità, né vergogna,né pietà.”472 
It is clear that for Cei the New World is not the Earthly Paradise, but the very 
opposite. As already mentioned, it is the treacherous forbidden fruit that cost the naïve 
traveler his expulsion from the Eden of his previous life and unproblematized identity. It 
was not without appeal nor entirely unpleasant to eat. (As a matter of fact, the descriptions 
of the actual American fruit in Viaggio are always premised or concluded with a remark of 
them being “sweet with a touch of sourness”.473) And yet its consumption condemned the 
                                                          
472 Cei, 79. 
473 Cf.  ad esempio: “Tutte le frutte, ancora che dolce, hanno un poco di agro in tutta l’India” (Cei, 26); “È 
molto dolce, non mancando dello agretto come tutte le frutte del paese” (Cei, 30); “è cosa molto dolce, pare 
cotto con rapa, non li mancando l’agretto” (Cei, 31); “hanno sapore dolce, con un poco d’agro” (Cei, 32). 
This sweet and sour quality of virtually all kinds of American fruit perhaps best reflects the author’s 
internal conflict between the feelings of attraction and rejection experienced vis-à-vis the New World as 
such. As discussed earlier, the American environment is described as both astonishingly fertile and as 
198 
 
author to a place where often all hope of ever going back seemed lost.474 In evoking Dante’s 
“lasciate ogni speranza” Cei points to the second, and perhaps more important trope 
governing his treatment of America: it is a Hell on earth and a place whence return is close 
to impossible.   
Cei speaks of losing hope of ever returning home when in Toccuyo, but the entirety 
of the mainland is framed as infernal in that it is reluctant to let go of those who dare to 
venture there. Interestingly, two intensely Dantean descriptions mark the beginning and the 
end of Cei’ lengthy stay in the bowels of America. The description of Nombre de Dios “al 
quale li saria meglio posto nome del diavolo, o casa, perché è inferno più che terra del 
mondo”475 precedes almost immediately Cei’s unfortunate decision to join Carvajal on his 
expedition to Venezuela.476 It is thus the description of the gateway to hell. The same 
concentration of infernal images and language characterizes the concluding sections of the 
Viaggio dedicated to Cei’s river voyage towards the port of Santa Marta whence he 
commenced his journey home:  
                                                          
utterly inhospitable depending on the location and season. Above all, Hispaniola strikes as the legendary 
land of plenty with its extraordinary potential for raising livestock, while the mainland is usually depicted 
as less propitious. A paradigmatically ambiguous place is Toccuyo as the bitterly resented locus of Cei’s 
quasi-captivity, while at the same time being located in “[una] terra […] sanissima” (Cei, 45). 
474 Cf. Cei, 52-55. 
475 Cei, 39. 
476 In Nombre de Dios the narrator is denied passage to Peru, so he briefly returns to Santo Domingo from 
where he leaves in the direction of Coro with some merchandise he hopes to sell with profit to “un capitano 
che tornava da discoprire” from Venezuela. As his trading escapade turns sour and he is forced to sell his 
goods on credit to the impoverished soldiers, he decides to join the expedition himself in order to claim his 
due when gold is found. 
199 
 
“Se potessi contare le quantità di moscherini, zanzare et pipistrelli et il tormento et 
assalto che ci davono, vi farei stupire. Credo nell’inferno non sia maggior pena: 
bastano per far disperare un santo”477         
It is as if American Nature, having first swallowed the guileless traveler, now 
unleashed its most diabolic characteristics to prevent him from leaving. It is remindful of 
Orpheus’ trek back from Hades, with all the monstrosities summoned up to scare him into 
turning back and be entrapped forever. The hope of riches has been abandoned long ago 
and the only goal now is to escape, but the way out is full of torment inflicted by blood-
sucking insects in the landscape of swamps and grotesquely-looking natives. And yet, 
staying is out of the question: it would mean becoming completely othered: the American 
life is viscous and sticks to one, trying to keep him bound.478  
In fact, while in the New World, it is impossible to remain immune to the “othering” 
influence of the place. Cei dutifully reports all the different modes of behavior he found 
himself adopting from the Indians such as the habit of sleeping in the hammock and 
walking naked during heavy rains to keep his clothes dry.479 He admits to having eaten like 
the Indians, even things considered “filthy” by European standards.480 The measure of his 
adoption of native customs is much greater than the measure of their adoption of European 
                                                          
477 Cei, 124. Cf. anche: “el luogo molto infermo, caldissimo et molto humido, zanzare, mosche, moscherini, 
pieno di fango et di botte wt rane, che tutto el giorno et la notte non fanno che gridare che pare proprio uno 
inferno” (Cei, 121); “Cosidetta acqua è di malo odore, con certa spiuma così che mi parve proprio entrare 
nella palude Stigia, con quelli Indi tutti igniudi, dipinti, remando in piedi, mezzi zucconi, che parevano 
diavoli, et noi anime che menassino a tormentare.” (Cei, 122) Emphasis mine. 
478 Cf. “quella vita […] è un vischio ne allaccia li più che la pruovono”(Cei, 124) 
479 Cf. Cei, 72.  
480 Cf. “in questa necessità vi si mangiò formiche, serpe, lucertole et ragniateli et mille ribalderie et cani di 
caccia, che la fame è una mala bestia” (Cei, 75). 
200 
 
mores, in accordance with the maxim that: “sono più li Cristiani si fanno Indi che non l’Indi 
Cristiani.”481 Now, the author’s willingness to speak openly of his own “indianization” 
seems to contradict his intention to “narrate himself back” to his native Florence. A case 
in point is Cei’s characterization of the discovery missions undertaken from Toccuyo as 
simple thieving escapades and his frankness as to his own participation in them. Stealing – 
a grave crime in the eyes of a merchant society and a type of misconduct attributed in the 
opening passages to the demoralized criollos, in the later portions of the book becomes 
daily practice for the narrator himself. What is even worse, the booty obtained in these 
raids on the native villages, while at the time critical for the colonists’ survival, was 
nonetheless laughable: a handful of corn, some string or a bit of cotton. In depicting himself 
as a petty thief, Cei draws an autoportrayal reminiscent of the stereotype of the naïve, 
compulsively light-fingered Indian.482 Moreover, in dutifully reporting the complete list of 
his ill-fated financial schemes he forges a literary image of himself, which is dangerously 
close to that of a prodigal and careless mestizo.  
The impression that Cei finds strange delight in depicting himself in situations, 
which others might have preferred to shroud in silence is even stronger in the passage in 
which our author describes his failed attempt at capturing an Indian woman. The native, 
realizing that she cannot wriggle out of Cei’s grip, empties her bowels into her hand, smears 
                                                          
481 Cf. Cei, 99. However, Cei recognizes that the learning happened in two directions. A perfect example of 
this is the adoption of native hunting and fishing techniques by the Europeans and vice versa. Cei remarks 
on the incipient use of hunting dogs among the native populations and on the espousal by the “Christians” 
of a hunting technique consisting in trapping the animals in a patch of land encircled by fire. He also 
mentions the emerging usage by the indigenous of the fishing methods learned from the Europeans 
(involving poles and hooks) (Cei, 83)  
482 Interestingly, Cei himself does not strengthen this stereotype. In fact, on the subject of theft, Cei’s 
account operates a complete role reversal. The Europeans are portrayed as indiscriminate thieves, while the 
Indians, according to our author “hanno li più in odio furto” (Cei, 79) 
201 
 
her captor’s face with excrement, and then, taking advantage of his shock and disgust, 
escapes:  
“m’accadde una cosa da ridere che, stando un giorno in aguato solo, a un laghetto 
dove solevano venire Indi per acqua, [...] dove io ero, venne una India per acqua et 
per discoprire ancora se vi eravamo, et era di più di 30 anni: quando fu sul lagho, 
mi scoprii et la presi et lei si cominciò a difendere e fare forza per non venire meco 
et, non volendo ammazzarla, nè farli male, andavo agevolandola, infine, quando 
vedde non potere uscirmi dalle mani, si pose una mano al sedere et, scaricando el 
ventre, m’impaniò con essa tutto el viso, di modo che, non che lasciarla, per il puzo 
mi gettai nel laghetto a capo innanzi [...] e la India si fuggì.”483  
Just as in the infernal descriptions of the American landscape we saw the influence 
of Dante, here we detect traces of Boccaccio. Nathalie Hester suggests that “coming from 
a culture that celebrates Boccaccian novelle replete with women who play jokes on men 
and with scatological elements, he can only interpret the incident as funny, literary and, 
therefore, worthy of recounting, even if he must play the role of the beffato, the butt of the 
joke.”484 In fact, Cei’s adoption of this Boccaccian optic strengthens the case for his 
Florentine identity. Regardless of whether it is purely instinctual or deliberate, it forces the 
author to look at himself not directly, but rather through the prism of a literary tradition 
which he shares with others. That tradition is another presence of otherness in his account 
for it disrupts any sense of intimacy the narrating-I might have shared with the I-narrated. 
                                                          
483 Cei, 44. 
484 Hester, 250. 
202 
 
On the other hand, while it creates a greater distance between Cei-the narrator and Cei-the 
protagonist, it also provides the Viaggio, and consequently also its author, with solid 
Florentine credentials.485  
 It should be clear from what has been said in this chapter that Cei’s way of dealing 
with the more radical American otherness is far from straightforward. Viaggio apart from 
being an apology to the public has also an important auto therapeutic function. It is meant 
not only to make its author appear as settled firmly within the parameters of his original 
identity, but also to help him deal with a sense of self-estrangement. Cei strives to portray 
himself as a worthy, if unlucky merchant conversant with the literary language of his native 
city. Nevertheless, at the same time, he gives an unabashed account of what we might call 
the “traces of the other” within himself. He wants to avoid being scorned for his lack of 
success in America, and yet he is not afraid to mock himself. As a result, his writing, 
although aimed at reclaiming his destabilized sense of identity, creates an ambiguous space 
in which the homeless self reluctantly comes to terms with its own unwelcome 
hybridization.  
It is quite emblematic that the relazione is not concluded. We say goodbye to Cei 
as he is on his way to the port of Santa Marta, this time determined to set sail for home. 
The book on the narrative level never takes him there. It remains a question whether the 
                                                          
485 The presence of the echoes of the literary canon is, according to Theodore Cachey, a distinguishing 
mark of Italian travel writing. (Cf. Theodore Cachey, “An Italian History of Travel,” Annali d’Italianistica 
14 (1996): 56-64). Cf. also: “For a Florentine merchant, the Italian literary tradition- which is based on 
Tuscan models – helps to frame, indirectly or directly, the narration of travel. Especially in the more 
personal or anecdotal moments of the account, Cei reflexively turns to the literary canon in communicating 
to his fellow Tuscan, Bartolomeo Del Bene” (Hester, 245) 
203 
 
manuscript remained interrupted due to some external factor or following Cei’s realization 
that, despite his best efforts, his book cannot possibly take him back home. 
 
 
 
 
204 
 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 JEAN DE LÉRY: THE SELF AS THE SPACE OF THE OTHER 
 
 Jean de Léry’s Histoire d’un voyage is not a work of a man steeped in humanist 
letters. It is not a work of philosophy in which the emergence of self is explored from a 
philosophical perspective nor is it a work of autobiography in the same sense as Cabeza de 
Vaca’s Naufragios and Cei’s Viaggio. Léry styles himself a bearer of a collective identity 
- his book is about the expedition to Brazil of a group of Calvinist missionaries, of which 
he was but one member. When recounting the uneasy cohabitation between the preachers 
of the Reformed religion and the governor of the colony, he never commands the center of 
attention. What is even more important, although it contains elements of polemic and 
apology, it is at its most memorable when speaking of the native Tupinamba among whom 
the author lived “for about a year”.486 The personal history (chapters 1-6 and 21-22) frames 
the descriptions of Brazilian nature and people and, arguably, in the authorial intention was 
of no less importance. Nevertheless, Histoire d’un voyage tends to be viewed primarily as 
a book about the Other. At least so it was read by Léry’s two most famous students: the 
humanist Montaigne, who used Léry’s work as a source for his Des Cannibals and the 
                                                          
486 Cf. “My intention and my subject in this history will be simply to declare what I have myself 
experienced, seen, heard and observed, both on the sea, coming and going, and among the American 
savages, with whom I visited and lived for about a year.” (Jean de Léry, History of a Voyage to the Land of 
Brazil, trans. Janet Whatley (Barkeley – Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990), 3). In the 
Preface, the author explains moreover that his decision to have Voyage printed was precipitated by the 1577 
publication of Thevet’s Cosmography, which contained passages slandering the Huguenot missionaries to 
Brazil. Voyage is meant to refute Thevet’s report by telling the complete story of the mission, beginning 
with the motives that led to the departure.      
205 
 
father of structuralism, Claude Lévy-Strauss, who memorably called it the “ethnologist 
breviary”.487     
 It is precisely this particular ability to inspire and captivate both a humanist and a 
XX century scholar (who concluded his monumental Mythologiques in a way reminiscent 
of Foucault’s closure of Les mots et les choses, i.e. with an image of humankind as a 
transient species488) that warrants the dedication of these last pages on the humanist thought 
of the self to Léry.489 The influence of Lévy-Strauss’s structuralism, as is well known, went 
well beyond ethnology and, in the field of literary studies, contributed to the departure from 
the so-called “liberal humanism” as its modus operandi. Yet, its genealogy should give one 
pause for it draws vital inspiration from the Renaissance in the sense that Léry’s presence 
is felt throughout Lévy-Strauss’s Tristes tropiques. Is it a coincidence that a book that 
speaks from the perspective of Europe’s bad post-colonial conscience harkens back to the 
Renaissance, the time, which “invented” colonialism?  
                                                          
487 Claude Lévi-Strauss, Tristes tropiques, trans. John and Doreen Weightman (New York: Penguin, 1992), 
81. 
488 Cf. “[man] can never at any moment lose sight of the […] certainty that he was not present on earth in 
former times, that he will not always be here in the future and that, with his inevitable disappearance from 
the surface  of a planet which is itself doomed to die, his labors, his sorrows, his joys, his hopes and his 
works will be as if they had never existed, since no consciousness will survive to preserve even the memory 
of these ephemeral phenomena, only a few features of which, soon to be erased from the impassive face of 
the earth, will remain as already cancelled evidence that they once were, and were as nothing.” (Claude 
Lévy-Strauss, The Naked Man: Mythologiques, Volume 4, trans. John and Doreen Weightman (University 
of Chicago Press, 1990), 694-695.)  
489 Frank Lestringant in his “The Philosopher’s Breviary: Jean de Léry in the Enlightenment” draws 
attention to Léry’s appeal during the Lumières as the source for the figure of the Good Savage. His study 
however points out also the rational reductionism of the readings done at the time when all the aspects of 
the text gesturing towards the supernatural be them Christian or non-Christian were explained “according 
to reason”. (Cf. Frank Lestringant, “The Philosopher’s Breviary: Jean de Léry in the Enlightenment” 
Representations 33. Special Issue: The New World (1991): 200-211.)  
206 
 
In his inaugural lecture to the Collège de France in January 1960 Lévy-Strauss 
exhorted this audience to “renew” and at the same time “atone for the Renaissance” by 
“extend[ing] the humanism to the measure of humanity.”490 Just as Pico’s Oratio, Bovelles’ 
De Sapiente and Vives’ Fabula de homine spoke to the philosophically framed objections 
to humanism, Cabeza de Vaca’s Naufragios, Cei’s Viaggio e relazione and Léry’s Voyage 
help us redress the postcolonial censures. In the second triad, Léry’s work stands out as the 
one depicting the colonial Other most effectively and most sympathetically, while at the 
same time being most conscious of the limits of the representation of alterity. It is also the 
work in which the impulse to narrate the self contributes the most to a creation of an 
autonomous space of the Other, a place which allows for contemplation and nostalgia, but 
not ownership.  It might be, as Lestringant puts it, “the Renaissance in its fullest and most 
generous dimension”.491 
Jean de Léry was a native of Bourgogne and a shoemaker by trade. Following his 
conversion to the Reformed religion, he travelled to Geneva to study theology under 
Calvin. In 1556, at the age of twenty-two he volunteered to join a small missionary group 
headed for the New World. In sending his followers to the ephemeral “France Antarctique” 
in today’s Brazil, Calvin was responding to a request of the colony’s founder, the 
whimsical Nicolas Durand de Villegagnon. The group arrived at Villegagnon’s Fort 
Coligny, situated on an island in the Bay of Guanabara in March 1557 and received a warm 
welcome. Soon however, a radical difference of religious opinion between the 14 
                                                          
490 Claude Lévi-Strauss, Structural Anthropology. Volume 2, trans. Monique Layton (New York: Basic 
Books, 1976), 32. Quoted after Frank Lestringant, “Léry-Strauss: Jean de Léry’s History of a voyage to the 
land of Brazil and Claude Lévi-Strauss’s Tristes tropiques,” Viator 32 (2001): 421. 
491 Lestringant, “Léry-Strauss”, 421.  
207 
 
Huguenots and the governor became apparent. The cause of disagreement was the 
interpretation of the Eucharist. Villegagnon objected to the Calvinist teaching according to 
which Christ is present in the bread and wine only symbolically, causing scandal among 
the missionaries as the one who not only wanted to eat the body of Jesus Christ, but one 
who would gladly chew on it and swallow it raw like the most vicious of cannibals.492 
Faced with the leader’s growing hostility, the missionaries were forced to withdraw from 
the colony. From November 1557 until January 1558 they took refuge in the mainland 
among the Tupi who turned out to be “plus humains” towards them than the treacherous 
and cruel Villegagnon.493 The group set sail for France at the beginning of January and 
reached Brittany in the second half of May after a passage plagued by two-near shipwrecks, 
a gun powder explosion, tempests, the pilot’s poor navigational skills, and, above all, 
extreme famine.   
After returning, Léry resumed his theological studies in Geneva and by 1562, he 
entered ministry. The St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre saw him in La Charité-sur-Loire, 
from whence he escaped to Sancerre. He remained there during the royal Catholic siege of 
the city lasting from January until August 1573. In his Histoire memorable de la ville de 
Sancerre published in 1574, Léry claimed that his experience in identifying and preparing 
unusual comestibles gained on the way back from Brazil helped the besieged survive the 
                                                          
492 Cf. “mâcher et avaler toute crue” De Léry (VI) 73. 
493 Cf. “We set ourselves up on the seashore on the left side, at the entrance to the Bay of Guanabara […] 
From there we would come and go, visiting, eating, and drinking among the savages (who were, beyond 
comparison, more humane to us than he – I do him no injustice – who could not bear to have us with him); 
and they, for their part, often came to visit us, bringing us food and other things we needed.” (Léry, 50) The 
wording of this passage is significant: the Tupinamba “humane” treatment of Léry’s group is contrasted in 
the next paragraph with Villegagnon’s “inhumanity”. This is the first of many comparisons between the 
“savages” and the “civilized men” in which the latter emerge as distinctly more barbarian.  
208 
 
food shortage and prolonged the city’s resistance. The book recounting his stay in Brazil, 
Histoire d’un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil, despite having been written as early as 
1563, was first printed in 1578, twenty years after his return to France.494 Léry remained 
an active minister until his death in 1613. He is also the author of “La Persécution des 
fidèles en terre d’Amérique” which told the story of three Huguenots executed by 
Villegagnon and was incorporated into Jean Crispin’s L’ Histoire des Martyrs. 
L’Histoire mémorable, L’histoire des Martyrs and L’Histoire d’un voyage are all 
marked by Léry’s adherence to the Reformation and can be said to represent a distinctively 
Calvinist perspective. While the former two writings speak of the repressions against the 
Protestant community perpetrated by French authorities, Histoire d’un voyage belongs to 
what Marcel Bataillon has famously called the “Huguenot corpus on the New World”.495 
Along with Léry’s voyage, this body of literature would include Benzoni-Chauveton's 
Histoire nouvelle du Nouveau Monde as well as Thédodore de Bry's collection of Grands 
voyages (1580-1634) and Montaigne's "Of Cannibals" and "Of Coaches."496 These writings 
define their view of the conquest in opposition to the Spanish grand narrative and are 
                                                          
494 The story of the publication of Histoire d’un voyage is rather convoluted. In the Preface, Léry explains 
that he lost the 1563 manuscript, used the rough draft of that version to prepare a second manuscript, which 
was also lost, but eventually managed to recover the original document in 1576. After the first publication 
in 1578, Histoire was printed four more times in Léry’s lifetime: 1580, 1585, 1599/1600, and 1611, each 
subsequent edition being corrected and augmented. The second edition of 1580 is considered the best and 
most legible, the successive ones being overly burdened with polemic and references to contemporary 
political strife. (Cf. Janet Whatley, “Introduction,” in Jean de Léry, History of a voyage to the land of 
Brazil, otherwise called America (Berkeley-Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990), XXXVIII.)      
495 Cf. Marcel Bataillon, “L'Amiral et les 'nouveaux horizons' français,” in Actes du colloque “L'Admiral de 
Coligny et son temps” 24-28 Octobre 1972 (Paris: Société de l'histoire du protestantisme français, 1974), 
41-52.  
496 Even though Montaigne himself was not a member of the Huguenot community, his perspective on the 
American conquest is in line with the one represented by Léry, Chauveton and through the collection of de 
Bry. 
209 
 
organized around the lead themes of the cruelty of the Spaniards and the innocence and 
natural goodness of the oppressed native.497 Although in some respects anticolonial, the 
main polemical thrust of the Huguenot corpus was anti-Catholic and anti-Spanish. As a 
result, it further fuelled the emerging imperialist ambitions of the Protestant countries such 
as England and Holland. Léry himself, fascinated though he is with the Tupinamba culture, 
is not immune to the allure of the colonial dream. He blames Villegagnon’s personal 
shortcomings for the lost opportunity for a French enclave in Brazil.498 Doubtless, his 
vision of that never-realized French colonization of Brazil was premised on a belief in the 
possibility of reciprocal benevolence and trust between the natives and the colonists, as he 
experienced it during his stay there. Writing after the eruption of the Wars of Religion 
(1562-1598) and in view of domestic strife, Léry deplores the failure of Admiral Coligny’s 
idea of creating a Huguenot sanctuary in Brazil, and condemns Villegagnon for having 
deceived the Protestant leaders with false promises.499 Nevertheless, the nostalgia of Léry’s 
                                                          
497 Cf. Lestringant, “The Philosopher’s Breviary”, 201. 
498 Cf. “Villegagnon is the sole cause wherefore the French did not establish themselves in that country. A 
certain Fariban of Rouen, captain […] told us that had it not been for the revolt of Villegagnon, seven or 
eight hundred people would have been sent in big Flemish ships to begin populating the place where we 
were staying. I firmly believe that if Villegagnon had remained true to the faith, there would be at present 
more than ten thousand Frenchmen over there who, besides staunchly protecting our island and fort against 
the Portuguese, who then could never have taken it (as they did, after our return), would now possess under 
allegiance to our King a great country in the land of Brazil, which one could rightfully have continued to 
call ‘Antarctic France’.” (Léry, 197) 
499 Cf. “In the year 1555 a certain Villegagnon, Knight of Malta […] let it be known to several 
distinguished personages of various ranks throughout the realm of France that he had long yearned to 
withdraw into some distant country, where he might freely and purely serve God according to the 
reformation of the Gospel, and, moreover, that he desired to prepare a place for all those who might wish to 
retire there to escape persecution […] And in fact, under this fine pretext, he won the hearts of some of the 
nobility who were of the Reformed Religion, who, with the same motives that he claimed to have, wished 
to find such a retreat.”(Léry, 3) 
210 
 
récit is not so much about the missed colonial opportunity, as it is about the lost innocence 
as incarnated in the author’s younger self and in the Tupinamba.    
Regardless of Histoire’s role in the Huguenot corpus, Léry’s religious creed has 
far-reaching consequences for his ideas about writing and for his ideas about the Other.500 
To the subject of writing the author dedicates the following passionate eulogy: 
“Here is a fine subject for anyone who would like to enlarge upon it: both to praise 
and to exalt the art of writing, and to show how the nations that inhabit these three 
parts of the world: Europe, Asia, and Africa – have reason to praise God more than 
do the savages of that fourth part, called “America”. For while they can 
communicate nothing except by the spoken word, we, on the other hand, have this 
advantage, that without budging from our place, by means of writing and the letters 
that we send, we can declare our secrets to whomever we choose, even to the ends 
of the earth. So even aside from the learning that we acquire from books, of which 
the savages seem likewise completely destitute, this invention of writing, which we 
                                                          
500 There are a number of studies linking Léry’s religious persuasion with his particular way of seeing, and 
writing about the native, but the most forceful statement to this effect is offered by Andrea Frisch, who in 
her excellent article “In a Sacramental Mode: Jean de Léry’s Calvinist Ethnography”, argues that “[i]n 
Léry’s case, ethnology recapitulates theology” (Representations 77.1 (2002): 82). Other studies that make a 
similar point include: Frank Lestringant, Le Huguenot et le sauvage. L'Amerique et la controverse 
coloniale en France, au temps des guerres de religion (1555-1589) (Paris: Amateurs de livres, 1990), the 
same author’s L’expérience Huguenote au nouveau monde. XVIe siècle (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1996) and 
“Une sainte horreur ou le voyage en Eucharistie. XVIe-XVIIIe siècleˮ (Paris: Presses universitaires de 
France, 1996); Janet Whatley,“Une reverence réciproque: Huguenot Writing on the New World,” 
University of Toronto Quarterly 57 (1987– 88): 270–89; Michel Jeanneret, “Léry et Thevet: Comment 
parler d’un monde nouveau?” in Mélanges à la mémoire de Franco Simone: France et Italie dans la 
culture européenne t. IV: Tradition et originalité dans la création littéraire (Genève: Slatkine, 1983), 227–
45; Geoffrey Shullenberger, “Analogies of the Sacrament in Sixteenth-Century French and Spanish 
Ethnography: Jean de Léry and José de Acosta,” Romance Studies 28.2 (2010): 84–95.   
211 
 
possess and of which they are just as utterly deprived , must be ranked among the 
singular gifts which men over here have received from God.”501 
Léry’s praise of letters sounds very similar to the typical humanist exultation of 
literacy. In fact, Léry’s particular attention to the power of communication afforded by 
letter writing brings to mind not only humanist theory, but also practice. It is worth 
remembering that in defiance not only of space, but also of time, Petrarch, as well as writing 
to his contemporaries, addressed letters to classical authors and to posterity. However, for 
Léry, in virtue of his Calvinism, writing is also the instrument of the preservation of eternal 
truth, the truth of Christian religion. Without it, there is no access to pure, evangelical 
Christianity, nor is there a means of preserving any truthful account of historical events. 
The natives’ ignorance of writing is, in Léry’s view, to blame for their lack of familiarity 
with the universal history of humankind as recorded in the Bible. That they once had 
knowledge of the Biblical events is clear from the existence of their own version of the 
story of the deluge. Corrupted as it is through oral transmission it is nevertheless testimony 
of their original familiarity with the now long-forgotten biblical narrative of Noah.502   
                                                          
501 Léry, 135. Frank Lestringant in his “Léry-Strauss”, and Michel de Certau before him in the chapter 
“Ethno-Graphy. Speech, or the Space of the Other: Jean de Léry” of his Writing of History talk about the 
difference between Léry’s “writing lesson” contained in this passage and the “writing lesson” of Lévi-
Strauss’s Tristes Tropiques. (Cf. Michel de Certau,”Ethno-Graphy: Speech, or the Space of the Other: Jean 
de Léry,” in The Writing of History (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), 209-243.) Although a 
self-avowed disciple of Léry, Lévy-Strauss disagrees profoundly with the former’s evaluation of literacy, 
arguing that it “seems to favor the exploitation of human beings more than their enlightenment” (Lévy-
Strauss, Tristes tropiques, 299.) Lévy-Strauss’s understanding of writing as an instrument of power and 
Western domination influenced Certau’s reading of Léry’s Histoire d’un voyage and more recently inspired 
Mignolo’s The Darker Side of the Renaissance. (Cf. Mignolo, op. cit.)  
502 Cf. “[M]ingled in their songs there was mention of waters that had once swelled so high above their 
bounds that all the earth was covered, and all the people in the world were drowned, except for their ancestors, 
who took refuge in the highest trees. This last point, which is the closest they come to the Holy Scriptures, I 
have heard them reiterate several times since. And, indeed, it is likely that from father to son they have heard 
something of the universal flood that occurred in the time of Noah. In keeping with the habit of men, which 
is always to corrupt the truth and turn it into falsehood, together with what we have already seen – that, being 
212 
 
The principal value of writing is the fact that it is the way God communicates with 
his people. In the Huguenot’s eyes, it bridges the distance between two incommensurate 
realities: the material and transient sphere inhabited by men and the spiritual and eternal 
dwelling of God. Having abandoned the Catholic doctrine of Christ’s “real presence” in 
the Eucharist, the Calvinists put emphasis on relating to the Divine through prayerful 
reading of Scripture. The actual presence is replaced by the symbolic – the letters of the 
Bible substitute for God’s speech, which cannot be received directly, for only God’s 
material manifestation would allow for such unhindered communication. The same 
replacement of the “real” and “presence” with the symbolic is evident in the Calvinist 
approach to the Eucharist. Bread and wine have only symbolic relationship with Christ’s 
body and blood, so Holy Communion should be understand in purely spiritual, non-
material terms:  
“It is certainly the case that the fundamental dissimilarity between the human and 
the divine, and thus between earthly and spiritual food, is never abolished in 
Calvin’s sacrament of the Eucharist; his analogy of bread to body does not work to 
convert one into the other. Calvin’s Supper is not meant to eliminate the distance 
between the faithful and God, but rather to span it, and this not by positing some 
sort of resemblance between heaven and earth, but by putting into communication 
two realms that remain not only distinct, but also thoroughly dissimilar.”503 
                                                          
altogether deprived of writing, it is hard for them to retain things in their purity – they have added this fable 
(as did the poets), that their ancestors took refuge in the trees.” (Léry, 144) Léry is moreover not entirely 
dismissive of the possibility that there was, in the apostolic times, an evangelizing mission to the New World, 
the memory of which was subsequently lost for the same reason of the natives’ lack of script. (cf. Léry, 147-
148)  
503 Frisch, 89. 
213 
 
Just as Scripture can only bridge the gap between man and God, but does not abolish 
the distance between them, so does the Eucharist put the two realms into communication, 
but does not result in their convergence. Because of God’s absolute otherness, the 
Eucharistic symbol allows for togetherness, but only in a limited sense. God’s actual 
presence is forever elusive, at least during one’s earthly existence. Frisch argues that 
Calvinist Eucharistic theology, inasmuch as it is “a model for knowing and representing 
the Other”, is a direct source of Léry’s ethnographic discourse.504 In fact, Léry perceives 
the same incommensurability between the symbolic and the real in his own attempt at 
“bringing” the Tupinamba to his readers by means of language. Neither linguistic nor 
pictorial representation can do justice to the richness of the first-hand impression of the 
native: 
“[T]heir gestures and expressions are so completely different from ours, that it is 
 difficult, I confess, to represent them well by writing or by pictures. To have the 
 pleasure of it, then, you will have to go see and visit them in their own country.”505 
Léry does not believe that his writing can effectively replace the actual experience 
of beholding the Tupinamba in person. Language is capable of giving the reader some idea 
of what they are like, but it cannot represent them adequately. In a way, in admitting that 
there are aspects of his experience that cannot be said, moments and impressions 
irreducible to representation, Léry appears singularly postmodern. However, his 
                                                          
504 Cf. “the Christian sacrament of the Eucharist (in all denominations) provides both an epistemology and 
a semiotics of the divine. In other words, the Eucharist constitutes a model for knowing and for 
representing the Other; Eucharistic theology thus lends itself especially well to adaptation as an 
ethnographic discourse.” (Frisch, 83) 
505 Léry, 67.  
214 
 
acknowledgement of a certain ineffability of things past comes hand-in-hand with a rather 
powerful compulsion to communicate. Defective as it might be, profane writing still 
partakes in the promise of salvation inherent in Holy Scripture. It is simply the only way 
of coping with the loss that inevitably comes with the passage of time; it is the sole defense 
against the silence and aridity of history that is not remembered.  
The symbolic realm is inferior to the domain of actuality, but it is probably the next 
best thing and as such must be embraced. This seems to be the logic of Calvin’s teaching 
on the Eucharist – while the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation is rejected, the 
sacrament itself is not. Apart from Bible study, it is the only way to put the human and the 
divine into communication. Léry’s Histoire seems to be premised on a similar reasoning. 
Its representation of the Tupinamba and their natural environment cannot compare to the 
actual experience of it, but it will have to do for those unable or unwilling to undertake a 
New World expedition.  
In fact, just as the “real” body and blood of Christ of the Catholic Eucharist are 
replaced with God’s “symbolic” presence in its Calvinist equivalent, so are the Tupinamba 
bodies replaced with the letters of Léry’s Histoire. That substitution of letters for the real 
presence and voice of the indigenous Other is, in the eyes of scholars such as Michel de 
Certau or Walter Mignolo, an usurpation, a reduction or even suppression of the uniqueness 
of the native to make him fit a master narrative of a European self-appointed 
historian/memoirist. Similar suspicion towards the synthesizing and unifying power of 
letters is foreign to Léry’s thinking. He embraces the literary mode wholeheartedly, 
including claims to authority, which he quite typically justifies with his eyewitness 
215 
 
status.506 Léry envisages his task as consisting, at least partly, of rectifying other writers’ 
errors.507 Moreover, the recognition of the confines of his own writing does not prevent 
him from laboring to convey, if only in a very limited way, the visual, auditory and 
olfactory aspects of the New World.   
 In his analysis of Léry’s Voyage Michel de Certau holds that the Tupi speech is a 
phenomenon forever resisting its own conversion into writing.508 Yet, Léry makes a very 
conscious effort of preserving it, through the inclusion between the last chapter dedicated 
to the description of Tupi customs (XIX) and the first of the two chapters recounting the 
voyage home (XXI), of a Colloquy upon Entry or Arrival in the Land of Brazil among the 
People of the Country Called Tupinamba and Tupinenquin: in the Savage Language and 
in French. Even though probably a work of several hands,509 this conversation is meant to 
recapture the spirit of a possible actual interaction between a Tupi and Léry himself. 
Furthermore, Léry’s overall commitment to the preservation of the native speech is attested 
by his scrupulous recording of the native names of animals and plants.510  
                                                          
506 Cf. “I am speaking out of my own knowledge, that is, from my own seeing and experience; indeed, I will 
speak of things that very likely no one before me has even seen, much less written about. I mean this, 
however, not about all of America in general, but only about the place where I lived for about a year: that is 
under the tropic of Capricorn among the savages called the Tupinamba.” (Léry, LXI) 
507 His foremost opponent is Thevet, whom he criticizes mercilessly in the Preface as an impostor and 
ignoramus. (Cf. Léry, XIV – LXII) 
508 Cf. Michel de Certau “something still remains over there, which the words of the text cannot convey, 
namely the speech of the Tupis. It is that part of the other that cannot be retrieved – it is an evanescent act 
that writing cannot convey” (De Certau, 213)  
509 Léry, 253, n. 1.  
510 Cf. Wes Williams, “Out of the frying pan…: Curiosity, danger and the poetics of witness in the 
Renaissance traveler’s tale,” in Curiosity and Wonder from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment, ed. 
Robert John Weston Evans and Alexander Marr (Aldershot – Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2006), 36. 
216 
 
 The author’s careful descriptions of American nature and its inhabitants are 
similarly a proof of his great care to provide a substitute for the visual record of the land 
that was never accomplished on the spot by a competent artist. Indeed, Léry bemoans the 
fact that Jean Gardien, one of his companions who happened to be a talented sketcher 
disregarded his urgings to make drawings of America’s “singularities”.511 In expressing 
this regret, he seems to place more faith in the immediacy of the image over the power of 
description, a notion somewhat surprising in a Calvinist.512 Be that as it may, the second 
edition of Voyage, which appeared in 1580, included a series of eight engravings by an 
anonymous author.513    
 Léry’s attempt to convey the olfactory aspect of the New World by relating it to a 
more familiar fragrance can be glimpsed from the following passage in which he speaks of 
the scent of freshly grated manioc flour:   
 “This raw flour, like the white juice that comes out of it […] has the fragrance of 
 starch made of pure wheat, soaked a long time in water, when it is still fresh and 
 liquid. After I came back over here, whenever I happened to be in a place where 
                                                          
511 Cf. “Since all these animals are strangely defective with respect to those of our Europe, I would often 
ask a certain Jean Gardien, of our company, who was expert in the art of portraiture, to draw this one, as 
well as many others that are not only rare but even completely unknown over here; to my regret, however, 
he was never willing to set himself to it.” (Léry, 85) 
512 Cf. Lestringant’s comparative analysis of the importance of the visual in Léry and Lévy-Strauss in: 
Lestringant, “Léry-Strauss”, 426-428. 
513 Cf. Jean-Paul Duviols, “Théodore de Bry et ses modèles français,” Caravelle 58. L'image de l’Amérique 
Latine en France depuis cinq cents ans (1992): 10. 
217 
 
 starch was being made, the scent of it made me remember the odor one usually 
 picks up in the savages’ houses when they are making root flour.”514 
 Even more evanescent than the smell is the sound of Tupi music and singing. In a 
memorable passage, Léry reminisces about the feeling of ravishment experienced as he 
listened to an ancestral cantilena performed by the natives during a religious ceremony.  
The power of this impression was so great, that the author still can hear the sounds of that 
music in his ears: 
 “[S]uch was their melody that – although they do not know what music is – those 
 who have not heard them would never believe that they could make such 
 harmony. […] I received […] such joy, hearing the measured harmonies of such a 
 multitude, and especially in the cadence and refrain of the song, when at every 
 verse all of them would let their voices trail, saying Heu, heuaure, heura, 
 heuraure, heura, heura, oueh – I stood there transported with delight. Whenever I 
 remember it, my heart trembles, and it seems their voices are still in my ears.”515 
 In his commentary to this passage, Certau suggests that the recollection of the Tupi 
song, which imposes itself on Léry’s memory, is, just as the Native speech, untranslatable 
into the author’s historical narrative. In his view, moments such as this one “rend holes in 
the fabric of the traveler’s time, as if the Tupis’ festive organizations were beyond all 
economy of history.”516 And yet, Léry does make an attempt at overcoming the elusiveness 
                                                          
514 Léry, 69. 
515 Léry, 142-144. 
516 De Certau, 227. 
218 
 
of music as bound by constraints of time and place: the third (1585) edition of Histoire 
adds five musical staves “so that the sonorous expanse of a lost world could resonate in the 
ears of French and Swiss readers.”517  
Are all these well-intentioned efforts on Léry’s part to be understood as assaults on 
Tupi otherness, which to be genuinely respected, should remain within the realm of the 
unrepresented/unspoken? At a more general level, the question to consider is whether 
writing must invariably betray otherness.518 It seems to me that the answer to this question 
must be: no. In their flawed attempts at bringing about proximity, the letters also make 
clear the existence of an original distance, which it is their task to bridge. In other words, 
letters are also the instrument by means of which one gains an awareness of difference. 
This recognition of distance, and in fact, of a certain incommunicability between the self 
and other is at the heart of the humanistic ethos. Eugenio Garin argued that humanism 
begins with the recognition of alterity – in realization of a discontinuity between the 
Ancients and the medievals and moderns.519 The same consciousness of otherness and 
attention to the importance of historical circumstances as paramount in the process of 
formation of authors and their works (which in today’s lingo we might as well refer to as 
“personal positioning”) guided the renewed zeal for Biblical studies so characteristic of the 
                                                          
517 Léstringant, “Léry-Strauss”, 428. 
518 This question lies at the center of the chapter on “The Immemorial: a task of narrative” of Richard 
Kearney’s excellent book Strangers, Gods, and Monsters. (Cf. Richard Kearney, Strangers, Gods, and 
Monsters. Interpreting otherness (London-New York: Routledge, 2003)    
519 “Antiquity, therefore, came to be defined as something that confronted the humanists. Its discovery was 
the discovery of an object which had to be placed into a valid relationship with the people who discovered 
it. The humanists thus found themselves vis-à-vis a historical past that was very different from their own 
world. […] There was a detachment; and as a result of this detachment a classical author ceased to be part 
of me and I began to define my own identity by discovering his.” (Eugenio Garin, Interpretations of the 
Renaissance, 18-19) 
219 
 
Northern Renaissance. The alertness to difference prompted by the exceptional passion for 
literature as practiced by the humanists, seems to me the oft forgotten “brighter side of the 
Renaissance”. Letters, as well as being the vehicle of knowledge, and thus power (in 
accordance with the famous Baconian adage520), have also the effect of fostering the 
awareness of distance through the all-to-obvious illusion of proximity. In that sense, they 
are a suitable analogy of the Calvinist understanding of the Eucharist, which both bridges 
the unbridgeable expanse between heaven and earth and yet, falls short of uniting them.   
Though a lot has already been said about the way the Huguenot Eucharistic 
theology informs Léry’s ethnological writing, allow me to add one more very important 
observation. The symbolic understanding of the Eucharist as advocated by Calvin permits 
for the change of the material signs used in the celebration of the Lord’s Supper. In fact, 
the Huguenot non-essentialist approach to the relationship between the signifier and the 
signified in Holy Communion is especially evident in the controversy over the legitimacy 
of using local products as substitutes for bread and wine, which shook the Protestant 
community at Fort Coligny.521 The Huguenots eventually concluded that since Jesus 
instituted the Eucharistic signs using the typical foodstuffs of his own culture, the root flour 
                                                          
520 Cf, “Human knowledge and human power meet in one, for where the cause is not known the effect 
cannot be produced.” (Francis Bacon, Novum Organum in: The Works of Francis Bacon, Volume 4, ed. 
James Spedding, Robert Leslie Ellis and Douglas Denon Heath (New York: Garrett Press, 1968), 47. 
521 Cf. “After the last Lord’s Supper that we had in that country, there remained only about a glassful of all 
the wine that we had brought from France, and since we had no way of replenishing our supply, the 
question arose among us whether, for lack of wine, we could celebrate Communion with other kinds of 
drink. Some […] were of the opinion that when wine was lacking, it would be better to abstain from the 
sign than to change it. Others said, on the contrary, that when Christ instituted the Lord’s Supper, being in 
the land of Judaea, he had spoken of the ordinary drink of that region, and that if he had been in the land of 
the savages it is probable that he would have made mention not only of the drink that they use instead of 
wine, but also of the root flour that they eat instead of bread; they concluded that while they would not 
change the signs of the bread and the wine as long as they could be obtained, nonetheless if they were not 
to be had, there would be no obstacle to celebrating Lord’s Supper with the commonest things for human 
nourishment that took the place of bread and wine in the land where they were.” (Léry, 49)  
220 
 
bread and caouin as the local staples could be used when European bread and wine run out. 
In other words, it was decided that the material aspect of the symbol did not matter, for the 
spiritual content of it remained unaffected.  
Lestringant argues that it is precisely this belief in the arbitrariness of the 
Eucharistic sign that conditions Léry’s way of looking at the Tupinamba.522 Frisch, for her 
part, maintains that it is the middle course between the Catholic essentialism and complete 
arbitrariness steered by Calvin in his teaching on the Eucharist that informs Léry’s 
approach to the native custom. Recognizing the universality of the human (fallen for him) 
condition, Léry is nevertheless receptive to the diversity of possible cultural manifestations 
of it.523 This, in turn allows him to see the Tupinamba as no different in their humanity 
from the rest of mankind, sharing in other peoples’ limitations as well as abilities.524 It 
helps him avoid the double extremes of either idealizing the native as the “good savage” (a 
                                                          
522 Cf. Lestringant, “Une sainte horreurˮ, 106. Frisch disagrees with Lestringant on the issue of Calvinist 
devaluation of Eucharistic sign and Léry’s consequent appropriation of the idea of absolute arbitrariness of 
the sign. (Cf. Frisch, 84)  She points out that Calvin’s teaching on the Eucharist is still based on analogy. 
(Cf. “Despite his insistence on the thoroughly symbolic nature of the eucharistic sign, however, Calvin 
makes abundantly clear in the Institutes that the fact that the bread never undergoes an ontological 
conversion into the body of Christ does not mean that just anything could occupy the place of bread in the 
sacrament. Quite the contrary: Calvin’s sacramental semiotics depend upon a very specific type of 
relationship between the sacramental sign and the divine reality that it signifies. [… B]orrowing from 
Augustine, Calvin calls this relation ‘‘similitude’’ or ‘‘analogie,’’ and explicitly anticipates and defends 
against the charge of arbitrariness: ‘‘the name ‘body’ has been given to the bread, not in a bare, empty 
manner that aims to please the ear, but because of an especially appropriate similitude.’” (Frisch, 85)). 
Hence, the opinion of the majority of the missionaries in Fort Coligny: the material signs of the Eucharist 
are changeable, but only as long as they can be said to preserve the analogical relationship with the body 
and blood of Christ as would be the case with caouin and the manioc bread.  
523 Cf. “Calvin’s Eucharistic analogy makes it possible for the Huguenots of Guanabara to see their own 
cultural preference as just that, and not as an inviolable absolute. Thus, Léry’s willingness as a Calvinist to 
accept Tupi caouin and manioc mush as potential analogues to the blood and body of Christ grants him the 
capacity to recognize a certain parity between European and Tupi customs. Léry’s ethnography of the 
Tupinamba will constitute a generalized application of this relativizing perspective.” (Frisch, 87)  
524 Cf. for instance: “[T]ese nations of America […] as far as the natural quality of man is concerned […] 
hold forth better than most of our peasants, and indeed than some others back over here who think they are 
very clever fellows.” (Léry, 150) 
221 
 
temptation which Montaigne was unable to resist) or condemning him as an uncouth 
barbarian or a childlike creature not yet in possession of his/her rational powers. An oft-
quoted example of Léry’s ability to distance himself from his own cultural preconceptions, 
including those crucial ones regarding the notions of the dirty and the disgusting are his 
reflections regarding the native preparation of caouin: 
“I have no doubt that some of those who have heard what I have said concerning 
 the chewing and twisting around of the roots and millet in the mouths of the 
 savage women when they concoct their caouin, will have been nauseated, and will 
 have spit. To allay this disgust, I entreat them to remember what we do when we 
 make wine over here. Let them consider merely this: in the very places where the 
 good wines grow, at the time of grape-harvest the winemakers get into tubs and 
 vats, and with their bare feet and sometimes with their shoes, they tread the 
 grapes; as I have seen, they crush them again the same way on the wine presses.  
 Many things go on which are hardly more pleasing than this custom of chewing 
 among the American women. If thereupon someone says ‘‘Yes, but as it ferments 
 in the vats the wine expels all that filth,’’ I reply that our caouin is purged the 
 same way, and that therefore on this point the one custom is as good as the 
 other.”525  
In a similar manner, Léry refuses to accept the traditional interpretation of native 
nakedness as an indication of lasciviousness and a trope for the indigenous incorrigible 
lack of sexual restraint. Modesty is a virtue that has nothing to do with clothing or the lack 
                                                          
525 Léry, 77. 
222 
 
thereof, the author tells us. It can be just as well transgressed against when one’s attire is 
overly sumptuous or excessively adorned. In fact, the lavish outfits of the European women 
are more of an incitement to lust that the unpretentious simplicity of the indigenous naked 
body:  
“[The] crude nakedness […] is much less alluring than one might expect. And I 
maintain that the elaborate attire, paint, wigs, curled hair, great ruffs, farthingales, 
robes upon robes, and all the infinity of trifles with which the women and girls over 
here disguise themselves and of which they never have enough, are beyond 
comparison the cause of more ills than the ordinary nakedness of the savage women 
– whose natural beauty is by no means inferior to that of the others. […W]hile we 
condemn them so austerely for going about shamelessly with their  bodies entirely 
uncovered, we ourselves, in the sumptuous display, superfluity, and excess of our 
own costume, are hardly more laudable. […] I would to God that each of us dressed 
modestly, and more for decency and necessity than for glory and wordliness.”526   
In accordance with his belief in the universality of the human condition,527 and in a 
manner that gives evidence to his ability to perceive native culture as an organic whole, 
Léry organizes his descriptions of the native customs under the general labels of: exterior 
appearance and attire, alimentary habits, laws of war and ways of combat, their treatment 
of the prisoners of war (chapter dealing with cannibalism), religious convictions, marriage 
and family life, social order and laws of civility, medicinal practices and customs pertaining 
                                                          
526 Léry, 67. 
527 Cf. “I take it as resolved that these are poor people issued from the corrupt race of Adam.” (Léry, 151) 
and “[T]he savages of America […] are not taller, fatter, or smaller in statue than we Europeans are; their 
bodies are neither monstrous nor prodigious with respect to ours.” (Léry, 56) 
223 
 
to burial. This holistic approach to the Tupi culture allows him to see meaning in modes of 
behavior and gestures that otherwise would have to be unquestionably condemned as 
violating the natural order and God’s law. Without justifying the practice itself, Léry 
endorses a remarkably open-minded perspective with regard to the vexed question of 
cannibalism.528 Rather than portraying it simplistically as an act of inexcusable savagery, 
the author depicts it as an element of a complex cultural phenomenon, an act invested with 
a symbolic value that serves, among other things as a way of binding the native society 
together.529 It is not the hunger for human flesh that drives the Tupinamba in their 
cannibalistic feasts, but rather the thirst for revenge and the imperative to bond with their 
friends and allies.530  
Moreover, the Tupinamba, while exceedingly cruel towards their enemies, are also 
extraordinarily loyal towards their own kinsmen – a trait as praiseworthy, as almost 
forgotten in France of the author’s lifetime. Firstly, the author’s homeland is replete with 
the usurers who, metaphorically speaking, suck “blood and marrow” and eat “everyone 
alive – widows, orphans, and other poor people, whose throats it would be better to cut 
                                                          
528 I find unconvincing the thesis that the early European reports concerning native cannibalism must be 
regarded as fictional, formulated originally by William Arens in his The Man-Eating Myth: Anthropology 
and Anthropophagy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1979) and still informing some critics’ 
interpretations of Léry’s account of Tupi cannibalism. (Cf. Sara Castro-Klarén, “Corpo-rización tupi: Léry 
y el ‘Manifesto Antropofago’,” Revista de Crítica Literaria Latinoamericana 23.45 (1997): 193-210.) 
529 Cf. “the act which signals the utter breakdown of community in Europe is, in the context of Tupi culture, 
the gesture of solidarity” (Cf. Janet Whatley, “Food and the Limits of Civility: The Testimony of Jean de 
Lery,” The Sixteenth Century Journal 15.4 (1984): 387-400). 
530 The sense of communal sharing of the prisoner of war’s flesh can be glimpsed from the following 
passage of Histoire: “However many of them there are, each of them will, if possible, have his morsel. Not 
however (as far as one can judge) that they regard this as nourishment; for although all of them confess 
human flesh to be wonderfully good and delicate, nonetheless it is more out of vengeance than for the taste 
[…]; their chief intention is that by pursuing the dead and gnawing them right down to the bone, they will 
strike fear and terror into the hearts of the living.” (Léry, 127) 
224 
 
once and for all, than to make them linger in misery”531. Secondly, there are also those who 
in the context of recent religious animosities “not content with having cruelly put to death 
their enemies, have been unable to slake their bloodthirst except by eating their livers and 
their hearts”.532 Léry’s lesson is that cannibalism is not a distant reality which can be 
condemned in others from the high ground of European superiority, but it is a way of 
thinking about one’s fellow men, which transcends the territorial designations of here 
(good) and there (evil). Cannibalism is for Léry “a moveable sign, a signifier which can 
carry the most diverse signifieds”533 - a shorthand for the sin of cruelty. As such, it can be 
predicated also of the author’s fellow Frenchmen:     
“So let us henceforth no longer abhor so very greatly the cruelty of the 
anthropophagous – that is, man-eating – savages. For since there are some here in 
our midst even worse and more detestable than those who, as we have seen, attack 
only enemy nations, while the ones over here have plunged into the blood of their 
kinsmen , neighbors, and compatriots, one need not go beyond one’s own country, 
nor as far as America, to see such monstrous and prodigious things.”534  
Overall, the author of Histoire displays a remarkable willingness to juxtapose on a 
level plane the Tupi and the European societies. Although the Tupinamba seem to be a 
                                                          
531 Léry, 132. 
532 Ibid. 
533 Frank Lestringant, Cannibals: The Discovery and Representation of the Cannibal from Columbus to 
Jules Verne (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), 73. 
534 Léry, 133. 
225 
 
nation particularly wretched because of their ignorance of the Christian religion,535 the 
Calvinist opinion holds that the nature of all men is fallen and that none can be sure of their 
salvation.536 In a way, despite the disturbing tendency to oppose those who are “chosen” 
and those who are not, the Huguenot doctrine of intrinsic corruption of humankind and 
redemption by grace alone favors an egalitarian view of postlapsarian humanity. It is in the 
light of the belief that no human institution can claim divine credentials, that we must read 
Léry’s assertion (when comparing the ways of preparing wine and caouin) that “one 
custom is as good as another”, the suggestion that both the Europeans and the natives would 
be better advised to seek greater modesty in their dress, and finally this equation between 
native cannibalism and the violence perpetrated daily by the Europeans. The occurrence of 
these juxtapositions puts into perspective Michel Jeanneret’s influential thesis concerning 
the fundamental epistemological difference between Thevet’s Singularitez de la France 
Antarctique (1557) and Léry’s Histoire.537 Jeanneret argued, not without reason, that while 
the former emphasizes correspondences between America and the Ancient World, the latter 
focuses on differences.   
It seems that even though the predominant trope of Léry’s récit is dissimilarity 
between the Europeans and the Tupi,538 our author does not eschew analogy altogether. 
                                                          
535 Cf. “As for blessedness and eternal bliss (which we believe in and hope for through Jesus Christ alone), 
in spite of the glimpse and the intimation of it that I have said they have, this is a people accursed and 
abandoned by God, if there be any such under the heavens.” (Léry, 150) 
536 Cf. “Le résultat pratique de la doctrine calvinienne du péché, c’est [chez Léry] la tolérance at le 
sentiment d’une fondamentale égalité parmi les homes — égalité dans la réprobation et dans l’incertitude 
du salut” (Michel Jeanneret, “Léry et Thevet: Comment parler d’un monde nouveau?ˮ, 233)   
537 Cf. Michel Jeanneret, 227–45. 
538 In fact, the author considers the name of “New World” as particularly suitable to the land of Brazil on 
account of its utter dissimilarity with respect to Europe. Cf. “[I]n this land of America […] everything to be 
seen – the way of life of its inhabitants, the form of the animals, what the earth produces – is so unlike what 
226 
 
Firstly, because, as Tinguley points out, “l'analogie ne constitue pas toujours une négation 
de la diversité ou de la différence: elle peut parfois […] se fonder presque exclusivement 
sur des rapports de dissimilitude”.539 Very often Léry’s Tupinamba are related to the 
Europeans as their exact opposites: the indigenous world seems to be Europe in perpetual 
Carnival mode.540 Yet, Léry also practices analogy based on similarity, the most striking 
example of which is the recurring comparison between the cannibals and the Catholics. 
Shullenberger suggests that Léry uses the parallel between Catholic Eucharistic practice 
and Tupi cannibalism to exonerate the latter.541 In his account, the Catholics emerge as 
even greater sinners than the Brazilian anthropophagi for they are guilty of idolatry542 in 
believing that God might be contained in material objects such as bread and wine. 
Moreover, in attempting to “eat” Christ, they commit a kind of spiritual cannibalism, which 
is more abominable than the material cannibalism of the Tupi.543 Finally, even the religious 
rituals of the cannibals are similar to the Catholic superstitions, especially as regards the 
                                                          
we have in Europe, Asia, and Africa that it may very well be called a ‘New World’ with respect to us” 
(Léry, LX-LXI) 
539 Cf. Frédéric Tinguely, “Jean de Léry et les vestiges de la pensée analogique,” Bibliothèque d'Humanisme 
et Renaissance 57.1 (1995): 41.   
540 Cf. Tinguely, 36. 
541 Cf. Geoffrey Shullenberger, “Analogies of the Sacrament in Sixteenth-Century French and Spanish 
Ethnography: Jean de Léry and José de Acosta,” Romance Studies 28.2 (2010): 88. 
542 Cf. Shullenberger, 88. 
543 Cf. “the crypto-Papist Villegagnon has revealed himself to be worse than the cannibal tribes that Léry 
will shortly describe, who at least kill and cook their human meat: Villegagnon would symbolically devour 
the living flesh of Christ. To escape from his domination and join les sauvages on the coast is to trade the 
proximity of spiritual cannibalism for that of the merely physical.” (Janet Whatley, “Food and the Limits of 
Civility,” The Sixteenth Century Journal 15.4 (1984): 389) Cf. also: “Léry elaborates a mode of cross-
cultural interpretation in which Tupinamba ritual cannibalism compares favorably to the Catholic Mass and 
shares certain epistemological assumptions with the Reformed practice of the Lord’s Supper.” 
(Shullenberger, 85) 
227 
 
resemblance between the deception practiced by the caraïbes (the native shamans) and the 
frauds of the Catholic clergy.544  
 Léry’s practice of “limited analogy”,545 his tendency to juxtapose, yet not identify 
the disparate realities of the New and the Old Worlds has one more consequence that is 
important. It makes room for the realization that alterity is reciprocal. In fact, there are a 
few crucial moment in the Histoire where the author seems to assume the perspective of 
the other only to mock himself and his own ignorance of the Tupi customs and ways of 
life. This assumption of the native cognitive horizon, possible only from hindsight, at the 
moment of recollection of past events, is detectable in Léry’s accounts of the situations in 
which he misunderstood the natives’ intentions. One such misunderstanding took place 
when he and his companions tried to save from drowning a number of natives whose canoe 
capsized. The Tupi, who turned out to be excellent swimmers, considered the Europeans’ 
misguided efforts to help them hilarious and a proof of their allies’ laughable 
ingenuousness.546  Léry, for his part, reports this occurrence with self-irony reminiscent of 
                                                          
544 Cf. “there are among them certain false prophets that they call caraïbes, who, going and coming from 
village to village like popish indulgence-bearers, would have it believed that by their communication with 
spirits they can give to anyone they please the strength to vanquish enemies in war, and, what is more, can 
make grow the big roots and the fruits […] produced by this land of Brazil” (Léry, 140). Furthermore, the 
caraïbes, who during religious ceremonies dance and play the maracas, are compared by Léry to “the bell-
ringers that accompany those impostors who, exploiting the credulity of our simple folk over here, carry 
from place to place the reliquaries of Saint Anthony or Saint Bernard, and other such instruments of 
idolatry.” (Léry, 142)  
545 Cf. Shullenberger, 86. 
546 Cf. “While we were strolling around on a bulwark of our fort, we saw a bark boat […] turn over in the 
sea; in it were more than thirty savages, adults and children, who were coming to see us. Thinking to rescue 
them, we made toward them with great speed in a boat. We found them all swimming and laughing on the 
water; one of them said to us, ‘And where are you going in such haste, you Mairs” (for so they call the 
French.) “We are coming,” we said, “to save you and to pull you from the water.” “Indeed,” he said, “we 
are very grateful to you; but do you think that just because we fell in the sea we are in danger of drowning? 
Without putting foot to ground, or touching land, we could remain a week on the surface, just as you see us 
now. So,” he said, “we are much more afraid of some big fish pulling us to the bottom than we fear 
sinking.” Thereupon the others, who were, indeed, all swimming as easily as fishes, having been alerted by 
228 
 
the tone of self-deprecation of Cei’s accounts of the New World beffe. A similar tone is 
employed in Léry’s description of one of the first nights he spent among the natives, when 
he mistook the Tupi displays of hospitality for threats and prepared himself to be eaten the 
next morning.547  
 In these two episodes, Léry portrays himself as vulnerable with respect to the 
natives’ superior competence in the matters of meaning in the New World. He enters a 
universe of cultural signs whose control rests firmly in the hands of the indigenous and 
learns to let go of his habit of authority (only natural in somebody training to be a preacher). 
Whatley links Léry’s willingness to give up control to the experience of the ocean voyage, 
as a moment in which, on a rocking ship, one quite literally “loses footing”.548 Importantly, 
once he begins his dealings with the Tupinamba he gives up his French name – he calls 
                                                          
their companion to the cause of our swift approach, made sport of us, and began to laugh so hard that we 
could hear them puffing and snorting on the water like a school of porpoises.” (Léry, 97) 
547 Cf. “[A]fter eating a little root flour and other food they had offered us, I, weary and asking only for 
rest, lay down in the cotton bed I had been sitting on. Not only was I kept awake by the noise that the 
savages made, dancing and whistling all night while eating their prisoner; but, what is more, one of them 
approached me with the victim’s foot in hand, cooked and boucané, asking me (as I learned later, for I 
didn’t understand at the time) if I wanted to eat some of it. His countenance filled me with such terror that 
you need hardly ask if I lost all desire to sleep. Indeed, I thought that by brandishing  the human flesh he 
was eating, he was threatening me and wanted to make me understand that I was about to be similarly dealt 
with. As one doubt begets another, I suspected straight away that the interpreter, deliberately betraying me, 
had abandoned me and delivered me into the hands of these barbarians. […S]eeing myself surrounded on 
all sides by those whose intentions I failed to understand […] I firmly expected shortly to be eaten, and all 
that night I called on God in my heart. […] At daybreak my interpreter (who had been off carousing with 
those rascals of savages all night long in other village house) came to find me. Seeing me, as he said, not 
only ashen-faced and haggard but also feverish, he asked me whether I was sick, or if I hadn’t rested well. 
Distraught, I answered wrathfully that they had well and truly kept me from sleeping, and that he was a 
scoundrel to have left me among these people whom I couldn’t understand at all; […] he told me that I 
should have no fear, and that it wasn’t us they were after. When he recounted the whole business to the 
savages – who, rejoicing at my coming, and thinking to show me affection, had not budged from my side 
all night – they said that they had sensed that I had been somewhat frightened of them, for which they were 
very sorry. My one consolation was the hoot of laughter they sent up – for they are great jokers – at having 
(without meaning to) given me such a scare”. (Léry, 163-164)     
548 Cf. Janet Whatley, “Impression and Initiation: Jean de Lery's Brazil Voyage,” Modern Language Studies 
19.3 (1989): 16-17.   
229 
 
himself Léry-oussou (big oyster) to accommodate the sounds of the native tongue.549 In 
other words, Léry is willing to “be translated” and incorporated into the oral universe of 
Tupi speech. Moreover, he speaks of this translation as a real metamorphosis, evoking the 
myth of the enchantress Circe.550  
 Lestringant interpreted the assumption of this new name, as signaling a re-birth, or 
the birth of “Léry brésilien”.551 In fact, in accepting a new name, a name sounding 
wonderfully familiar to the Tupi, he lets them become his adoptive parents and the New 
World itself - a birth mother and the source of his new identity. He is willing to become a 
passive receiver of the New World sights, smells, sounds and tastes, just as a newborn 
receives from his mother. Needless to say, these new birth metaphors are reminiscent of 
Cabeza de Vaca’s re-birth, as he re-enters America naked after his last attempt at an escape.   
 Whatley explains the exceptional appeal of Léry’s narrative by the sobriety of his 
disinterested gaze. Expelled from Villegagnon’s colony and forced to accept the failure of 
his mission, he is free of the typical agenda of a European in America. He does not have to 
think of the Tupi as tabulae rasae waiting to be inscribed with the meanings of his culture: 
awaiting a ship to take him back home he knows that time is not on his side. Yet, he also 
refuses to idealize the native, to turn him into a moral lesson for the corrupt European 
                                                          
549 Cf. “The interpreter had warned me that they wanted above all to know my name; but if I had said to 
them Pierre, Guillaume, or Jean, they would have been able neither to retain it nor to pronounce it (in fact, 
instead of saying “Jean,” they would say “Nian”). So I had to accommodate by naming something that was 
known to them. Since by a lucky chance my surname, “Léry,”, means “oyster” in their language, I told 
them that my name was “Léry-oussou,” that is, a big oyster. This pleased them greatly […].” (Léry, 162) 
550 Cf. “[I]ndeed, I can say with assurance that never did Circe metamorphose a man into such a fine 
oyster” (Ibid.)  
551 Cf. “Léry est donc né une deuxième fois, « rené ». C’est comme une nouvelle naissance à la mode 
brésilienne, un avatar, une métamorphose” (Frank Lestringant, Jean de Léry ou l’invention du sauvage. 
Essai sur l’ Histoire d’un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil (Paris: Champion, 2005), 31) 
230 
 
reader. In fact, as Whatley points out, he neither impresses nor idealizes the native.552 
Instead, he opens himself to “receive the imprint” of American alterity. As a result, even 
back in France he still can hear the sounds of Tupi singing in his ears553 and the image of 
the native is forever engraved on his memory: 
 “During that year or so when I lived in that country, I took such care in observing 
 all of them, great and small, that even now it seems to me that I have them before 
 my eyes, and I will forever have the idea and image of them in my mind.”554  
To take further the metaphor of America as mother, we should consider it as a 
source of nourishment. Léry, like everyone in his position, had to be, quite literally, 
nourished by American nature. Now, in order to accept it as a source of sustenance, he had 
to overcome the culinary inhibitions brought over from Europe. Apart from overcoming 
his original disgust of caouin and developing a taste for manioc mush, he also learned to 
eat things that, on the first contact, seemed inedible, like lizards.555 Having eaten “of” 
America, he absorbed it within his own flesh and was changed. Certau says that:  
 “[Léry’s] Histoire casts the movement of departure that had gone from over here 
 (in France), to over there (among the Tupis), into circular form. It transforms the 
 voyage into a cycle. From over there it brings back a literary object, the Savage, 
                                                          
552 Cf. Whatley, “Impression and Initiation: Jean de Lery's Brazil Voyage”, 15-16. 
553 Cf. above. 
554 Léry, 67. 
555 Cf. “It is true that at the beginning I was horrified at the notion [of eating a lizard], but after I tasted it, as 
far as meat was concerned, I sang the praises of nothing but lizards.” (Léry, 82)  
231 
 
 that allows him to turn back to his point of departure. The story effects his return 
 to himself through the mediation of the other.”556  
It seems to me that, as in the case of Cabeza de Vaca and Cei, Léry’s chances of 
tracing a full circle and returning to himself were very slim. Léry returns home, not as a 
conqueror carrying a trophy of the Savage as a literary object but as a pilgrim, marked by 
an experience of failure and profoundly inscribed by American alterity. Obviously, there 
are limits to this inscription. In no sense did Léry “go native”. His overcoming of 
inhibitions did not extend to the sphere of sexual relations with the native women or 
cannibalism. The author of Histoire, while eager to absorb the visual, olfactory and 
auditory aspects of the New World, never forgot the core of his identity: his Calvinist 
Christianity. The result of his Huguenot “personal positioning” was a perception of a divide 
between himself and the Tupinamba, a chiasm, which ironically, facilitated reciprocal 
respect. With the pressure of “converting” the natives fading after expulsion from Fort 
Coligny, he could put to rest hope of erasing the difference between himself and the Tupi. 
The rift between the two worlds was a fact, as much as the failure of his mission. 
Lestringant argues that Léry can be as sympathetic an observer as he is, because he sees 
the Tupinamba as beyond hope of salvation.557  
Lestringant’s analysis brings to mind Charles Taylor’s remarks on the “disciplined” 
or “buffered” self of Reformed Christianity (and Modernity) and the porous self of earlier 
                                                          
556 De Certau, 213. 
557 Cf. “L'enthousiasme dont Léry saura faire preuve dans son tableau du peuple des Tropiques, l’évidente 
générosité de la peinture qu'il donne du Brésilien soumis à son seul ‘sens’, représentent l'envers paradoxal 
d'une condamnation sans appel” (Frank Lestringant, “Calvinistes et Cannibales,” Bulletin de la Société de 
l’histoire du protestantisme français 1 and 2 (1980): 21.  
232 
 
eras.558 To use Taylor’s terminology we could say that Léry is a comfortable observer 
because he is a “buffered self”. In other words, despite a measure of appropriation of 
America, he is nevertheless, immune from the risk of becoming the other. His internal 
discipline prevents him from being unsettled in his most basic beliefs. A certain stern, 
unforgiving quality of Léry’s gaze comes to the fore when he speaks, with overt disgust, 
about the Norman interpreters who engaged in sexual intercourse with Tupi women, had 
children by them and, possibly, even ate human flesh.559 In the Huguenot’s eyes, such 
conduct is unacceptable – the boundaries between the Christians and the pagans must be 
kept. Yet, one has the impression that protecting the integrity of this “buffered-self” did 
not come to our author without a struggle. In fact, Léry’s reasons for not having lost his 
faith while confronted with Tupi obliviousness with regard to the Divine sound as if he 
was trying to persuade himself:    
“[H]aving considered them thus void and deprived of any right sense of God, my 
faith has by no means been in the least shaken on that account. Even less have I 
concluded from all this, with the atheists and Epicureans, either that there is no 
God, or that He does not concern Himself in human affairs; on the contrary, having 
clearly recognized in their persons the difference between those who are 
illuminated by the Holy Spirit and the Holy Scripture, and those who are abandoned 
                                                          
558 Cf. Charles Taylor, A Secular Age (Harvard University Press, 2007), 37-42. 
559 Cf. “[T]o my great regret I am compelled to recount here that some Norman interpreters, who had lived 
eight or nine years in that country, accommodating themselves to the natives and leading the lives of 
atheists, not only polluted themselves by all sorts of lewd and base behavior among the women and girls 
(by whom one of them had a boy about three years old when I was there), but some of them, surpassing the 
savages in inhumanity, even boasted in my hearing of having killed and eaten prisoners.” (Léry, 128) 
233 
 
to their own faculties and left in their blindness, I have been greatly confirmed in 
the assurance of the truth of God.”560  
 Léry went through the process of initiation into America, accepting a measure of 
inscription, yet without losing a sense of self-definition at the most fundamental level. He 
preserved his sense of otherness with respect to the Tupinamba, while acknowledging that 
he himself is as much other with regard to them, as they are with regard to him. Arguably, 
his ability to assume the indigenous perspective and imagine himself as the locus of alterity 
was fostered by the situation of the Protestants in France at the time: as a Huguenot, Léry 
was the Other in his own country. After his return to France, he experienced first-hand the 
growing hostility of the Catholic majority, the beginning of his service as a Calvinist 
minister coincided with the outbreak of the French Wars of Religion in 1562. He narrowly 
escaped the violence of the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre in August 1572. The 
awareness of being perceived as other must have been always a strong feature of Léry’s 
way of thinking. Obviously, in Histoire d’un voyage and Histoire mémorable du siège et 
de la famine de Sancerre, both narrated from a Huguenot point of view, it was the Catholics 
who were delegated to the sphere of aberrant alterity. Yet, it seems that Léry was 
nevertheless capable of transgressing the demarcations of identity and alterity accepted in 
his own Reformed circles. This, in fact, happened in the IV edition of Histoire when, in an 
added chapter on European cruelty (“Des cruautez exercées par les Turcs, et autres 
peuples: et nommément par les Espagnols, beaucoup plus barbares que les Sauvages 
                                                          
560 Léry, 151. 
234 
 
mesmes”) he refused identification with those of his Huguenot brethren who had defiled 
themselves with acts of barbarous violence.561       
Juall points out that in mentioning these brutalities, Léry was breaking the law, 
disobeying, indeed, the edict of Nantes (1598), which stipulated that cruelties perpetrated 
during the recent domestic wars were not to be mentioned in speech or in writing.562 Léry, 
for his part, seems to operate from the presupposition that testimony must be borne so that 
atrocities, such as the ones he describes, never happen again. Henry IV in the edict of 
Nantes delegates the atrocities of the religious wars to “time immemorial”, as Lyotard 
would call it,563 but not as a token of recognition of the fact that reconciliation would 
inevitably victimize one of the sides of the conflict. The strategy of the King is rather to 
promote reconciliation through forgetfulness. Léry does not endorse that forgetfulness, 
rather he wants to heal the wounds of the past through remembering.564 In fact, his 
enterprise is therapeutic, for as Richard Kearney observes:  
                                                          
561 Cf. “In the 1599-1600 edition, Léry declares that because of their savage acts Calvinists are now placed 
among all of the other barbares—a number of Turkish emperors and warriors, Vlad III Tepes, and French, 
Italian, and Spanish Catholics—which Léry indicates through a lexicon of the diabolical that sustains the 
entire chapter.” (Scott D. Juall, “‘Beaucoup plus barbares que les Sauvages mesmes’: Cannibalism, 
Savagery, and Religious Alterity in Jean de Léry's Histoire d'un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil (1599-
1600),” L'Esprit Créateur 48.1 (2008): 65). Cf. also: “Léry thus conceives of otherness as an unstable, 
slippery category: those engaging in unfounded war because of religious difference unequivocally 
transform into savage Others who are even more barbarous than the cannibals whom he encountered in 
Brazil.” (Ibid, 69)  
562 Cf. Scott D. Juall, “Draculean Dimensions of Early Modern French Politics and Religion: Vlad III Ţepeş 
“the Impaler” and Jean de Léry’s Political Project in Histoire d’un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil 
(1599/1600),” Exemplaria 21.2 (2009): 218-220. 
563 Cf. Jean-François Lyotard, Political Writings (London: University College London Press, 1993), 64. 
564 Cf. Scott D. Juall, “Draculean Dimensions”, 218-222. 
235 
 
“narrative imagination – in the guise of historical or literary testimony – may help 
prevent past traumas from becoming fixated in pathological forms of melancholy, 
amnesia or repetition.”565  
With each subsequent edition, the auto-reflexive element of the book augments, but 
it is a reflection about the nation, not about the self. Publishing the book in 1578, not only 
does he reconnect with his personal past, but he is also striving to communicate with his 
fellow Frenchmen. As already mentioned in the chapter dedicated to Cabeza de Vaca, the 
autobiographical gesture is always an act of reaching out to the other, as it is meant to be 
heard/read. Kearney says that both the autobiographical and the historical narrative 
(inasmuch as they both require a certain personal investment on the part of the author) 
occasion two kinds of connectedness with the other. They enhance communication with 
the readers and they foster a sense of belonging to the subject of representation:  
“Genuine narrative is always ‘on its way to the other’. […] This narrative calling 
out to the other is related to what Habermas terms our ‘interest for communication’- 
an interest which goes beyond a mere interest for facts or information. To engage 
in narrative history – as opposed to a purely statistical record – is to enlarge our 
sphere of communication and connection with others. And this is what makes every 
true historian someone who ‘belongs’ to the field that he/she studies.”566 
                                                          
565 Kearney, 182. 
566 Ibid. 
236 
 
 In conclusion, I would like to ponder briefly Lestringant’s suggestion that Histoire 
is a work of nostalgia/mourning that “struggles to restore a lost presence”.567 It is hard to 
deny a note of nostalgia in Léry’s voice when he remembers smells, sounds and sights of 
the New World. It is even more evident in the following wistful passage:  
“I confess for myself that although I have always loved my country and do so even 
now, still, seeing the little – next to none at all – of fidelity that is left here, and, 
what is worse, the disloyalties of people toward each other – in short, since our 
whole situation is Italianized, and consists only in dissimulation and words without 
effect- I often regret that I am not among the savages, in whom (as I have amply 
shown in this narrative) I have known more frankness that in many over here, who, 
for their condemnation, bear the title of ‘Christian’.”568  
 Such nostalgia is understandable in the light of the hardship of domestic wars the 
author of Histoire had to live through upon his return home. One could say that it is a 
nostalgia for both the American other and the self as it used to be, for the act of 
remembering the Tupi reconnects Léry with his younger self. Yet there seems to be more 
to it. In remembering Brazil, our author goes back to himself – as he was in the relationship 
with his American others. This version of himself symbolizes the possibility of a 
coexistence, a community of life despite an irreconcilable difference of religious opinion. 
This ability to live peacefully side by side with people of radically different views seems 
all but lost in the France of Léry’s days and as such is an object of mourning.  
                                                          
567 Lestringant, “Léry-Strauss”, 118.  
568 Léry, 198. 
237 
 
 Lastly, a word about the title of this chapter. The self becomes a space of the other 
through memory. In remembrance, the voices and images of the Tupi impressed on Léry’s 
mind come to life. The author of Histoire did not become the other, yet received their 
impression, becoming the space where alterity is continually present. It is even more 
significant now, when the Tupi culture as Léry knew it is long-gone – his narrative is the 
space where the Other still dwells. 
 
 
238 
 
 
CHAPER IX 
CONCLUSION 
 
 As we are coming to the end of this project, we must take stock of what we have 
learned about Renaissance humanism. In what way did the analyses of the previous 
chapters help us refine our understanding of humanism? Did the reading of Pico, Bovelles, 
Vives, Cabeza de Vaca, Cei and Léry help us find our way amidst the “historical and 
philosophical” confusion surrounding the term humanism? The main purpose of this 
dissertation was to disentangle the notion of humanism from that of modernity, with a focus 
on the modern ego as the supposed source of meaning in the world. If we were to assume 
that the Renaissance humanistic self indeed regarded itself as a final and ultimate 
foundation of truth, it is hard not to read all the early New World literature as an attempt, 
by that self, to impose its own understanding on the alterity of Americas. Yet, some of the 
paradigmatically humanistic texts of the late XV and early XVI century show that, as 
Agamben put it in The Open: “The humanist discovery of man is the discovery that he 
lacks himself”.569 Moreover, they illustrate the way man’s original incompleteness is then 
gradually inscribed, while at the same time demonstrating clearly that the source of that 
inscription is not reducible to the self. 
                                                          
569 Giorgio Agamben, The Open: Man and Animal (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2004), 30. 
Agamben further links the discovery of that original insufficiency with the “discovery of [man’s] 
irremediable lack of dignitas” (Ibid.) While I share the author’s original observation, I disagree with him as 
to the conclusions he draws from it. 
239 
 
 Envisaging man as a shapeless self that is destined to forge its own form, is very 
different from imagining him as the creator of forms in the world. In that sense, my reading 
of Pico’s Oratio de hominis dignitate goes against a still influential line of interpretation 
of this text which considers it to be a prefiguration of the modern scientific/technological 
relationship with reality.570 At the very outset of this dissertation I undertook to confront 
such interpretations, arguing that alterity emerges in Oratio as something both very 
intimate and yet forever escaping human mastery. Moreover, I insisted on a contemplative 
rather than manipulative relationship between Pico’s man and Nature. Interestingly, the 
Biblical: “and God said unto them: be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and 
subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over 
every living thing that moveth upon the earth”571 has no equivalent in Pico’s re-telling of 
creation. Pico’s God places Adam at the center of the world, so that he might contemplate 
whatever is in the world (quidquid est in mundo) as a first step towards self-formation.  
 In fact, in Pico’s tale, Nature can be simply contemplated because from the very 
outset it is complete and perfect, while man is born a creature marked by an original 
deficiency. Lacking a nature of his own, he is a space that must be claimed by another to 
become itself. Prepared and molded by the pursuit of philosophy, he eventually becomes a 
dwelling place of Divinity, as he finally meets himself in the discovery that he has become 
                                                          
570 As we remember, some of the eminent interpreters of Pico’s thought insisted on his notion of human 
intellect as divinely creative, i.e. possessing, beyond the mere capacity of fashioning its own notions, the 
faculty of willful “shaping” of the material world around. Exemplary in that sense was Giovanni Gentile’s 
interpretation, but the tradition of viewing Pico as a “philosopher of the will” is present, to a greater or 
lesser extent, in the works of all the scholars who lean towards interpreting Pico as paving the way of 
modernity, notably in Cassirer’s Individual and Cosmos and Frances Yates’ Giordano Bruno and the 
Hermetic Tradition. 
571 Genesis 1:28 (King James Bible) 
240 
 
one with that incommensurable Other who is the source of everything. In a similar way, in 
Bovelles’ De Sapiente, man finds his essence through “mirroring” Nature, becoming a 
means of Nature’s redemption and ultimately being “absorbed” into Divinity. Finally, in 
Vives’ Fabula de homine, the man-pantominus must prove capable of becoming 
everything like his maker, before he can assume human shape through the pursuit of civic 
virtues. His relations with his mortal others are the source of his humanity while on the 
earthly scene, even though his proper place and the reward for a successful impersonation 
of Jove, is at the eternal banquet.       
 In the works of Pico, Bovelles and Vives that were at the center of this project, we 
read about the role of alterity in the process of the self-shaping of human beings. In reality, 
all three authors conceived of humanity as acquired through engagement with otherness, 
offering a conception of the self, which we could call relational.  Moreover, there is a sense 
in which we could claim that Heidegger’s call for a “new humanism” which “thinks the 
humanity of man from nearness to Being” can be realized via a return to the all-too-
forgotten humanism of Pico and Bovelles.572 At the same time Vives, like Levinas, reminds 
us that we must think humanity also from the nearness to our fellow human beings. Indeed, 
Pico, Bovelles and Vives can hardly be accused of holding an idea of “a universal subject 
who believes that all commences and concludes with […the] self”.573   
 In the broadest outlines, the conclusion of the first part of my dissertation is that the 
Renaissance idea of selfhood was very different from the idea of selfhood that we normally 
                                                          
572 Cf. my reflections regarding similarities between Heidegger and Bovelles in the chapter dedicated to the 
latter.  
573 Chambers, 26. 
241 
 
associate with modernity. For Descartes man is the starting point of the process of 
cognition, for Pico, Bovelles and Vives he is the final product. Renaissance self-identity is 
the result of the “othering” of the self, which originally is undefined and empty. The 
original self cannot claim self-presence – it cannot possess or know itself. Man, in order to 
arrive at a sense of self-identity, must take a roundabout route: he has to pass through 
alterity as present in the community, Nature and God.  
 I began my inquiry into the humanist ideas regarding self-identity with Pico’s 
Oratio and two other works by Renaissance authors, clearly inspired by the thought of the 
prince of Mirandola. Arguably, it would be difficult to find a more suitable beginning. 
Pico’s never delivered speech on human dignity is probably the first text non-specialists 
would mention if asked to name a work of a Renaissance humanist. The text’s emblematic 
status is an advantage when one hopes to speak about Renaissance humanism to audiences 
that might be more interested in considering humanism conceptually rather than 
historically, as is the case with critics preoccupied with the “consequences” of Europe’s 
reputed allegiance to humanistic ideas. 
 The bridge between the two bodies of texts considered in this dissertation is the 
idea, found in Pico, Bovelles and Vives that arriving at a sense of self always involves a 
detour in which one comes face to face with otherness. The encounter with alterity of one’s 
community, Nature and God is constitutive of one’s humanity and individuality. The 
reading of the autobiographic travel narratives of Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca, Cei and Léry 
afforded us an opportunity to consider the process of self-construction and discovery of the 
self in the context of the very concrete detour of overseas travel and the consequent face to 
face with New World alterity. 
242 
 
 More concretely, in the second part of the dissertation, I focused on the “othering” 
influence of the European travel-writer’s clash with American otherness. That “othering” 
dimension of American experience was analyzed in three accounts, which can safely be 
said to belong to the category of narratives described by Joan-Pau Rubiés as tales of “the 
discovery of futility” and by Beatriz Pastor Bodmer as the “narrative discourses of failure”. 
In the accounts of Cabeza de Vaca, Cei and Léry the triumphalist tone, characteristic of the 
early reports on the discovery and conquest is entirely abandoned in favor of a new, less 
self-assured and more faltering voice. The fundamental feature of these accounts is the 
recognition that America and its inhabitants are resistant to the European subject’s will. 
These narratives portray the Europeans in the New World as devastated by misfortunes and 
overcome with disappointment. Their 1st person narrators no longer envision themselves 
in the proud role of agents of their own destiny. Instead of subduing the new lands and their 
natives, they portray themselves as led by or dependent on the Amerindians. In 
acknowledging their own weakness Cabeza de Vaca, Cei and Léry create a literary space, 
in which America breaks free of the objectifying schemes present in the more self-
congratulatory discourses, such as those of Columbus or Hernán Cortés.  
 A factor contributing to the different quality of our author’s gaze was certainly the 
fact, that all three of the analyzed texts feature narrators whose position within the colonial 
power structure is somewhat ambiguous and who do not fit into the strict dichotomy 
between the all-powerful conquistador and the disempowered Amerindian. Cei – both in 
virtue of his being Italian (and thus free of any national allegiance to the Spanish colonial 
243 
 
enterprise574) and because of his personal failure in the New World. Léry - due to his 
Calvinism and the consequent precarious position at home as well as the failure of his 
missionary efforts at Fort Coligny. Cabeza de Vaca, as a result of his extraordinary 
experience of captivity and faith healing among the Indians. In all of these authors we 
witnessed a remarkable departure from the rhetoric of mastery as a result of the recognition 
of one’s powerlessness in the face of the American environment and its inhabitants.  
Moreover, all three of them, at various moments of their American adventure and to a 
greater or lesser extent, lost their bearings of home as the place guaranteeing the stability 
of the self. As a result, their homecoming, even after it is accomplished, preserves the aura 
of an ever-elusive longing.    
 It was not my intention to claim that voices such as those of Cabeza de Vaca, Cei 
and Léry should be considered more representative of the European writing on America, 
than those of Columbus, Cortés, Oviedo or Gómara. Yet, their existence is reason enough 
to ponder the possibility that Renaissance humanism, rather than invariably producing 
selves incapable of recognizing alterity, also bore individuals receptive to difference and 
prepared to morally acknowledge it. Furthermore, I would like to suggest that perhaps the 
travel narratives studied in the pages of this dissertation remain closer in spirit to the actual 
humanist reflection on self-identity and alterity than those writing on the New World which 
focus on representing the other, while recoiling from questioning the self. In illustrating 
                                                          
574 Cf. Theodore J. Cachey on the unique qualities of Italian travel writing: “That Italy never did achieve 
national political unification during the early modern period gives its contributions to Americanist literature 
a distinctive character, both in the “incunabular” or cradle stage of European encounter with the New 
World when it is particularly formative for Europe, but also later when it will express a perspective 
different from that of the “national” political-colonial subject developed by the literatures of France, 
England, and Spain.” (Theodore J. Cachey, “Italy and the Invention of America,” The New Centennial 
Review: Early Modernities 2.1 (2002): 20)   
244 
 
the impact of America on the Renaissance European traveler, the narratives of Cabeza de 
Vaca, Cei and Léry bring to life what Pico, Bovelles and Vives theorized in the peace and 
quiet of their studies – the essential indefiniteness of the self unless inhabited by meanings 
which must be drawn from without.  
 
 
245 
 
 
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