Tarot History Forum

Your translation looks good to me. I had missed what the subject of the third line was, a tendency I have. Again, it is a comment on the character of the person involved, in this case a positive comment implying a good attitude to have toward the vagaries of Fortune, and how to triumph over it.

By "more extreme" I assume is meant "immoderate", i.e. "intemperate".

mikeh wrote: 18 Jun 2025, 13:07 Your translation looks good to me. I had missed what the subject of the third line was, a tendency I have. Again, it is a comment on the character of the person involved, in this case a positive comment implying a good attitude to have toward the vagaries of Fortune, and how to triumph over it.

By "more extreme" I assume is meant "immoderate", i.e. "intemperate".

Hi Mike, I was editing my post as you were replying to it. So you might have missed my noting your reference to the figurative use of galle/galla. Upon which I made a slight change to the translation:

This Fortune, in the World, is but a Trifle,
Who now lifts someone here, now lowers them there.
There’s no Temperance in her, so she shatters
The Strength of anyone born under an unlucky Star.

Only a woman who is Temperate, strong, and fair,
Whose splendour surpasses even the Stars,
Can hold the unstable Wheel humbled and low;
And to the world, she calls it a game of baubles.*

She has always used her Strength with Temperance,
In such a way that she treats the World and Star-governed Fate
As if they were a Joke.

Fortune can indeed, with her Lightness,
Enter into the Stars of greater Forces:
Whoever knows how to Temper themselves reins her in—along with the World.

*“Baubles” translates galle, used figuratively denote things trivial, light, vain or hollow. For example, St. Bernardino likens empty preaching to “a string of galls,” and Boiardo describes lifting a mountain “as lightly as a gall.”

St Bernard of Sienna's reference to a "string of galls" reminds me of those strings with balls that appear so often on the Sola-Busca, though they would be to large I imagine to be galls!

St. Bernardino of Siena (Sermon 515):

"Hai tu posto mente al Vangelo d’oggi?
Doh, ponvi mente, e guarda che pare una cantafola: egli è ordinato come una filatera di galle."

I am not sure what is meant by "more extreme" or greater Powers/Forces. It echoes lines 3–4, where Fortune destroyed Strength in those born under bad stars, and is possible meant to convey a similar idea?

3 Non è Temperantia in lei, però fracassa
4 La Forza di chi nacque in prava Stella.

There is no temperance in fortune and she shatters the strength of those born under bad stars...

But our temperate lady overcomes her and treats Fortune and the World as trifles, playthings.

12 Ben può Fortuna con sua Leggerezza
13 Ir ne le Stelle di più Forze estreme:

But Fortune in her lightness can enter into stars of even greater force: implying those without temperance are vulnerable, the condition of their stars cannot protect them no matter how powerful, without temperance?

Only the self-tempered can restrain her (as per the exemplar of out temperate lady)

It seems to me that the echoing of 3 and 4 in 12 and 13 is to make a contrast between the two sentiments. This is indicated by Limerno's discussion of the sonnet:

Ogni cosa che ad essere patisce durezza, lo più de le volte eccellente diviene: laonde Focilla, donna (come si vede) prudentissima, contristandosi prima di cotal leggerezza a lei per ventura sortita, hor che reuscita la vede in maggior suo honore, giubila e saltella.

Everything that suffers hardship in being, most of the time becomes excellent: hence Focilla, a woman (as one sees) of great prudence, at first saddened by such changeability [leggerezza] that had chanced to befall her, now, revived, she sees it to her greater honor, rejoices and leaps.

The word "leggerezza" has several meanings, of which two are in operation here, it seems to me. In the GDLI, one meaning is "changeability, instability, inconstancy," even if the main meaning is lightness in the English sense, the opposite of heavy (https://www.gdli.it/pdf_viewer/Scripts/ ... leggerezza, meaning 13). At first she suffers from the changeability of the world; then she rejoices in it - it becomes her plaything, once it is recognized as inherently unstable. It is the "unbearable lightness of being," in that memorable title.

But what does that have to do with temperance?

On the one hand, those who put their trust in Fortune and the World are greatly vulnerable to being defeated by her. (lines 3 and 4)
On the other hand, those who put their trust in Temperance are less vulnerable to Fortune and the World. (lines 12 to 14).

Or: Those who put their trust in Fortune and the World are vulnerable to being defeated by Fortune and the World.
On the other hand, those who put their trust in Temperance are invulnerable to Fortune and the World.

The image of the World as a ball of air, a bauble, and a joke suggests the latter pair. However, Temperance in practice does not offer that much protection, if one is unlucky. It is rather that moderation in one 's appetites (food, drink, possessions) is more protection than immoderation, in that one will have something from the good times to protect one in the bad times. Also, by attaching less importance to such things, as opposed to virtue, one is less affected by them, being "in the world but not of the world." The poem seems to convey all these ideas.

I have a friend who is a "day-trader," meaning someone who "plays" the stock market for short-term gains. He follows a system he studied. As long as he detaches himself from emotional attachment to the money he's invested, he's successful. If he gets too attached, he pulls money out too soon and loses. Otherwise, it's a game he makes money at. Temperance, i.e. moderation, includes losses as well as gains, as long as they are moderate. In an age of merchant capital, when fortunes came to those who understood that some ships came in and some didn't, and knew how to calculate the odds, this was a relatively new idea, which changed Fortuna from a lady turning a wheel to one with a sail. See https://www.engramma.it/eOS/index.php?id_articolo=2975.

So a footnote is needed to explain "leggerezza", too.

mikeh wrote: 19 Jun 2025, 10:45 It seems to me that the echoing of 3 and 4 in 12 and 13 is to make a contrast between the two sentiments. This is indicated by Limerno's discussion of the sonnet:

Ogni cosa che ad essere patisce durezza, lo più de le volte eccellente diviene: laonde Focilla, donna (come si vede) prudentissima, contristandosi prima di cotal leggerezza a lei per ventura sortita, hor che reuscita la vede in maggior suo honore, giubila e saltella.

Everything that suffers hardship in being, most of the time becomes excellent: hence Focilla, a woman (as one sees) of great prudence, at first saddened by such changeability [leggerezza] that had chanced to befall her, now, revived, she sees it to her greater honor, rejoices and leaps.

The word "leggerezza" has several meanings, of which two are in operation here, it seems to me. In the GDLI, one meaning is "changeability, instability, inconstancy," even if the main meaning is lightness in the English sense, the opposite of heavy (https://www.gdli.it/pdf_viewer/Scripts/ ... leggerezza, meaning 13). At first she suffers from the changeability of the world; then she rejoices in it - it becomes her plaything, once it is recognized as inherently unstable. It is the "unbearable lightness of being," in that memorable title.

But what does that have to do with temperance?

Lines 3–4 describe how Fortune destroys “the Strength of anyone born under an unlucky Star” — that is, her destructive reach extends especially to the weak or ill-fated.

Lines 12–13 broaden this observation. Through her leggerezza (lightness, levity, inconstancy), Fortune can ascend even into the “Stars of more extreme Powers” — affecting not only the weak, but even those born under stronger destinies or endowed with greater inner force.

There is no contrast between the two; rather, the tercet expands and intensifies the claim made earlier. Fortuna is not just a danger to the fragile but can also unsettle the mighty — unless they are governed by Temperance. This reinforces the central moral insight: no one is immune to Fortune, but only those who temper themselves can avoid being ruled by her.

The poem does not suggest that virtue offers protection from external misfortune — only that Temperance enables one to “rein in” Fortune, to retain internal composure and not be led astray. The metaphor of reins is deliberate and fitting: reins are a traditional emblem of Temperance, symbolising the measured control of passions and impulses.

In the dialogue following the sonnet, Triperuno confesses that he had low expectations, believing the drawing of Bagattella — a Triumph associated with jest, lightness, games, and triviality — could lead only to mockery or shallowness. To his surprise, the sonnet exceeds his expectations in both insight and artistry.

Limerno explains that Focilla herself had a similar reaction: at first dismayed by having drawn a “lightweight” or insubstantial sorte, she was later overjoyed when Limerno’s interpretation revealed its deeper honour and meaning.

The poem’s many references to lightness, games, toys, and playthings — particularly the image of the game of galls — are thematically linked to the Bagattella trump. Folengo transfers these traits to describe Fortune and the World, showing how they too can be seen as “games of galls” — insubstantial, weightless play-things.

The humble position of Bagattella as the first and lowest of the trumps may be echoed in the line “keeps the Wheel humble and low,” suggesting that Focilla’s virtue — her gravitas — literally and figuratively keeps Fortune in her place.

It is Focilla’s Temperance, her measured strength, that allows her to subdue the volatility of Fortune and to play with the world — not be played by it. This act of making light of Fortune through moral weight and self-command is the core of the sonnet.

The Triumphs of Falcone

Luna. Appiccato. Papa. Imperatore. Papessa.

__________________________________________________

Europa mia, quando fia mai che l’Una
Parte di te, c’ha il turco Traditore
Rifrancati lo Papa o Imperatore,
Mentre han le chiavi in man per lor Fortuna?

Aime la Traditrice et importuna
Ripose in man di donna il summo honore
Di Piero e tiene l’Imperial furore
Sol contra il giglio e non contra la Luna.

Che se ‘l Papa non fusse una Papessa
Che per un piè Marcin Sospeso tiene,
La Luna in griffo a l’aquila vedrei.

Ma questi Papi o Imperatori miei
Fan si, che mia Papessa far si viene
La Luna, e vo’ Appiccarmi da me stessa.

___________________________________________________

O Europe, when shall that one part of you,
Held fast by the treacherous Turk, be freed
By Pope or Emperor—those who bear the keys
Of Peter, yet turn them to their own Fortune?

Alas! That faithless, importuning traitress
Has placed the highest honour of Saint Peter
In a woman’s hand, and lets the Emperor's
Fury fall not on the Moon, but on the Lily.

If the Pope were not a Popess—
One who dangles little Mark by one foot—
Then I might see the Moon clutched in the talons

Of the imperial Eagle. But now these Popes
And Emperors make of my own Popess
The Moon's great patron—and I could hang myself.

From Limerno's interpretation of Falcone’s triumphs, it is clear that Falcone is deeply concerned with European geopolitics, particularly the growing threat posed by the Ottoman Turks — symbolised by the Moon — and the compromised position of Venice (represented as “Little Marco”). He expresses frustration at the Pope and Emperor, who, though entrusted with Saint Peter’s keys — symbols of spiritual and temporal authority — fail to act in defence of Christendom. Falcone condemns this dereliction of duty and mocks the feminization of papal authority: the Pope becomes a “Popess,” a sign of inversion and impotence. His longing for the Eagle (Holy Roman Empire) to seize the Moon suggests a desire for decisive, martial leadership, and Christian unity. Instead, Imperial rage is misdirected inward, at the Lily (France), leaving the true enemy unchecked. The result is despair: the weakness of the Papacy and the failure of Christian unity allow the Moon to wax stronger (i.e., allows the Ottoman threat to grow). Falcone feels powerless — like Little Marco, dangling by a foot — and ends with a cry of shame and theatrical despair: “I want to hang myself.”

It has been suggested the name “Falcone” might loosely allude to “Grifalconi” (especially through shared falcon iconography), and to Folengo's friend Luigi Grifalcone or his brother, and Folengo's patron, Francesco. In the Triperuno, Falcone is more plausibly a character distinct from either Luigi or Francesco. The political concerns and deep pessimism likely reflect Folengo’s own outlook more than the personal profiles of either brother. However, with little in the way of biographical details I feel unable to make a judgement.

Francesco Grifalconi (née Dragan) was a distinguished Venetian patrician, prominent in civic and cultural circles. Francesco inherited his house of Santa Marina, a drapery shop , and 50 hectares of land in the Polesine, from his adoptive father Gerolamo Grifalcone. He rented the drapery shop and lived with his aunt Ludovica Dragan, widow of Gerolamo Grifalconi, and his brother Luigi (Alvise), in the palace of Santa Marina, which he had restored. He served as Guardian Grande of the Scuola Grande della Misericordia in 1534, overseeing significant administrative reform. Respected by architects and artists, he sponsored the plan for Sansovino’s albergo, hosting those discussions in his home. Francesco hosted Folengo during his time in Venice and became Folengo’s main Venetian patron, supporting the writing and publication of his works.

In gratitude, Folengo included literary dedications and acrostic tributes to him within Il Caos del Triperuno, for example:


Fortuna con soi larghi e pronti Giri
Fortune, with her broad and ready turns,

Rotandosi, nel volto ad altri Ride,
Turning herself, smiles upon some faces,

Ad altri pur par sempre, che s’addIri.
Yet to others, she always seems enraged.

Non so Grifalco mio, che me ne Fide.
I don’t know, my Grifalco, whether I can trust her.

Costei veggio, ch’a molti spenna le Ale
I see her pluck the wings from many,

E dal ciel tratti in terra le colLide,
And drag them from the sky to the ground, then dash them down,

Si come Borea fa de le ciCale.
Just as Boreas does with the cicadas.

Che temer lei, s’un Dio nel ciel adOro
Why fear her, if I adore a God in heaven,

Over s’in terra un Mecenate oNoro?
Or honour a Patron here on earth?

Folengo's friend, Luigi Grifalconi (née Dragan), was an Aristotelian philosopher of some renown in his time, notably for his humanistic learning and mastery of Latin, Greek and Hebrew. Luigi changed his name at least twice, to take that of his benefactors: first he took the name of Canon Mercatelli, from a family that was part of the Misericordia and was related to the Grifalconi, and then that of Grifalconi.

Folengo celebrates him in a poem (l’Umanità del figliuolo di Dio I, 90, vv. 1–4):

Veggo Alovigi di tre lingue adorno,
I see Luigi adorned with three tongues,

lingue non d’oro no, ma di dottrina
tongues not of gold, no, but of learning,

che ’n guisa d’un altier grifalco intorno
who, in the manner of a lofty falcon circling,

e sopra il ciel volando non dechina.
and flying above the heavens, does not descend.

I am not convinced that Limerno is trying to present Falcone's own view here; that could be dangerous, as he says. He is rather advising Falconi not to put faith in the Pope and the Emperor. This is likely Falcone's/Grifalcone's view; but within the framework of the dialog, that is not what is happening.

Thanks for the background material on Francesco.

I have another comment on the preceding sonnet.

SteveM wrote,

Limerno explains that Focilla herself had a similar reaction: at first dismayed by having drawn a “lightweight” or insubstantial sorte, she was later overjoyed when Limerno’s interpretation revealed its deeper honour and meaning

.
I think I see your reading of the "dismay", but I find another reading more persuasive. There is also the first part of that sentence:

Ogni cosa che ad essere patisce durezza, lo più de le volte eccellente diviene

Everything that suffers hardship to exist, most often becomes outstanding:

That Focila should get a frivolous group of cards is not much of a "hardship". I interpret the "hardship" as the circumstances of her life, which had dismayed her because because they were unlucky. Then:

laonde Focilla, donna (come si vede) prudentissima, contristandosi prima di cotal leggerezza a lei per ventura sortita, hor che reuscita la vede in maggior suo honore, giubila e saltella

would be read as

wherefore Focilla, an extremely prudent woman (as one can see), first getting dismayed about that instability [or better, insubstantiality] which fell to her by chance, now that you see her restored to her greater honor, delights and leaps.

The instability in her life-circumstances, her fortunes, is a better candidate for "hardship" and "suffering" than a set of cards drawn at random. But her prudence dictates temperance as the means by which to overcome this hardship, that is to say, the recognition that fortune's instability is a natural part of life and must be allowed for, whoever one is. Since she has always been temperate, she is already on the right track. Only her attitude, and ours, needed to change.

The sonnet, I think, exemplifies the particular role that Temperance plays in overcoming Fortune. Temperance is not self-control in the face of the world and material conditions in general, but self-control in regard to the appetites: food, drink, luxury items. Self-control in the face of hardship, especially death, is Fortitude. Self-control against taking more than is fair is justice. Self-control in relation to appetites - which is especially the temptation of Fortune (although it also requires the other virtues) - avoiding intemperance, is the role of Temperance.

One thing I had not noticed about this sonnet is the meaning it gives to "Bagatella": not just "trifle" but "jest" or "game" (gioco) and "prank" (scherzo, "jest" in a negative sense - also "trick") and "illusion": something that appears at first one way, powerful, but is actually another, of little power if one sees it correctly. Like the Wizard of Oz. This same meaning is implied in the fifth sonnet, where it is also applied to Death.

mikeh wrote: 20 Jun 2025, 11:16 I am not convinced that Limerno is trying to present Falcone's own view here; that could be dangerous, as he says. He is rather advising Falconi not to put faith in the Pope and the Emperor. This is likely Falcone's/Grifalcone's view; but within the framework of the dialog, that is not what is happening.

Thanks, Mike — you’re right to highlight how the narrative framework allows for a certain distancing from Falcone’s (or Folengo’s) own views, especially given how politically sensitive such views would have been at the time. That Folengo was aware of these risks is evident in the first edition of Triperuno, where references to the Pope and Emperor were redacted, and the dialogue itself acknowledges the need for caution. Yet that redaction, I would argue, only underscores the forcefulness of the sonnet itself — its content was deemed dangerous enough to require censorship. The act of redaction reveals just how boldly the sonnet speaks before it is tempered.

The sonnet doesn’t seem to offer Falcone a remedy so much as a dramatized articulation of his political and existential despair. Its critique of papal weakness, the misdirection of imperial power, and the unchecked expansion of the Ottoman threat — especially from a Venetian perspective — is presented not as detached commentary but as a cry from within the crisis. Rather than correcting Falcone’s disillusionment, the poem gives voice to it. If anything, it intensifies the emotional weight of his predicament.

For me, the sonnet’s tone — especially in the final outburst, “and I want to hang myself” — is too emotionally raw to be understood as mere rhetorical flourish or veiled counsel. If this is a form of advice, it is rendered through a full poetic enactment of anguish — a mimetic performance that dramatizes helplessness and betrayal rather than resolving it.

As I understand it, the players offer their sorte not as a request for prophecy or guidance, but as an invitation to poetic interpretation. Limerno’s role is not that of an oracle or fortune-teller, but of a poet whose task is to draw on the symbolic resonances of the drawn trumps to construct a reflective figuration — a literary portrait — of the subject’s moral, spiritual, or emotional state.

In this light, the goal is not for Limerno to reveal hidden truths, future outcomes or some form of divine counsel, but to perform an act of appropriati — the creative matching of allegorical symbols to the subject’s character, experiences, or life circumstances. While the practice draws on some of the language and structure of proto-cartomancy, what Limerno offers is not divination but poetic allegory. The trump cards function not as keys to fate but as mirrors — or lenses — through which the self may be imaginatively refigured.

This is not cartomancy in the modern sense, but a literary exercise in appropriati interpretation. While they share formal similarities, and the one may gesture toward the other, reading these sonnets as straightforward cartomancy risks anachronism. However, in as much as the text highlights a connection between the randomly drawn lots as being reflective of the subjects condition (fortune, fate or lot) there are strong proto-cartomantic elements.

To return to this particular sonnet, it seems to me to be descriptive, not prescriptive. If there's "advice" in this poem, it's only in the most indirect, ironic sense:

This is the world we live in — don't expect salvation from its so-called saviors.

But that is a shared worldview, not a personal counsel. If anything, it exposes the collapse of trust in the institutions that were once thought to hold Europe together — Church and Empire.

mikeh wrote: 20 Jun 2025, 11:16 That Focila should get a frivolous group of cards is not much of a "hardship". I interpret the "hardship" as the circumstances of her life, which had dismayed her because because they were unlucky. Then:

laonde Focilla, donna (come si vede) prudentissima, contristandosi prima di cotal leggerezza a lei per ventura sortita, hor che reuscita la vede in maggior suo honore, giubila e saltella

would be read as

wherefore Focilla, an extremely prudent woman (as one can see), first getting dismayed about that instability [or better, insubstantiality] which fell to her by chance, now that you see her restored to her greater honor, delights and leaps.

The instability in her life-circumstances, her fortunes, is a better candidate for "hardship" and "suffering" than a set of cards drawn at random. But her prudence dictates temperance as the means by which to overcome this hardship, that is to say, the recognition that fortune's instability is a natural part of life and must be allowed for, whoever one is. Since she has always been temperate, she is already on the right track. Only her attitude, and ours, needed to change.

The phrase "Ogni cosa che ad essere patisce durezza, lo più de le volte eccellente diviene" is in response to Triperuno.

When Triperuno expresses surprise that the second sonnet (with the Bagattella among its cards) turned out better than the first, he admits that he expected the opposite because he considered “the Lot that included the Bagattella, I had expected it could only ruin the other cards (its companions) drawn with it”.

Then Limerno replies with:

“Ogni cosa che ad essere patisce durezza, lo più de le volte eccellente diviene:”
“Everything that must endure hardship in coming into being, most often becomes excellent.”

This is a proverbial or gnomic truth: difficulty is the forge of excellence. Limerno is both:

Acknowledging that the sonnet was harder to write because of the Bagattella;

Asserting that the very difficulty of working with such material has made the outcome better, more praiseworthy — and that this triumph over an unpromising subject is what elevates both the poem and Focilla’s fortune.

“contristandosi prima di cotal leggerezza a lei per ventura sortita,”
“having at first grieved over such lightness as had fallen to her by chance/lot,”

Focilla herself was initially dismayed by her lot — that is, by what it signified.

“hor che reuscita la vede in maggior suo honore, giubila e saltella.”
“now that she sees it turned to her greater honour, she rejoices and leaps for joy.”

However: the sonnet has redeemed her lot. The very thing she feared would lower her status has, through the poetic re-evaluation of its meaning, been turned to her honour.

Nonetheless, your reading:

“Everything that suffers hardship to exist, most often becomes outstanding.”
That Focilla should get a frivolous group of cards is not much of a "hardship".

I think is plausible — though it interprets “patisce durezza ad essere” quite literally as ontological suffering, rather than metaphorically as poetic difficulty. But given the allegorical mode of Folengo’s work, both readings are possible, the surface level narrative and your deeper reading. But the need for her to undergo a "change of attitude" because of the difficulties of her life seem unsupported to me by either the sonnet or the framework.

The sonnet offers a moral allegory, with the prudent lady (clearly meant to represent or flatter Focilla) as an exemplar of Temperance. She does not change; it is her lot (initially perceived as “light” or trivial) that is interpreted in light of her already-existing virtue. The final tercet expands the point: even though Fortune's lightness may rise into the highest stars — meaning no one is immune to its reach — it can still be restrained or bridled by those who knows how to temper themselves. Thus, Focilla's example is a model for us all.

However, Folengo often plays on words to create layers of meaning - if we are to read a deeper meaning below the surface reading that the "poem has turned out all the better because of the difficulties of its subject", we could add "as Virtue is forged through adversity."

The "Europe" sonnet seems to me prescriptive in the minimalistic sense of "yes, this is how it is, it's bad, but don't expect to change it."

As for the other, to me her "dismay" at first, followed by "rejoicing" at the end, seems to indicate a change of attitude, and not just toward the task of constructing a poem, which is rather trivial, but toward life. And the mention of her prudence is not flattery but indicates the means by which, coupled with temperance and strength, she is overcoming her dismay at the instability of fortune. It is an articulation of her winning strategy. it is a kind of mirror, yes, but one that reflects back, or "divines," one way she sees her life as opposed to others. It prescriptive in the way that reinforcement is prescriptive.

You've done a good analysis. They seem to be poems in the present tense, but the oracular metaphors can be inspiring for the present and also for the future. I'm not very good at understanding ancient literature, but I trust your judgment. That said, I suppose poetry allows for somewhat varied interpretations.

It occurred to me that perhaps the name Triperuno refers to the Holy Trinity, the Catholic concept of one god made up of three entities. Then, I thought that perhaps the character Triperuno reflects a conventional or religious point of view, as opposed to Limerno, who is an anagram of the magician Merlin and represents a magical, divinatory, or pagan perspective. Also, I suppose Triperuno's title about chaos (chaos) has a meaning. Perhaps it indicates that the randomly drawn cards represent chaos for Triperuno, while that same chaos or chance is poetic divination from Limerno's intellectual perspective.