74.—“Similar to this manner (which savours of the ironical) is another method, that of describing an evil thing in polite terms. As the Great Captain said to one of his cavaliers, who, after the battle of Cerignola,[[270]] when the danger was over, came forward in the richest armour possible to describe, accoutered as if for battle. And then the Great Captain turned to Don Ugo di Cardona[[271]] and said: ‘Have no more fear of storm, for Saint Elmo has appeared;’ and with this polite speech he stung the man to the quick, because you know that Saint Elmo[[272]] always appears to mariners after the tempest and gives token of fair weather; and thus the Great Captain meant that this cavalier’s appearance was a token that the danger was quite passed.
“Another time my lord Ottaviano Ubaldini,[[273]] being at Florence in the company of some citizens of great influence, and the talk being about soldiers, one of them asked him if he knew Antonello da Forli,[[274]] who had at that time fled from Florentine territory. My lord Ottaviano replied: ‘I do not know him, but have always heard him spoken of as a prompt soldier.’ Whereupon another Florentine said: ‘You see how prompt he is, when he takes his departure without asking leave.’
75.—“Those witticisms also are very clever in which we take from our interlocutor’s lips something that he does not mean. And of this kind, methinks, was my lord Duke’s reply to the castellan who lost San Leo[[275]] when this duchy was taken by Pope Alexander and given to Duke Valentino;[[276]] and it was this: my lord Duke being in Venice at the time I have mentioned, many of his subjects came continually to give him secret news how things were faring in his state; and among the rest came this castellan, who, after having excused himself as best he could, ascribing the blame to mischance, said: ‘Have no anxiety, my Lord, because I still have heart to take measures for the recovery of San Leo.’ Then my lord Duke replied: ‘Trouble yourself no more about the matter, for the mere loss of it was a measure that rendered its recovery possible.’
“There are certain other sayings when a man known to be clever says something that seems to proceed from foolishness. For instance, messer Camillo Paleotto[[232]] said of someone the other day: ‘He was such a fool that he died as soon as he began to grow rich.’
“Of like kind with this is a spicy and keen dissimulation, where a man (discreet, as I have said) pretends not to understand something that he does understand. Like what was said by the Marquess Federico of Mantua, who,—being pestered by a tiresome fellow who complained that some of his neighbours were snaring doves out of his dovecote, and all the while held one of them in his hand, hanging dead just as he had found it with its foot caught in the snare,—replied that the matter should be looked to. The fellow repeated the story of his loss not once only but many times, always displaying the dove that had been hanged, and saying: ‘And what, my Lord, do you think ought to be done in this case?’ At last the Marquess said: ‘I think the dove ought on no account to be buried in church, for having hanged itself, it must be believed to have committed suicide.’[[277]]
“Somewhat of the same fashion was the retort made by Scipio Nasica[[278]] to Ennius. Once when Scipio went to Ennius’s house to speak with him and called him down from the street, one of his maids replied that he was not at home; and Scipio distinctly heard Ennius himself tell the maid to say he was not at home, and so went away. Not long afterwards Ennius came to Scipio’s house and likewise called to him from below; whereupon Scipio himself replied in a loud voice that he was not at home. Then Ennius replied: ‘How? Do I not know thy voice?’ Scipio said: ‘Thou art too rude. The other day I believed thy maid when she said thou wert not at home, and now thou wilt not believe the like from me in person.’
76.—“It is also a fine thing when a man is struck in the very same place where he first struck his fellow. As in the case of messer Alonso Carillo,[[279]] who, being at the Spanish court and having committed some youthful peccadilloes of no great importance, was put in prison by the king’s order and left there overnight. The next day he was taken out, and so going to the palace in the morning, he reached the hall where there were many cavaliers and ladies. And as they were laughing at his imprisonment, my lady Boadilla[[280]] said: ‘Signor Alonso, your mishap weighed on me heavily, for all your acquaintance thought the king would have you hanged.’ Then Alonso said quickly: ‘My Lady, I was much afraid of it myself; but then I had hope that you would ask me to be your husband.’ You see how sharp and clever this was, because in Spain (as in many other countries too) the custom is that when a man is led to the gallows, his life is given him if a public courtesan begs him for her husband.
RAPHAEL
1483-1520
Enlarged from a part of Weinwurm’s photograph (no. 1384) of the portrait, in the National Gallery at Buda-Pest, by Sebastiano Luciani “del Piombo” (1485-1547). In the Scarpia collection at La Motta di Livenza, this picture passed for years as a portrait by Raphael of the Ferrarese courtier-poet Antonio Tebaldeo. On purely intrinsic evidence, both Morelli and Berenson identify it as a portrait of Raphael at the age of 26 or 27 years.