The Medici escaped. Piero, whom his father designated as the “fool,” threw himself into the arms of the Borgia and perished a few years later; Giovanni, Lorenzo’s “clever” son, who was a cardinal at the age of thirteen, and afterwards Pope Leo X., left Italy to seek solace by travelling in Germany, Flanders and France; and the third brother, the spirited and gifted Giuliano, called by his father the “good,” a few years later was staying at the Court of Urbino, together with the devoted friend of the family, Bernardo Divizio, afterwards Cardinal Bibbiena.
And these streets had seen him often, in obscure youth and again in the pride of successful manhood, Bernardo Divizio, surnamed Bibbiena, true representative of the spirit of the late Italian Renaissance, with its boundless faith in its own wisdom. Author of that most spirited and most licentious comedy, the Calandra, maître-de-plaisir at the court of Leo X., patron of Rafael, self-conscious, versatile, handsome, with glowing eye and scornful lip, he lives in the portrait which Rafael painted of him. Count Baldassare Castiglione, in his famous analysis of the Perfect Courtier, introduced Bibbiena as the man of mirth and wit. Paolo Giovio, the historian, to whose facile pen posterity owes so many biographies, says much in praise of him. Bembo addressed to him some of his most pleasing letters, and all accounts corroborate the impression produced by Bibbiena’s writings as they lie before us, and by the man’s portrait as it hangs in the Pitti, painted by one of the greatest artists the world has known.
Bernardo Divizio was of an obscure family of Bibbiena. The story that the Divizi had changed their name from Tarlati is an obvious invention, and the boy, at the age of nine, was sent to Florence, where his brother was secretary to Lorenzo the Magnificent. He was an able letter-writer at seventeen, and was the constant companion of Lorenzo’s son Giovanni, his junior by five years. The two young men rivalled each other in studying literature and the classics, but apparently there was never a cloud between them. Before the Medici went into exile Bibbiena acted as their envoy, and a letter of his addressed to Piero throws a curious side-light on the kind of love-adventure in which these young men found diversion. At a later period Bibbiena acted as secretary to Giovanni, advocating his cause at the Papal Court with Julius II. Later still he joined Giuliano at the Court of Urbino, which had become the rallying-place of many men of distinction.
For the Montefeltre of Urbino, condottieri by origin, belonged to those princes who set before them a high degree of excellence. Duke Federigo, whose boast it was never to have lost a battle, acted as patron to the translators and commentators on the Greek classics; he collected a library at Urbino and built a magnificent palace there. There is something pathetic in the fact that Federigo’s son Guidobaldo, himself a confirmed invalid, presided in person over the games by which the young men perfected their physical training. For athletic exercises, no less than culture and good breeding, were the object of attention at Urbino, where the best aspirations of the age, intellectual, artistic and social, found protection. Bramante, who designed St Peter’s at Rome, was from Urbino. Rafael was born here, and he always retained an affection for the home of his childhood, which he frequently visited. Several of his earlier pictures, including Christ on the Mount of Olives, were painted for Duke Guidobaldo. Guidobaldo’s wife, Elisabetta, was a Gonzaga of Mantua, a family of origin and ambitions similar to those of the Montefeltre at Urbino. And when her delicate husband had retired to rest, the Duchess, with the witty Lady Emilia Pia, entertained the company in her apartments, where social accomplishments and literary talents were fully displayed.
It was at these reunions that the discussions took place which Count Castiglione has immortalised in the Cortegiano, a book famous in its time, which has been translated into English more than once under the title, The Courtier, or the Perfect Gentleman and Gentlewoman. A number of distinguished visitors are represented as being assembled in the rooms of the Duchess, and among them are the names of several whose fame has descended through other channels. Here Count Lodovico Canossa spoke of the courtier’s outward bearing and behaviour, pursuing the questions into such byeways as, How far self-praise was commendable, and, How negligence could be affected without becoming unpleasant. When he had spoken Bibbiena was called upon to analyse how far facetiousness was compatible with good breeding, and he illustrated his argument by witticisms, bon-mots, and accounts of practical jokes in endless variety, a collection which forms a valuable addition to our knowledge of the facetiæ of the Renaissance. Bibbiena’s plea for fun was founded on the observation, I do not know if originally due to him, to Castiglione, or to some older writer, that man is the only living being capable of laughter. The company fully appreciated his jokes and the way he told them. To us, many of them seem rather out of date. One wonders that men of culture should have cared for humour that was so broad, and especially, that they should have thought fit to enlarge on it in the presence of ladies. Not that the stories in themselves have any of the offensiveness of those tales with which Boccaccio’s company amused themselves a century and a half earlier. On the contrary, Bibbiena maintained that in good society no pleasantry was acceptable which detracted from a woman’s honour, a remark which led up to the discussion of the perfect lady and of the nature of love. Giuliano de’ Medici, a known champion of women, espoused their cause in a spirit which cannot fail to delight all women who read the work. In the animated discussion which followed, Octaviano Fregoso, afterwards doge of Genoa, Bembo, Aretino and the Lady Emilia Pia all took part.
To judge from the Cortegiano, Bibbiena was not only handsome, but he was renowned for taking pride in his good looks, and in an age of self-consciousness he appeared as most self-conscious. The sentiments which he aroused and the impression which he made were ever present to his mind. And his self-consciousness was matched by his self-assurance. He apparently loved to give the conversation a personal turn, and to carry off feigned criticism of himself in a spirit of banter. When Count Lodovico insisted on beauty of feature as necessary to the perfect courtier, the conversation took an undesired turn. But Bibbiena recalled it and restored good-humour by drawing attention to himself. “As for grace and beauty of feature,” he said, appealing to Lodovico, “I know I have my share, the reason, as you know, why so many ladies fall in love with me, but as for beauty of person I am somewhat in doubt, especially regarding my legs, which are not as well shaped as I would have them.... Explain more particularly what you mean by beauty of person that I may be freed from suspense and my mind set at rest.”
Bibbiena not only entertained the company at Urbino with talk. His great triumph there was the performance, in 1508, of the Calandra, one of the earliest comedies in Italian prose. It called forth acclamations of delight among contemporaries; two generations later its flagrant indecencies had relegated it to oblivion. A full description of the performance was forwarded to Count Lodovico Canossa by Count Castiglione, who, judging from the tone of his letter, had a hand in the mise-en-scène. The curious part about this is its striving for realism. There is the downright realism of a street with palaces and an octagonal church, a town-wall and fortifications, partly decorated in stucco, for the comedy, and the affected realism of would-be classical figures and accessories for the interludes. And this a hundred years before improvised hoardings did service at the first representations of Shakespeare, or a hundred and fifty years before Inigo Jones designed elaborate sceneries for the representation of masques in England.
The Calandra itself was composed on the model of the Menechmi of Plautus, and is not without likeness to the Comedy of Errors. But in this case the two persons whose likeness gives rise to laughable mistakes are twins, brother and sister, neither of whom is aware of the other’s presence in the same town. The brother sometimes dresses up as a woman to gain access to his mistress, the sister sometimes wears men’s clothes to avoid detection. In the prologue the spectators are called upon to decide for themselves who is on the stage, brother or sister, a mystifying quid pro quo which apparently was a source of endless discussion and amusement to the perplexed audience. A vulgar husband, who is said to be drawn from life, and a witty go-between, are the most individual characters. A necromancer is introduced and is credited with transforming men into women, and this gives an opportunity for ridiculing the current belief in magic.
The play was in five acts. At the close of each act came an interlude, by which the classical taste of the age was gratified. There was Jason ploughing the field with imitation bulls which snorted real fire; he sowed dragons’ teeth, which presently started up into men who fell to performing a morisc or morris-dance. At the close of the second act Venus appeared in a chariot drawn by cupids, who bore flaming torches; they set free a number of gallants, who likewise performed a dance. Then came Neptune seated on a car, surrounded by sea monsters, the account of whose dance recalls the displays of a modern Christmas pantomime. Later on Juno appeared surrounded by a bevy of birds—peacocks, eagles, ostriches, parrots—all so entertaining in their antics that Castiglione knows no limit to his praise of them. The entire interludes were acted by children, whose freshness and want of affectation were felt a welcome change from the conventionality of the professional actors. The performance closed with an epilogue, in which Cupid spoke of love as the guiding power of life, and enlarged on the blessings of peace as opposed to the terrors of war.
The success of the performance was such that six years later (1514), when Giovanni de’ Medici had become Pope Leo X., and Bibbiena had been made cardinal by him, the play was repeated at Rome in the Papal Court for the entertainment of Isabella d’Este, Countess of Mantua. The Pope was persuaded by his cardinal to be present, and again no trouble was spared to secure a look of reality to the stage. Its decoration was entrusted to Perruzzi, who was studying architecture at Rome under Bramante, and whose marvellous talent for perspective equalled his fame as an architect. It was he who designed and built the Farnesina, the ceiling of which Rafael decorated with the history of Cupid and Psyche.