Transcriber’s Note:

Footnotes have been collected at the end of each chapter, and are linked for ease of reference.

Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please see the transcriber’s [note] at the end of this text for details regarding the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation.

Any corrections are indicated using an underline highlight. Placing the cursor over the correction will produce the original text in a small popup.

The cover image has been constructed from the portrait of Castiglione and key information from the title page and is placed in the public domain.

Any corrections are indicated as hyperlinks, which will navigate the reader to the corresponding entry in the corrections table in the note at the end of the text.

THE BOOK OF THE COURTIER
BY COUNT BALDESAR
CASTIGLIONE

BALDESAR CASTIGLIONE
COUNT OF NOVILLARA
1478-1529

Reduced from Braun’s photograph (no. 11.505) of the portrait in the Louvre, painted in 1516 by Raphael (1483-1520). The original belonged to Charles I of England, after whose death it was bought by a Dutch collector and copied by Rubens. Later it became the property of Cardinal Mazarin, from whose heirs it was acquired for Louis XIV of France.

The medallion on the title-page is from a photograph, specially made by Mansell, of a cast, kindly furnished by T. Whitcombe Greene, Esq., of an anonymous medal in his collection at Chandler’s Ford, Hampshire. See the late Alfred Armand’s Les Médailleurs Italiens, ii, 100, no. 10.

THE BOOK OF THE COURTIER

BY COUNT BALDESAR

CASTIGLIONE

(1528)

TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN AND ANNOTATED

BY LEONARD ECKSTEIN OPDYCKE

WITH SEVENTY-ONE PORTRAITS AND FIFTEEN AUTOGRAPHS

REPRODUCED BY EDWARD BIERSTADT

LONDON

DUCKWORTH & CO.

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

1902

Copyright 1901, by

Leonard Eckstein Opdycke

The Book of the Courtier was written, partly at Urbino and partly at Rome, between the years 1508 and 1516, and was first printed at the Aldine Press, Venice, in the month of April, 1528.

There have since been published more than one hundred and forty editions, a list of which will be found at page 417 of this volume. The first Spanish version, by Juan Boscan Almogaver, was issued at Barcelona in 1534; the first French version, by Jacques Colin, was issued at Paris in 1537; the first English version, by Thomas Hoby, was issued at London in 1561; the first Latin version, by Hieronymus Turler, was issued at Wittenberg in 1561; the first German version, by Lorenz Kratzer, was issued at Munich in 1566.

The present edition consists of five hundred numbered copies, of which this is No.

TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE

The popularity long enjoyed by this old book, the place that it holds in Italian literature, and the fact that it is almost inaccessible to English readers, seem to furnish sufficient reason for a new translation.

The art of the Italian Renaissance delights us by its delicate and gentle beauty, and yet we know that life during this period was often gross and violent. To understand this, we must remember that art is more the expression of the ideal than of the actual, and that men’s ideals are loftier than their practice. Castiglione gives utterance to the finest aspirations of his time. His pages will lack interest only when mankind ceases to be interesting to man, and will reward study so long as the past shall continue to instruct the present and the future.

The few deviations that the present translator has ventured to make from the letter of the Italian text are merely verbal, and were deemed needful to render its meaning clear. The notes that he offers are intended to explain obscure passages and to relieve the reader from the tedium of searching in books of reference. Perhaps no one will regard it as inopportune to be reminded of what all may have known but few are able to remember with precision. Students who may wish to learn from what Greek and Latin sources Castiglione derived material are referred to Professor Vittorio Cian’s admirable edition.

The translator desires to express his thanks for the friendly encouragement that he has received from Miss Grace Norton, at whose suggestion his task was undertaken. He is indebted to Dr. Luigi Roversi and Signor Leopoldo Jung for their patient aid, and to Signor Alessandro Luzio and many other scholars, in Italy and elsewhere, for the kindness with which they have helped him to gather portraits and bibliographical data. He gratefully acknowledges, also, his frequent use of Professor Cian’s erudite labours, of John Addington Symonds’s Renaissance in Italy, and of James Dennistoun’s Memoirs of the Dukes of Urbino.

CONTENTS

(The Arabic numerals given below refer to the numbered paragraphs

into which it has long been customary to divide the work)

LIST OF PLATES

INTERLOCUTORS

• ELISABETTA GONZAGA, wife of Guidobaldo di Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino. Aged 46.
• EMILIA PIA, friend and companion of the Duchess, and widow of the Duke’s half-brother. Aged about 30.
• MARGARITA GONZAGA, young niece and companion of the Duchess.
• COSTANZA FREGOSA, young half-niece of the Duke.
• FRANCESCO MARIA DELLA ROVERE, nephew and adopted heir of the Duke. Aged 17.
• Count LUDOVICO DA CANOSSA, a kinsman of the author, afterwards made Bishop of Bayeux. aged 31.
• FEDERICO FREGOSO, half-nephew of the Duke, afterwards made a cardinal. Aged 27.
• GIULIANO DE’ MEDICI, an exile from Florence, known at Urbino as “My lord Magnifico,” and afterwards made Duke of Nemours. Aged 29.
• BERNARDO DOVIZI, better known as BIBBIENA, an adherent of the Medici, afterwards made a cardinal. Aged 37.
• OTTAVIANO FREGOSO, elder brother of Costanza and Federico, afterwards Doge of Genoa.
• PIETRO BEMBO, a Venetian scholar and poet, afterwards made a cardinal. Aged 37.
• CESARE GONZAGA, a kinsman of the Duchess, and cousin as well as close friend of the author. Aged about 32.
• BERNARDO ACCOLTI, better known as the UNICO ARETINO, a courtier-poet and popular extemporizer. Aged about 42.
• Count GASPAR PALLAVICINO. Aged 21.
• GIANCRISTOFORO ROMANO, a sculptor, medallist, etc. Aged about 42.
• COLLO VINCENZO CALMETA, a courtier-poet.
• LUDOVICO PIO, a brave young soldier, and kinsman of Emilia Pia.
• SIGISMONDO MORELLO DA ORTONA, an elderly courtier.
• Fra SERAFINO, a jester.

Time: March 1507.

Place: The Palace of Urbino.

FRANCESCO MARIA DELLA ROVERE.
DUKE OF URBINO
1490-1538

Reduced from Braun’s photograph (no. 40.605) of the portrait, in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence, by Titian (1477-1576).

TO THE REVEREND AND ILLUSTRIOUS
LORD DOM MIGUEL DE SILVA,[^[1]]
BISHOP OF VISEU

1.—When my lord Guidobaldo di Montefeltro,[^[2]] Duke of Urbino, passed from this life, I, together with several other cavaliers who had served him, remained in the service of Duke Francesco Maria della Rovere,[^[3]] his heir and successor in the State. And as the recollection of Duke Guido’s character was fresh in my mind, and the delight I had during those years in the kind companionship of the notable persons who at that time frequented the Court of Urbino, I was moved by their memory to write these books of the Courtier, which I did in a few days,[^[4]] purposing in time to correct those errours that arose from the wish to pay this debt speedily. But for many years past fortune has burdened me with toil so constant that I never could find leisure to make the book such as would content even my poor judgment.

Now being in Spain,[^[5]] and learning from Italy that my lady Vittoria della Colonna, Marchioness of Pescara,[^[6]] to whom I gave a copy of the book, had against her word caused a large part of it to be transcribed, I could not but feel some annoyance, fearing the many inconveniences that may befall in such cases. Still, I relied upon the wit and good sense of this lady (whose character I have always held in veneration as a thing divine) to prevent any mischief coming to me from having obeyed her wishes. Finally I was informed that this part of the book was in the hands of many people at Naples; and as men are always eager for anything new, it seemed likely that someone might try to have it printed.[^[7]] Alarmed at this peril, then, I resolved to revise the book at once so far as I had time, with intent to publish it; for I thought better to let it be seen imperfectly corrected by my own hand than grievously mutilated by the hand of others.

And so, to carry out this plan, I began to read the book again; and touched at the very outset by the title, I was saddened not a little, and far more so as I went on, by the thought that most of the personages introduced in the discussion were already dead; for besides those mentioned in the proem of the last Book, messer Alfonso Ariosto[^[8]] (to whom the work is dedicated) is also dead, a gracious youth, considerate, of the highest breeding, and apt in everything proper to a man who lives at court. Likewise Duke Giuliano de’ Medici,[^[9]] whose kindness and noble courtesy deserved to be enjoyed longer by the world. Messer Bernardo,[^[10]] Cardinal of Santa Maria in Portico, who for his keen and playful readiness of wit was most delightful to all that knew him, he, too, is dead. Dead also is my lord Ottaviano Fregoso,[^[11]] a man very rare in our times: magnanimous, devout, full of kindness, talent, good sense, and courtesy, a true lover of honour and merit, and so worthy of praise that his very enemies were ever forced to praise him; and the misadventures that he bore so bravely were enough to prove that fortune is still, as always, adverse to merit. And of those mentioned in my book many more besides are dead, to whom nature seemed to promise very long life.

But what should not be told without tears is that my lady Duchess,[^[12]] too, is dead. And if my heart mourns the loss of so many friends and patrons, who have left me in this life as in a solitude full of sorrows, it is meet that I grieve more bitterly for the death of my lady Duchess than of all the others; for she was more precious than they, and I more bound to her than to all the others. Not to delay, then, the tribute that I owe the memory of so excellent a Lady and of the others who are no more, and moved also by the danger to my book, I have had it printed and published in such state as the shortness of time permitted.

And since you had no knowledge in their lifetime either of my lady Duchess or of the others who are dead (except Duke Giuliano and the Cardinal of Santa Maria in Portico), in order to give you that knowledge after their death as far as I can, I send you this book as a picture of the Court of Urbino, not by the hand of Raphael[^[98]] or Michelangelo,[^[99]] but of a humble painter, who knows only how to trace the chief lines, and cannot adorn truth with bright colouring, or by perspective art make that which is not seem to be. And although I tried to show forth in their discourse the qualities and character of my personages, I own I failed to express or even to suggest the excellences of my lady Duchess, not only because my style is inadequate to describe them, but because my intelligence fails even to conceive of them;[^[13]] and if I be censured for this or any other matter worthy of censure (for I well know that my book contains many such), I shall not gainsay the truth.

2.—But as men sometimes so delight in finding fault that they reprehend even that which does not merit reprehension, to such as blame me because I did not imitate Boccaccio[^[14]] or conform to the usages of present Tuscan speech, I shall not refrain from saying that while, for his time, Boccaccio had a charming faculty and often wrote with care and diligence, yet he wrote far better when he followed only the guidance of his natural wit and instinct, without further thought or care to polish his writings, than when he strove industriously and laboriously to be more refined and correct. For this reason even his followers declare that he greatly erred in judgment concerning his own works, holding cheap what did him honour[^[15]] and prizing what was worthless. Therefore, if I had imitated that manner of writing which in Boccaccio is censured by those who elsewise praise him, I should not have been able to escape those same aspersions that were cast on him in this regard; and I should have more deserved them, because he committed his faults thinking he was doing well, while I should have known I was doing ill. Again, if I had imitated the style now admired by many but less esteemed by him, it seemed to me that by such imitation I should show myself at variance with him whom I was imitating, a thing I deemed unseemly. And again, if this consideration had not moved me, I was not able to imitate him in my subject-matter, for he never wrote anything at all in the manner of these books of the Courtier; and I thought I ought not to imitate him in language, because the power and true law of good speech consist rather in usage than in aught else, and it is always a bad habit to employ words not in use. Therefore it was not meet for me to borrow many of Boccaccio’s words that were used in his day, but are not now used even by the Tuscans themselves.

Nor was I willing to limit myself to the Tuscan usage of to-day, because intercourse between different nations has always had the effect to transport, as it were like merchandise, new forms of speech from one to the other; and these endure or fail according as custom accepts or rejects them. Besides being attested by the ancients, this is clearly seen in Boccaccio, who used so many French, Spanish, and Provençal words (some of them perhaps not very intelligible to modern Tuscans) that if they were all omitted his work would be far shorter.

And since, in my opinion, we ought not to despise the idiom of the other noble cities of Italy, whither men resort who are wise, witty, and eloquent, wont to discourse on weighty matters of statecraft, letters, war, and commerce, I think that, of the words used in the speech of these places, I could fitly use in writing such as are graceful in themselves, elegant to pronounce, and commonly deemed good and expressive, although they might not be Tuscan or even of Italian origin. Moreover, in Tuscany, many words are used which are plainly corruptions of the Latin, but which in Lombardy and other parts of Italy have remained pure and unchanged, and are so generally employed by everyone that they are accepted by the gentle and easily understood by the vulgar. Hence I think I did not err if in writing I used some of these words, or preferred what is whole and true speech of my own country rather than what is corrupt and mutilated from abroad.

Neither do I regard as sound the maxim laid down by many, that our common speech is the more beautiful the less it is like Latin; nor do I understand why one fashion of speech should be accorded so much greater authority than another, that, if the Tuscan tongue can ennoble debased and mutilated Latin words and lend them such grace that, mutilated as they are, they may be used by anyone without reproach (which is not denied), the Lombard or any other tongue may not support these same Latin words, pure, whole, precise, and quite unchanged, so that they be tolerable. And truly, just as to undertake, in spite of usage, to coin new words or to preserve old ones may be called bold presumption, so also, besides being difficult, it seems almost impious to undertake, against the force of that same usage, to suppress and bury alive, as it were, words that have already endured for many centuries, protected by the shield of custom against the envy of time, and have maintained their dignity and splendour through the changes in language, in buildings, in habits and in customs, wrought by the wars and disasters of Italy.

Hence if in writing I have chosen not to use those words of Boccaccio that are no longer used in Tuscany, nor to conform to the rule of those who deem it not permissible to use any words that the Tuscans of to-day do not use, I seem to myself excusable. And I think that both in the matter and in the language of my book (so far as one language can aid another), I have followed authors as worthy of praise as is Boccaccio. Nor do I believe that it ought to be counted against me as a fault that I have elected to make myself known rather as a Lombard speaking Lombard, than as a non-Tuscan speaking Tuscan too precisely, in order that I might not resemble Theophrastus, who was detected as non-Athenian by a simple old woman, because he spoke the Athenian dialect with excess of care.[^[16]]

But as this subject is sufficiently treated of in my first Book,[^[17]] I shall say no more, except that, to prevent all possible discussion, I grant my critics that I do not know this Tuscan dialect of theirs, which is so difficult and recondite. And I declare that I have written in my own dialect, just as I speak and for those who speak as I do; and in this I think I have wronged no man, because it seems to me that no one is forbidden to write and speak in his own language; nor is anyone bound to read or listen to what does not please him. Therefore if these folk do not care to read my Courtier, I shall not hold myself in the least wronged by them.

3.—Others say that since it is so very hard and well nigh impossible to find a man as perfect as I wish the Courtier to be, it was superfluous to write of him, because it is folly to teach what cannot be learned. To these I make answer that I am content to have erred in company with Plato, Xenophon and Marcus Tullius, leaving on one side all discussion about the Intelligible World and Ideals; among which, just as are included (according to those authors) the ideal of the perfect State, of the perfect King and of the perfect Orator,[^[18]] so also is the ideal of the perfect Courtier. And if in my style I have failed to approach the image of this ideal, it will be so much the easier for courtiers to approach in deeds the aim and goal that I have set them by my writing; and even if they fail to attain the perfection, such as it is, that I have tried to express, he that approaches nearest to it will be the most perfect; just as when many archers shoot at a target and none hit the very mark, surely he that comes nearest to it is better than the rest.

Still others say that I thought to paint my own portrait, as if I were convinced that I possessed all the qualities that I attribute to the Courtier.[^[19]] To these I shall not indeed deny having essayed everything that I should wish the Courtier to know; and I think that a man, however learned, who did not know something of the matters treated of in the book, could not well have written of them; but I am not so lacking in self-discernment as to fancy that I know everything I have the wit to desire.

My defence then against these and perhaps many other accusations, I leave for the present to the verdict of public opinion; for while the many may not perfectly understand, yet oftener than not they scent by natural instinct the savour of good and bad, and without being able to explain why, they relish one thing and like it, and reject another and hate it. Therefore if my book wins general favour, I shall think it must be good and ought to live;[^[20]] but if it fails to please, I shall think it must be bad and soon to be forgot. And if my censors be not satisfied with the common verdict of opinion, let them rest content with that of time, which in the end reveals the hidden defects of everything, and being father of truth and judge without passion, ever passes on men’s writings just sentence of life or death.

Baldesar Castiglione.

THE FIRST BOOK OF THE COURTIER
BY COUNT BALDESAR CASTIGLIONE

TO MESSER ALFONSO ARIOSTO

1.—Within myself I have long doubted, dearest messer Alfonso, which of two things were the harder for me: to deny you what you have often begged of me so urgently, or to do it. For while it seemed to me very hard to deny anything (and especially a thing in the highest degree laudable) to one whom I love most dearly and by whom I feel myself to be most dearly loved, yet to set about an enterprise that I was not sure of being able to finish, seemed to me ill befitting a man who esteems just censure as it ought to be esteemed. At last, after much thought, I am resolved to try in this matter how much aid my assiduity may gain from that affection and intense desire to please, which in other things are so wont to stimulate the industry of man.

You ask me then to write what is to my thinking the form of Courtiership[^[21]] most befitting a gentleman who lives at the court of princes, by which he may have the ability and knowledge perfectly to serve them in every reasonable thing, winning from them favour, and praise from other men; in short, what manner of man he ought to be who may deserve to be called a perfect Courtier without flaw. Wherefore, considering your request, I say that had it not seemed to me more blameworthy to be reputed somewhat unamiable by you than too conceited by everyone else, I should have avoided this task, for fear of being held over bold by all who know how hard a thing it is, from among such a variety of customs as are in use at the courts of Christendom, to choose the perfect form and as it were the flower of Courtiership. For custom often makes the same thing pleasing and displeasing to us; whence it sometimes follows that customs, habits, ceremonies and fashions that once were prized, become vulgar, and contrariwise the vulgar become prized. Thus it is clearly seen that use rather than reason has power to introduce new things among us, and to do away with the old; and he will often err who seeks to determine which are perfect. Therefore being conscious of this and many other difficulties in the subject set before me to write of, I am constrained to offer some apology, and to testify that this errour (if errour it may indeed be called) is common to us both, to the end that if I be blamed for it, the blame maybe shared by you also; for your offence in setting me a task beyond my powers should not be deemed less than mine in having accepted it.

So now let us make a beginning of our subject, and if possible let us form such a Courtier that any prince worthy to be served by him, although of but small estate,[^[22]] might still be called a very great lord.

In these books we shall follow no fixed order or rule of distinct precepts, such as are usually employed in teaching anything whatever; but after the fashion of many ancient writers, we shall revive a pleasant memory and rehearse certain discussions that were held between men singularly competent in such matters; and although I had no part in them personally, being in England at the time they took place,[^[23]] yet having received them soon after my return, from one who faithfully reported them to me, I will try to recall them as accurately as my memory will permit, so that you may know what was thought and believed on this subject by men who are worthy of highest praise, and to whose judgment implicit faith may be given in all things. Nor will it be amiss to tell the cause of these discussions, so that we may reach in orderly manner the end to which our discourse tends.

GUIDOBALDO DI MONTEFELTRO
DUKE OF URBINO
1472-1508

From Alinari’s photograph (no. 7351) of the portrait, in the Colonna Gallery at Rome, variously attributed to Raphael’s father, Giovanni Santi (1440?-1494), and (by Morelli) to Melozzo degli Ambrosi da Forli (1438-1494). Schmarzow’s iconographical identification of this portrait (formerly supposed to represent Raphael as a boy) is confirmed by its close resemblance to the young duke’s features as shown on coins issued in the early years of his reign.

2.—On the slopes of the Apennines towards the Adriatic sea, almost in the centre of Italy, there lies (as everyone knows) the little city of Urbino. Although amid mountains, and less pleasing ones than perhaps some others that we see in many places, it has yet enjoyed such favour of heaven that the country round about is very fertile and rich in crops; so that besides the wholesomeness of the air, there is great abundance of everything needful for human life. But among the greatest blessings that can be attributed to it, this I believe to be the chief, that for a long time it has ever been ruled by the best of lords;[^[24]] although in the calamities of the universal wars of Italy, it was for a season deprived of them.[^[25]] But without seeking further, we can give good proof of this by the glorious memory of Duke Federico,[^[26]] who in his day was the light of Italy; nor is there lack of credible and abundant witnesses, who are still living, to his prudence, humanity, justice, liberality, unconquered courage,—and to his military discipline, which is conspicuously attested by his numerous victories, his capture of impregnable places, the sudden swiftness of his expeditions, the frequency with which he put to flight large and formidable armies by means of a very small force, and by his loss of no single battle whatever;[^[27]] so that we may not unreasonably compare him to many famous men of old.

Among his other praiseworthy deeds, he built on the rugged site of Urbino a palace regarded by many as the most beautiful to be found in all Italy; and he so well furnished it with everything suitable that it seemed not a palace but a city in the form of a palace; and not merely with what is ordinarily used,—such as silver vases, hangings of richest cloth-of-gold and silk, and other similar things,—but for ornament he added countless antique statues in marble and bronze, pictures most choice, and musical instruments of every sort, nor would he admit anything there that was not very rare and excellent. Then at very great cost he collected a goodly number of most excellent and rare books in Greek, Latin and Hebrew, all of which he adorned with gold and with silver, esteeming this to be the chiefest excellence of his great palace.[^[28]]

3.—Following then the course of nature, and already sixty-five years old,[^[29]] he died gloriously, as he had lived; and he left as his successor a motherless little boy of ten years, his only son Guidobaldo. Heir to the State, he seemed to be heir also to all his father’s virtues, and soon his noble nature gave such promise as seemed not permissible to hope for from mortal man; so that men esteemed none among the notable deeds of Duke Federico to be greater than to have begotten such a son. But envious of so much virtue, fortune thwarted this glorious beginning with all her power; so that before Duke Guido reached the age of twenty years, he fell ill of the gout,[^[30]] which grew upon him with grievous pain, and in a short space of time so crippled all his members that he could neither stand upon his feet nor move; and thus one of the fairest and most promising forms in the world was distorted and spoiled in tender youth.

And not content even with this, fortune was so contrary to him in all his purposes, that he could seldom carry into effect anything that he desired; and although he was very wise of counsel and unconquered in spirit, it seemed that what he undertook, both in war and in everything else whether small or great, always ended ill for him. And proof of this is found in his many and diverse calamities, which he ever bore with such strength of mind, that his spirit was never vanquished by fortune; nay, scorning her assaults with unbroken courage, he lived in illness as if in health and in adversity as if fortunate, with perfect dignity and universal esteem; so that although he was thus infirm of body, he fought with most honourable rank in the service of their Serene Highnesses the Kings of Naples, Alfonso[^[31]] and Ferdinand the Younger;[^[32]] later with Pope Alexander VI,[^[33]] and with the Venetian and Florentine signories.

Upon the accession of Julius II[^[34]] to the pontificate, he was made Captain of the Church; at which time, following his accustomed habit, above all else he took care to fill his household with very noble and valiant gentlemen, with whom he lived most familiarly, delighting in their intercourse: wherein the pleasure he gave to others was not less than that he received from others, he being well versed in both the [learned][^[35]] languages, and uniting affability and pleasantness[^[36]] to a knowledge of things without number. And besides this, the greatness of his spirit so set him on, that although he could not practise in person the exercises of chivalry, as he once had done, yet he took the utmost pleasure in witnessing them in others; and by his words, now correcting now praising every man according to desert, he clearly showed his judgment in those matters; wherefore, in jousts and tournaments, in riding, in the handling of every sort of weapon, as well as in pastimes, games, music,—in short, in all the exercises proper to noble cavaliers,—everyone strove so to show himself, as to merit being deemed worthy of such noble fellowship.

EMILIA PIA
Died 1528

Enlarged from a photograph, specially made by Mansell, of a cast, kindly furnished by T. Whitcombe Greene, Esq., of a medal in his collection at Chandler’s Ford, Hampshire, possibly the work of Giancristoforo Romano (1465?-1512). See Armand’s Les Médailleurs Italiens, iii, 202.

4.—Thus all the hours of the day were assigned to honourable and pleasant exercises as well for the body as for the mind; but since my lord Duke was always wont by reason of his infirmity to retire to sleep very early after supper, everyone usually betook himself at that hour to the presence of my lady Duchess, Elisabetta Gonzaga; where also was ever to be found my lady Emilia Pia,[^[37]] who was endowed with such lively wit and judgment that, as you know, it seemed as if she were the Mistress of us all, and as if everyone gained wisdom and worth from her. Here then, gentle discussions and innocent pleasantries were heard, and on the face of everyone a jocund gaiety was seen depicted, so that the house could truly be called the very abode of mirth: nor ever elsewhere, I think, was so relished, as once was here, how great sweetness may flow from dear and cherished companionship; for not to speak of the honour it was to each of us to serve such a lord as he of whom I have just spoken, there was born in the hearts of all a supreme contentment every time we came into the presence of my lady Duchess; and it seemed as if this were a chain that held us all linked in love, so that never was concord of will or cordial love between brothers greater than that which here was between us all.

The same was it among the ladies, with whom there was intercourse most free and honourable; for everyone was permitted to talk, sit, jest and laugh with whom he pleased; but such was the reverence paid to the wish of my lady Duchess, that this same liberty was a very great check;[^[38]] nor was there anyone who did not esteem it the utmost pleasure he could have in the world, to please her, and the utmost pain to displease her. And thus, most decorous manners were here joined with greatest liberty, and games and laughter in her presence were seasoned not only with witty jests, but with gracious and sober dignity; for that modesty and loftiness which governed all the acts, words and gestures of my lady Duchess, bantering and laughing, were such that she would have been known for a lady of noblest rank by anyone who saw her even but once. And impressing herself thus upon those about her, she seemed to attune us all to her own quality and tone; accordingly every man strove to follow this pattern, taking as it were a rule of beautiful behaviour from the presence of so great and virtuous a lady; whose highest qualities I do not now purpose to recount, they not being my theme and being well known to all the world, and far more because I could not express them with either tongue or pen; and those that perhaps might have been somewhat hid, fortune, as if wondering at such rare virtue, chose to reveal through many adversities and stings of calamity, so as to give proof that in the tender breast of woman, in company with singular beauty, there may abide prudence and strength of soul, and all those virtues that even among stern men are very rare.[^[39]]

5.—But leaving this aside, I say that the custom of all the gentlemen of the house was to betake themselves straightway after supper to my lady Duchess; where, among the other pleasant pastimes and music and dancing that continually were practised, sometimes neat questions were proposed, sometimes ingenious games were devised at the choice of one or another, in which under various disguises the company disclosed their thoughts figuratively to whom they liked best. Sometimes other discussions arose about different matters, or biting retorts passed lightly back and forth. Often “devices” (imprese), as we now call them, were displayed;[^[40]] in discussing which there was wonderful diversion, the house being (as I have said) full of very noble talents; among whom (as you know) the most famous were my lord Ottaviano Fregoso, his brother messer Federico,[^[41]] the Magnifico Giuliano de’ Medici, messer Pietro Bembo,[^[42]] messer Cesare Gonzaga,[^[43]] Count Ludovico da Canossa,[^[44]] my lord Gaspar Pallavicino,[^[45]] my lord Ludovico Pio,[^[46]] my lord Morello da Ortona,[^[47]] Pietro da Napoli, messer Roberto da Bari,[^[48]] and countless other very noble cavaliers. Moreover there were many, who, although usually they did not dwell there constantly, yet spent most of the time there: like messer Bernardo Bibbiena, the Unico Aretino,[^[49]] Giancristoforo Romano,[^[50]] Pietro Monte,[^[51]] Terpandro,[^[52]] messer Niccolò Frisio;[^[53]] so that there always flocked thither poets, musicians and all sorts of agreeable[^[54]] men, and in every walk the most excellent that were to be found in Italy.

ELISABETTA GONZAGA
DUCHESS OF URBINO
1471-1526

Reduced from Braun’s photograph (no. 41.121) of the portrait in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence, variously ascribed to Andrea Mantegna (1431-1506), to Lorenzo Costa (1460-1535), and to Francesco Bonsignori (1455-1519).

6.—Now Pope Julius II, having by his presence and the aid of the French brought Bologna under subjection to the apostolic see in the year 1506, and being on his way back to Rome, passed through Urbino; where he was received with all possible honour and with as magnificent and splendid state as could have been prepared in any other noble city of Italy: so that besides the pope, all the lord cardinals and other courtiers were most highly gratified. And some there were, attracted by the charm of this society, who tarried at Urbino many days after the departure of the pope and his court; during which time not only were the ordinary pastimes and diversions continued in the usual manner, but every man strove to contribute something new, and especially in the games, to which almost every evening was devoted. And the order of them was such that immediately after reaching the presence of my lady Duchess, everyone sat down in a circle as he pleased or as chance decided; and in sitting they were arranged alternately, a man and a woman, as long as there were women, for nearly always the number of men was by far the greater; then they were governed as seemed best to my lady Duchess, who for the most part left this charge to my lady Emilia.

So, the day after the pope’s departure,[^[55]] the company being assembled at the wonted hour and place, after much pleasant talk, my lady Duchess desired my lady Emilia to begin the games; and she, after having for a time refused the task, spoke thus:

“My Lady, since it pleases you that I shall be the one to begin the games this evening, not being able in reason to fail to obey you, I will propose a game in which I think I ought to have little blame and less labour; and this shall be for everyone to propose after his liking a game that has never been given; and then we will choose the one that seems best worthy to be played in this company.”

And so saying, she turned to my lord Gaspar Pallavicino, requiring him to tell his choice; and he at once replied:

“It is for you, my Lady, first to tell your own.”

“But I have already told it,” said my lady Emilia; “now do you, my lady Duchess, bid him be obedient.”[^[56]]

Then my lady Duchess said, smiling:

“To the end that everyone may be bound to obey you, I make you my deputy and give you all my authority.”

7.—“It is a remarkable thing,” replied my lord Gaspar, “that women should always be allowed this exemption from toil, and it certainly would not be unreasonable to wish in some way to learn the reason why; but not to be the first to disobey, I will leave this for another time, and will tell what is required of me;” and he began: “It seems to me that in love, as in everything else, our minds judge diversely; and thus it often happens that what is very delightful to one man, is very hateful to another; but none the less we all are ever alike in this, that every man holds his beloved very dear; so that the over fondness of lovers often cheats their judgment to such a degree, that they esteem the person whom they love to be the only one in the world adorned with every excellent virtue and wholly without defect; but since human nature does not admit such complete perfection, and since there is no one to be found who does not lack something, it cannot be said that such men do not cheat themselves, and that the lover does not become blind concerning the beloved. I would therefore that this evening our game might be that each of us should tell what virtue above others he would have the person whom he loves adorned with; and then, as all must have some blemish, what fault he would have in her; in order that we may see who can find the most praiseworthy and useful virtues, and the most excusable faults and least harmful to lover and beloved.”

My lord Gaspar having spoken thus, my lady Emilia made sign to madonna Costanza Fregosa[^[57]] to follow after, because she sat next in order, and she was preparing to speak; but my lady Duchess said quickly:

“Since my lady Emilia will not make the effort to invent a game, it were only fair that the other ladies share this ease and that they too be exempt from such exertion for this evening, especially as there are here so many men that there is no danger of lack of games.”

“So be it,” replied my lady Emilia; and imposing silence on madonna Costanza, she turned to messer Cesare Gonzaga, who sat next, and bade him speak; and he began thus:

8.—“Whoso will carefully consider all our actions, will ever find various defects in them; the reason whereof is that nature, variable in this as in other things, has given to one man the light of reason in one thing, to another man in another thing; and so it happens that, the one knowing what the other does not know and being ignorant of what the other understands, each readily perceives his neighbour’s fault and not his own, and we all seem to ourselves very wise and perhaps most of all in that wherein we most are foolish. Thus we have seen it happen in this house that many, at first accounted very wise, were in course of time recognized as very foolish, which came about from nothing else but our own watchfulness. For, as they say that in Apulia musical instruments are used for those bitten by the tarantula,[^[58]] and various tunes are tried until the humour that causes the malady (through a certain affinity it has for some one of those tunes) is suddenly stirred by the sound, and so excites the sick man that he is restored to health by virtue of that excitement: so when we have perceived a hidden touch of folly, we have stimulated it so artfully and with such various persuasions and diverse means, that at length we have learned whither it tended; then, the humour once recognized, so well have we excited it that it has always reached the perfection of open folly. Thus one man has waxed foolish over poetry, another over music, another over love, another over dancing, another over inventing mimes,[^[59]] another over riding, another over fencing,—each according to the native quality of his metal; whence, as you know, great amusement has been derived. I hold it then as certain that there is some grain of folly in each of us, which being quickened can multiply almost infinitely.

“Therefore I would that this evening our game might be a discussion upon this subject, and that each one tell with what kind of folly, and about what thing, he thinks I should make a fool of myself if I had to make a fool of myself openly, judging of this outburst by the sparks of folly that are daily seen to issue from me. Let the same be told of all the rest, keeping to the order of our games, and let each one try to found his opinion upon some actual sign and argument. And thus we shall each derive from our game the advantage of learning our defects, and so shall be better able to guard against them; and if the vein of folly that is discovered proves so rich that it seems incurable, we will assist it, and according to fra Mariano’s[^[60]] teaching, we shall have saved a soul, which will be no small gain.”

There was much laughter at this game, nor were there any who could keep from talking; one said, “I should make a fool of myself over thinking;” another, “Over looking;” another said, “I have already made a fool of myself over loving;” and the like.

9.—Then fra Serafino[^[61]] said, laughing after his manner:

“That would take too long; but if you want a fine game, let everyone give his opinion why it is that nearly all women hold rats in hatred, and are fond of snakes; and you will see that no one will guess the reason except myself, who learned this secret in a strange way.” And he began to tell his stories; but my lady Emilia bade him be silent, and passing over the lady who sat next, made sign to the Unico Aretino whose turn it was; and he, without waiting for further command, said:

“I would I were a judge with power to search the heart of evil-doers by every sort of torture; and this that I might fathom the deceits of an ingrate with angel eyes and serpent heart, who never lets her tongue reveal her soul, and with deceitful pity feigned has no thought but of dissecting hearts. Nor is there in sandy Libya to be found a serpent so venomous and eager for human blood as is this false one; who not only in the sweetness of her voice and honeyed words, but in her eyes, her smiles, her aspect and in all her ways, is a very siren.

“But since I am not suffered, as I would I were, to use chains, rope and fire to learn a certain truth, I fain would learn it by a game,—which is this: let each one tell what he believes to be the meaning of that letter S which my lady Duchess wears upon her brow;[^[62]] for, although this too is surely an artful veil to aid deceit, perchance there will be given it some interpretation unthought of by her perhaps, and it will be found that fortune, compassionate spectatress of men’s martyrdoms, has led her against her will to disclose by this small token her secret wish to slay and bury alive in calamity everyone who beholds her or serves her.”

BERNARDO ACCOLTI
THE UNICO ARETINO
1465?-1535

Head enlarged from a photograph, specially made by Alinari, of a part of the fresco, “Leo X’s Entry into Florence,” in the Palazzo Vecchio at Florence, by Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574). See Milanesi’s edition of Vasari’s Opere, viii, 142.

My lady Duchess laughed, and the Unico, seeing that she wished to defend herself against this imputation, said:

“Nay, my Lady, do not speak, for it is not now your turn to speak.”

My lady Emilia then turned and said:

“Sir Unico, there is no one of us here who does not yield to you in everything, but above all in knowledge of my lady Duchess’s mind; and since you know it better than the others (thanks to your divine genius), you love it better than the others, who like those weak-sighted birds that fix not their eyes upon the sun’s orb, cannot so justly know how perfect it is; wherefore every effort to clear this doubt would be vain, save your own judgment. To you alone then be left this task, as to him who alone can perform it.”

The Unico remained silent for a while, then being urged to speak, at last recited a sonnet upon the aforesaid subject, declaring what that letter S meant; which was by many believed to be done impromptu, but as it was more ingenious and finished than seemed to accord with the shortness of the time, it was thought rather to have been prepared.[^[62]]

10.—Then having bestowed a merry plaudit in praise of the sonnet, and talked of it awhile, my lord Ottaviano Fregoso, whose turn it was, smilingly began as follows:

“My Lords, if I were to affirm that I had never felt the passion of love, I am sure that my lady Duchess and my lady Emilia would feign to believe it even though they believed it not, and would say that it was because I mistrusted ever being able to prevail upon any woman to love me; whereof indeed I have not made trial hitherto with such persistence as reasonably to despair of being able sometime to succeed. But yet I have not refrained because I rate myself so high, or women so low, that I do not deem many of them worthy to be loved and served by me; but made timourous rather by the continual laments of some lovers, who—pallid, gloomy and taciturn—seem always to wear their unhappiness depicted in their eyes; and if they speak, they accompany every word with triple sighs, and discourse of nothing but tears, torments, despairings and longings for death; so that if an amourous spark has sometimes kindled in my heart, I have at once striven with all my might to quench it, not from any hate I bear to women as these ladies think, but for my own good.

“I have also known some others quite different from these dolourous souls,—lovers who not only give thanks and praise for the kind looks, tender words and gentle bearing of their mistresses, but flavour all evils with sweetness, so that they call their ladies’ warrings, anger and disdain, most sweet.[sweet.] Wherefore such as these seem to me far more than happy. For if they find such sweetness in lovers’ quarrels, which those others deem far more bitter than death, I think that in loving endearments they must enjoy that supreme beatitude which we vainly seek in this world. So I would that this evening our game might be, that each man tell, if she whom he loves must needs be angry with him, by what cause he would have her anger roused. Because if there be any here who have enjoyed this sweet anger, I am sure that out of courtesy they will choose one of those causes that make it so sweet; and perhaps I shall take courage to advance a little farther in love, hoping that I too may find this sweetness where some find bitterness; and then these ladies will be no longer able to cast shame upon me because I do not love.”

11.—This game found much favour and everyone made ready to speak upon the subject, but as my lady Emilia made no further mention of it, messer Pietro Bembo, who sat next in order, spoke thus:

“My Lords, no small uncertainty has been awakened in my mind by the game proposed by my lord Ottaviano in his discourse about love’s anger: the which, however varied it be, has in my case always been most bitter, nor do I believe that any seasoning could be learned from me that would avail to sweeten it; but perhaps it is more or less bitter according to the cause from which it springs.[^[63]] For I remember once to have seen the lady whom I served wrought up against me, either by some idle suspicion that she had herself conceived as to my loyalty, or by some other false notion awakened in her by what others had said to my injury; insomuch that I believed no pain could equal mine, and it seemed to me that the greatest suffering I felt was to endure that which I had not deserved, and to have this affliction come upon me not from my fault but from her lack of love. At other times I saw her angered by some errour of mine, and knew her ire to proceed from my fault; and then I deemed that my former woe was very light compared with that which now I felt; and it seemed to me that to have displeased, and through my own guilt, the person whom alone I desired and so zealously strove to please, was the greatest torment and above all others. I would therefore that our game might be that each man tell, if she whom he loves must needs be angry with him, from which of the two he would have her anger spring, from her or from himself; so that we may know which is the greater suffering, to give displeasure to her who is loved, or to receive it from her who is loved.”

12.—Everyone waited for my lady Emilia to reply; but she, saying nothing more to Bembo, turned and made sign to messer Federico Fregoso that he should tell his game; and he at once began as follows:

“My Lady, I would it were permitted me, as it sometimes is, to assent to another’s proposal; since for my part I would readily approve any of the games proposed by these gentlemen, for I really think that all of them would be amusing. But not to break our rule, I say that anyone who wished to praise our court,—laying aside the merit of our lady Duchess, which with her divine virtue would suffice to lift from earth to heaven the meanest souls that are in the world,—might well say without suspicion of flattery, that in all Italy it would perhaps be hard to find so many cavaliers so singularly admirable and so excellent in divers other matters besides the chief concerns of chivalry, as are now to be found here: wherefore if anywhere there be men who deserve to be called good Courtiers and who are able to judge of what pertains to the perfection of Courtiership, it is reasonable to believe that they are here. So, to repress the many fools who by impudence and folly think to win the name of good Courtier, I would that this evening’s game might be, that we select some one of the company and give him the task of portraying a perfect Courtier, explaining all the conditions and special qualities requisite in one who deserves this title; and as to those things that shall not appear sound, let everyone be allowed to contradict, as in the schools of the philosophers it is allowed to contradict anyone who proposes a thesis.”

Messer Federico was continuing his discourse still further, when my lady Emilia interrupted him and said:

“This, if it pleases my lady Duchess, shall for the present be our game.”

My lady Duchess answered:

“It does please me.”

Then nearly all those present began to say, both to my lady Duchess and among themselves, that this was the finest game that could possibly be; and without waiting for each other’s answer, they entreated my lady Emilia to decide who should begin. She turned to my lady Duchess and said:

“Command, my Lady, him who it best pleases you should have this task; for I do not wish, by selecting one rather than another, to seem to decide whom I think more competent in this matter than the rest, and so do wrong to anyone.”

My lady Duchess replied:

“Nay, make this choice yourself, and take heed lest by not obeying you give an example to the others, so that they too prove disobedient in their turn.”

13.—At this my lady Emilia laughed and said to Count Ludovico da Canossa:

“Then not to lose more time, you, Count, shall be the one to take this enterprise after the manner that messer Federico has described; not indeed because we account you so good a Courtier that you know what befits one, but because, if you say everything wrong as we hope you will, the game will be more lively, for everyone will then have something to answer you; while if someone else had this task who knew more than you, it would be impossible to contradict him in anything, because he would tell the truth, and so the game would be tedious.”

The Count answered quickly:

“Whoever told the truth, my Lady, would run no risk of lacking contradiction, so long as you were present;” and after some laughter at this retort, he continued: “But truly I would fain escape this burden, it seeming to me too heavy, and I being conscious that what you said in jest is very true; that is, that I do not know what befits a good Courtier: and I do not seek to prove this with further argument, because, as I do not practise the rules of Courtiership, one may judge that I do not know them; and I think my blame may be the less, for sure it is worse not to wish to do well than not to know how. Yet, since it so happens that you are pleased to have me bear this burden, I neither can nor will refuse it, in order not to contravene our rule and your judgment, which I rate far higher than my own.”

COUNT LUDOVICO DA CANOSSA
1476-1532

Reduced from a photograph, specially made through the courtesy of the Bishop of Bayeux, of an anonymous portrait in his possession. The sadly injured condition of the original rendered it necessary to retouch the negative, in which process recourse was had to a small photograph, kindly furnished by the Marquess Ottavio di Canossa, of his copy of the Bayeux portrait.

Then messer Cesare Gonzaga said:

“As the early evening is now spent and many other kinds of entertainment are ready, perhaps it will be well to put off this discussion until to-morrow and give the Count time to think of what he has to say; for it is difficult indeed to speak unprepared on such a subject.”

The Count replied:

“I do not wish to be like the fellow who, when stripped to his shirt, vaulted less well than he had done in his doublet; hence it seems to me good fortune that the hour is late, for I shall be obliged by the shortness of the time to say but little, and my not having taken thought will excuse me, so that I shall be allowed to say without blame whatever first comes to my lips.

“Therefore, not to carry this burden of duty longer on my shoulders, I say that in everything it is so hard to know the true perfection as to be well nigh impossible; and this because of the variety of opinions. Thus there are many that will like a man who speaks much, and will call him pleasing; some will prefer modesty; some others, an active and restless man; still others, one who shows calmness and deliberation in everything; and so every man praises or decries according to his mind, always clothing vice with the name of its kindred virtue, or virtue with the name of its kindred vice; for example, calling an impudent man frank, a modest man dull, an ignorant man good, a knave discreet; and so in all things else. Yet I believe that there exists in everything its own perfection, although concealed; and that this can be determined through rational discussion by any having knowledge of the thing in hand. And since, as I have said, the truth often lies concealed, and I do not profess to have this knowledge, I can only praise the kind of Courtier that I most esteem, and approve him who seems to me nearest right, according to my poor judgment; the which you will follow if you find it good, or you will hold to your own if it differs from mine. Nor shall I at all insist that mine is better than yours; not only because you may think one thing and I another, but I myself may sometimes think one thing, and sometimes another.

14.—“I wish, then, that this Courtier of ours should be nobly born and of gentle race; because it is far less unseemly for one of ignoble birth to fail in worthy deeds, than for one of noble birth, who, if he strays from the path of his predecessors, stains his family name, and not only fails to achieve but loses what has been achieved already; for noble birth is like a bright lamp that manifests and makes visible good and evil deeds, and kindles and stimulates to virtue both by fear of shame and by hope of praise. And since this splendour of nobility does not illumine the deeds of the humbly born, they lack that stimulus and fear of shame, nor do they feel any obligation to advance beyond what their predecessors have done; while to the nobly born it seems a reproach not to reach at least the goal set them by their ancestors. And thus it nearly always happens that both in the profession of arms and in other worthy pursuits the most famous men have been of noble birth, because nature has implanted in everything that hidden seed which gives a certain force and quality of its own essence to all things that are derived from it, and makes them like itself: as we see not only in the breeds of horses and of other animals, but also in trees, the shoots of which nearly always resemble the trunk; and if they sometimes degenerate, it arises from poor cultivation. And so it is with men, who if rightly trained are nearly always like those from whom they spring, and often better; but if there be no one to give them proper care, they become like savages and never reach perfection.

“It is true that, by favour of the stars or of nature, some men are endowed at birth with such graces that they seem not to have been born, but rather as if some god had formed them with his very hands and adorned them with every excellence of mind and body. So too there are many men so foolish and rude that one cannot but think that nature brought them into the world out of contempt or mockery. Just as these can usually accomplish little even with constant diligence and good training, so with slight pains those others reach the highest summit of excellence. And to give you an instance: you see my lord Don Ippolito d’Este,[^[64]] Cardinal of Ferrara, who has enjoyed such fortune from his birth, that his person, his aspect, his words and all his movements are so disposed and imbued with this grace, that—although he is young—he exhibits among the most aged prelates such weight of character that he seems fitter to teach than to be taught; likewise in conversation with men and women of every rank, in games, in pleasantry and in banter, he has a certain sweetness and manners so gracious, that whoso speaks with him or even sees him, must needs remain attached to him forever.

IPPOLITO D’ESTE
1479-1520

Enlarged from a cast, courteously furnished by the Austrian authorities, of an anonymous medal in the Imperial Museum at Vienna. See Armand’s Les Médailleurs Italiens, iii, 169, G.

“But to return to our subject: I say that there is a middle state between perfect grace on the one hand and senseless folly on the other; and those who are not thus perfectly endowed by nature, with study and toil can in great part polish and amend their natural defects. Besides his noble birth, then, I would have the Courtier favoured in this regard also, and endowed by nature not only with talent and beauty of person and feature, but with a certain grace and (as we say) air that shall make him at first sight pleasing and agreeable to all who see him; and I would have this an ornament that should dispose and unite all his actions, and in his outward aspect give promise of whatever is worthy the society and favour of every great lord.”

15.—Here, without waiting longer, my lord Gaspar Pallavicino said:

“In order that our game may have the form prescribed, and that we may not seem to slight the privilege given us to contradict, I say that this nobility of birth does not appear to me so essential in the Courtier; and if I thought I were saying what was new to any of us, I should cite instances of many men born of the noblest blood who have been full of vices; and on the other hand, of many men among the humbly born who by their virtue have made their posterity illustrious. And if what you just said be true, namely that there is in everything this occult influence of the original seed, then we should all be in the same case, because we had the same origin, nor would any man be more noble than another. But as to our differences and grades of eminence and obscurity, I believe there are many other causes: among which I rate fortune to be chief; for we see her holding sway in all mundane affairs, often amusing herself by lifting to heaven whom she pleases (although wholly without merit), and burying in the depths those most worthy to be exalted.

“I quite agree with what you say as to the good fortune of those endowed from birth with advantages of mind and body: but this is seen as well among the humbly born as among the nobly born, since nature has no such subtle distinctions as these; and often, as I said, the highest gifts of nature are found among the most obscure. Therefore, since this nobility of birth is won neither by talent nor by strength nor by craft, and is rather the merit of our predecessors than our own, it seems to me too extravagant to maintain that if our Courtier’s parents be humbly born, all his good qualities are spoiled, and that all those other qualifications that you mentioned do not avail to raise him to the summit of perfection; I mean talent, beauty of feature, comeliness of person, and that grace which makes him always charming to everyone at first sight.”

16.—Then Count Ludovico replied:

“I do not deny that the same virtues may rule the low-born and the noble: but (not to repeat what we have said already or the many other arguments that could be adduced in praise of noble birth, which is honoured always and by everyone, it being reasonable that good should beget good), since we have to form a Courtier without flaw and endowed with every praiseworthy quality, it seems to me necessary to make him nobly born, as well for many other reasons as for universal opinion, which is at once disposed in favour of noble birth. For if there be two Courtiers who have as yet given no impression of themselves by good or evil acts, as soon as the one is known to have been born a gentleman and the other not, he who is low-born will be far less esteemed by everyone than he who is high-born, and will need much effort and time to make upon men’s minds that good impression which the other will have achieved in a moment and merely by being a gentleman. And how important these impressions are, everyone can easily understand: for in our own case we have seen men present themselves in this house, who, being silly and awkward in the extreme, yet had throughout Italy the reputation of very great Courtiers; and although they were detected and recognized at last, still they imposed upon us for many days, and maintained in our minds that opinion of them which they first found impressed there, although they conducted themselves after the slightness of their worth. We have seen others, held at first in small esteem, then admirably successful at the last.

“And of these mistakes there are various causes: and among others, the regard of princes, who in their wish to perform miracles sometimes undertake to bestow favour on a man who seems to them to merit disfavour. And often too they are themselves deceived; but since they always have a host of imitators, their favour begets very great fame, which chiefly guides our judgments: and if we find anything that seems contrary to common opinion, we suspect that it is we ourselves who are wrong, and always seek for something hidden: because it seems that these universal opinions must after all be founded on fact and spring from rational causes; and because our minds are very prone to love and hate, as is seen in battle-shows and games and every other sort of contest, wherein the spectators without apparent cause become partisans of one side, with eager wish that it may win and the other lose. In our opinion of men’s character also, good or evil fame sways our minds to one of these two passions from the start; and thus it happens that we usually judge with love or hate. You see then how important this first impression is, and how he ought to strive to make a good one at the outset, who thinks to hold the rank and name of good Courtier.

17.—“But to come to some details, I am of opinion that the principal and true profession of the Courtier ought to be that of arms; which I would have him follow actively above all else, and be known among others as bold and strong, and loyal to whomsoever he serves. And he will win a reputation for these good qualities by exercising them at all times and in all places, since one may never fail in this without severest censure. And just as among women, their fair fame once sullied never recovers its first lustre, so the reputation of a gentleman who bears arms, if once it be in the least tarnished with cowardice or other disgrace, remains forever infamous before the world and full of ignominy. Therefore the more our Courtier excels in this art, the more he will be worthy of praise; and yet I do not deem essential in him that perfect knowledge of things and those other qualities that befit a commander; since this would be too wide a sea, let us be content, as we have said, with perfect loyalty and unconquered courage, and that he be always seen to possess them. For the courageous are often recognized even more in small things than in great; and frequently in perils of importance and where there are many spectators, some men are to be found, who, although their hearts be dead within them, yet, moved by shame or by the presence of others, press forward almost with their eyes shut, and do their duty God knows how. While on occasions of little moment, when they think they can avoid putting themselves in danger without being detected, they are glad to keep safe. But those who, even when they do not expect to be observed or seen or recognized by anyone, show their ardour and neglect nothing, however paltry, that may be laid to their charge,—they have that strength of mind which we seek in our Courtier.

“Not that we would have him look so fierce, or go about blustering, or say that he has taken his cuirass to wife, or threaten with those grim scowls that we have often seen in Berto;[^[65]] because to such men as this, one might justly say that which a brave lady jestingly said in gentle company to one whom I will not name at present;[^[66]] who, being invited by her out of compliment to dance, refused not only that, but to listen to the music, and many other entertainments proposed to him,—saying always that such silly trifles were not his business; so that at last the lady said, ‘What is your business, then?’ He replied with a sour look, ‘To fight.’ Then the lady at once said, ‘Now that you are in no war and out of fighting trim, I should think it were a good thing to have yourself well oiled, and to stow yourself with all your battle harness in a closet until you be needed, lest you grow more rusty than you are;’ and so, amid much laughter from the bystanders, she left the discomfited fellow to his silly presumption.

“Therefore let the man we are seeking, be very bold, stern, and always among the first, where the enemy are to be seen; and in every other place, gentle, modest, reserved, above all things avoiding ostentation and that impudent self-praise by which men ever excite hatred and disgust in all who hear them.”

18.—Then my lord Gaspar replied:

“As for me, I have known few men excellent in anything whatever, who do not praise themselves; and it seems to me that this may well be permitted them; for when anyone who feels himself to be of worth, sees that he is not known to the ignorant by his works, he is offended that his worth should lie buried, and needs must in some way hold it up to view, in order that he may not be cheated of the fame that is the true reward of worthy effort. Thus among the ancient authors, whoever carries weight seldom fails to praise himself. They indeed are insufferable who do this without desert, but such we do not presume our Courtier to be.”

The Count then said:

“If you heard what I said, it was impudent and indiscriminate self-praise that I censured: and as you say, we surely ought not to form a bad opinion of a brave man who praises himself modestly, nay we ought rather to regard such praise as better evidence than if it came from the mouth of others. I say, however, that he, who in praising himself runs into no errour and incurs no annoyance or envy at the hands of those that hear him, is a very discreet man indeed and merits praise from others in addition to that which he bestows upon himself; because it is a very difficult matter.”

Then my lord Gaspar said:

“You must teach us that.”

The Count replied:

“Among the ancient authors there is no lack of those who have taught it; but to my thinking, the whole art consists in saying things in such a way that they shall not seem to be said to that end, but let fall so naturally that it was impossible not to say them, and while seeming always to avoid self-praise, yet to achieve it; but not after the manner of those boasters, who open their mouths and let the words come forth haphazard. Like one of our friends a few days ago, who, being quite run through the thigh with a spear at Pisa, said he thought it was a fly that had stung him; and another man said he kept no mirrour in his room because, when angry, he became so terrible to look at, that the sight of himself would have frightened him too much.”

Everyone laughed at this, but messer Cesare Gonzaga added:

“Why do you laugh? Do you not know that Alexander the Great, on hearing the opinion of a philosopher[^[67]] to be that there was an infinite number of worlds, began to weep, and being asked why he wept, replied, ‘Because I have not yet conquered one of them;’ as if he would fain have vanquished all? Does not this seem to you a greater boast than that about the fly-sting?”

Then the Count said:

“Yes, and Alexander was a greater man than he who made the other speech. But extraordinary men are surely to be pardoned when they assume much; for he who has great things to do must needs have daring to do them, and confidence in himself, and must not be abject or mean in spirit, yet very modest in speech, showing less confidence in himself than he has, lest his self-confidence lead to rashness.”

19.—The Count now paused a little, and messer Bernardo Bibbiena said, laughing:

“I remember what you said earlier, that this Courtier of ours must be endowed by nature with beauty of countenance and person, and with a grace that shall make him so agreeable. Grace and beauty of countenance I think I certainly possess, and this is the reason why so many ladies are ardently in love with me, as you know; but I am rather doubtful as to the beauty of my person, especially as regards these legs of mine, which seem to me decidedly less well proportioned than I should wish: as to my bust and other members however, I am quite content. Pray, now, describe a little more in particular the sort of body that the Courtier is to have, so that I may dismiss this doubt and set my mind at rest.”

After some laughter at this, the Count continued:

“Of a certainty that grace of countenance can be truly said to be yours, nor need I cite further example than this to show what manner of thing it is, for we unquestionably perceive your aspect to be most agreeable and pleasing to everyone, albeit the lineaments of it are not very delicate. Still it is of a manly cast and at the same time full of grace; and this characteristic is to be found in many different types of countenance. And of such sort I would have our Courtier’s aspect; not so soft and effeminate as is sought by many, who not only curl their hair and pluck their brows, but gloss their faces with all those arts employed by the most wanton and unchaste women in the world; and in their walk, posture and every act, they seem so limp and languid that their limbs are like to fall apart; and they pronounce their words so mournfully that they appear about to expire upon the spot: and the more they find themselves with men of rank, the more they affect such tricks. Since nature has not made them women, as they seem to wish to appear and be, they should be treated not as good women but as public harlots, and driven not merely from the courts of great lords but from the society of honest men.

20.—“Then coming to the bodily frame, I say it is enough if this be neither extremely short nor tall, for both of these conditions excite a certain contemptuous surprise, and men of either sort are gazed upon in much the same way that we gaze on monsters. Yet if we must offend in one of the two extremes, it is preferable to fall a little short of the just measure of height than to exceed it, for besides often being dull of intellect, men thus huge of body are also unfit for every exercise of agility, which thing I should much wish in the Courtier. And so I would have him well built and shapely of limb, and would have him show strength and lightness and suppleness, and know all bodily exercises that befit a man of war: whereof I think the first should be to handle every sort of weapon well on foot and on horse, to understand the advantages of each, and especially to be familiar with those weapons that are ordinarily used among gentlemen; for besides the use of them in war, where such subtlety in contrivance is perhaps not needful, there frequently arise differences between one gentleman and another, which afterwards result in duels often fought with such weapons as happen at the moment to be within reach: thus knowledge of this kind is a very safe thing. Nor am I one of those who say that skill is forgotten in the hour of need; for he whose skill forsakes him at such a time, indeed gives token that he has already lost heart and head through fear.

21.—“Moreover I deem it very important to know how to wrestle, for it is a great help in the use of all kinds of weapons on foot. Then, both for his own sake and for that of his friends, he must understand the quarrels and differences that may arise, and must be quick to seize an advantage, always showing courage and prudence in all things.[^[68]] Nor should he be too ready to fight except when honour demands it; for besides the great danger that the uncertainty of fate entails, he who rushes into such affairs recklessly and without urgent cause, merits the severest censure even though he be successful. But when he finds himself so far engaged that he cannot withdraw without reproach, he ought to be most deliberate, both in the preliminaries to the duel and in the duel itself, and always show readiness and daring. Nor must he act like some, who fritter the affair away in disputes and controversies, and who, having the choice of weapons, select those that neither cut nor pierce, and arm themselves as if they were expecting a cannonade; and thinking it enough not to be defeated, stand ever on the defensive and retreat,—showing therein their utter cowardice. And thus they make themselves a laughing-stock for boys, like those two men of Ancona who fought at Perugia not long since, and made everyone laugh who saw them.”

“And who were they?” asked my lord Gaspar Pallavicino.

“Two cousins,” replied messer Cesare.

Then the Count said:

“In their fighting they were as like as two brothers;” and soon continued: “Even in time of peace weapons are often used in various exercises, and gentlemen appear in public shows before the people and ladies and great lords. For this reason I would have our Courtier a perfect horseman in every kind of seat; and besides understanding horses and what pertains to riding, I would have him use all possible care and diligence to lift himself a little beyond the rest in everything, so that he may be ever recognized as eminent above all others. And as we read of Alcibiades that he surpassed all the nations with whom he lived, each in their particular province, so I would have this Courtier of ours excel all others, and each in that which is most their profession. And as it is the especial pride of the Italians to ride well with the rein, to govern wild horses with consummate skill, and to play at tilting and jousting,—in these things let him be among the best of the Italians. In tourneys and in the arts of defence and attack, let him shine among the best in France.[^[69]] In stick-throwing, bull-fighting, and in casting spears and darts, let him excel among the Spaniards. But above everything he should temper all his movements with a certain good judgment and grace, if he wishes to merit that universal favour which is so greatly prized.

22.—“There are also many other exercises, which although not immediately dependent upon arms, yet are closely connected therewith, and greatly foster manly sturdiness; and one of the chief among these seems to me to be the chase, because it bears a certain likeness to war: and truly it is an amusement for great lords and befitting a man at court, and furthermore it is seen to have been much cultivated among the ancients. It is fitting also to know how to swim, to leap, to run, to throw stones, for besides the use that may be made of this in war, a man often has occasion to show what he can do in such matters; whence good esteem is to be won, especially with the multitude, who must be taken into account withal. Another admirable exercise, and one very befitting a man at court, is the game of tennis, in which are well shown the disposition of the body, the quickness and suppleness of every member, and all those qualities that are seen in nearly every other exercise. Nor less highly do I esteem vaulting on horse, which although it be fatiguing and difficult, makes a man very light and dexterous more than any other thing; and besides its utility, if this lightness is accompanied by grace, it is to my thinking a finer show than any of the others.[^[70]]

“Our Courtier having once become more than fairly expert in these exercises, I think he should leave the others on one side: such as turning summersaults, rope-walking, and the like, which savour of the mountebank and little befit a gentleman.

“But since one cannot devote himself to such fatiguing exercises continually, and since repetition becomes very tiresome and abates the admiration felt for what is rare, we must always diversify our life with various occupations. For this reason I would have our Courtier sometimes descend to quieter and more tranquil exercises, and in order to escape envy and to entertain himself agreeably with everyone, let him do whatever others do, yet never departing from praiseworthy deeds, and governing himself with that good judgment which will keep him from all folly; but let him laugh, jest, banter, frolic and dance, yet in such fashion that he shall always appear genial and discreet, and that everything he may do or say shall be stamped with grace.”

23.—Then messer Cesare Gonzaga said:

“We certainly ought on no account to hinder the course of this discussion; but if I were to keep silence, I should be neglectful both of the right I have to speak and of my desire to know one thing: and let me be pardoned if I ask a question instead of contradicting; for this I think may be permitted me, after the precedent of messer Bernardo here, who in his over desire to be held comely, broke the rules of our game by asking a question instead of contradicting.”

Then my lady Duchess said:

“You see how one errour begets many. Therefore he who transgresses and sets a bad example, like messer Bernardo, deserves to be punished not only for his own transgression but also for the others’.”

Then messer Cesare replied:

“In that case, my Lady, I shall be exempt from penalty, since messer Bernardo is to be punished for his own fault as well as mine.”

“Nay,” said my lady Duchess, “you both ought to have double punishment: he for his own transgression and for leading you to transgress; you for your own transgression and for imitating him.”

“My Lady,” replied messer Cesare, “as yet I have not transgressed; so, to leave all this punishment to messer Bernardo alone, I will keep silence.”

And indeed he remained silent; when my lady Emilia laughed and said:

“Say whatever you like, for under leave of my lady Duchess I pardon him that has transgressed and him that shall transgress, in so small a degree.”

“I consent,” continued my lady Duchess. “But take care lest perchance you fall into the mistake of thinking to gain more by being merciful than by being just; for to pardon him too easily that has transgressed is to wrong him that transgresses not. Yet I would not have my severity reproach your indulgence, and thus be the cause of our not hearing this question of messer Cesare.”

And so, being given the signal by my lady Duchess and by my lady Emilia, he at once said:

24.—“If I remember rightly, Sir Count, I think you have repeated several times this evening that the Courtier must accompany his actions, gestures, habits, in short his every movement, with grace; and this you seem to regard as an universal seasoning, without which all other properties and good qualities are of little worth. And indeed I think that in this everyone would allow himself to be persuaded easily, since from the very force of the word, it may be said that he who has grace finds grace.[^[71]] But since you said that this is oftentimes the gift of nature and of heaven and, even when not thus perfect, can with care and pains be made much greater,—those men who are born so fortunate and so rich in this treasure as are some we see, seem to me in this to have little need of other master; because that benign favour of heaven almost in despite of themselves leads them higher than they will, and makes them not only pleasing but admirable to all the world. Therefore I do not discuss this, it not being in our power to acquire it of ourselves. But they who have received from nature only so much, that they are capable of becoming graceful by pains, industry and care,—I long to know by what art, by what training, by what method, they can acquire this grace, as well in bodily exercises (in which you esteem it to be so necessary) as also in everything else that they may do or say. Therefore, since by much praise of this quality you have aroused in all of us, I think, an ardent thirst to pursue it, you are further bound, by the charge that my lady Emilia laid upon you, to satisfy that thirst by teaching us how to attain it.”

25.—“I am not bound,” said the Count, “to teach you how to become graceful, or anything else; but only to show you what manner of man a perfect Courtier ought to be. Nor would I in any case undertake the task of teaching you this perfection; especially having said a little while ago that the Courtier must know how to wrestle, vault, and do many other things, which I am sure you all know quite as well as if I, who have never learned them, were to teach you. For just as a good soldier knows how to tell the smith what fashion, shape and quality his armour ought to have, but cannot show how it is to be made or forged or tempered; so I perhaps may be able to tell you what manner of man a perfect Courtier ought to be, but cannot teach you what you must do to become one.

“Yet to comply with your request as far as is within my power,—although it is almost a proverb that grace is not to be learned,—I say that whoever would acquire grace in bodily exercises (assuming first that he be by nature not incapable), ought to begin early and learn the rudiments from the best masters. And how important this seemed to King Philip of Macedon, may be seen from the fact that he chose Aristotle, the famous philosopher and perhaps the greatest that has ever been in the world, to teach his son Alexander the first elements of letters. And of the men whom we know at the present day, consider how well and how gracefully my lord Galeazzo Sanseverino,[^[72]] Grand Equerry of France, performs all bodily exercises; and this because in addition to the natural aptitude of person that he possesses, he has taken the utmost pains to study with good masters, and always to have about him men who excel and to select from each the best of what they know: for just as in wrestling, vaulting and in the use of many sorts of weapons, he has taken for his guide our friend messer Pietro Monte, who (as you know) is the true and only master of every form of trained strength and agility,—so in riding, jousting and all else, he has ever had before his eyes the most proficient men that were known in those matters.

GALEAZZO SANSEVERINO
Married 1489

Reduced from Anderson’s photograph (no. 11129) of an anonymous and unfinished portrait in the Ambrosiana Gallery at Milan. By some critics attributed to Leonardo da Vinci, and by others to his pupil Ambrogio da Predis, the picture was by Morelli regarded as having nothing to do with either painter. It was formerly supposed to be a portrait of Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan; for iconographical identification, see Paul Müller-Walde’s article in the Jahrbuch der Königlich Preussischen Kunstsammlungen for 1897, p. 110.

26.—“Therefore he who wishes to be a good pupil, besides performing his tasks well, must put forth every effort to resemble his master, and, if it were possible, to transform himself into his master. And when he feels that he has made some progress, it will be very profitable to observe different men of the same calling, and governing himself with that good judgment which must ever be his guide, to go about selecting now this thing from one and that thing from another. And as the bee in the green meadows is ever wont to rob the flowers among the grass, so our Courtier must steal this grace from all who seem to possess it, taking from each that part which shall most be worthy praise; and not act like a friend of ours whom you all know, who thought he greatly resembled King Ferdinand the Younger[^[32]] of Aragon, and made it his care to imitate the latter in nothing but a certain trick of continually raising the head and twisting one side of the mouth, which the king had contracted from some infirmity. And there are many such, who think they gain a point if only they be like a great man in some thing; and frequently they devote themselves to that which is his only fault.

“But having before now often considered whence this grace springs, laying aside those men who have it by nature, I find one universal rule concerning it, which seems to me worth more in this matter than any other in all things human that are done or said: and that is to avoid affectation to the uttermost and as it were a very sharp and dangerous rock; and, to use possibly a new word, to practise in everything a certain nonchalance[^[73]] that shall conceal design and show that what is done and said is done without effort and almost without thought. From this I believe grace is in large measure derived, because everyone knows the difficulty of those things that are rare and well done, and therefore facility in them excites the highest admiration; while on the other hand, to strive and as the saying is to drag by the hair, is extremely ungraceful, and makes us esteem everything slightly, however great it be.

“Accordingly we may affirm that to be true art which does not appear to be art; nor to anything must we give greater care than to conceal art, for if it is discovered, it quite destroys our credit and brings us into small esteem. And I remember having once read that there were several very excellent orators of antiquity, who among their other devices strove to make everyone believe that they had no knowledge of letters; and hiding their knowledge they pretended that their orations were composed very simply and as if springing rather from nature and truth than from study and art; the which, if it had been detected, would have made men wary of being duped by it.

“Thus you see how the exhibition of art and study so intense destroys the grace in everything. Which of you is there who does not laugh when our friend messer Pierpaolo dances in his peculiar way, with those capers of his,—legs stiff to the toe and head motionless, as if he were a stick, and with such intentness that he actually seems to be counting the steps? What eye so blind as not to see in this the ungracefulness of affectation,—and in many men and women who are here present, the grace of that nonchalant ease (for in the case of bodily movements many call it thus), showing by word or laugh or gesture that they have no care and are thinking more of everything else than of that, to make the onlooker think they can hardly go amiss?”

27.—Messer Bernardo Bibbiena here said, without waiting:

“Now at last our friend messer Roberto[[48]] has found someone to praise the manner of his dancing, as all the rest of you seem to value it lightly; because if this merit consists in nonchalance, and in appearing to take no heed and to be thinking more of everything else than of what you are doing, messer Roberto in dancing has no peer on earth; for to show plainly that he is not thinking about it, he often lets the cloak drop from his shoulders and the slippers from his feet, and still goes on dancing without picking up either the one or the other.”

Then the Count replied:

“Since you insist on my talking, I will speak further of our faults. Do you not perceive that what you call nonchalance in messer Roberto, is really affectation? For it is clearly seen that he is striving with all his might to seem to be taking no thought, and this is taking too much thought; and since it passes the true limits of moderation, his nonchalance is affected and unbecoming; and it is a thing that works precisely the reverse of the effect intended, that is the concealment of art. Thus in nonchalance (which is praiseworthy in itself), I do not think that it is less a vice of affectation to let the clothes fall from one’s back, than in care of dress (which also is praiseworthy in itself) to hold the head stiff for fear of disarranging one’s locks, or to carry a mirrour in the peak of one’s cap and a comb in one’s sleeve, and to have a valet follow one about the streets with sponge and brush: for such care in dress and such nonchalance both touch upon excess, which is always offensive and contrary to that pure and charming simplicity which is so pleasing to the human mind.

“You see how ungraceful a rider is who strives to sit bolt upright in the saddle after the manner we are wont to call Venetian,[^[74]]—as compared with another who seems not to be thinking about it, and sits his horse as free and steady as if he were afoot. How much more pleasing and how much more praised is a gentleman who carries arms, if he be modest, speak little and boast little, than another who is forever sounding his own praises, and with blasphemy and bluster seems to be hurling defiance at the world! This too is naught but affectation of wishing to appear bold. And so it is with every exercise, nay with everything that can be done or said in the world.”

28.—Then my lord Magnifico[^[9]] said:

“This is true also with music, wherein it is a very great fault to place two perfect consonances one after the other, so that our very sense of hearing abhors it and often enjoys a second or seventh, which in itself is a harsh and intolerable discord. And the reason is that repetition of perfect consonances begets satiety and exhibits a too affected harmony; which is avoided by introducing imperfect consonances, and thus a kind of contrast is given, whereby our ears are held more in suspense, and more eagerly await and enjoy the perfect consonances, and sometimes delight in that discord of the second or seventh, as in something unpremeditated.”

“You see then,” replied the Count, “the harmful effect of affectation in this as in other things. It is said also to have been proverbial among some very excellent painters of antiquity, that over diligence is harmful, and Protogenes is said to have been censured by Apelles because he did not know when to take his hand from the tablet.”[^[75]]

Then messer Cesare said:

“Methinks our friend fra Serafino has this same fault, of not knowing when to take his hands from the table, at least until all the food has been taken from it too.”[^[76]]

The Count laughed, and continued:

“Apelles meant that in his painting Protogenes did not know when he had finished, which was the same thing as reproving him for being affected in his work. Thus this excellence, which is the opposite of affectation and which for the present we call nonchalance, besides being the true fountain from which grace springs, carries with it another ornament, which, in accompanying any human action whatever and however trifling it be, not only at once reveals the knowledge of him who performs it, but often leads us to rate his knowledge as much greater than in fact it is; because it impresses upon the minds of the bystanders the idea that he who does well so easily, knows much more than he does, and that if he were to use care and effort in what he did, he could do it far better.

“And to multiply like examples, here is a man who handles weapons, either about to throw a dart or holding a sword in his hand or other weapon; if he nimbly and without thinking puts himself in an attitude of readiness, with such ease that his body and all his members seem to fall into that posture naturally and quite without effort,—although he do no more, he will prove himself to everyone to be perfect in that exercise. Likewise in dancing, a single step, a single movement of the person that is graceful and not forced, soon shows the knowledge of the dancer. A musician who in singing utters a single note ending with sweet tone in a little group of four notes with such ease as to seem spontaneous, shows by that single touch that he can do much more than he is doing. Often too in painting, a single line not laboured, a single brush-stroke easily drawn, so that it seems as if the hand moves unbidden to its aim according to the painter’s wish, without being guided by care or any skill, clearly reveals the excellence of the craftsman, which every man appreciates according to his capacity for judging. And the same is true of nearly everything else.

“Our Courtier then will be esteemed excellent and will attain grace in everything, particularly in speaking, if he avoids affectation; into which fault many fall, and often more than others, some of us Lombards; who, if they have been a year away from home, on their return at once begin to speak Roman, sometimes Spanish or French, and God knows how. And all this comes from over zeal to appear widely informed; in such fashion do men devote care and assiduity to acquiring a very odious fault. And truly it would be no light task for me, if I were to try in these discussions of ours to use those antique Tuscan words that are quite rejected by the usage of the Tuscans of to-day; and besides I think everyone would laugh at me.”

29.—Then messer Federico said:

“Of course in discussing among ourselves as we now are doing, perhaps it would be amiss to use those antique Tuscan words, since (as you say) they would be fatiguing to him who uttered them and to him who listened to them, and by many would not be understood without difficulty. But if one were writing, I should certainly think he would be wrong not to use them, because they add much grace and authority to writing, and from them there results a style more grave and full of majesty than from modern words.”

“I do not know,” replied the Count, “that writings can gain grace and authority from those words that ought to be avoided, not merely in such talk as we are now engaged in (which you yourself admit), but also under every other circumstance that can be imagined. For if any man of good judgment should chance to make a speech on serious matters before the very senate of Florence, which is the capital of Tuscany, or even to converse privately with a person of weight in that city about important business, or with his closest friend about affairs of pleasure, with ladies or gentlemen about love, or joking or jesting at feasts, games, and where you will,—or whatever the time, place or matter,—I am sure he would avoid using those antique Tuscan words; and if he did use them, besides exciting ridicule, he would give no little annoyance to everyone who listened to him.

“It seems to me then a very strange thing to use as good in writing those words that are avoided as faulty in every sort of speaking, and to insist that what is never proper in speaking, is the most proper style that can be used in writing. For in my opinion writing is really nothing but a form of speech, which still remains after we have spoken, as it were an image or rather the life of our words: and thus in speech, which is lost as soon as the sound has gone forth, some things are bearable perhaps that are not in writing, because writing preserves the words and subjects them to the judgment of the reader and gives time to consider them advisedly. Hence in writing it is reasonable to take greater pains to make it more refined and correct; not however in such wise that the written words may be unlike the spoken, but that, in writing, choice be made of the most beautiful that are used in speaking. And if that were allowed in writing which is not allowed in speaking, I think a very great inconvenience would arise: which is that greater license could be taken in that respect wherein greater care ought to be taken; and the industry bestowed on writing would work harm instead of good.

“Therefore it is certain that what is proper in writing, is proper also in speaking, and that manner of speaking is most beautiful which is like beautiful writing. Moreover I think it is far more necessary to be understood in writing than in speaking, because those who write are not always present before those who read, as those who speak are present before those who hear[hear].[^[77]] But I should praise him, who besides avoiding many antique Tuscan words, acquired facility, both writing and speaking, in the use of those that are to-day familiar in Tuscany and in the other parts of Italy, and that have comeliness of sound. And I think that whoever imposes other rule upon himself, is not very sure of escaping that affectation which is so much censured and of which we were speaking earlier.”

30.—Then messer Federico said:

“Sir Count, I cannot gainsay you that writing is a kind of speech. Indeed, I say that if words that are spoken have any obscurity in them, the meaning does not penetrate the mind of him who hears, and passing without being understood, comes to naught: which does not occur in writing, because if the words that the writer uses carry with them a little, I will not say difficulty, but subtlety that is recondite and thus not so familiar as are the words that are commonly used in speaking,—they give a certain greater authority to the writing, and cause the reader to proceed more cautiously and collectedly, to consider more, and to enjoy the genius and learning of him who writes; and by judiciously exerting himself a little, he tastes that delight which is found in the pursuit of difficult things. And if the ignorance of him who reads is so great that he cannot overcome those difficulties, it is not the fault of the writer, nor on this account ought that style to be deemed unbeautiful.

“Therefore in writing, I believe it is proper to use Tuscan words used only by the ancient Tuscans, because that is great proof and tested by time, that they are good and effective to express the sense in which they are used. And besides this, they have that grace and venerableness which age lends not only to words, but to buildings, to statues, to pictures, and to everything that is able to attain it, and often merely by their splendour and dignity they make diction beautiful, by virtue whereof (and of grace) every theme, however mean it be, can be so adorned as to merit very high praise. But this custom of yours, by which you set such store, seems to me very dangerous, and often it may be bad; and if some fault of speech is found widely prevalent among the ignorant many, methinks it ought not on this account to be taken as a rule and followed by other men. Moreover customs are very diverse, nor is there a noble city of Italy that has not a different manner of speaking from all the others. But as you do not limit yourself to declaring which is the best, a man might as well adopt the Bergamasque as the Florentine, and according to you it would be no errour.[^[78]]

“Therefore I think that whoever wishes to avoid all doubt and be quite safe, must needs select as model someone who by consent of all is rated good, and must take him as a constant guide and shield against any possible adverse critic. And this model (in the vernacular, I mean) I do not think should be other than Petrarch[^[79]] and Boccaccio; and whoever departs from these two, gropes like one who walks in the dark without a light and thus often mistakes the road. But we are so daring that we do not deign to do that which the good writers of old did,—that is, devote themselves to imitation, without which I think a man cannot write well.[^[80]] And methinks good proof of this is shown us by Virgil, who by his genius and judgment so divine took from all posterity the hope of ever being able to imitate him well, yet fain would imitate Homer.”

31.—Then my lord Gaspar Pallavicino said:

“This discussion about writing is certainly well worth listening to: still it would be more to our purpose if you were to teach us in what manner the Courtier ought to speak, for I think he has greater need of it and more often has occasion to employ speaking than writing.”

The Magnifico replied:

“Nay, for a Courtier so excellent and so perfect there is no doubt but it is necessary to know both the one and the other, and that without these two accomplishments perhaps all the rest would not be very worthy of praise. So if the Count wishes to perform his duty, he will teach the Courtier not only how to speak, but also how to write well.”

Then the Count said:

“My lord Magnifico, that task I will on no account accept; for great folly would be mine to pretend to teach others that which I do not myself know, and (even if I did know it) to think myself able to do in only a few words that which with so much care and pains has hardly been done by most learned men,—to whose works I should refer our Courtier, if I were indeed bound to teach him how to write and speak.”

Messer Cesare said:

“My lord Magnifico means speaking and writing the vernacular [Italian], and not Latin; so those works by learned men are not to our purpose. But in this matter there is need for you to tell us what you know about it, because for the rest we will hold you excused.”

The Count replied:

“I have told you that already; but as we are speaking of the Tuscan tongue, perhaps it would be, more than any other man’s, my lord Magnifico’s office to give an opinion on it.”

The Magnifico said:

“I cannot and in reason ought not to contradict any man who says that the Tuscan tongue is more beautiful than the others.[^[81]] It is very true that in Petrarch and in Boccaccio are found many words that are now discarded by the custom of to-day; and these I for my part would never use either in speaking or in writing; and I believe that they themselves, if they had survived until now, would no longer use those words.”

Then messer Federico said:

“Indeed they would. And you Tuscan gentlemen ought to keep up your mother tongue, and not suffer it to decay, as you do,—so that now one may say that there is less knowledge of it in Florence than in many other parts of Italy.”

Then messer Bernardo said:

“These words that are no longer used in Florence have survived among the country folk, and are rejected by the gentle as corrupt and spoiled with age.”

32.—Then my lady Duchess said:

“Let us not wander from our main purpose, but have Count Ludovico teach the Courtier how to speak and write well, whether it be in the Tuscan or any other dialect.”

“My Lady,” replied the Count, “I have already told what I know about it; and I hold that the same rules which serve to teach the one, serve also to teach the other. But since you require it of me, I will make such response as I may to messer Federico, who has a different opinion from mine; and perhaps I shall have need to discuss the matter somewhat more diffusely than is right. However, it shall be all I can tell.

“And first I say that in my judgment this language of ours, which we call vulgar, is still tender and new, although it be already long in use. For since Italy was not only vexed and ravaged but long inhabited by the barbarians, the Latin language was corrupted and spoiled by contact with those nations, and from that corruption other languages were born: and like rivers that from the crest of the Apennines separate and flow down into the two seas, so also these languages divided, and some of them tinged with Latinity reached by diverse paths, one this country and one that; and one of them remained in Italy tinged with barbarism. Thus our language was long unformed and various, from having had no one to bestow care upon it or write in it or try to give it splendour or grace: but afterwards it was somewhat more cultivated in Tuscany than in the other parts of Italy. And so its flower seems to have remained there even from those early times, because that nation more than the others preserved a sweet accent and a proper grammatical order, and have had three noble writers[^[82]] who expressed their thoughts ingeniously and in those words and terms that the custom of their times permitted: wherein I think Petrarch succeeded more happily than the others in amourous subjects.

“Afterwards from time to time, not only in Tuscany but in all Italy, among noble men and those well versed in courts and arms and letters, there arose some desire to speak and write more elegantly than had been done in that rude and uncultivated age, when the blaze of the calamities inflicted by the barbarians was not yet quenched. Many words were laid aside, as well in the city of Florence itself and in all Tuscany as in the rest of Italy, and instead of them others were taken up; and herein there thus occurred that change which takes place in all human affairs and has always happened in the case of the other languages also. For if those earliest writings in ancient Latin had survived until now, we should see that Evander and Turnus[^[83]] and the other Latins of that age spoke differently from the last Roman kings and the first consuls. See how the verses that the Salian priests chaunted were hardly understood by posterity;[^[84]] but being established in that form by the first founders, out of religious reverence they were not changed. Likewise the orators and poets continued one after another to lay aside many words used by their predecessors: thus Antonius, Crassus, Hortensius and Cicero avoided many of Cato’s words, and Virgil avoided many of Ennius’s;[^[85]] and the others did the same. For although they had reverence for antiquity, yet they did not esteem it so highly as to consent to be bound by it in the way you would have us bound by it now. Nay they criticised it where they saw fit, as did Horace, who says that his forefathers lauded Plautus foolishly, and thinks he has a right to gather in new words.[^[86]] And in sundry places Cicero reprehends many of his predecessors, and slightingly affirms that Sergius Galba’s orations had an antique flavour,[^[87]] and says that Ennius himself disprized his predecessors in certain things: so that if we would imitate the ancients, in doing so we shall not imitate them. And Virgil, who (you say) imitated Homer, did not imitate him in language.

33.—“Therefore I for my part should always avoid using these antique words, save however in certain places, and seldom even there; and it seems to me that whoever uses them otherwise makes a mistake, not less than he who, in order to imitate the ancients, should wish to feed on acorns when wheat had been discovered in plenty. And since you say that by their mere splendour of antiquity, antique words so adorn every subject, however mean it be, that they can make it worthy of much praise,—I say that I do not set such store, not only by these antique words but even by good ones, as to think that they ought in reason to be prized without the pith of beautiful thoughts; for to divide thought from words is to divide soul from body, which can be done in neither case without destruction.

“So I think that what is chiefly important and necessary for the Courtier, in order to speak and write well, is knowledge; for he who is ignorant and has nothing in his mind that merits being heard, can neither say it nor write it.

“Next he must arrange in good order what he has to say or write; then express it well in words, which (if I do not err) ought to be precise, choice, rich and rightly formed, but above all, in use even among the masses; because such words as these make the grandeur and pomp of speech, if the speaker has good sense and carefulness, and knows how to choose the words most expressive of his meaning, and to exalt them, to mould them like wax to his will, and to arrange them in such position and order that they shall at a glance show and make known their dignity and splendour, like pictures placed in good and proper light.

“And this I say as well of writing as of speaking: in which however some things are required that are not needful in writing,—such as a good voice, not too thin and soft like a woman’s, nor yet so stern and rough as to smack of the rustic’s,—but sonorous, clear, sweet and well sounding, with distinct enunciation, and with proper bearing and gestures; which I think consist in certain movements of the whole body, not affected or violent, but tempered by a calm face and with a play of the eyes that shall give an effect of grace, accord with the words, and as far as possible express also, together with the gestures, the speaker’s intent and feeling.

“But all these things would be vain and of small moment, if the thoughts expressed by the words were not beautiful, ingenious, acute, elegant and grave,—according to the need.”

34.—Then my lord Morello said:

“If this Courtier speaks with so much elegance and grace, I doubt if anyone will be found among us who will understand him.”

“Nay, he will be understood by everyone,” replied the Count, “because facility is no impediment to elegance.

“Nor would I have him speak always of grave matters, but of amusing things, of games, jests and waggery, according to the occasion; but sensibly of everything, and with readiness and lucid fullness; and in no place let him show vanity or childish folly. And again when he is speaking on an obscure or difficult subject, I would have him carefully explain his meaning with precision of both word and thought, and make every ambiguity clear and plain with a certain touch of unpedantic care. Likewise, where there is occasion, let him know how to speak with dignity and force, to arouse those emotions that are part of our nature, and to kindle them or to move them according to the need. Sometimes, with that simple candour that makes it seem as if nature herself were speaking, let him know how to soften them, and as it were to intoxicate them with sweetness, and so easily withal that the listener shall think that with very little effort he too could reach that excellence, and when he tries, shall find himself very far behind.

“In such fashion would I have our Courtier speak and write; and not only choose rich and elegant words from every part of Italy, but I should even praise him for sometimes using some of those French and Spanish terms that are already accepted by our custom.[^[88]] Thus it would not displease me if on occasion he were to say, primor (excellence); or acertare (to succeed), aventurare (to run a risk successfully); or ripassare una persona con ragionamento, meaning to sound a person and to talk with him in order to gain perfect knowledge of him; or un cavalier senza rimproccio (a cavalier without reproach), attilato (elegant), creato d’un principe (a prince’s creature), and other like terms, provided he might hope to be understood.[^[89]]

“Sometimes I would have him use a few words in a sense other than that proper to them, to transpose them aptly, and as it were to graft them, like the branch of a tree, upon a more appropriate trunk,—so as to make them more attractive and beautiful, and as it were to bring things within the range of our vision, and within hand-touch as we say, to the delight of him who hears or reads. Nor would I have him scruple to form new words and in new figures of speech, deriving them tastefully from the Latins, as of old the Latins derived them from the Greeks.

35.—“Now if among the lettered men of good talent and judgment who to-day are found in our midst, there were a few who would take care to write in this language (as I have described) things worthy of being read, we should soon see it studied and abounding in beautiful terms and figures, and capable of being written in as well as is any other whatsoever; and if it were not pure old Tuscan, it would be Italian,—universal, copious and varied, and in a way like a delightful garden full of various flowers and fruits. Nor would this be a novel thing; for from the four dialects that the Greek writers had in use,[^[90]] they culled words, forms and figures from each as they saw fit, and thence they brought forth another dialect which was called ‘common,’ and later they called all five by the single name Greek. And although the Attic dialect was more elegant, pure and copious than the others, good writers who were not Athenians by birth did not so affect it as to be unrecognizable by their style and by the perfume (as it were) and essence of their native speech. Nor yet were they disprized for this; on the contrary those who tried to seem too Athenian, were censured for it. Among the Latin writers too, many non-Romans were highly esteemed in their day, although there was not found in them that typical purity of the Roman tongue which men of other race can rarely acquire. Thus Titus Livius was not at all discarded, although someone professed to have detected a Paduan flavour in him;[^[91]] nor was Virgil, albeit reproached with not speaking Roman. Moreover, as you know, many writers of barbarian race were read and esteemed at Rome.

“We, on the contrary, much more strict than the ancients, needlessly impose certain new laws upon ourselves, and with the beaten highways before our eyes, we seek to go along the by-paths; for in our own language,—of which, as of all others, the office is to express thought well and clearly,—we delight ourselves with obscurity; and calling it the vulgar tongue, we try in speaking it to use words that are understood neither by the vulgar nor yet by the gentle and lettered, and are no longer used in any place; unmindful that all the good writers of old disapproved words discarded by custom. Which to my thinking, you do not rightly understand; since you say that if some fault of speech is widely prevalent among the ignorant, it ought not for that reason to be called custom or accepted as a rule of speech, and from what I have heard you sometimes say, you would have us use Campidoglio in place of Capitolio; Girolamo for Hieronymo; aldace for audace; and padrone for patrone, and other words corrupt and spoiled like these; because they are found written thus by some ignorant old Tuscan, and because the Tuscan country folk speak thus to-day.[^[92]]

“Hence I believe that good custom in speech springs from men who have talent and who have gained good judgment from study and experience, and who therefore agree and consent to accept the words that to them seem good, which are recognized by a certain innate judgment and not by any art or rule. Do you not know that figures of speech, which give so much grace and splendour to an oration, are all infringements of grammatical rules, yet accepted and confirmed by usage, because, although unable to offer other reason, they give pleasure and seem to carry suavity and sweetness to our very sense of hearing? And this I believe to be good custom,—of which the Romans, the Neapolitans, the Lombards and the rest, may be as capable as the Tuscans are.

36.—“It is very true that in every language certain things are always good, such as ease, good order, richness, beautiful sentences, harmonious periods; and on the contrary affectation and other things opposed to these, are bad. But among words there are some that remain good for a time, then grow antiquated and wholly lose their grace; others gain strength and come to be esteemed. For as the seasons of the year despoil the earth of flowers and fruits and then clothe it anew with others, so time causes those primal words to decay, and use makes others to be born again and gives them grace and dignity, until they in their turn meet their death, consumed by the envious gnawing of time; for in the end both we and all our concerns are mortal. Consider that we no longer have any knowledge of the Oscan tongue.[^[93]] The Provençal, although it may be said to have been but lately celebrated by noble writers, is not now understood by the inhabitants of that country. Hence I think, as my lord Magnifico has well said, that if Petrarch and Boccaccio were alive at this time, they would not use many words that we find in their writings: therefore it does not seem to me well for us to copy these words. I applaud very highly those who know how to imitate that which ought to be imitated, but I do not at all believe that it is impossible to write well without imitating,—and particularly in this language of ours, wherein we may be aided by usage: which I should not dare say of Latin.”

37.—The messer Federico said:

“Why would you have usage more esteemed in the vernacular than in Latin?”

“Nay,” replied the Count, “I esteem usage as mistress of both the one and the other. But since those men to whom the Latin tongue was as natural as the vernacular now is to us, are no longer on earth, we must needs learn from their writings that which they learned from usage. Nor does ancient speech mean anything more than ancient usage of speech, and it would be a silly business to like ancient speech for no other reason than a wish to speak as men used to speak rather than as they now speak.”

“Then,” replied messer Federico, “the ancients did not imitate?”

“I believe,” said the Count, “that many of them did, but not in everything. And if Virgil had imitated Hesiod in everything, he would not have surpassed his master; nor Cicero, Crassus; nor Ennius, his predecessors. You know Homer is so ancient that many believe he is the first heroic poet in time as he is also in excellence of diction: and whom would you think he imitated?”

“Some other poet,” replied messer Federico, “more ancient than he, of whom we have no knowledge because of excessive antiquity.”

“Then whom,” said the Count, “would you say Petrarch and Boccaccio imitated, who were on earth only three days since, one may say?”

“I know not,” replied messer Federico; “but we may believe that even their minds were directed to imitation, although we do not know of whom.”

The Count replied:

“We may believe that they who were imitated, surpassed those who imitated them; and if they were admirable, it would be too great a marvel that their name and fame should be so soon extinguished. But I believe that their real master was aptitude and their own native judgment; and at this there is no one who ought to wonder, since nearly always the summit of every excellence may be approached by diverse roads. Nor is there anything that has not in it many things of the same sort which are dissimilar and yet intrinsically deserving of equal praise.

“Consider music, the harmonies of which are now grave and slow, now very fast and of novel moods and means; yet all give pleasure, albeit for different reasons: as is seen in Bidon’s[^[94]] manner of singing, which is so skilful, ready, vehement, fervid, and of such varied melodies, that the listener’s spirits are moved and inflamed, and thus entranced seem to be lifted up to heaven. Nor does our friend Marchetto Cara[^[95]] move us less by his singing, but with a gentler harmony; because he softens and penetrates our souls by placid means and full of plaintive sweetness, gently stirring them to sweet emotion.

“Again, various things give equal pleasure to our eyes, so that we can with difficulty decide which are more pleasing to them. You know that in painting Leonardo da Vinci,[^[96]] Mantegna,[^[97]] Raphael,[^[98]] Michelangelo, [^[99]] Giorgio da Castelfranco,[^[100]] are very excellent, yet they are all unlike in their work; so that no one of them seems to lack anything in his own manner, since each is known as most perfect in his style.

ANGELO AMBROGINI
POLIZIANO
1454-1494

Reduced from Anderson’s photograph (no. 8148) of a part of the fresco, “Zacharias in the Temple,” in the Church of Santa Maria Novella at Florence, by Domenico Bigordi, better known as Ghirlandajo, (1449-1494).

“It is the same with many Greek and Latin poets, who, although different in their writing, are equal in their fame. The orators, too, have always had so much diversity among themselves, that almost every age has produced and prized a type of orator peculiar to its own time; and these have been different not only from their predecessors and successors, but from one another: as it is written of Isocrates, Lysias, Æschines,[^[101]] and many others among the Greeks,—all excellent, yet each resembling no one but himself. So, among the Latins, Carbo, Lælius, Scipio Africanus, Galba, Sulpicius, Cotta, Gracchus, Marcus Antonius, Crassus,[^[102]] and so many others that it would be tedious to name them,—all good and very different one from another; so that if a man were able to consider all the orators that have been in the world, he would find as many kinds of oratory as of orators. I think I remember too that Cicero in a certain place[^[103]] makes Marcus Antonius say to Sulpicius that there are many who imitate no man and yet arrive at the highest pitch of excellence; and he speaks of certain ones who had introduced a new form and figure of speech, beautiful but not usual among the orators of that time, wherein they imitated no one but themselves. For that reason he affirms also that masters ought to consider the pupils’ nature, and taking this as guide ought to direct and aid them to the path towards which their aptitude and natural disposition incline them. Hence I believe, dear messer Federico, that if a man has no innate affinity for any particular author, it is not well to force him to imitate, because the vigour[^[104]] of his faculty languishes and is impeded when turned from the channel in which it would have made progress had that channel not been barred.

“Therefore I do not see how it can be well, instead of enriching this language of ours and giving it spirit and grandeur and light, to make it poor, thin, humble and obscure, and to try to restrict it in such narrow bounds that everyone shall be forced to imitate Petrarch and Boccaccio alone; and how, in respect of language, we ought not also to give credence to Poliziano,[^[105]] to Lorenzo de’ Medici,[^[106]] to Francesco Diacceto,[^[107]] and to some others who are also Tuscans and perhaps of no less learning and judgment than were Petrarch and Boccaccio. And great pity would it be indeed to set a limit, and not to surpass that which almost the earliest writers achieved, and to deny that so many men of such noble genius can ever find more than one beautiful form of expression in this language which is proper and natural to them. But to-day there are certain scrupulous souls, who so frighten the listener with the cult and ineffable mysteries of this Tuscan tongue of theirs, as to put even many a noble and learned man in such fear, that he dare not open his mouth and confesses that he does not know how to speak the very language which he learned in swaddling clothes from his nurse.

“However I think we have said only too much of this; so now let us go on with our discussion about the Courtier.”

38.—Then messer Federico replied:

“I should first like to say one thing more, which is that I do not deny men’s opinions and aptitudes to be different among themselves. Nor do I believe that it would be well for a naturally vehement and excitable man to set himself to write of placid themes, or for another, being severe and grave, to write jests; for in this matter it seems to me reasonable that everyone should adapt himself to his own proper instinct. And I think Cicero was speaking of this when he said that masters ought to have regard to their pupils’ nature, in order not to act like bad husbandmen, who will sometimes sow grain in land that is fruitful only for the vine.

“Still I cannot get it into my head why, in the case of a particular language,—which is not proper to all men equally, like speech and thought and many other functions, but an invention of limited use,—it is not more rational to imitate those who speak better, than to speak at random; or why, just as in Latin we ought to try to approach the language of Virgil and Cicero rather than that of Silius or Cornelius Tacitus,[^[108]] it is not better in the vernacular also to imitate the language of Petrarch and Boccaccio than any other’s; yet to express our thoughts in it well, and thus to give heed to our own natural instinct, as Cicero teaches. And in this way it will be found that the difference which you say there is among good orators, consists in sense and not in language.”

Then the Count said:

“I fear we shall be entering on a wide sea, and shall be leaving our first subject of the Courtier. However, I ask you in what consists the excellence of this language?”

Messer Federico replied:

“In preserving strictly its proprieties, in giving it that sense, and in using that style and those rhythms, which have been used by all who have written well.”

“I should like to know,” said the Count, “whether this style and these rhythms of which you speak, arise from the thought or from the words.”

“From the words,” replied messer Federico.

“Then,” said the Count, “do not the words of Silius and Cornelius Tacitus seem to you the same that Virgil and Cicero use? and employed in the same sense?”

“Certainly they are the same,” replied messer Federico, “but some of them wrongly applied and turned awry.”

The Count replied:

“And if from a book of Cornelius and from one of Silius, all those words were removed that are used in a sense different from that of Virgil and Cicero, which would be very few,—would you not then say that Cornelius was the equal of Cicero in language, and Silius of Virgil, and that it would be well to imitate their manner of speech?”

39.—Then my lady Emilia said:

“Methinks this debate of yours is far too long and tedious; therefore it were well to postpone it to another time.”

Messer Federico was about to reply none the less, but my lady Emilia always interrupted him. At last the Count said:

“Many men like to pass judgment upon style and to talk about rhythms and imitation; but they cannot make it at all clear to me what manner of thing style or rhythm is, or in what imitation consists, or why things taken from Homer or from someone else are so becoming in Virgil that they seem illumined rather than imitated. Perhaps this is because I am not capable of understanding them; but since a good sign that a man knows a thing, is his ability to teach it, I suspect that they too understand it but little, and that they praise both Virgil and Cicero because they hear such praise from many, not because they perceive the difference that exists between these two and others: for in truth it does not consist in preserving two or three or ten words used in a way different from the others.

“In Sallust, Cæsar, Varro[^[109]] and the other good writers, some terms are found used differently from the way Cicero uses them; and yet both ways are proper, for the excellence and force of a language lie in no such trifling matter: as Demosthenes well said to Æschines, who tauntingly asked him whether certain words that he had used (although not Attic) were prodigies or portents; and Demosthenes laughed and replied that the fortunes of Greece did not hang on such a trifle. So I too should care little if I were reproved by a Tuscan for having said satisfatto rather than sodisfatto, honorevole for horrevole, causa for cagione, populo for popolo, and the like.”

Then messer Federico rose to his feet and said:

“Hear me these few words, I pray.”

“The pain of my displeasure,” replied my lady Emilia, laughing, “be upon him who speaks more of this matter now, for I wish to postpone it to another evening. But do you, Count, go on with the discussion about the Courtier,—and show us what a fine memory you have, which I think you will do in no small measure, if you are able to take up the discussion where you left it.”

40.—“My Lady,” replied the Count, “I fear the thread is broken; yet if I am not wrong, methinks we were saying that the pest of affectation imparts extreme ungracefulness to everything, while on the other hand simplicity and nonchalance produce the height of grace: in praise of which, and in blame of affectation, we might cite many other arguments; but of these I wish to add only one, and no more. Women are always very eager to be—and when they cannot be, at least to seem—beautiful. So where nature is somewhat at fault in this regard, they try to piece it out by artifice; whence arise that painting of the face with so much care and sometimes pains, that plucking of the eyebrows and forehead, and the use of all those devices and the endurance of that trouble, which you ladies think to keep very secret from men, but which are all well known.”

Here madonna Costanza Fregosa laughed and said:

“It would be far more courteous for you to keep to your discussion, and tell us of what grace is born, and talk about Courtiership,—than to try to unveil the weaknesses of women, which are not to the purpose.”

“Nay, much to the purpose,” replied the Count: “for these weaknesses of yours I am speaking of, deprive you of grace because they spring from nothing but affectation, wherein you openly make known to everyone your over-eagerness to be beautiful.

“Do you not see how much more grace a lady has who paints (if at all) so sparingly and so little, that whoever sees her is in doubt whether she be painted or not; than another lady so plastered that she seems to have put a mask upon her face and dares not laugh for fear of cracking it, nor ever changes colour but when she dresses in the morning, and then stands motionless all the rest of the day like a wooden image, showing herself only by candle-light, like wily merchants who display their cloths in a dark place? Again, how much more pleasing than all others is one (I mean not ill-favoured) who is plainly seen to have nothing on her face, although it be neither very white nor very red, but by nature a little pale and sometimes tinged with an honest flush from shame or other accident,—with hair artlessly unadorned and hardly confined, her gestures simple and free, without showing care or wish to be beautiful! This is that nonchalant simplicity most pleasing to the eyes and minds of men, who are ever fearful of being deceived by art.

“Beautiful teeth are very charming in a woman, for since they are not so much in view as the face is, but lie hidden most of the time, we may believe that less care is taken to make them beautiful than with the face. Yet if one were to laugh without cause and solely to display the teeth, he would betray his art, and however beautiful they were, would seem most ungraceful to all, like Catullus’s Egnatius.[^[110]] It is the same with the hands; which, if they are delicate and beautiful, and occasionally left bare when there is need to use them, and not in order to display their beauty, they leave a very great desire to see more of them, and especially if covered with gloves again; for whoever covers them seems to have little care or thought whether they be seen or not, and to have them thus beautiful more by nature than by any effort or pains.

“Have you ever noticed when a woman, in passing through the street to church or elsewhere, thoughtlessly happens (either in frolic or from other cause) to lift her dress high enough to show the foot and often a little of the leg? Does this not seem to you full of grace, when you see her tricked out with a touch of feminine daintiness in velvet shoes and neat stockings? I for one delight in it and believe you all do, for everyone is persuaded that elegance, in matters thus hidden and rarely seen, is natural and instinctive to the lady rather than forced, and that she does not think to win any praise by it.

41.—“In this way we avoid and hide affectation, and you can now see how opposed and destructive it is to grace in every office as well of the body as the mind: whereof we have thus far spoken little, and yet we must not omit it, for since the mind is of far more worth than the body, it deserves to be more cultivated and adorned. And as to what ought to be done in the case of our Courtier, we will lay aside the precepts of the many sage philosophers who write of this matter and define the properties of the mind and discuss so subtly about their rank,—and keeping to our subject, we will in a few words declare it to be enough that he be (as we say) an honest and upright man; for in this are included prudence, goodness, strength and temperance of mind, and all the other qualities that are proper to a name so honoured. And I esteem him alone to be a true moral philosopher, who wishes to be good; and in this regard he needs few other precepts than that wish. And therefore Socrates was right in saying that he thought his teachings bore good fruit indeed whenever they incited anyone to understand and teach virtue: for they who have reached the goal of desiring nothing more ardently than to be good, easily acquire knowledge of everything needful therefor; so we will discuss this no further.

42.—“Yet besides goodness, I think that letters are for everyone the true and principal ornament of the mind: although the French recognize only the nobility of arms and esteem all else as naught. Thus they not only fail to prize but they abhor letters, and hold all men of letters most base, and think they speak very basely of any man when they call him a clerk.”

MONSEIGNEUR D’ANGOULÊME
AFTERWARD FRANCIS I OF FRANCE
1494-1547

Enlarged from a negative, specially made by Alinari through the courtesy of Professor I. B. Supino, of an anonymous medal in the National Museum at Florence.

Then the Magnifico Giuliano replied:

“You say truly, that this fault has long been prevalent among the French. But if kind fate decrees that Monseigneur d’Angoulême[^[111]] shall succeed to the crown, as is hoped, I think that just as the glory of arms flourishes and shines in France, so too ought that of letters to flourish in highest state; for it is not long since I, being at the court, saw this prince, and it seemed to me that besides the grace of his person and the beauty of his face, he had in his aspect such loftiness, joined however with a certain gracious humanity, that the realm of France must always seem small for him. I heard afterwards from many gentlemen, both French and Italian, of his very noble manner of life, of his loftiness of mind, of his valour and liberality. And among other things I was told that he loved and esteemed letters especially and held all men of letters in greatest honour; and he condemned the French themselves for being so hostile to this profession, especially as they have within their borders such a noble school as that of Paris, frequented by all the world.”[^[112]]

Then the Count said:

“It is a great marvel that in such tender youth, solely by natural instinct and against the usage of his country, he has of himself chosen so worthy a path. And as subjects always copy the customs of their superiours, it may be that, as you say, the French will yet come to esteem letters at their true worth: whereto they may easily be persuaded, if they will but listen to reason; since nothing is by nature more desirable for men, or more proper to them, than knowledge, which it is great folly to say or believe is not always a good thing.

43.—“And if I were speaking with them, or with others who had an opinion contrary to mine, I should strive to show them how useful and necessary letters are to our life and dignity, having indeed been granted by God to men as a crowning gift. Nor should I lack instances of many excellent commanders of antiquity, who all added the ornament of letters to the valour of their arms.

“Thus you know Alexander held Homer in such veneration that he always kept the Iliad by his bedside; and he devoted the greatest attention not only to these studies but to philosophical speculation under Aristotle’s guidance. Alcibiades enlarged his natural aptitudes and made them greater by means of letters and the teachings of Socrates. The care that Cæsar gave to study is also attested by the surviving works that he divinely wrote. It is said that Scipio Africanus always kept in his hand the works of Xenophon, wherein the perfect king is portrayed under the name of Cyrus. I could tell you of Lucullus, Sulla, Pompey, Brutus,[^[113]] and many other Romans and Greeks; but I will merely remind you that Hannibal, the illustrious commander,—although fierce by nature and a stranger to all humanity, faithless and a despiser of both men and gods,—yet had knowledge of letters and was conversant with the Greek language; and if I mistake not, I once read that he even left a book composed by him in Greek.

“However it is superfluous to tell you this, for I well know that you all see how wrong the French are in thinking that letters are injurious to arms. You know that glory is the true stimulus to great and hazardous deeds of war, and whoso is moved thereto by gain or other motive, besides doing nothing good, deserves not to be called a gentleman, but a base trafficker. And true glory is that which is preserved in the sacred treasure-house of letters, as everyone may understand except those unfortunates who have never enjoyed them.

“What soul is there so abject, timid and humble, that when he reads of the deeds of Cæsar, Alexander, Scipio, Hannibal, and many others, is not inflamed by an ardent desire to be like them, and does not make small account of this frail two days’ life, in order to win the almost eternal life of fame, which in spite of death makes him live in far greater glory than before? But he who does not feel the delight of letters, cannot either know how great is the glory they so long preserve, and measures it by the life of one man or two, because his memory runs no further. Hence he cannot esteem this short-lived glory so much as he would that almost eternal glory if knowledge of it were unhappily not denied him, and as he does not esteem it so much, we may reasonably believe that he will not run such danger to pursue it as one who knew it would.

“I should be far from willing to have an antagonist cite instances to the contrary in refutation of my view, and urge upon me that with all their knowledge of letters the Italians have for some time since shown little martial valour,—which is alas only too true.[^[114]] But it very certainly might be said that the fault of a few has brought not only grievous harm but eternal obloquy upon all the rest; and from them was derived the true cause of our ruin and of the decadence if not the death of valour in our souls: yet it would be far more shameful in us to publish it, than for the French to be ignorant of letters. Therefore it is better to pass over in silence that which cannot be recalled without pain: and avoiding this subject (upon which I entered against my will) to return to our Courtier.

44.—“I would have him more than passably accomplished in letters, at least in those studies that are called the humanities, and conversant not only with the Latin language but with the Greek, for the sake of the many different things that have been admirably written therein.[^[115]] Let him be well versed in the poets, and not less in the orators and historians, and also proficient in writing verse and prose, especially in this vulgar tongue of ours;[^[116]] for besides the enjoyment he will find in it, he will by this means never lack agreeable entertainment with ladies,[^[117]] who are usually fond of such things. And if other occupations or want of study prevent his reaching such perfection as to render his writings worthy of great praise, let him be careful to suppress them so that others may not laugh at him, and let him show them only to a friend whom he can trust: because they will at least be of this service to him, that the exercise will enable him to judge the work of others. For it very rarely happens that a man who is not accustomed to write, however learned he may be, can ever quite appreciate the toil and industry of writers, or taste the sweetness and excellence of style, and those latent niceties that are often found in the ancients.

“Moreover these studies will also make him fluent, and as Aristippus said to the tyrant, confident and assured in speaking with everyone.[^[118]] Hence I would have our Courtier keep one precept fixed in mind; which is that in this and everything else he should be always on his guard, and diffident rather than forward, and that he should keep from falsely persuading himself that he knows that which he does not know. For by nature we all are fonder of praise than we ought to be, and our ears love the melody of words that praise us more than any other sweet song or sound; and thus, like sirens’ voices, they are often the cause of shipwreck to him who does not close his ears to such deceptive harmony. Among the ancient sages this danger was recognized, and books were written showing in what way the true friend may be distinguished from the flatterer.[^[119]] But what does this avail, if there be many, nay a host, of those who clearly perceive that they are flattered, yet love him who flatters them, and hold him in hatred who tells them the truth? And often when they find him who praises them too sparing in his words, they even help him and say such things of themselves, that the flatterer is put to shame, most impudent though he be.

“Let us leave these blind ones to their errour, and have our Courtier of such good judgment that he will not take black for white, or have more self-confidence than he clearly knows to be well founded; and especially in those peculiarities which (if you remember) messer Cesare in his game said we had often used as an instrument to bring men’s folly to light. On the contrary, even if he well knows the praises bestowed upon him to be true, let him not err by accepting them too openly or confirming them without some protest; but rather let him as it were disclaim them modestly, always showing and really esteeming arms as his chief profession, and all other good accomplishments as an ornament thereto. And particularly among soldiers let him not act like those who insist on seeming soldiers in learning, and learned men among soldiers. In this way, for the reasons we have alleged, he will avoid affectation, and even the middling things that he does, shall seem very great.”

45.—Messer Pietro Bembo here replied:

“Count, I do not see why you insist that this Courtier, being lettered and endowed with so many other admirable accomplishments, should hold everything as an ornament of arms, and not arms and the rest as an ornament of letters; which without other accompaniment are as superiour in dignity to arms, as the mind is to the body, for the practice of them properly pertains to the mind, as that of arms does to the body.”

Then the Count replied:

“Nay, the practice of arms pertains to both mind and body. But I would not have you judge in such a cause, messer Pietro, for you would be too much suspected of bias by one of the two sides: and as the controversy has already been long waged by very wise men, there is no need to renew it; but I regard it as settled in favour of arms, and would have our Courtier so regard it too, since I may form him as I wish. And if you are of contrary mind, wait till you hear of a contest wherein he who defends the cause of arms is allowed to use arms, just as those who defend letters make use of letters in their defence; for if everyone avails himself of his proper weapons, you shall see that men of letters will be worsted.”

“Ah,” said messer Pietro, “a while ago you blamed the French for prizing letters little, and told what glorious lustre is shed on man by letters and how they make him immortal; and now it seems you have changed your mind. Do you not remember that

Before the famous tomb of brave Achilles

Thus spake the mighty Alexander, sighing:

‘O happy youth, who found so clear a trumpet,

And lofty bard to make thy deeds undying!’[^[120]]

And if Alexander envied Achilles not for his deeds, but for the fortune that had granted him the happiness of having his exploits celebrated by Homer, we may conclude that Alexander esteemed Homer’s poems above Achilles’s arms. For what other judge do you wait then, or for what other sentence upon the dignity of arms and letters, than that pronounced by one of the greatest commanders that have ever been?”

46.—Then the Count replied:

“I blame the French for thinking that letters are a hindrance to the profession of arms, and I hold that learning is more proper to no one than to a warrior; and in our Courtier I would have these two accomplishments joined and each aided by the other, as is most proper: nor do I think I have changed my mind in this. But as I said, I do not wish to discuss which of the two is more worthy of praise. It is enough that men of letters almost never select for praise any but great men and glorious deeds, which in themselves merit praise for the mere essential quality from which they spring; besides this they are very noble material for writers: which is a great ornament, and in part the cause of perpetuating writings, which perhaps would not be so much read and appreciated if they lacked their noble theme, but vain and of little moment.

“And if Alexander was envious that Achilles should be praised by Homer, it does not therefore follow that he esteemed letters above arms; wherein if he had felt himself as far behind Achilles as he deemed all those who wrote of him were behind Homer, I am sure he would far rather have desired fine acts on his part than fine speeches on the part of others. Hence I believe that saying of his to have been a tacit eulogy of himself, and that he was expressing a desire for what he thought he did not possess (that is, the supreme excellence of a writer), and not for what he believed he already had attained (that is, prowess in arms, wherein he did not deem Achilles at all his superior). Thus he called Achilles happy, as if hinting that although his own fame had hitherto not been so celebrated in the world as Achilles’s, which was made bright and illustrious by that poem so divine,—it was not because his valour and merits were less or deserving of less praise, but because fortune bestowed upon Achilles that miracle of nature as a glorious trumpet for his achievements. Perhaps also he wished to incite some noble genius to write about him, by showing that this must be as pleasing to him as were his love and veneration for the sacred monuments of letters: whereof we have spoken long enough for the present.”

“Nay, too long,” replied my lord Ludovico Pio; “for I believe that in the whole world it would be impossible to find a receptacle large enough to hold all the things you would have in our Courtier.”

Then the Count said:

“Wait a little, for there are many more that he must have.”

“In that case,” replied Pietro da Napoli, “Grasso de’ Medici would have a great advantage over messer Pietro Bembo.”[^[121]]

47.—Here everyone laughed, and the Count began anew and said:

“My lords, you must know that I am not content with the Courtier unless he be also a musician and unless, besides understanding and being able to read notes, he can play upon divers instruments. For if we consider rightly, there is to be found no rest from toil or medicine for the troubled spirit more becoming and praiseworthy in time of leisure, than this; and especially in courts, where besides the relief from tedium that music affords us all, many things are done to please the ladies, whose tender and gentle spirit is easily penetrated by harmony and filled with sweetness. Thus it is no marvel that in both ancient and modern times they have always been inclined to favour musicians, and have found refreshing spiritual food in music.”

Then my lord Gaspar said:

“I admit that music as well as many other vanities may be proper to women and perhaps to some that have the semblance of men, but not to those who really are men; for these ought not to enervate their mind with delights and thus induce therein a fear of death.”

“Say not so,” replied the Count; “for I shall enter upon a vast sea in praise of music. And I shall call to mind how it was always celebrated and held sacred among the ancients, and how very sage philosophers were of opinion that the world is composed of music, that the heavens make harmony in their moving, and that the soul, being ordered in like fashion, awakes and as it were revives its powers through music.

“Thus it is written that Alexander was sometimes excited by it so passionately, that he was forced almost against his will to leave the banquet table and rush to arms; and when the musician changed the temper of the tune, he grew calm again, lay aside his arms, and returned to the banquet table. Moreover I will tell you that grave Socrates learned to play the cithern[^[122]] at a very advanced age. And I remember having once heard that Plato and Aristotle would have the man of culture a musician also; and they show by a host of arguments that the power of music over us is very great, and (for many reasons which would be too long to tell now) that it must needs be taught from childhood, not so much for the mere melody that we hear, but for the power it has to induce in us a fresh and good habit of mind and an habitual tendency to virtue, which renders the soul more capable of happiness, just as bodily exercise renders the body more robust;[^[123]] and that music is not only no hindrance in the pursuits of peace and war, but is very helpful therein.

“Again, Lycurgus[^[124]] approved of music in his harsh laws. And we read that in their battles the very warlike Lacedemonians and Cretans used the cithern and other dulcet instruments; that many very excellent commanders of antiquity, like Epaminondas,[^[125]] practised music; and that those who were ignorant of it, like Themistocles,[^[126]] were far less esteemed. Have you not read that music was among the first accomplishments which the worthy old Chiron taught Achilles in tender youth,[^[127]] whom he reared from the age of nurse and cradle? and that the sage preceptor insisted that the hands which were to shed so much Trojan blood, should be often busied with the cithern? Where is the soldier who would be ashamed to imitate Achilles,—to say nothing of many other famous commanders whom I could cite?

“Therefore seek not to deprive our Courtier of music, which not only soothes men’s minds, but often tames wild beasts;[^[128]] and he who enjoys it not, may be sure that his spirit is ill attuned. See what power it has, to make (as once it did) a fish submit to be ridden by a man upon the boisterous sea.[^[129]] We find it used in holy temples to render praise and thanks to God; and we must believe that it is pleasing to Him and that He has given it to us as most sweet alleviation for our fatigues and troubles. Wherefore rough toilers of the field under a burning sun often cheat their weariness with crude and rustic song. With music the rude peasant lass, who is up before the day to spin or weave, wards off her drowsiness and makes her toil a pleasure; music is very cheering pastime for poor sailors after rain, wind and tempest: a solace to tired pilgrims on their long and weary journeys, and often to sorrowing captives in their chains and fetters. Thus, as stronger proof that melody even if rude is very great relief from every human toil and care, nature seems to have taught it to the nurse as chief remedy for the continual wailing of frail children, who by the sound of her voice are brought restful and placid sleep, forgetful of the tears so proper to them and given us in that age by nature as a presage of our after life.”

48.—As the Count now remained silent for a little, the Magnifico Giuliano said:

“I do not at all agree with my lord Gaspar. Nay I think, for the reasons you give and for many others, that music is not only an ornament but a necessity to the Courtier. Yet I would have you declare in what way this and the other accomplishments that you prescribe for him, are to be practised, and at what time and in what manner.[^[130]] For many things that are praiseworthy in themselves often become very inappropriate when practised out of season, and on the other hand, some that seem of little moment are highly esteemed when made use of opportunely.”

49.—Then the Count said:

“Before we enter upon that subject, I wish to discuss another matter, which I deem of great importance and therefore think our Courtier ought by no means to omit: and this is to know how to draw and to have acquaintance with the very art of painting.

“And do not marvel that I desire this art, which to-day may seem to savour of the artisan and little to befit a gentleman; for I remember having read that the ancients, especially throughout Greece, had their boys of gentle birth study painting in school as an honourable and necessary thing, and it was admitted to the first rank of liberal arts; while by public edict they forbade that it be taught to slaves. Among the Romans too, it was held in highest honour, and the very noble family of the Fabii took their name from it; for the first Fabius was given the name Pictor, because,—being indeed a most excellent painter, and so devoted to painting that when he painted the walls of the temple of Health,—he inscribed his own name thereon;[^[131]] for although he was born of a family thus renowned and honoured with so many consular titles, triumphs and other dignities, and although he was a man of letters and learned in the law, and numbered among the orators,—yet he thought to add splendour and ornament to his fame by leaving a memorial that he had been a painter. Nor is there lack of many other men of illustrious family, celebrated in this art; which besides being very noble and worthy in itself, is of great utility, and especially in war for drawing places, sites, rivers, bridges, rocks, fortresses, and the like; since however well we may keep them in memory (which is very difficult), we cannot show them to others.

“And truly he who does not esteem this art, seems to me very unreasonable; for this universal fabric that we see,—with the vast heaven so richly adorned with shining stars, and in the midst the earth girdled by the seas, varied with mountains, valleys and rivers, and bedecked with so many divers trees, beautiful flowers and grasses,—may be said to be a great and noble picture, composed by the hand of nature and of God; and whoever is able to imitate it, seems to me deserving of great praise: nor can it be imitated without knowledge of many things, as he knows well who tries. Hence the ancients greatly prized both the art and the artist, which thus attained the summit of highest excellence; very sure proof of which may be found in the antique marble and bronze statues that yet are seen.[^[132]] And although painting is different from sculpture, both the one and the other spring from the same source, which is good design. Therefore, as the statues are divine, so we may believe the pictures were also; the more indeed because they are susceptible of greater skill.”

50.—Then my lady Emilia turned to Giancristoforo Romano, who was sitting with the others there, and said:

“What think you of this opinion? Do you admit that painting is susceptible of greater skill than sculpture?”[^[133]]

Giancristoforo replied:

“I, my Lady, think that sculpture needs more pains, more skill, and is of greater dignity than painting.”

The Count rejoined:

“In that statues are more enduring, perhaps we might say they are of greater dignity; for being made as memorials, they fulfil better than painting the purpose for which they are made. But besides serving as memorials, both painting and sculpture serve also to beautify, and in this respect painting is much superior; for if less diuturnal (so to speak) than sculpture, yet it is of very long life, and is far more charming so long as it endures.”

Then Giancristoforo replied:

“I really think that you are speaking against your convictions and that you are doing so solely for the sake of your friend Raphael; and perhaps too the excellence you find in his painting seems to you so consummate that sculpture cannot rival it: but consider that this is praise of an artist and not of his art.”

MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI
1475-1564

Reduced from a photograph, specially made by Soame, of an anonymous and hitherto unpublished bronze head at Oxford. From a death-mask, Michelangelo’s pupil Daniele Ricciarelli da Volterra (1500-1566) prepared a mould, of which this and the similar “Piot” head in the Louvre are believed to be unchased castings. See C. Drury E. Fortnum’s article “On the Bronze Portrait Busts of Michelangelo,” etc., in the Archæological Journal.

Then he continued:

“It seems clear to me that both the one and the other are artificial imitations of nature; but I do not see how you can say that truth, such as nature makes it, is not better imitated in a marble or bronze statue,—wherein the members are round, formed and measured, as nature makes them,—than in a painting, where we see nothing but the surface and those colours that cheat the eyes; nor will you tell me, surely, that being is not nearer truth than seeming. Moreover I think sculpture is more difficult, because if a slip is made, it cannot be corrected (since marble cannot be patched again), but another statue must be made anew; which does not happen with painting, for one may change a thousand times, and add and take away, improving always.”

51.—The Count said, laughing:

“I am not speaking for Raphael’s sake; nor ought you to repute me so ignorant as not to know the excellence of Michelangelo in sculpture, your own, and others’. But I am speaking of the art, and not of the artists.

“You say very truly that both the one and the other are imitations of nature; but it is not true that painting seems, and sculpture is. For while statues are round as in life and painting is seen only on the surface, statues lack many things that paintings do not lack, and especially light and shade. Thus flesh has one tone and marble another; and this the painter imitates to the life by chiaroscuro, greater or less according to the need,—which the sculptor cannot do. And although the painter does not make his figure round, he presents the muscles and members rounded in such fashion as so to join the parts which are not seen, that we can discern very well that the painter knows and understands these also. And in this, another and greater skill is needed to represent those members that are foreshortened and grow smaller in proportion to the distance by reason of perspective; which, by means of measured lines, colours, lights and shades, shows you foreground and distance all on the single surface of an upright wall, in such proportion as he chooses.[^[134]] Do you really think it of small moment to imitate the natural colours, in representing flesh or stuffs or any other coloured thing? The sculptor certainly cannot do this, or express the grace of black eyes or blue, with the splendour of their amourous beams. He cannot show the colour of fair hair, or the gleam of weapons, or a dark night, or a storm at sea, or its lightnings and thunderbolts, or the burning of a city, or the birth of rosy dawn with its rays of gold and purple. In short, he cannot show sky, sea, earth, mountains, woods, meadows, gardens, rivers, cities, or houses,—all of which the painter shows.

52.—“Therefore painting seems to me nobler and more susceptible of skill, than sculpture. And I think that it, like other things, reached the summit of excellence among the ancients: which still is seen in the few slight remains that are left, especially in the grottoes of Rome;[^[135]] but much more clearly may it be perceived in the ancient authors, wherein is such honoured and frequent mention both of works and of masters, and whereby we learn how highly they were always honoured by great lords and by commonwealths.

“Thus we read that Alexander loved Apelles of Ephesus dearly,—so dearly, that having caused the artist to paint a portrait of his favourite slave undraped, and hearing that the worthy painter had become most ardently enamoured of her by reason of her marvellous beauty, he gave her to Apelles without hesitation:—munificence truly worthy of Alexander, to sacrifice not only treasure and states but his very affections and desires; and sign of exceeding love for Apelles, in order to please the artist, not to hesitate at displeasing the woman he dearly loved, who (we may believe) was sorely grieved to change so great a king for a painter. Many other signs also are told of Alexander’s favour to Apelles; but he very clearly showed how highly he esteemed the painter, in commanding by public edict that none other should presume to paint his portrait.

“Here I could tell you of the rivalries of many noble painters, which filled nearly the whole world with praise and wonderment. I could tell you with what solemnity ancient emperors adorned their triumphs with pictures, and set them up in public places, and how dearly bought them; and that there were some painters who gave their works as gifts, esteeming gold and silver inadequate to pay for them; and how a painting by Protogenes was prized so highly, that when Demetrius[^[136]] laid siege to Rhodes and could have gained an entrance by setting fire to the quarter where he knew the painting was, he refrained from giving battle so that it might not be burned, and thus did not capture the place; and that Metrodorus,[^[137]] a philosopher and very excellent painter, was sent by the Athenians to Lucius Paulus[^[138]] to teach his children and to adorn the triumph that he was about to receive. Moreover many noble authors have written about this art, which is a great sign of the esteem in which it was held; but I do not wish to enlarge further upon it in this discussion.

“So let it be enough to say that it is fitting for our Courtier to have knowledge of painting also, as being honourable and useful and highly prized in those times when men were of far greater worth than now they are. And if he should never derive from it other use or pleasure than the help it affords in judging the merit of statues ancient and modern, of vases, buildings, medals, cameos, intaglios, and the like,—it also enables him to appreciate the beauty of living bodies, not only as to delicacy of face but as to symmetry of all the other parts, both in men and in every other creature. Thus you see how a knowledge of painting is a source of very great pleasure. And let those think of this, who so delight in contemplating a woman’s beauty that they seem to be in paradise, and yet cannot paint; which if they could do, they would have much greater pleasure, because they would more perfectly appreciate that beauty which engenders such satisfaction in their hearts.”

53.—Here messer Cesare Gonzaga laughed, and said:

“Certainly I am no painter; yet I am sure I have greater pleasure in looking upon a woman than that admirable Apelles, whom you just mentioned, would have if he were now come back to life.”

The Count replied:

“This pleasure of yours is not derived wholly from her beauty, but from the affection that perhaps you bear her; and if you will say the truth, the first time you saw that woman you did not feel a thousandth part of the pleasure that you did afterwards, although her beauty was the same. Thus you may see how much more affection had to do with your pleasure, than beauty had.”

“I do not deny this,” said messer Cesare; “but just as my pleasure is born of affection, so is affection born of beauty. Thus it may still be said that beauty is the cause of my pleasure.”

The Count replied:

“Many other causes also inflame our minds, besides beauty: such as manners, knowledge, speech, gesture, and a thousand other things which in a way perhaps might also be called beauties; but above all, the consciousness of being loved. So it is possible to love very ardently even without that beauty you speak of; but the love that springs from the outward bodily beauty which we see, will doubtless give far greater pleasure to him who appreciates it more than to him who appreciates it less. Therefore, to return to our subject, I think that Apelles enjoyed the contemplation of Campaspe’s beauty far more than Alexander did:[^[139]] for we may easily believe that both men’s love sprang only from her beauty; and perhaps it was partly on this account that Alexander resolved to give her to him who seemed fitted to appreciate her most perfectly.

“Have you not read that those five maidens of Crotona, whom the painter Zeuxis chose above the others of that city for the purpose of forming from them all a single type of surpassing beauty, were celebrated by many poets as having been adjudged beautiful by one who must have been a consummate judge of beauty?”[^[140]]

54.—Messer Cesare here seemed ill satisfied and unwilling to admit for a moment that anyone but himself could taste that pleasure which he felt in contemplating a woman’s beauty, and he began to speak. But just then a great tramping of feet was heard, and the sound of loud talking; whereupon everyone turned, and a glare of torches was seen at the door of the room, and soon there arrived, with a numerous and noble company, my lord Prefect,[^[3]] who returned from attending the pope part way on the journey. At once on entering the palace he had asked what my lady Duchess was doing, and had learned of what manner the game was that evening, and the charge imposed on Count Ludovico to speak about Courtiership. Therefore he came as fast as he could, so as to arrive in season to hear something. Then, immediately after having made his reverence to my lady Duchess and bidden the others to be seated (for everyone had risen when he came in),—he too sat down in the circle with some of his gentlemen; among whom were the Marquess Febus di Ceva and his brother Gerardino,[^[141]] messer Ettore Romano,[^[142]] Vincenzo Calmeta,[^[143]] Orazio Florido,[^[144]] and many others; and as everyone remained silent, my lord Prefect said:

“Gentlemen, my coming here would be indeed a pity, if I were to interrupt such a fine discussion as I think you were just now engaged in; so do me not this wrong of depriving yourselves and me of such a pleasure.”

Then Count Ludovico said:

“Nay, my Lord, I think we all must be far better pleased to be silent than to speak; for this burden having fallen more to me than to the others this evening, I have at last grown weary of speaking, and I think all the others are weary of listening, for my talk has not been worthy of this company or adequate to the lofty theme that I was charged with; in which, having little satisfied myself, I think I have satisfied the others still less. So you were fortunate, my Lord, to come in at the end. And for the rest of the discussion, it would indeed be well to appoint someone else to take my place, because whoever he may be, I know he will fill it far better than I should even if I were willing to go on, being now tired as I am.”

The Magnifico Giuliano replied:

55.—“I certainly shall not submit to be cheated of the promise that you made me, and am sure my lord Prefect too will not be sorry to hear that part of our discussion.”

“And what promise was it?” said the Count.

“To tell us in what way the Courtier must make use of those good qualities that you have said befit him,” replied the Magnifico.

Although but a boy, my lord Prefect was wise and sensible beyond what seemed natural to his tender years, and in his every movement he showed a loftiness of mind and a certain vivacity of temper that gave true presage of the high pitch of manliness that he was to attain. So he said quickly:

“If all this is to be told, I think I have come just in time; for by hearing in what way the Courtier must use his good qualities, I shall hear also what they are, and thus shall come to learn everything that has been said before. So do not refuse, Count, to fulfil the obligation of which you have already performed a part.”

“I should not have so heavy an obligation to fulfil,” replied the Count, “if the labour were more evenly divided; but the mistake was made of giving the right of command to a too partial lady;” and then laughing he turned to my lady Emilia, who quickly said:

“It is not you who ought to complain of my partiality; but since you do so without reason, we will give someone else a share of this honour, which you call labour;” and turning to messer Federico Fregoso, she said: “You proposed the game of the Courtier, hence it is right that you should bear some share in it; and this shall be to comply with my lord Magnifico’s request, by declaring in what way, manner and time, the Courtier ought to make use of his good qualities and practise those things which the Count has said it is fitting he should know.”

Then messer Federico said:

“My Lady, in trying to separate the way and the time and the manner of the Courtier’s good qualities and good practice, you try to separate that which cannot be separated, because these are the very things that make his qualities good, and his practice good. Therefore, since the Count has spoken so much and so well, and has touched somewhat upon these matters and arranged in his mind the rest of what he has to say, it was only right that he should continue to the end.”

“Account yourself to be the Count,” said my lady Emilia, “and say what you think he would say; and thus all will be right.”

56.—Then Calmeta said:

“My Lords, since the hour is late, and in order that messer Federico may have no excuse for not telling what he knows, I think it would be well to postpone the rest of the discussion until to-morrow, and let the little time we have left, be spent in some other quiet diversion.”

As everyone approved, my lady Duchess desired madonna Margarita[^[145]] and madonna Costanza Fregosa[^[57]] to dance. Whereupon Barletta,[^[146]] a very charming musician and excellent dancer, who always kept the whole court in good humour, began to play upon his instruments; and joining hands, the two ladies danced first a basset and then a roegarze,[^[147]] with consummate grace and to the great delight of those who saw them. Then the night being already far spent, my lady Duchess rose to her feet, and so everyone reverently took leave and retired to sleep.

THE SECOND BOOK OF THE COURTIER
BY COUNT BALDESAR CASTIGLIONE

TO MESSER ALFONSO ARIOSTO

1.—I have often considered not without wonder whence arises a fault, which, as it is universally found among old people, may be believed to be proper and natural to them. And this is, that they nearly all praise bygone times and censure the present, inveighing against our acts and ways and everything which they in their youth did not do; affirming too that every good custom and good manner of living, every virtue, in short every thing, is always going from bad to worse.

And verily it seems quite contrary to reason and worthy to be wondered at, that ripe age, which in other matters is wont to make men’s judgment more perfect with long experience, should in this matter so corrupt it that they do not perceive that if the world were always growing worse, and if fathers were generally better than children, we should long since have reached that last grade of badness beyond which it is impossible to grow worse. And yet we see that not only in our days but in bygone times this failing has always been peculiar to old age, which is clearly gathered from the works of many ancient authors, and especially of the comic writers, who better than the others set forth the image of human life.

Now the cause of this wrong judgment among old people I for my part take to be, that the fleeting years despoil them of many good things, and among others in great part rob the blood of vital spirits; whence the complexion changes, and those organs become weak through which the soul exerts its powers.[^[148]] Thus in old age the sweet flowers of contentment fall from our hearts, like leaves from a tree in autumn, and in place of serene and sunny thoughts, comes cloudy and turbid sadness with its train of thousand ills. So that not the body only but the mind also is infirm; of bygone pleasures naught is left but a lingering memory and the image of that precious time of tender youth, in which (when it is with us) sky and earth and all things seem to us ever making merry and laughing before our eyes, and the sweet springtide of happiness seems to blossom in our thought, as in a delightful and lovely garden.

Therefore in the evening chill of life, when our sun begins to sink to its setting and steals away those pleasures, we should fare better if in losing them, we could lose the memory of them also, and as Themistocles said, find an art that shall teach us to forget. For so deceitful are our bodily senses, that they often cheat even the judgment of our minds. Thus it seems to me that old people are in like case with those who keep their eyes fixed upon the land as they leave port, and think their ship is standing still and the shore recedes, although it is the other way. For both the port and also time and its pleasures remain the same, and one after another we take flight in the ship of mortality upon that boisterous sea which absorbs and devours everything, and are never suffered to touch shore again, but always tossed by adverse winds we are wrecked upon some rock at last.

Since therefore the senile mind is an unfit subject for many pleasures, it cannot enjoy them; and just as to men in fever, when the palate is spoiled by corrupt vapours, all wines seem bitter, however precious and delicate they be,—so old men, because of their infirmity (which yet does not deprive them of appetite), find pleasures flat and cold and very different from those which they remember tasting of old, although the pleasures are intrinsically the same. Thus they feel themselves despoiled, and they lament and call the present times bad, not perceiving that the change lies in themselves and not in the times; and on the other hand they call to mind their bygone pleasures, and bring back the time when these were enjoyed and praise it as good, because it seems to carry with it a savour of what they felt when it was present. For in truth our minds hold all things hateful that have been with us in our sorrows, and love those that have been with us in our joys.

BORSO D’ESTE
DUKE OF FERRARA
1413-1471

Enlarged from Anderson’s photograph (no. 11375) of a part of the injured fresco, “Triumph of Minerva,” in the Palazzo Schifanoia at Ferrara, painted about 1468 by Francesco Cossa (1438?-1480?). See Gustave Gruyer’s L’Art Ferrarais, ii, 581.

This is why it is sometimes highest bliss for a lover to look at a window although closed, because he there had once the happiness to gaze upon the lady of his love; and in the same way to look at a ring, a letter, a garden or other place, or what you will, which seems to him a conscious witness of his joys. And on the contrary, a gorgeous and beautiful room will often be irksome to a man who has been prisoner or has suffered some other sorrow there. And I once knew some who would not drink from a cup like that from which in illness they had taken medicine. For just as to the one the window or ring or letter recalls the sweet memory that gives him such delight and seems part of his bygone joy,—so to the other, the room or cup brings his illness or imprisonment to mind. I believe that the same cause leads old people to praise bygone times and to censure the present.

2.—Therefore as they speak of other things, so do they also of courts, affirming those which they remember, to have been far more excellent and full of eminent men than those which we see to-day. And as soon as such discussions are started, they begin to extol with boundless praise the courtiers of Duke Filippo or Duke Borso;[^[149]] and they narrate the sayings of Niccolò Piccinino;[^[150]] and they remind us that there were no murders in those days (or very few at most), no brawls, no ambushes, no deceits, but a certain frank and kindly good will among all men, a loyal confidence; and that in the courts of that time such good behaviour and decorum prevailed, that courtiers were all like monks, and woe to him who should have spoken insultingly to another, or so much as made a less than decorous gesture to a woman. And on the other hand they say everything is the reverse in these days, and that not only have courtiers lost their fraternal love and gentle mode of life, but that nothing prevails in courts but envy, malice, immorality and very dissolute living, with every sort of vice,—the women lascivious without shame, the men effeminate. They condemn our dress also as indecorous and too womanish.

In short they censure an infinity of things, among which many indeed merit censure, for it cannot be denied that there are many bad and wicked men among us, or that this age of ours is much fuller of vice than that which they praise.[^[151]] Yet it seems to me that they ill discern the cause of this difference, and that they are foolish. For they would have the world contain all good and no evil, which is impossible; because, since evil is opposed to good and good to evil, it is almost necessary, by force of opposition and counterpoise as it were, that the one should sustain and fortify the other, and that if either wanes or waxes, so must the other also, since there is no contrary without its contrary.

Who does not know that there would be no justice in the world, if there were no wrongs? No courage, if there were no cowards? No continence, if there were no incontinence? No health, if there were no infirmity? No truth, if there were no lying? No good fortune, if there were no misfortunes? Thus, according to Plato,[^[152]] Socrates well says it is surprising that Æsop did not write a fable showing that as God had never been able to join pleasure and pain together, He joined them by their extremities, so that the beginning of the one should be the end of the other; for we see that no joy can give us pleasure, unless sorrow precedes it. Who can hold rest dear, unless he has first felt the hardship of fatigue? Who enjoys food, drink and sleep, unless he has first endured hunger, thirst and wakefulness? Hence I believe that sufferings and diseases were given man by nature not chiefly to make him subject to them (since it does not seem fitting that she who is mother of every good should give us such evils of her own determined purpose), but as nature created health, joy and other blessings,—diseases, sorrows and other ills followed after them as a consequence. In like manner, the virtues having been bestowed upon the world by grace and gift of nature, at once by force of that same bounden opposition, the vices became their fellows by necessity; so that always as the one waxes or wanes, thus likewise must needs the other wax or wane.

3.—So when our old men praise bygone courts for not containing such vicious men as some that our courts contain, they do not perceive that their courts did not contain such virtuous men as some that ours contain; which is no marvel, for no evil is so bad as that which springs from the corrupted seed of good, and hence, as nature now puts forth far better wits than she did then, those who devote themselves to good, do far better than was formerly done, and likewise those who devote themselves to evil, do far worse. Therefore we must not on that account say that those who refrained from evil because they did not know how to do evil, deserved any praise for it; for although they did little harm, they did the worst they could. And that the wits of those times were generally inferior to those of our time, can be well enough perceived in all that we see of those times, both in letters and in pictures, statues, buildings, and every other thing.

These old men censure us also for many a thing that in itself is neither good nor evil, simply because they did not do it. And they say it is not seemly for young men to ride through the city on horse, still less in pumps, to wear fur linings or long skirts in winter, or to wear a cap before reaching at least the age of eighteen years, and the like; wherein they certainly are wrong, for besides being convenient and useful, these customs have been introduced by usage and meet universal favour, just as formerly it was to go about in gala dress with open breeches and polished pumps, and for greater elegance to carry a sparrow-hawk on the wrist all day without reason, to dance without touching the lady’s hand, and to follow many other fashions that now would be as very clumsy as they then were highly prized.

Therefore let it be allowed us also to follow the custom of our time without being slandered by these old men, who in their wish to praise themselves, often say: “When I was twenty years old, I still slept with my mother and sisters, nor did I for a long time afterwards know what women are; while now, boys hardly have hair on their heads before they know more tricks than grown men did in our time.” Nor do they perceive that in saying this they acknowledge that our boys have more mind than their old men had.

Let them cease then to censure our time as full of vices, for in removing the vices they would remove the virtues too; and let them remember that among the worthies of old, in the ages when there lived those spirits who were glorious and truly divine in every virtue, and those more than human minds,—there were also to be found many very bad men; who (if they were living) would be as eminently bad among our bad men, as the good men of that time would be eminently good. And of this, all history gives ample proof.

4.—But I think these old men have now sufficient answer. So we will end this homily, perhaps already too diffuse but not wholly irrelevant to our subject; and as it is enough for us to have shown that the courts of our time were worthy of no less praise than those which old men praise so highly,—we will pursue the discussion about the Courtier, from which we may easily understand what rank the court of Urbino held among other courts, and of what quality were the Prince and Lady to whom such noble spirits did service, and how fortunate they might hold themselves who lived in such companionship.

5.—Now the following day having arrived, there were many and diverse discussions among the cavaliers and ladies of the court concerning the debate of the evening before; which in great part arose because my lord Prefect, eager to know what had been said, questioned nearly everyone about it, and (as is always wont to be the case) he received different answers; for some praised one thing and some another, and among many too there was disagreement as to the Count’s real opinion, since everyone’s memory did not quite fully retain the things that were said.

Thus the matter was discussed nearly all day; and as soon as night set in, my lord Prefect desired that food be served and took all the gentlemen away to supper. When they had done eating, he repaired to the room of my lady Duchess, who, on seeing such a numerous company and earlier than the custom was, said:

“Methinks, messer Federico, it is a heavy burden that is placed upon your shoulders, and great the expectation you must satisfy.”

Then without waiting for messer Federico to reply, the Unico Aretino said:

“And what, forsooth, is this great burden? Who is so foolish that when he knows how to do a thing, does not do it in proper season?”

So, discoursing of this, everyone sat down in the usual place and order, with eager expectation for the debate appointed.

6.—Then messer Federico turned to the Unico, and said:

“So, my lord Unico, you do not think that a laborious part and a great burden are imposed on me this evening, having to show in what way, manner and time the Courtier ought to employ his good accomplishments and practise those things that have been said to befit him?”

“It seems to me no great matter,” replied the Unico; “and I think it is quite enough to say that the Courtier should have good judgment, as the Count last evening rightly said he must; and this being so, I think that without other precepts he ought to be able to use what he knows seasonably and in a well bred way. To try to reduce this to more exact rules would be too difficult and perhaps superfluous. For I know no man so stupid as to wish to fence when others are intent on dancing; or to go through the street dancing a morris-dance, however admirably he might know how; or in trying to comfort a mother whose child has died, to begin with pleasantries and witticism. Surely methinks no gentleman would do this, who was not altogether a fool.”

Then messer Federico said:

“It seems to me, my lord Unico, that you run too much to extremes. For one may sometimes be silly in a way that is not so easily seen, and faults are not always of the same degree: and it may be that a man will refrain from public and too patent folly,—such as that would be of which you tell, to dance a morris-dance about the piazza,—and yet cannot refrain from praising himself out of season, from displaying a tiresome conceit, from occasionally saying something to cause laughter, which falls cold and wholly flat from being said inopportunely. And these faults are often covered by a kind of veil that does not suffer them to be seen by him who commits them, unless he searches for them with care; and although our eyes see little for many reasons, they most of all are clouded by conceit, since everyone likes to make a show in that wherein he believes himself proficient, whether his belief be true or false.

“Therefore it seems to me that the right course in this regard lies in a certain prudent and judicious choice, and in discerning the more or less which all things gain or lose by being done opportunely or out of season. And although the Courtier may possess good enough judgment to perceive these distinctions, yet I think it would surely be easier for him to attain what he is seeking, if we were to broaden his mind by a few precepts, and show him the way and as it were the foundations upon which he must build,—than if he were to follow generalities only.

7.—“Last evening the Count spoke about Courtiership so fully and so beautifully, that he has aroused in me no little fear and doubt whether I shall be able to satisfy this noble company so well in what I have to say, as he did in what it fell to him to say. Yet to make myself a sharer in his fame as far as I can, and to be sure of avoiding this one mistake at least, I shall contradict him in nothing.

“Accepting his opinions then, and among others his opinion as to the Courtier’s noble birth, capacities, bodily form and grace of feature,—I say that to win praise justly and good opinion from everyone and favour from the princes whom he serves, I deem it necessary for the Courtier to know how to dispose his whole life, and to make the most of his good qualities in intercourse with all men everywhere, without exciting envy thereby. And how difficult this in itself is, we may infer from the fewness of those who are seen to reach the goal; for by nature we all are more ready to censure mistakes than to praise things well done, and many men, from a kind of innate malignity and although they clearly see the good, seem to strive with every effort and pains to find either some hidden fault in us or at least some semblance of fault.

“Thus it is needful for our Courtier to be cautious in his every action, and always to mingle good sense with what he says or does. And let him not only take care that his separate parts and qualities are excellent, but let him order the tenour of his life in such fashion, that the whole may be in keeping with these parts and be seen to be always and in everything accordant with his own self and form one single body of all these good qualities; so that his every act may be the result and compound of all his faculties, as the Stoics say is the duty of him who is wise.

“Still, although in every action one faculty is always chief, yet all are so enlinked together, that they make for one end and may all further and serve every purpose. Hence he must know how to make the most of them, and by means of contrast and as it were foil to the one, he must make the other more clearly seen;—like good painters, who display and show forth the lights of projecting objects by the use of shadow, and likewise deepen the shadows of flat objects by means of light, and so assemble their divers colours that both the one and the other are better displayed by reason of that diversity, and the placing of figures in opposition one to another aids them to perform that office which is the painter’s aim.

“Thus gentleness is very admirable in a man of noble birth who is valiant and strong. And as his boldness seems greater when accompanied by modesty, so his modesty is enhanced and set off by his boldness.[^[153]] Hence to speak little, to do much, and not to boast of praiseworthy deeds but to conceal them tactfully,—enhances both these attributes in the case of one who knows how to employ this method with discretion; and so it is with all other good qualities.

“Therefore in what our Courtier does or says I would have him follow a few universal rules, which I think comprise briefly all that I have to say. And for the first and most important let him above all avoid affectation, as the Count rightly advised last evening. Next let him consider well what thing it is that he is doing or saying, the place where he is doing it, in whose presence, the cause that impels him, his age, his profession, the object he has in view, and the means that may conduce thereto; and so, with these precautions let him apply himself discreetly to whatever he has a mind to do or say.”

8.—After messer Federico had spoken thus, he seemed to pause a little. Whereupon my lord Morello da Ortona at once said:

“These rules of yours teach little, it seems to me; and for my part I know as much about it now, as I did before you propounded them. Still I remember having heard them several times before also from the friars to whom I made confession, and who called them ‘the circumstances,’ I think.”

Then messer Federico laughed and said:

“If you remember rightly, the Count declared last evening that the Courtier’s chief business should be that of arms, and spoke at length about the way in which he ought to practise it; therefore we will not repeat this. Yet among our rules we may also lay it down that when our Courtier finds himself in a skirmish or action or battle, or in other such affairs, he ought to arrange discreetly to withdraw from the crowd, and to perform those glorious and brave deeds that he has to do, with as little company as he can, and in sight of all the noblest and most respected men in the army, and especially in the presence and (if it is possible) before the very eyes of his king or of the prince whom he serves; for in truth it is very proper to make the most of one’s good deeds. And I think that just as it is wrong to seek false and unmerited renown, so it is wrong also to defraud oneself of the honour that is one’s due, and not to seek that praise which alone is the true reward of worthy effort.

“And I remember having in my time known some men who were very stupid in this regard, although valiant, and who put their lives as much in danger to capture a flock of sheep, as to be the first to scale the walls of a beleaguered town; which our Courtier will not do if he bears in mind the motive that leads him into war, which should be honour only. And again if he happens to be playing at arms in public shows,—such as jousts, tourneys, stick-throwing, or any other bodily exercise,—mindful of the place and presence in which he is, he will contrive to be not less elegant and graceful than unerring with his weapons, and to feast the spectators’ eyes with all those things which he thinks may give him an added grace. He will take care that his horse is bravely caparisoned, that his attire becomes him, that his mottoes are appropriate and his devices clever, so that they may attract the eyes of the bystanders as the loadstone attracts iron. He will never be among the last to show themselves, knowing that the crowd and especially women gaze much more attentively upon the first than upon the last; for their eyes and minds, which at the start are eager for novelty and observe and are impressed by every trifle, are afterwards not only sated by repetition but even grow weary. Thus there was an excellent actor of ancient times, who for this reason always wished to be the first to perform his part in the play.

“So too, even in speaking of arms, our Courtier will have regard to the profession of those with whom he converses, and will govern himself accordingly,—speaking in one way with men and in another way with women. And if he wishes to touch on something that is to his credit, he will do so covertly, as if by chance in passing, and with the discreetness and caution that Count Ludovico expounded to us yesterday.

9.—“Does it not seem to you now, my lord Morello, that our rules may teach something? Does it not seem to you that our friend, of whom I was telling you a few days since, quite forgot with whom and why he was speaking, when to entertain a lady he had never seen before, he began his talk by telling her that he had slain so many men, and that he was a terrible fellow and knew how to handle a sword with both hands? Nor did he leave her until he had tried to explain to her how certain blows of the battle-axe ought to be parried when one is armed and how when unarmed, and to show the different ways of grasping the handle; so that the poor soul was on the rack, and thought the hour seemed a thousand years before she could send him off, almost fearing that he would slay her like the others. Such are the mistakes committed by those who pay no regard to the ‘circumstances,’ of which you say you heard from the friars.

“Next I say that of bodily exercises there are some that are almost never practised except in public,—such as jousts, tourneys, stick-throwing, and all the rest that have to do with arms. Hence when our Courtier has to take part in these, he must first contrive to be so well equipped in point of horses, weapons and dress, that he lacks nothing. And if he does not feel himself well provided with everything, let him on no account engage, for if he fails to do well, the excuse cannot be made that these things are not his business. Then he must carefully consider in whose presence he is seen and of what sort the company is, for it would not be seemly for a gentleman to honour a rustic festival with his presence, where the spectators and the company are of low degree.”

10.—Then my lord Gaspar Pallavicino said:

“In our Lombard country we do not make these distinctions. On the contrary, there are many young gentlemen who dance all day with peasants in the sun on holidays, and play with them at throwing the bar, wrestling, running and leaping. And I do not think it amiss, for there the rivalry is not of birth, but of strength and agility, wherein villagers are often quite a match for nobles; and this condescension seems to have in it a pleasant touch of generosity.”

Messer Federico replied:

“This dancing of yours in the sun pleases me not in any way, nor do I see what gain there is in it. But in my opinion whoever cares to wrestle or run or leap with peasants, ought to do so as a matter of practice and out of courtesy as we say, not in rivalry with them. And a man ought to be almost sure of winning; else let him not engage, because it is too unseemly and shameful a thing, and beneath his dignity, to see a gentleman vanquished by a peasant, and especially at wrestling. Hence I think it is well to abstain, at least in the presence of many, for the gain of beating is very small and the loss of being beaten is very great.

“The game of tennis also is nearly always played in public, and is one of those sports to which a crowd lends much distinction. Therefore I would have our Courtier practise this, and all the others except the handling of arms, as something that is not his profession, and let him show that he does not seek or expect praise for it, nor let him seem to devote much care or time to it, although he may do it admirably. Nor let him be like some men who delight in music, and in speaking with anyone always begin to sing under their breath whenever there is a pause in the conversation. Others always go dancing as they pass through streets and churches. Others, when they meet a friend in the piazza or anywhere else, at once put themselves in posture as if for fencing or wrestling, according to their favourite humour.”

Here messer Cesare Gonzaga said:

“A young cardinal we have in Rome does better than that; for out of pride in his fine bodily frame, he conducts into his garden all who come to visit him (even although he has never seen them before), and urgently presses them to strip to the doublet and try a turn with him at leaping.”

11.—Messer Federico laughed; then he went on:

“There are certain other exercises that can be practised in public and in private, like dancing; and in this I think the Courtier ought to have a care, for when dancing in the presence of many and in a place full of people, it seems to me that he should preserve a certain dignity, albeit tempered with a lithe and airy grace of movement; and although he may feel himself to be very nimble and a master of time and measure, let him not attempt those agilities of foot and double steps which we find very becoming in our friend Barletta, but which perhaps would be little suited to a gentleman. Yet in a room privately, as we are now, I think he may try both, and may dance morris-dances and brawls;[^[154]] but not in public unless he be masked, when it is not displeasing even though he be recognized by all.

“Indeed there is no better way of displaying oneself in such matters at public sports, either armed or unarmed; because disguise carries with it a certain freedom and licence, which among other things enable a man to choose a part for which he feels himself qualified, and to use care and elaboration upon the chief point of the thing wherein he would display himself, and a certain nonchalance as to that which does not count,—which greatly enhances the charm: as for a youth to array himself like an old man, yet in easy dress so as to be able to show his vigour; a cavalier in the guise of a rustic shepherd or some other like costume, but with a perfect horse and gracefully bedecked in character;—because the mind of the spectators is quick to fill out the image of that which is presented to the eyes at first glance; and then seeing the thing turn out much better than the costume promised, they are amused and delighted.

“But in these sports and shows where masks are worn, it would not be seemly for a prince to try to enact the part of a prince, because that pleasure which the spectators find in novelty would be in great measure lacking, since it is news to no one that the prince is the prince; and he, conscious that besides being the prince he is trying to play the prince, loses the freedom to do all those things that are beneath a prince’s dignity. And if there were any contest in these sports, especially with arms, he might even make men think that he chose to impersonate a prince in order not to be beaten but spared by others; moreover were he to do in sport the same that it behooves him to do in earnest upon occasion, he would deprive his own proper action of dignity, and make it almost seem as if that too were sport. But at such times, if the prince lays aside his character of prince, and mingles equally with his inferiors yet in such fashion as to be recognizable, by renouncing his own rank he attains a higher one, in that he prefers to excel the rest not by authority but by merit, and to show that his worth is not enhanced by the fact that he is a prince.

12.—“I say then that in these martial sports the Courtier ought to use the like discretion, according to his rank. In horseback vaulting too, in wrestling, running and leaping, I should be well pleased to have him shun the vulgar crowd, or at most let himself be very rarely seen; for there is not on earth a thing so excellent but the ignorant will tire of it and hold it of small account, if they see it often.

“As to music I hold the same opinion: hence I would not have our Courtier behave like many, who are no sooner come anywhere (even into the presence of gentlemen with whom they have no acquaintance), than without waiting to be urged they set about doing what they know and often what they do not know; so that it seems as if they had come only for the purpose of showing themselves, and had that for their chief profession. Therefore let the Courtier resort to music as a pastime and almost unwillingly, and not before vulgar people nor very many. And although he may know and understand that which he is doing, in this too I would have him hide the study and pains that are necessary in everything one would do well, and seem to value this accomplishment lightly in himself, but by practising it admirably make others value it highly.”

13.—Then my lord Gaspar Pallavicino said:

“There are many kinds of music, vocal as well as instrumental: therefore I should like to hear which is the best of all, and at what time the Courtier ought to perform it.”[^[155]]

Messer Federico replied:

“I regard as beautiful music, to sing well by note, with ease and in beautiful style; but as even far more beautiful, to sing to the accompaniment of the viol,[^[156]] because nearly all the sweetness lies in the solo part, and we note and observe the fine manner and the melody with much greater attention when our ears are not occupied with more than a single voice, and moreover every little fault is more clearly discerned,—which is not the case when several sing together, because each singer helps his neighbour. But above all, singing to the viol by way of recitative seems to me most delightful, which adds to the words a charm and grace that are very admirable.

ELISABET DE GONZAGA FELTRIA

“My Lady Duchess”

EMILIA

“My Lady Emilia”

MARGARITA DE GONZAGA

“Madonna Margarita”

FRANC^O M^A

“My Lord Prefect”

JULIANO DE MEDICI

“My Lord Magnifico”

AUTOGRAPH SIGNATURES OF INTERLOCUTORS

From negatives, made by Premi and by Signor Lanzoni, from originals preserved in the Royal State Archives at Mantua and selected by the Director, Signor Alessandro Luzio.

“All keyed instruments also are pleasing to the ear, because they produce very perfect consonances, and upon them one can play many things that fill the mind with musical delight. And not less charming is the music of the stringed quartet, which is most sweet and exquisite. The human voice lends much ornament and grace to all these instruments, with which I would have our Courtier at least to some degree acquainted, albeit the more he excels with them, the better,—without troubling himself much with those that Minerva forbade to Alcibiades, because it seems that they are ungraceful.[^[157]]

“Then, as to the time for enjoying these various kinds of music, I think it is whenever a man finds himself in familiar and beloved companionship and there are not other occupations. But above all it is fitting where ladies are present, because their aspect fills the listener’s heart with sweetness, renders it more sensitive to the tenderness of the music, and quickens the musician’s soul.

“As I have already said, it pleases me well that we should avoid the crowd, and especially the ignoble crowd. But discretion must needs be the spice of everything, for it would be quite impossible to foresee all the cases that occur; and if the Courtier rightly understands himself, he will adapt himself to the occasion and will perceive when the minds of his hearers are disposed to listen and when not. He will take his own age into account: for it is indeed unseemly and unlovely in the extreme to see a man of any quality,—old, hoary and toothless, full of wrinkles,—playing on a viol and singing in the midst of a company of ladies, even though he be a passable performer. And the reason of this is that in singing the words are usually amourous, and love is a ridiculous thing in old men,—albeit it is sometimes pleased among its other miracles to kindle frozen hearts in spite of years.”

14.—Then the Magnifico replied:

“Do not deprive old men of this pleasure, messer Federico; for in my time I have known old men who had right perfect voices and hands very dexterous upon their instruments, far more than some young men.”

“I do not wish,” said messer Federico, “to deprive old men of this pleasure, but I do wish to deprive you and these ladies of the pleasure of laughing at such folly. And if old men wish to sing to the viol, let them do so in secret and only to drive from their minds those painful thoughts and grievous troubles with which our life is filled, and to taste that rapture which I believe Pythagoras and Socrates found in music.[^[158]] And even although they practise it not, by somewhat accustoming their minds to it they will enjoy it far more when they hear it than a man who knows nothing of it. For just as the arms of a smith, who is weak in his other members, become stronger by exercise than those of another man who is more robust but unaccustomed to use his arms,—in like manner ears practised in harmony will perceive it better and more speedily and will appreciate it with far greater pleasure, than others, however good and sharp they be, that are not versed in the varieties of musical consonance; because these modulations do not penetrate ears unused to hearing them, but pass aside without leaving any savour of themselves; albeit even the beasts have some enjoyment in melody.

“This then is the pleasure it is fitting old men should take in music. I say the like of dancing, for in truth we ought to give up these exercises before our age forces us to give them up against our will.”

Here my lord Morello replied with a little heat:

“So it is better to exclude all old men, and to say that only young men have a right to be called Courtiers.”

Then messer Federico laughed, and said:

“You see, my lord Morello, that they who like these things strive to seem young when they are not, and hence they dye their hair and shave twice a week.[^[159]] And this is because nature silently tells them that such things are proper only to the young.”

All the ladies laughed, for each one of them felt that these words fitted my lord Morello; and he seemed rather stung by them. Messer Federico soon continued:

15.—“But there are many other ways of entertaining ladies that are proper to old men.”

“What are they?” said my lord Morello. “Telling stories?”

“That is one,” replied messer Federico. “But as you know, every age brings its own thoughts with it, and has some peculiar virtue and some peculiar vice. Thus, while old men are ordinarily more prudent than young men, more continent and wiser, so too they are more garrulous, miserly, querulous and timid; they are always scolding about the house, harsh to their children, and wish everyone to follow their way. And on the contrary young men are spirited, generous, frank, but prone to quarrel, voluble, loving and hating in an instant, eager in all their pleasures, unfriendly to him who counsels well.

“But of all ages, that of manhood is the most temperate, because it has left the faults of youth behind and has not yet reached those of old age. Being placed then at the two extremes, young and old must needs learn from reason how to correct the faults that nature implants in them. Thus, old men ought to guard against much self-praise and the other evil habits that we have said are peculiar to them, and to use that prudence and knowledge which they have gained from long experience, and to be like oracles consulted of all men; and in telling what they know, they ought to have the grace to speak to the point and temper the gravity of their years with a certain mild and sportive humour. In this way they will be good Courtiers, enjoy their intercourse with men and with ladies, and be always welcome,—without singing or dancing; and when need arises they will display their worth in affairs of importance.

16.—“Let young men use this same care and judgment, not indeed in copying old men’s ways,—for that which befits the one would not at all befit the other, and we are wont to say that over wisdom is a bad sign in the young,—but in correcting their own natural faults. Hence I greatly like to see a youth, and especially when handling weapons, who has a touch of the grave and taciturn; who is master of himself, without those restless manners which are often seen at that age; because such youths seem to have a certain something in them above the rest. Moreover this quietness of manner has in it a kind of impressive boldness, because it seems the result not of anger but of judgment, and governed more by reason than by passion. This is nearly always found in all men of high courage, and we see it also among those brute animals that have more nobility and strength than their fellows,—as in the lion and the eagle.

“Nor is this strange; for an impetuous and sudden movement,—which without words or other signs of wrath abruptly bursts with all its force at once from the quiet that is its contrary, as it were like the discharge of a cannon,—is far more violent and furious than that which increases by degrees and grows hotter little by little. Therefore they who talk much and move about and cannot stand still, when they have an enterprise on foot, seem thus to exhaust their powers; and as our friend messer Pietro Monte well says, they act like boys who sing from fear when they walk at night, as if to keep up their courage by their singing.

“Again, just as calm and thoughtful youthfulness is very praiseworthy in a young man, because the levity which is the fault peculiar to his age seems to be tempered and corrected,—so in an old man a green and lively old age is to be highly esteemed, because his stoutness of heart seems to be so great as to warm and strengthen his feeble and chill years, and to keep him in that middle state which is the best part of our life.

17.—“But in brief not even all these qualities in our Courtier will suffice to win universal favour of lords, cavaliers and ladies, unless he has also a gentle and amiable manner in daily talk. And I verily believe it to be difficult to give any rule for this, because of the infinite variety of things that arise in conversation, and because among all the men on earth no two are found who have minds quite alike. So whoever has to prepare himself for conversation with many, must needs be guided by his own judgment, and distinguishing the differences between one man and another, must daily change his style and method according to the character of the person with whom he has to converse. Nor could I for my part give other rules in this matter than those already given, which our friend my lord Morello has learned at the confessional from his youth up.”

Here my lady Emilia laughed, and said:

“You shirk labour too much, messer Federico. But you shall not succeed, for you must talk on until it is time to go to bed.”

“And what, my Lady, if I have nothing to say?” replied messer Federico.

“There you shall show your wit,” said my lady Emilia. “And if what I once heard be true, that there was a man so clever and eloquent that he did not lack material to write a book in praise of a fly, others in praise of the fourth day ague, and another in praise of baldness,—will you also not have the courage to find something to say about Courtiership for one evening?”[^[160]]

“We have already said enough about it to make two books,” replied messer Federico. “But since my excuse is of no avail, I will talk until you think I have fulfilled, if not my duty, at least the limit of my powers.

18.—“I think that the conversation which the Courtier ought most to try in every way to make acceptable, is that which he holds with his prince; and although this word ‘conversation’ implies a certain equality that seems impossible between a lord and his inferior, yet we will call it so for the present. Therefore, besides daily showing everyone that he possesses the worth we have already described, I would have the Courtier strive, with all the thoughts and forces of his mind, to love and almost to adore the prince whom he serves, above every other thing, and mould his wishes, habits and all his ways to his prince’s liking.”

Without waiting for more, Pietro da Napoli here said:

“We already have enough Courtiers of this kind, for methinks you have in a few words described for us a noble flatterer.”

“You are much in errour,” replied messer Federico; “for flatterers love neither their prince nor their friends, which I tell you I wish chiefly in our Courtier.

“Moreover it is possible without flattery to obey and further the wishes of him we serve, for I am speaking of those wishes that are reasonable and right, or of those that in themselves are neither good nor evil, such as would be a liking for play or a devotion to one kind of exercise above another. And I would have the Courtier bend himself to this even if he be by nature alien to it, so that on seeing him his lord shall always feel that he will have something agreeable to say; which will come about if he has the good judgment to perceive what his prince likes, and the wit and prudence to bend himself thereto, and a deliberate purpose to like that which perhaps he by nature dislikes. And adopting these precautions, he will never be out of humour or melancholy before his prince, nor so taciturn as many are who seem to bear a grudge against their patrons, which is a truly odious thing. He will not be given to evil speaking, especially against his own lords; which often happens, for in courts there seems to rage a fury[^[161]] of such sort that those who have been most favoured by their lord and have been raised to eminence from the lowest state, are always complaining and speaking ill of him; which is unseemly not only in such as these, but even in those who chance to have been ill used.

“Our Courtier will show no foolish presumption; he will not be a bearer of evil tidings; he will not be thoughtless in sometimes saying things that offend instead of pleasing as he intends. He will not be obstinate and disputatious, as some are who seem to delight in nothing but to be troublesome and disagreeable like flies, and who make a point of spitefully contradicting everyone without discrimination. He will not be an idle or untruthful tattler, nor a boaster nor pointless flatterer, but modest and reserved, always and especially in public showing that reverence and respect which befit the servant towards the master; and he will not behave like many, who on meeting any great prince, with whom if only they have spoken but once, press forward with a certain smiling and friendly look, as if they wished to caress an equal or show favour to an inferior.

“He will very rarely or almost never ask anything of his lord for himself, lest his lord, being reluctant to deny it to him directly, may sometimes grant it with an ill grace, which is much worse. Even in asking for others he will choose his time discreetly and ask proper and reasonable things; and he will so frame his request, by omitting what he knows may displease and by skilfully doing away with difficulties, that his lord shall always grant it, or shall not think him offended by refusal even if it be denied; for when lords have denied a favour to an importunate suitor, they often reflect that he who asked it with such eagerness, must have desired it greatly, and so having failed to obtain it, must feel ill will towards him who denied it; and believing this, they begin to hate the man and can never more look upon him with favour.

19.—“He will not seek to intrude unasked into his master’s chamber or private retreats, even though he be of great consequence; for when great lords are in private, they often like a little liberty to say and do what they please, and do not wish to be seen or heard by any who may criticise them; and it is very proper. Hence I think those men do ill who blame great lords for consorting privately with persons who are of little worth save in matters of personal service, for I do not see why lords should not have the same freedom to relax their minds that we fain would have to relax ours. But if a Courtier accustomed to deal with important matters, chances to find himself in private with his lord, he must put on another face, postpone grave concerns to another place and time, and give the conversation a cast that shall amuse and please his lord, so as not to disturb that repose of mind of which I speak.

“In this however, as in everything else, let him above all take care not to weary his lord, and let him wait for favours to be offered him rather than angle for them so openly as many do, who are so greedy that it seems as if they must die if they do not get what they seek; and if they happen to meet any disfavour or to see others favoured, they suffer such anguish that they can in no wise hide their envy. Thus they make everyone laugh at them, and often are the cause that leads their master to bestow favour on the first comer simply to spite them. Then again, if they find themselves in at all more than common favour, they become so intoxicated by it that they stand palsied[^[162]] with joy, and seem not to know what to do with their hands and feet, and they can hardly keep from calling on the company to come and see and congratulate them as upon something to which they are quite unused.

“Of such sort I would not have our Courtier. I am quite willing that he should like favours, but not that he should value them so highly as to seem unable to do without them. And when he receives them, let him not seem unused or strange to them, or marvel that they are offered him; nor let him refuse them, as some do who refrain from accepting them out of mere ignorance, and thus seem to the bystanders to be conscious of not deserving them.

“Yet a man ought always to be a little more backward than his rank warrants; to accept not too readily the favours and honours that are offered him; and to refuse them modestly, showing that he values them highly, yet in such fashion as to give the donor cause to offer them again with far more urgency. For the greater the reluctance with which they are accepted, the more highly will the prince who gives them think himself esteemed, and the benefit that he bestows will seem the greater, the more the recipient seems to prize it and to hold himself honoured by it. Moreover these are the true and solid favours that make a man esteemed by those who see him from without; for, being unsought, they are assumed by everyone to be the reward of true worth, the more so when they are accompanied by modesty.”

20.—Then messer Cesare Gonzaga said:

“Methinks you have stolen this passage from the Evangelist, where he says: ‘When thou art bidden to a wedding, go and sit down in the lowest room; that when he that bade thee cometh, he may say: Friend, go up higher: and thus shalt thou have honour in the presence of them that sit at meat with thee.’”[^[163]]

Messer Federico laughed, and said:

“It were too great sacrilege to steal from the Evangelist; but you are more learned in Holy Writ than I thought;” then he went on: “You see what great danger those men sometimes run who boldly begin conversation before a lord without being invited; and to put them down, the lord often makes no reply and turns his head another way, and even if he replies to them, everyone sees that he does it with an ill grace.

BALDESAR CASTIGLIONE

CESAR DE GONZAGA

LUDOVICO CANOSSA

PIETRO BEMBO

BERNARDO DE BIBBIENA

AUTOGRAPH SIGNATURES OF THE AUTHOR AND OF

FOUR OF HIS FRIENDS

From negatives, made by Premi and by Signor Lanzoni, from originals preserved in the Royal State Archives at Mantua and selected by the Director, Signor Alessandro Luzio.

“To have the favour of princes, then, there is no better way than to deserve it. And when we see another man who is pleasing to a prince for any reason, we must not think to reach the same height ourselves by imitating him, for all things are not proper to all men. Thus there will sometimes be found a man who by nature is so ready at jesting that whatever he may say carries laughter with it, and he seems to have been born solely for that; and if another man, who has a sober habit of mind (however excellently endowed) tries to do the like, it will fall so cold and flat as to disgust those who hear him, and he will prove exactly like that ass who tried to copy the dog by frolicking with their master.[^[164]] Hence every man must understand himself and his own powers, and govern himself accordingly, and consider what things he ought to imitate, and what things he ought not.”

21.—Here Vincenzo Calmeta said:

“Before you go on, if I heard aright I think you said awhile ago that the best way to win favours is to deserve them, and that the Courtier ought to wait for them to be offered him rather than ask for them presumptuously. I greatly fear this rule is little to the purpose, and I think experience very clearly teaches us the contrary. For to-day very few are favoured by their lords, save the presumptuous; and I know you can give good testimony as to some, who on finding themselves in small favour with their princes, have made themselves acceptable solely by their presumption. While as for those who have risen through modesty, I for my part do not know any, and I even give you time to think about it and believe you will find few. And if you consider the court of France, which is to-day one of the noblest in Christendom, you will find that all men who have universal favour there are somewhat presumptuous, and not only towards one another but towards the king himself.”

“Now do not say that,” replied messer Federico; “for in France there are very modest and courteous gentlemen. It is true that they behave with a certain freedom and unceremonious familiarity, which are proper and natural to them; and therefore it ought not to be called presumption, because in this very manner of theirs, whilst they deride and make sport of the presumptuous, yet they rate highly those who seem to them to have worth and modesty.”

Calmeta replied:

“Look at the Spaniards, who it seems are our masters in Courtiership, and consider how many you will find who are not very presumptuous with ladies and with gentlemen; and even more so than the French, because at first sight they show the greatest modesty. And in this they are truly clever, for as I said, the princes of our time all favour only those who have such manners.”

22.—Then messer Federico replied:

“I will by no means suffer you, messer Vincenzo, to cast this reproach upon the princes of our time. For indeed there are also many who love modesty, which I do not however say alone suffices to make a man acceptable; but I do say that when united to high worth, it greatly honours its possessor. And although it be silent about itself, praiseworthy deeds speak aloud and are far more admirable than if they were accompanied by presumption and rashness. I will not indeed deny that there are many presumptuous Spaniards, but I say that those who are much esteemed are as a rule very modest.

“Again, there are also some men who are so reserved that they shun human company beyond reason, and so far exceed a certain limit of moderation that they come to be regarded as either too timid or too proud. For these I have no praise, nor would I have modesty so dry and arid as to become clownishness; but let the Courtier be fluent on occasion, and prudent and sagacious in discussing statecraft, and let him have the good sense to adapt himself to the customs of the nations where he finds himself; then in lesser matters let him be agreeable and speak well about everything.

“But above all, he should make for right; not envious, not evil-tongued: nor let him ever bring himself to seek grace or favour by foul ways or dishonourable means.”

Then Calmeta said:

“I assure you that all other ways are more uncertain and longer than this one which you censure. For to repeat, princes at the present day love only those who tread that path.”

“Say not so,” then replied messer Federico, “for that would be too clear an argument that the princes of our time are all vicious and wicked,—which is not true, since several good ones are to be found. But if our Courtier should chance to find himself in the service of one who is vicious and malign, let him depart as soon as he discovers it, lest he suffer that keen anguish which all good men feel who serve the wicked.”

“We must needs pray God,” replied Calmeta, “to send us good masters, for when we have them, we are forced to endure them such as they are; because an infinity of reasons constrain a gentleman not to leave the patron he has once begun to serve; but the misfortune consists in beginning to serve a bad patron, and Courtiers in this condition are like those unhappy birds that are hatched in a gloomy valley.”

“It seems to me,” said messer Federico, “that duty ought to outweigh all other reasons. And provided a gentleman does not leave his patron when at war or in adversity,—lest he be thought to have done so to better his fortunes or because he feared that he might lack opportunity for gain,—I think that at any other time he rightly may and ought to leave a service that is like to disgrace him before all good men; for everyone assumes that whoever serves the good is good, and that whoever serves the wicked is wicked.”

23.—Then my lord Ludovico Pio said:

“I should like to have you clear a doubt that is in my mind; that is, whether a gentleman in the service of a prince is bound to obey him in all things that he commands, even if they be dishonourable and infamous.”

“In dishonourable things we are not bound to obey any man,” replied messer Federico.

“And how,” returned my lord Ludovico, “if I am in the service of a prince who uses me well and trusts to my doing for him all that can be done, commanding me to go kill a man or do anything else you please,—ought I to refuse to do it?”

“You ought,” replied messer Federico, “to obey your lord in all things that are advantageous and honourable to him, not in those that bring him injury and disgrace. Therefore if he were to command you to commit an act of treachery, not only would you not be bound to do it, but you would be bound not to do it,—both for your own sake and for the sake of not being a minister to your lord’s disgrace. True it is that many things which are evil seem at first sight good, and many seem evil and yet are good. Hence in our lords’ service it is sometimes permitted to kill not one man but ten thousand, and to do many other things that would seem evil to a man who did not rightly consider them, and yet are not evil.”

Then my lord Gaspar Pallavicino replied:

“On your faith, I pray you discuss this a little, and teach us how the really good can be distinguished from that which only seems so.”

“Pardon me,” said messer Federico; “I am unwilling to enter upon that, for there would be too much to say; but let the whole matter be left to your own wisdom.”

24.—“At least clear another doubt for me,” returned my lord Gaspar.

“And what doubt?” said messer Federico.

“It is this,” replied my lord Gaspar. “I should like to know,—my lord having charged me exactly what I must do in an enterprise or any other business whatever, if I being engaged upon it think that my doing more or less or otherwise than I was charged, may make the affair turn out better and more advantageously for him who gave me the task,—whether I ought to govern myself by the original plan without exceeding the limits of my command, or on the contrary to do that which seems to me better.”

Then messer Federico replied:

“In this I should give you the precept and example of Manlius Torquatus (who in like case slew his son, from too stern a sense of duty), if I thought he deserved much credit, which I do not.[^[165]] And yet I dare not blame him against the verdict of so many centuries. For without doubt it is a very perilous thing to deviate from our superiors’ commands, relying more on our own judgment than on theirs whom we ought in reason to obey; because if our expectation fails and the affair turns out ill, we run into the errour of disobedience and ruin that which we have to do, without any possibility of excuse or hope of pardon. On the other hand, if the affair turns out according to our wish, we must give the credit to fortune and be content at that. Moreover in this way a fashion is set of rating the commands of our superiors lightly; and following the example of one man who happened to succeed and who perhaps was prudent and had reasoned well and been aided by fortune too,—a thousand other ignorant featherheads will make bold to do as they please in the most important matters, and for the sake of showing that they are sagacious and have authority, to deviate from their masters’ commands; which is a very evil thing and often the cause of numberless mistakes.

“But I think that in such a case the man whom it concerns ought to consider carefully, and as it were to place in the balance the profit and advantage that he stands to win by acting contrary to orders, in case his design turns out according to his hopes; and on the other hand to weigh the evil and disadvantage that will accrue if the affair chances to turn out ill through his disobedience of orders. And if he finds the damage in case of failure to be greater and more serious than the gain in case of success, he ought to restrain himself and carry out his orders to the letter; while on the contrary if the gain in case of success is like to be more serious than the damage in case of failure, I think he may properly venture to do that which his reason and judgment dictate, and somewhat disregard the very letter of his orders,—so as to act like good merchants, who to gain much risk little, but never risk much to gain little.

“I strongly approve of the Courtier’s observing above all the character of the prince whom he serves, and of his governing himself accordingly: for if it be severe, as is the case with many, I should never advise anyone who was my friend to change one jot the order given him; lest that might befall him which is recorded as having befallen a master engineer of the Athenians, to whom Publius Crassus Mucianus,[^[166]] when he was in Asia and wished to besiege a fortified place, sent to ask for one of two ship’s masts that he had seen at Athens, in order to make a ram wherewith to batter down the wall, and said he wished the larger one. Being very intelligent, the engineer knew that the larger mast was unsuitable for the purpose, and as the smaller one was easier to transport and better adapted for making the machine in question, he sent it to Mucianus. The latter, hearing how things had gone, sent for the poor engineer, asked why he had disobeyed his orders, and refusing to listen to any excuse from him, caused him to be stripped naked and so flogged and scourged with rods that he died, because it seemed to Mucianus that instead of obeying, the man had tried to offer advice. So we had best use great caution with these rigourous men.

25.—“But now let us leave this subject of intercourse with princes, and come to conversation with our equals or with those that are nearly so: for we must pay heed to this also, since it is universally more practised and a man more often finds himself engaged in it than in conversation with princes.

“There are however some simpletons, who, even in the company of the best friend they have in the world, on meeting a man who is better dressed, at once attach themselves to him, and then if they happen on one still better dressed, they do the like to him. And later, when the prince is passing through the squares or churches or other public places, they elbow their way past everyone until they reach his side: and even if they have naught to say to him, they still must talk, and go on babbling, and laugh and clap their hands and head, to show they have business of importance, so that the crowd may see them in favour. But since these fellows deign to speak only with their lords, I would not have us deign to speak of them.”

26.—Then the Magnifico Giuliano said:

“As you have mentioned those who are so fond of the company of well dressed men, I should like you to show us, messer Federico, in what manner the Courtier ought to dress, and what costume is suitable to him, and in what way he ought to govern himself in all matters of bodily adornment. For in this we find an infinite variety: some who dress after the French fashion, some after the Spanish, some who wish to appear German; nor is there[there] lack of those who even dress after the style of Turks: some who wear their beards, some not. Hence in this medley it were well to know how to choose the best.”

Messer Federico said:

“Indeed I should not know how to give a precise rule about dress, except that a man ought to follow the custom of the majority; and since (as you say) this custom is so various, and the Italians are so fond of arraying themselves after foreign fashions, I think every man may dress as he pleases.

“But I do not know by what fate it happens that Italy has not, as it was wont to have, a costume that should be recognized as Italian: for although the putting of these new fashions into use may have made the former ones seem very rude, yet the old ones were perhaps a badge of freedom, as the new ones have proved an augury of servitude, which I think is now very clearly fulfilled.[^[167]] And as it is recorded that when Darius had the Persian sword which he wore at his side fashioned after the Macedonian style, the year before he fought with Alexander, this was interpreted by the soothsayers to signify that they into whose fashion Darius had transformed his Persian sword, should come to rule over Persia.[^[168]] So our having changed our Italian garb for that of strangers seems to signify that all those for whose garb we have exchanged our own must come to conquer us: which has been but too true, for there is now left no nation that has not made us its prey: so that little more is left to prey upon, and yet they do not cease preying upon us.

27.—“But I do not wish to touch on painful subjects. Therefore it will be well to speak of our Courtier’s clothes; which I think, provided they be not out of the common or inappropriate to his profession, may do very well in other respects if only they satisfy him who wears them. True it is that I for my part should not like them to be extreme in any wise, as the French are sometimes wont to be in over amplitude, and the Germans in over scantiness,—but as they both are, only corrected and improved in form by the Italians. Moreover I always like them to tend a little towards the grave and sober rather than the gay. Thus I think black is more suitable for garments than any other colour is; and if it is not black, let it at least be somewhat dark. And this I say of ordinary attire, for there is no doubt that bright and cheerful colours are more suitable over armour, and for gala use also dress may be fringed, showy and magnificent; likewise on public occasions, such as festivals, shows, masquerades, and the like. For such garments carry with them a certain liveliness and gaiety that accord very well with arms and sports. But for the rest I would have our Courtier’s dress display that sobriety which the Spanish nation greatly affect, for things external often bear witness to the things within.”

Then messer Cesare Gonzaga said:

“This would give me little concern, for if a gentleman is of worth in other things, his attire will never enhance or lessen his reputation.”

“You say truly,” replied messer Federico. “Yet what one of us is there, who, on seeing a gentleman pass by with a garment on his back quartered in divers colours, or with a mass of strings and knotted ribbons and cross lacings, does not take him for a fool or a buffoon?”

“Neither for a fool,” said messer Pietro Bembo, “nor for a buffoon would he be taken by anyone who had lived any time in Lombardy, for all men go about like that.”

“Then,” said my lady Duchess, laughing, “if all men go about like that, we must not cast it at them as a fault, since this attire is as fitting and proper to them as it is for the Venetians to wear puffed sleeves,[^[169]] or for the Florentines to wear the hood.”

“I am not speaking,” said messer Federico, “more of Lombardy than of other places, for both the foolish and the wise are to be found in every nation. But to say what I think is important in attire, I wish that our Courtier may be neat and dainty throughout his dress, and have a certain air of modest elegance, yet not of a womanish or vain style. Nor would I have him more careful of one thing than of another, like many we see who take such pains with their hair that they forget the rest; others devote themselves to their teeth, others to their beard, others to their boots, others to their bonnets, others to their coifs;[^[170]] and the result is that these few details of elegance seem borrowed by them, while all the rest, being very tasteless, is recognized as their own. And this kind of dress I would have our Courtier shun, by my advice; adding also that he ought to consider how he wishes to seem and of what sort he wishes to be esteemed, and to dress accordingly and contrive that his attire shall aid him to be so regarded even by those who neither hear him speak nor witness any act of his.”

28.—Then my lord Gaspar Pallavicino said:

“Methinks it is not fitting, or even customary among persons of worth, to judge men’s quality by their dress rather than by their words and acts; for many would make mistakes, nor is it without reason that we have the proverb, ‘dress makes not the monk.’”

“I do not say,” replied messer Federico, “that fixed opinions of men’s worth are to be formed only in this way, or that they are not better known by their words and acts than by their dress: but I do say that dress is no bad index of the wearer’s fancy, although it may be sometimes wrong; and not only this, but all ways and manners, as well as acts and words, are an indication of the qualities of the man in whom they are seen.”

“And what things do you find,” replied my lord Gaspar, “from which we may form an opinion, that are neither words nor acts?”

Then messer Federico said:

“You are too subtle a logician. But to tell you what I mean, there are some acts that still endure after they are performed, such as building, writing, and the like; others do not endure, such as those I have now in mind. In this sense, therefore, I do not say that walking, laughing, looking, and the like, are acts,—and yet all these outward things often give knowledge of those within. Tell me, did you not judge that friend of ours, of whom we were speaking only this morning, to be a light and frivolous man as soon as you saw him walking with that twist of his head, wriggling about, and with affable demeanour inviting the by-standers to doff their caps to him? So, too, when you see anyone gazing too intently with dull eyes after the manner of an idiot, or laughing as stupidly as those goitrous mutes in the mountains of Bergamo,[^[171]]—do you not set him down a very simpleton, although he neither speak nor do aught else? Thus you see that these ways and manners (which I do not for the present regard as acts) in great measure make men known to us.

29.—“But another thing seems to me to give and to take away from reputation greatly, and this is our choice of the friends with whom we are to live in intimate relations; for doubtless reason requires that they who are joined in close amity and fast companionship, shall have their desires, souls, judgments and minds also in accord. Thus, he who consorts with the ignorant or wicked, is deemed ignorant or wicked; and on the contrary, he who consorts with the good, the wise, and the discreet, is himself deemed to be the like. Because by nature everything seems to join willingly with its like. Therefore I think we ought to use great care in beginning these friendships, for he who knows one of two close friends, at once imagines the other to be of the same quality.”

Then messer Pietro Bembo replied:

“I certainly think we ought to take great care to limit ourselves to friends of like mind with us, as you say, not only because of the gain or loss of reputation, but because there are to-day very few true friends to be found, nor do I believe that the world any longer contains a Pylades and Orestes, a Theseus and Pirithous, or a Scipio and Lælius.[^[172]] On the contrary, by some fatality it happens every day that two friends, who have lived in very cordial love for many years, yet in some way cheat each other at last, either through malice, or jealousy, or fickleness, or some other evil cause: and each gives the other the blame which perhaps both deserve.

“Therefore, since it has more than once happened to me to be deceived by him whom I most loved above every other person, and by whom I was sure I was loved,—I have sometimes thought to myself that it would be well for us never to trust anyone in the world, nor so to give ourselves up to any friend (however dear and loved he be) as to reveal all our thoughts to him, as we should to ourselves; for there are so many dark corners and recesses in our minds that it is impossible for human wit to penetrate the deceptions they conceal. Hence I think it were well to love and serve one more than another according to merit and worth; yet never to be so sure of friendship’s sweet enticement, that we at last have cause to rue our trust.”

30.—Then messer Federico said:

“Verily the loss would be far greater than the gain, if human intercourse were to be deprived of that highest pitch of friendship which in my opinion gives us all the good our life has in it; and therefore I will in no wise admit that what you say is reasonable, nay rather I venture to assert, and for the clearest reasons, that without this perfect friendship men would be far unhappier than all other creatures. And if some profanely stain this sacred name of friendship, we ought not on that account to uproot it from our hearts, and for the guilt of the wicked deprive the good of such felicity. And for my part I think there are here among us more than one pair of friends, whose love is steadfast and without deceit and lasting unto death with like desires, no less than if they were those ancients whom you mentioned awhile ago; and it happens thus when a man chooses a friend, not only from heaven-born impulse, but like himself in character. And in all this I am speaking of the good and virtuous, for the friendship of the wicked is not friendship.

“I am well pleased that so close a tie as this should not join or bind more than two, for otherwise perhaps it would be dangerous; because, as you know, it is harder to attune three musical instruments together, than two. Therefore, I would that our Courtier might have one special and hearty friend, if possible, of the kind we have described; then that he might love, honour and respect all others according to their worth and merits, and always contrive to consort more with such as are in high esteem and noble and of known virtue, than with the ignoble and those of little worth; in such wise that he may be loved and honoured by them also. And he will accomplish this if he be courteous, kind, generous, affable and mild with others, zealous and active to serve and guard his friends’ welfare and honour both absent and present, enduring such of their natural defects as are endurable, without breaking with them for slight cause, and correcting in himself those that are kindly pointed out; never thrusting himself before others to reach the first and most honoured places; nor acting like some, who seem to despise the world and insist with a kind of tiresome preciseness on laying down the law for everyone, and who, besides being unseasonably contentious in every little thing, censure that which they do not do themselves, and are always seeking occasion for complaint against their friends,—which is a very odious thing.”

31.—Messer Federico pausing here, my lord Gaspar Pallavicino said:

“I should like to have you speak a little more in detail than you do about this matter of converse with our friends; for in truth you keep much to generalities, and show us things in passing, as it were.”

“How ‘in passing’?” replied messer Federico. “Perhaps you would have me tell the very words that you must use? Do you not think we have talked enough about this?”

“Enough I think,” replied my lord Gaspar. “Yet I should like to hear a few more details about the manner of intercourse with men and women; for the thing seems to me of great importance, seeing that most of our time at courts is given to it; and if it were always the same, it would soon become tedious.”

“I think,” replied messer Federico, “we have given the Courtier knowledge of so many things, that he can easily vary his conversation and adapt himself to the quality of the persons with whom he has to do, presupposing he has good sense and governs himself by it, and sometimes turns to grave matters and sometimes to festivals and games, according to the occasion.”

“And what games?” said my lord Gaspar.

Then messer Federico replied, laughing:

“Let us ask advice of Fra Serafino, who invents new ones every day.”

“Jesting apart,” answered my lord Gaspar, “do you think it would be a vice in the Courtier to play at cards and dice?”

“Not I,” said messer Federico, “unless he did so too constantly and neglected more important matters for them, or indeed unless he played for nothing else but to win money, and cheated the company, and showed such grief and vexation at losing as to argue himself a miser.”

“And what,” replied my lord Gaspar, “do you say of the game of chess?”

“It is certainly a pleasant and ingenious amusement,” said messer Federico. “But I think there is one defect in it. And that is, there is too much to know, so that whoever would excel in the game of chess must spend much time on it, methinks, and give it as much study as if he would learn some noble science or do anything else of importance you please; and yet in the end with all his pains he has learned nothing but a game. Therefore I think a very unusual thing is true of it, namely that mediocrity is more praiseworthy than excellence.”

My lord Gaspar replied:

“Many Spaniards excel in this and divers other games, yet without giving them much study or neglecting other things.”

“Believe me,” replied messer Federico, “they do give much study thereto, although covertly. But those other games you speak of, besides chess, are perhaps like many I have seen played (although of little moment), which serve only to make the vulgar marvel; wherefore methinks they deserve no other praise or reward than that which Alexander the Great gave the fellow who at a good distance impaled chick-peas on the point of a needle.[^[173]]

32.—“But since it appears that fortune exerts immense power over men’s opinions as over many other things, we sometimes see that a gentleman, however well conditioned he may be and endowed with many graces, is unacceptable to a prince, and goes against the grain as we say;[^[174]] and this without any apparent reason, so that as soon as he comes into the prince’s presence and before he is known by the others, although he be keen and ready with retorts, and display himself to advantage in gestures, manners, words, and all else that is becoming,—the prince will show small esteem for him, nay will soon put some affront upon him. And thus it will come about that the others will follow the prince’s lead, and everyone will regard the man as of little worth, nor will there be any to prize or esteem him, or laugh at his amusing talk or hold him in any respect; nay, all will begin to deride and persecute him. Nor will it be enough for the poor man to make good retorts or take things as if said in jest, for the very pages will set upon him, so that even if he were the sturdiest man in the world, he must perforce remain foiled and ridiculed.

“And on the other hand, if the prince shows favour to a very dolt, who knows neither how to speak nor how to act,—his manners and ways (however silly and uncouth they be) will often be praised by everyone with exclamations and astonishment, and the whole court will seem to admire and respect him, and everyone will appear to laugh at his jests and at certain rustic and stupid jokes that ought to excite rather disgust than laughter: to such degree are men firm and fixed in the opinions that are engendered by the favour and disfavour of lords.

“Therefore I would have our Courtier set off his worth as best he can, with cleverness and skill, and whenever he has to go where he is strange and unknown, let him take care that good opinion of him precedes him, and see to it that men there shall know of his being highly rated in other places, among other lords, ladies and gentlemen; for that fame which seems to spring from many judgments, begets a kind of firm belief in a man’s worth, which, in minds thus disposed and prepared, is then easily maintained and increased by his conduct: moreover he escapes that annoyance which I feel when asked who I am and what my name is.”

33.—“I do not see how this can help,” replied messer Bernardo Bibbiena; “for it has several times happened to me, and I think to many others, that having been led by the word of persons of judgment to imagine something to be of great excellence before I saw it,—on seeing it I found it paltry and was much disappointed of what I expected. And the reason was simply that I had put too much trust in report and formed in my mind so high an expectation, that although the real thing was great and excellent, yet when afterwards measured by the fact, it seemed very paltry by comparison with what I had imagined. And I fear it may be so with our Courtier too. Therefore I do not see the advantage of raising such expectations and sending our fame before us; for the mind often imagines things that it is impossible to fulfil, and thus we lose more than we gain.”

Here messer Federico said:

“The things that you and many others find inferior to their reputation, are for the most part of such sort that the eye can judge of them at a glance,—as if you had never been at Naples or Rome, and from hearing them so much talked of, you were to imagine something far beyond what they afterwards proved to be when seen; but such is not the case with men’s character, because that which is outwardly seen is the least part. Thus, on first hearing a gentleman speak, if you should not find in him that worth which you had previously imagined, you would not at once reverse your good opinion of him, as you would in those matters whereof the eye is instant judge, but you would wait from day to day to discover some other hidden virtue, still holding fast to the good impression you had received from so many lips; and later, if he were thus richly endowed (as I assume our Courtier to be), your confidence in his reputation would be hourly confirmed, because his acts would justify it, and you would be always imagining something more than you saw.

34.—“And surely it cannot be denied that these first impressions have very great weight, and that we ought to be very careful regarding them. And to the end that you may see how important they are, I tell you that in my time I knew a gentleman, who, while he was of very gentle aspect and modest manners and also valiant in arms, yet did not so greatly excel in any of these things but that he had many equals and even superiors. However, fate so willed that a lady chanced to fall most ardently in love with him, and her love increasing daily with the signs that the young man gave of loving her in return, and there being no way for them to speak together, she was moved by excess of passion to reveal her desires to another lady through whom she hoped to secure some assistance. This lady was in no wise inferior to the first in rank or beauty; whence it came to pass, that on hearing the young man (whom she had never seen) spoken of so tenderly, and perceiving that he was extravagantly loved by her friend (whom she knew to be very discreet and of excellent judgment), she straightway imagined him to be the handsomest and wisest and most discreet and in short the most lovable man in the world. And thus, without having seen him, she became so passionately enamoured of him, that she began making every effort to secure him, not for her friend but for herself, and inducing him to return her love: which she succeeded in doing with little effort, for in truth she was a lady rather to be wooed than to woo others.

“Now hear the end of my tale. Not long afterwards it happened that a letter, which this second lady had written to her lover, fell into the hands of still another lady, also very noble and of good character and rarest beauty,—who, being like most ladies curious and eager to learn secrets and especially other ladies’, opened this letter, and on reading it saw that it was written with the fervour of ardent love. And the sweet, impassioned words that she read first moved her to compassion for that lady, for she well knew from whom the letter came and to whom it was going; then they gained such power, that as she turned them over in her mind and considered what sort of man he must be who could arouse such love in the lady, she too straightway fell in love with him; and the letter had perhaps a greater effect than if it had been sent by the young man to her. And as it sometimes happens that a poisoned dish, intended for a prince, kills the first comer who tastes it, so in her over greediness this poor lady drank the love poison that had been prepared for another.

“What more shall I say? The affair became well known, and spread abroad so that many other ladies besides these, partly to spite the others and partly to imitate them, used every effort and pains to possess themselves of the man’s love, and contended for it with one another as boys contend for cherries. And all this began with the first impression of that lady who saw him so beloved by another.”

35.—Here my lord Gaspar Pallavicino replied, laughing:

“To give reasons in support of your opinion, you cite the doings of women, who for the most part are quite unreasonable. And if you cared to tell the whole truth, this favourite of so many women must have been a dunce and at bottom a man of little worth. For their way is always to favour the meanest, and like sheep to do what they see others doing, whether it be good or evil. Moreover they are so jealous among themselves, that even if the man had been a monster, they would have tried to steal him from one another.”

Here many began to speak, and nearly everyone wanted to contradict my lord Gaspar; but my lady Duchess imposed silence on all, and then said, laughing:

“If the evil you say of women were not so far from the truth, that the saying of it casts blame and shame on him who says it rather than on them, I should allow you to be answered. But I am not willing that, by being confronted with the arguments which it is possible to cite, you should be cured of this evil habit, in order that you may suffer very grievous punishment for your fault: which shall be the bad opinion wherein you will be held by all who hear you argue in such fashion.”

GIACOPO SANNAZARO
1458-1530

Head enlarged from a photograph, specially made by Alinari, of a part of the fresco, “Leo X’s Entry into Florence,” in the Palazzo Vecchio at Florence, by Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574). See Milanesi’s edition of Vasari’s Opere, viii, 142.

Then messer Federico replied:

“My lord Gaspar, do not say that women are so very unreasonable, even if they are sometimes moved to love by others’ judgment rather than by their own; for gentlemen and many wise men do the same. And if I may say the truth, you yourself and all the rest of us here do often and even now trust more to the opinion of others than to our own. And in proof of this, it is not long ago that certain verses, handed about this court under the name of Sannazaro,[^[175]] seemed very excellent to everyone and were praised with wonder and applause; then, it being known for certain that they were by another hand, they promptly sank in reputation and were thought less than mediocre. And a certain motet,[^[176]] which was sung before my lady Duchess, found no favour and was not thought good until it was known to be the work of Josquin de Près.[^[177]]

“What clearer proof of the weight of opinion would you have? Do you not remember that in drinking a certain wine, you at one time pronounced it perfect, and at another most insipid? And this because you believed there were two kinds of wine, one from the Genoese Riviera, and the other from this country; and even when the mistake was discovered, you would not at all believe it,—so firmly fixed in your mind was that wrong opinion, although you had received it from the report of others.

36.—“Hence the Courtier ought to take great care to make a good impression at the start, and to consider how mischievous and fatal a thing it is to do otherwise. And they of all men run this danger, who pride themselves on being very amusing and on having acquired by these pleasantries of theirs a certain freedom that makes it proper and permissible for them to do and say whatever occurs to them, without taking thought about it. Thus they often begin a thing they know not how to finish, and then try to help matters by raising a laugh; and yet they do this so clumsily that it does not succeed, insomuch that they rouse the utmost disgust in him who sees or hears them, and fail most lamentably.

“Sometimes, thinking it to be droll and witty, they say the foulest and most indecent things before and even to honourable ladies; and the more they make these ladies blush, the more they rate themselves good Courtiers, and they laugh and pride themselves on having such a fine accomplishment, as they deem it. Yet they commit all this folly with no other aim than to be esteemed jovial fellows: this is the one name which seems to them worthy of praise and of which they boast more than of any other; and to acquire it, they utter the grossest and most shameful vileness in the world. Often they throw one another down-stairs, clap billets of wood and bricks on one another’s backs, cast handfulls of dust in one another’s eyes, make one another’s horses run into ditches or down some hill; then at table they throw soups, sauces, jellies and every kind of thing in one another’s faces:[^[178]] and then they laugh. And he who can excel the others in these things, esteems himself to be the best Courtier and the most gallant, and thinks he has won great glory. And if they sometimes invite a gentleman to these carouses of theirs, and he does not choose to join in their unmannerly jokes, they at once say he stands too much on his dignity, and holds himself aloof, and is not a jovial fellow. But I have worse to tell you. There are some who rival one another and award the palm to him who can eat and drink the vilest and most offensive things; and they devise dishes so abhorrent to human sense that it is impossible to recall them without extreme disgust.”

37.—“And what may these be?” said my lord Ludovico Pio.

Messer Federico replied:

“Ask the Marquess Febus, who has often seen them in France, and perhaps has taken part.”

The Marquess Febus replied:

“I have seen none of these things done in France that are not done in Italy as well. But what is good among the Italians in dress, sports, banquets, handling arms, and in everything else that befits a Courtier,—all comes from the French.”

Messer Federico replied:

“I do not say that very noble and modest cavaliers are not also to be found among the French, and I myself have known many who were truly worthy of every praise. But some are little circumspect, and generally speaking it seems to me that as regards breeding the Spaniards have more in common with the Italians than the French have; because that grave reserve peculiar to the Spaniards befits us far more than the quick vivacity which among the French we see in almost every movement, and which is not unseemly in them, nay is charming, for it is so natural and proper to them as not to seem at all affected. There are very many Italians who earnestly strive to copy this manner; and they can only shake their heads in speaking and make clumsy crosswise bows, and walk so fast that their lackeys cannot keep up with them when they pass through the city. And with these ways they seem to themselves to be good Frenchmen and to have the same freedom of manner, which in truth rarely happens save with those who have been bred in France and have acquired the manner in their youth.

“The same is true of knowing many languages; which I approve highly in the Courtier, especially Spanish and French, because the intercourse of both these nations with Italy is very frequent, and they have more in common with us than any of the others have; and their two princes,[^[179]] being very powerful in war and very glorious in peace, always have their courts full of noble cavaliers, who spread throughout the world; and it is necessary for us also to converse with them.

38.—“I do not care at present to go more into detail in speaking of things that are too well known, such as that our Courtier ought not to avow himself a great eater or drinker, or given to excess in any evil habit, or vile and ungoverned in his life, with certain peasant ways that recall the hoe and plough a thousand miles away; because a man of this kind not only may not hope to become a good Courtier, but can be set to no more fitting business than feeding sheep.

“And finally I say it were well for the Courtier to know perfectly that which we have said befits him, so that every possible thing may be easy to him, and everyone may marvel at him,—he at no one. But be it understood that there ought not to be in him that lofty and ungenial indifference which some men have who show they are not surprised at what others do because they imagine they can do it better, and who disparage it by silence as not worth speaking of; and they almost seem to imply that no one is their equal or even able to fathom the profundity of their knowledge. Wherefore the Courtier ought to shun these odious ways, and to praise the fine achievements of other men with kindness and good will; and although he may feel that he is admirable and far superior to all, yet he ought to appear not to think so.

“But since such complete perfection as this is very rarely and perhaps never found in human nature, a man who is conscious of being lacking in some particular, ought not to despond thereat or lose hope of reaching a high standard, even though he cannot attain that perfect and supreme excellence to which he aspires. For in every art there are many grades that are honourable besides the highest, and whoever aims at the highest will seldom fail to rise more than half-way. Therefore if our Courtier excels in anything besides arms, I would have him get profit and esteem from it in fine fashion; and I would have him so discreet and sensible as to be able with skill and address to attract men to see and hear that wherein he thinks he excels, always appearing not to do it from ostentation, but by chance and at others’ request rather than by his own wish. And in everything he has to do or say, let him if possible come ready and prepared, yet appearing to act impromptu throughout. In those things, however, wherein he feels himself to be mediocre, let him touch in passing, without dwelling much upon them, albeit in such fashion that he may be thought to know more about them than he shows himself to know: like certain poets, who sometimes touched lightly upon the profoundest depths of philosophy and other sciences, of which perhaps they understood little. Then, in that of which he knows he is wholly ignorant, I would never have him make any pretence or seek to win any fame; nay if need be, let him frankly confess his ignorance.”

LEONARDO DA VINCI
“...ONE OF THE FIRST PAINTERS OF THE WORLD...”
1452-1519

Reduced from Braun’s photograph (no. 79.207) of Leonardo’s drawing in the Royal Library at Windsor. For an account of this and other less authentic portraits, see Müntz’s life of Leonardo da Vinci (London: 1898), ii, 225 et seq.

39.—“That,” said Calmeta, “is not what Nicoletto[^[180]] would have done, who was a very excellent philosopher but knew no more about law than about flying. When a Podestà[^[181]] of Padua had decided to give him a lectureship in law, he was never willing (although urged thereto by many scholars) to undeceive the Podestà and confess his ignorance,—always saying that he did not agree with the opinion of Socrates in this matter, and that it was not seemly for a philosopher ever to say that he was ignorant of anything.”

Messer Federico replied:

“I do not say that of his own notion and unasked by others, the Courtier should volunteer to tell his ignorance; for I too dislike this folly of self-accusal and depreciation. And therefore I sometimes inwardly laugh at certain men, who needlessly and of their own accord narrate things that perhaps occurred without their fault but yet imply a shade of disgrace; like a cavalier whom you all know, and who, whenever he heard mention made of the battle that was fought against King Charles in the Parmesan,[^[182]] at once began to tell the manner of his flight, nor seemed to have seen or heard aught else that day; again, speaking of a certain famous joust, he always described how he had fallen, and in his conversation he often seemed to seek an opportunity to tell how he had received a sound cudgelling one night as he was on his way to meet a lady.

“I would not have our Courtier tell such follies. It seems to me, however, that when occasion offers for displaying himself in something of which he is quite ignorant, he ought to avoid it; and if compelled by necessity, he ought to confess his ignorance frankly rather than put himself to that risk. And in this way he will escape the censure that many nowadays deserve, who from some perverse instinct or unreasonable design always set themselves to do that which they do not know, and forsake that which they do know. And as an instance of this, I know a very excellent musician, who, having abandoned music, gave himself up wholly to composing verses, and thinks himself very great therein, and makes all men laugh at him; and now he has lost even his music.

“Another man, one of the first painters of the world, despises the art wherein he is most rare, and has set himself to study philosophy; in which he has such strange conceptions and new chimeras, that he could not with all his painter’s art depict them.[^[183]] And of such as these, a countless number could be found.

“Some indeed there are who know they excel in one thing and yet make their chief business of another, of which they are not ignorant either; but every time they have occasion to display themselves in that wherein they feel themselves proficient, they do it gallantly. And it sometimes comes to pass that the company, seeing them do well in that which is not their profession, think they can do far better in that which they make their profession. This art, if it be accompanied by good judgment, is by no means unpleasing to me.”

40.—Then my lord Gaspar Pallavicino replied:

“This seems to me not art but mere deceit; nor do I think it fitting for him who would be a man of honour, ever to deceive.”

“It is an embellishment, which graces what he does,” said messer Federico, “rather than deceit; and even if it be deceit, it is not to be censured. Will you not also say that of two men fencing, the one who touches the other, deceives him? And this is because the one has more art than the other. And if you have a jewel that is beautiful without setting, and it afterwards comes into the hands of a good goldsmith, who by skilful setting makes it look far more beautiful, will you not say that this goldsmith deceives the eyes of anyone who sees it? And yet he deserves praise for his deceit, for with good judgment and art his master hand often adds grace and beauty to ivory or silver, or to a beautiful stone by encircling it with fine gold. Therefore let us not say that art,—or such deceit as this, if you will call it so,—deserves any censure.

“Nor is it unseemly for a man who is conscious of doing something well, dexterously to seek occasion for showing himself therein, and at the same time to conceal what he thinks undeserving of praise,—but always with a touch of wary dissimulation. Do you not remember that without appearing to seek them, King Ferdinand[^[32]] found opportunities now and then to go about in his doublet? and this because he felt himself to be very agile; and that, as his hands were not over good, he rarely or almost never took off his gloves? And there were very few that perceived his cunning. Moreover I think I have read that Julius Cæsar liked to wear the laurel wreath to hide his baldness.[^[184]] But in all these matters it is needful to be very cautious and to use good judgment, in order not to go beyond bounds; for in avoiding one errour a man often runs into another, and in his wish to win praise, receives censure.

41.—“Hence in our mode of life and conversation, it is a very safe thing to govern ourselves with a certain decorous discretion, which in truth is a very great and very strong shield against envy, which we ought to avoid as much as possible. Moreover I wish our Courtier to guard against getting the name of a liar or a boaster, which sometimes befalls even those who do not deserve it. Therefore in his talk let him always take care not to go beyond the probable, and also not to tell too often those truths that have the look of falsehood,[^[185]]—like many who never speak save of miracles, and wish to carry such authority that every incredible thing shall be believed from them. Others, at the beginning of a friendship and in order to gain favour with their new friend, swear the first day they speak with him that there is no one in the world whom they love more than him, and that they would gladly die to do him service, and like things beyond reason. And when they part from him, they pretend to weep and to be unable to speak a word from grief. Thus, in their wish to be thought very loving, they come to be esteemed liars and silly flatterers.

“But it would be too long and tedious to recount all the faults that may be committed in our manner of conversation. Hence as regards what I desire in the Courtier, let it suffice to say, besides the things already said, that he should be of such sort as never to be without something to say that is good and well suited to those with whom he is speaking, and that he should know how to refresh the minds of his hearers with a certain sweetness, and by his amusing witticisms and pleasantries to move them cleverly to mirth and laughter, so that without ever becoming tedious or producing satiety, he may give pleasure continually.

42.—“At last I think my lady Emilia will give me leave to be silent. And if she refuse me, I shall by my own talk stand convicted of not being the good Courtier whereof I have spoken for not only does good talk (which perhaps you have neither now nor ever heard from me), but even such talk as I usually have at command (whatever that may be worth), quite fail me.”

Then my lord Prefect said, laughing:

“I am not willing to let this false opinion,—that you are not a most admirable Courtier,—rest in the mind of any of us; for it is certain that your desire to be silent proceeds rather from a wish to escape labour than from lack of something to say. So, to the end that nothing may seem to be neglected in such worthy company as this and such admirable talk, be pleased to teach us how we must employ the pleasantries that you have just mentioned, and to show us the art that pertains to all this kind of amusing talk, so as to excite laughter and mirth in gentle fashion; for indeed methinks it is very important and well befitting the Courtier.”

“My Lord,” replied messer Federico, “pleasantries and witticisms are the gift and grace of nature rather than of art; but in this matter certain nations are to be found more ready than others, like the Tuscans, who in truth are very clever. It seems to me that the use of witticism is very natural to the Spaniards too. Yet there are many, both of these and of all other nations, who from over loquacity sometimes go beyond bounds and become silly and pointless, because they do not consider the kind of person with whom they are speaking, the place where they are, the occasion, or the soberness and modesty which they ought above all things to maintain.”

43.—Then my lord Prefect replied:

“You deny that there is any art in pleasantries, and yet by speaking ill of those who use them not with modesty and soberness and who regard not the occasion and the persons with whom they are speaking, methinks you show that even this can be taught and has some method in it.”

“These rules, my Lord,” replied messer Federico, “are so universal that they fit and apply to everything. But I said there is no art in pleasantries, because I think there are only two kinds of them to be found: one of which stretches out in long and continuous talk, as we see in the case of certain men who narrate and describe so gracefully and amusingly something that has happened to them or that they have seen or heard, that they set it before our eyes with gestures and words and almost make us touch it with the hand; and for lack of other word, we may perhaps call this the humourous or urbane manner. The other kind of witticism is very short, and consists solely in sayings that are quick and sharp, such as are often heard among us, or biting; nor are they acceptable unless they sting a little. By the ancients also they were called apothegms: at present some call them arguzie.[^[186]]

“So I say that in the first kind, which is humourous narrative, there is no need of any art, because nature herself creates and fashions men fitted to narrate amusingly, and gives them features, gestures, voice and words proper to imitate what they will. In the other kind, that of arguzie, what can art avail? For whatever it be, a pungent saying must dart forth and hit the mark before he who utters it shall seem to have given it a thought; otherwise it is flat and has no savour. Therefore I think it is all the work of intellect and nature.”

Then messer Pietro Bembo took up the talk, and said:

“My lord Prefect does not deny what you say, that nature and intellect play the chief part, especially as regards conception. Still it is certain that every man’s mind, however fine his intellect may be, conceives both good things and bad, and more or less; yet judgment and art then polish and correct them, and cull out the good and reject the bad. So lay aside what pertains to intellect, and explain to us what consists in art; that is, of the pleasantries and witticisms that excite laughter, tell us what are befitting the Courtier and what are not, and in what time and way they should be used; for this is what my lord Prefect asks of you.”

44.—Then messer Federico said laughingly:

“There is no one of us here to whom I do not yield in everything, and especially in being jocular; unless perhaps nonsense, which often makes others laugh more than bright sayings, be also counted as pleasantry.” And then turning to Count Ludovico and to messer Bernardo Bibbiena, he said: “Here are the masters of witticism, from whom I must first learn what to say if I am to speak of jocose sayings.”[^[187]]

Count Ludovico replied:

“Methinks you are already beginning to practise what you say you know nothing of, I mean in that you try to make these gentlemen laugh by ridiculing messer Bernardo and me; for every one of them knows you far excel us in that for which you praise us. If you are fatigued, then, you had better beg my lady Duchess to postpone the rest of our talk until to-morrow, instead of trying to escape fatigue by subterfuge.”

Messer Federico began to make answer, but my lady Emilia quickly interrupted him and said:

“It is not in order for the discussion to spend itself in your praises; it is enough that you are all well known. But as I remember, Sir Count, that you accused me last evening of not distributing the labour equally, it were well to let messer Federico rest awhile, and to give messer Bernardo Bibbiena the task of speaking about pleasantries, because we not only know him to be very amusing in continuous talk, but we remember that he has several times promised us to try to write upon this subject, and hence we may believe that he has already thought much about it, and therefore ought to satisfy us fully. Afterwards, when we have finished discussing pleasantries, messer Federico shall go on with what he has left to say about the Courtier.”

Thereupon messer Federico said:

“My Lady, I do not know what I have left to say; but like the wayfarer at noon, weary with the fatigue of his long journey, I will refresh myself with messer Bernardo’s talk and the sound of his words, as if under some delightful and shady tree, with the soft murmur of a plashing spring. Then perhaps, being revived a little, I shall be able to say something more.”

Messer Bernardo replied, laughing:

“If I show you my head, you shall see what shade is to be expected from the leafage of my tree.[^[188]] As for listening to the murmur of that plashing spring, perhaps you may; for I was once turned into a spring, not by any of the ancient gods but by our friend Fra Mariano,[^[60]] and I have never stood in need of water from then till now.”

Then everyone began to laugh, for this pleasantry referred to by messer Bernardo happened at Rome in the presence of Cardinal Galeotto of San Pietro ad Vincula,[^[189]] and was well known to all.

45.—The laughter having ceased, my lady Emilia said:

“Now stop making us laugh by your use of pleasantries, and teach us how we are to use them, and from what they are derived, and all you know about the subject. And to lose no more time, begin at once.”

BERNARDO DOVIZI DA BIBBIENA
1470-1520

Reduced from Braun’s photograph (no. 42.158) of the portrait, in the Pitti Gallery at Florence, long attributed to Raphael (1483-1520), but regarded by Morelli as the work of a pupil.

“I fear,” said messer Bernardo, “that the hour is late; and to the end that my talk about pleasantries may not itself lack pleasantry and be tedious, perhaps it will be well to postpone it until to-morrow.”

Here many replied together that it was still far from the usual hour for ending the discussion. Then, turning to my lady Duchess and to my lady Emilia, messer Bernardo said:

“I do not wish to escape this task; although, just as I am wont to marvel at the presumption of those who venture to sing to the viol before our friend Giacomo Sansecondo,[^[190]] so I ought not to talk about pleasantries before an audience who understand what I should say far better than I.

“However, not to give any of these gentlemen a pretext for refusing the charge that may be laid upon them, I will tell as briefly as I can what occurs to me concerning the causes that excite laughter; which is so peculiar to us that in defining man we are wont to say that he is a laughing animal. For laughter is found only among men, and is nearly always the sign of a certain hilarity felt inwardly in the mind, which is by nature drawn towards amusement and longs for repose and recreation; wherefore we see many things devised by men to this end, such as festivals and different kinds of shows. And since we love those who furnish us this recreation, it was the custom of ancient rulers (Roman, Athenian and many others), in order to gain the people’s good will and to feast the eyes and minds of the multitude, to erect great theatres and other public edifices, and therein to exhibit new sports, horse and chariot races, combats, strange beasts, comedies, tragedies and mimes. Nor were such shows eschewed by grave philosophers, who in sports of this kind and banquets often relaxed their minds when fatigued by lofty discourse and spiritual meditation; which thing all kinds of men also like to do: for not only toilers in the field, sailors, and all those who perform hard and rough labour with their hands, but holy priests, and prisoners awaiting death from hour to hour, all seek continually some remedy and solace for their refreshment. Hence everything that moves to laughter, cheers the mind and gives pleasure, and for the moment frees us from the memory of those weary troubles of which our life is full. So laughter, as you see, is very delightful to all, and greatly to be praised is he who excites it reasonably and in a graceful way.

“But what laughter is, and where it abides, and how it sometimes seizes upon our veins, eyes, mouths and sides, and seems as if it would make us burst, so that with all our effort it cannot be restrained,—I will leave Democritus to tell, who could not even if he were to promise.[^[191]]

46.—“Now the occasion and as it were the source from which the laughable springs, lies in a kind of distortion; for we laugh only at those things that have incongruity in them and that seem amiss without being so. I know not how to explain it otherwise; but if you think of it yourselves, you will see that what we laugh at is nearly always something that is incongruous and yet is not amiss.

“Next I will try to tell you, as far as my judgment shall show me, what the means are that the Courtier ought to use for the purpose of exciting laughter, and within what bounds; because it is not seemly for the Courtier to be always making men laugh, nor yet by those means that are made use of by fools or drunken men, by the silly, the nonsensical, and likewise by buffoons. And although these kinds of men seem to be in demand at courts, yet they deserve not to be called Courtiers, but each by his own name, and to be held for what they are.

“Moreover we must diligently consider the bounds and limits of exciting laughter by derision, and who it is we deride; for laughter is not aroused by jeering at a poor unfortunate nor yet at an open rascal and blackguard, because the latter seems to merit greater punishment than that of being ridiculed, and the mind of man is not prone to flout the wretched, unless they boast of their wretchedness and are proud and saucy. We ought also to treat with respect those who are universal favourites and beloved by all and powerful, for by jeering at these persons a man may sometimes bring dangerous enmities upon himself. Yet it is proper to flout and laugh at the vices of those who are neither so wretched as to excite pity, nor so wicked as to seem worthy of capital punishment, nor so great that a touch of their wrath can do much harm.

47.—“Again, you must know that from the same occasion whence we draw our laughable witticisms, we may likewise draw serious phrases of praise or censure, and sometimes by using the same words. Thus in praising a generous man who shares all he has with his friends, we are wont to say that what he has is not his own; the same may be said in censuring a man who has stolen or by other evil means acquired what he possesses. Also we say, ‘That lady is of great price,’ meaning to praise her for discretion and goodness; the same thing might be said in dispraise of her, implying that anyone may have her.

“But for this purpose we have a chance to use the same situations oftener than the same words. Thus recently a lady being at mass in church with three cavaliers, one of whom served her in love,[^[192]] a poor beggar came up and taking his stand before the lady began to beg alms of her; and he repeated his petition several times to her with much importunity and pitiful groaning; yet for all that she gave him no alms, nor still did she refuse it to him with a sign to go in peace, but continued to stand abstracted as if she were thinking of something else. Then the cavalier in love said to his two companions:

“‘You see what I have to expect from my lady, who is so hard-hearted that she not only gives no alms to that naked starving wretch who is begging it of her so eagerly and often, but she will not even send him away. So much does she delight to see a man languishing in misery before her and vainly imploring her pity.’

“One of his two friends replied:

“‘This is not hardness of heart, but a silent lesson from the lady to teach you that she is never pleased with an importunate suitor.’

“The other replied:

“‘Nay, it is a warning to him that while she never grants what is asked of her, still she likes to be entreated for it.’

“You see how the lady’s failure to send the poor man away, gave rise to one saying of grave censure, one of moderate praise, and another of biting satire.

48.—“Proceeding now to declare the kinds of pleasantries that are pertinent to our subject, I say that in my opinion there are three varieties, although messer Federico mentioned only two: namely, that which consists in rendering the effect of a thing by means of urbane and amusing long narrative, and that which consists in the swift and keen readiness of a single phrase. But we will add a third sort called practical joking, in which long narratives and short sayings have place, and also some action.

“Now the first, which consists in continuous talk, is of such sort as almost to amount to story-telling. And to give you an instance: just at the time when Pope Alexander the Sixth died and Pius the Third was created pope,[^[193]] your fellow Mantuan, my lady Duchess, messer Antonio Agnello,[^[194]] being at Rome and in the palace, happened to speak of the death of the one pope and of the other’s creation, and in discussing this with some of his friends, he said:

“‘My Lords, even in the days of Catullus[^[195]] doors began to speak without a tongue and to listen without ears, and thus to reveal adulteries. Now, although men are not of such worth as they were in those times, it may be that the doors (many of which are made of antique marbles, at least here in Rome) have the same powers that they then had; and for my part I believe that these two here could clear away all our doubts if we cared to learn from them.’

“Then the gentlemen present were very curious, and waited to see how the affair was going to end. Whereupon messer Antonio, continuing to walk up and down, raised his eyes as if by chance to one of the two doors of the hall in which they were strolling, stopped a moment, and pointed out to his companions the inscription over it, which was the name of Pope Alexander, followed by a V and an I, signifying Sixth as you know; and he said:

“‘See what the door says: Alessandro Papa vi, which means that he became pope by the violence that he used, and that he accomplished more by violence than by reason. Now let us see if from the other we can learn anything about the new pope.’ And turning to the other door as if by accident, he showed the inscription, N PP V, which signified Nicolaus Papa Quintus;[^[196]] and he at once said: ‘Alas, bad news; this one says, Nihil Papa Valet.’

POPE ALEXANDER VI
RODERIGO LENZUOLI (BORGIA)
1431-1503

Reduced from Alinari’s photograph (no. 17412) of a part of the fresco, “The Resurrection,” in the Borgian Apartments in the Vatican, by Bernardino di Betto di Biagio, better known as Pinturicchio, (1454-1513).

49.—“Now you see how elegant and admirable this kind of pleasantry is, and how becoming to a Courtier, whether the thing that is said be true or not; because in such a case it is allowable for a man to fabricate as much as he pleases, without blame; and in speaking the truth, to adorn it with a little falsity, overstating or understating as the occasion requires. But in these matters perfect grace and true cleverness consist in picturing forth what we wish to say, with both word and gesture, so well and with such ease that they who hear may seem to see before their eyes the thing we tell them. And this graphic method is so effective that it sometimes adorns and makes highly amusing a thing that in itself is neither very jocular nor clever.

“And although this kind of narrative requires gesture and the aid of the speaking voice, its quality is sometimes found in written compositions also. Who does not laugh, when, in the Eighth Day of his Decameron,[^[197]] Giovanni Boccaccio tells how the priest of Varlungo tried to chant a Kyrie and a Sanctus on discovering that his Belcolore was in the church. There are amusing narratives also in his stories of Calandrino,[^[198]] and in many others. Of the same sort seems to be the raising of a laugh by mimicry or imitation, as we say,—wherein I have thus far seen no one more admirable than our friend messer Roberto da Bari.”[^[48]]

50.—“This would be no small praise,” said messer Roberto, “if it were true; because I should of course try to imitate the good rather than the bad, and if I could make myself like some men I know, I should deem myself very fortunate. I fear, however, that I know how to imitate only those things which excite laughter, and which you just now said consist essentially in the imperfect.”

Messer Bernardo replied:

“Imperfect, yes; but not unpleasantly so. And you must know that this imitation of which we are speaking, cannot be without cleverness; for besides the way of governing words and gestures and setting before our hearers’ eyes the face and manners of the man we are speaking of, we must needs be discreet, and pay great heed to the place and time, and to the persons with whom we are speaking, and not descend to buffoonery or go beyond bounds;—which rules you observe admirably and therefore know them all, I think. For in truth it would little befit a gentleman to make faces, to weep and laugh, and mimic voices, to wrestle with himself as Berto[^[65]] does, or dress like a clown before everyone, like Strascino,[^[199]]—and things of that kind, which are very fitting in those men because it is their profession.

“But for us it is needful to give only a fleeting and covert imitation, always preserving the dignity of a gentleman, without uttering foul words or performing acts that are less than seemly, without contorting the face or person beyond measure; but to order our movements in such fashion that whoever hears and sees us may from our words and gestures imagine far more than what he sees and hears, and so be moved to laughter.

“Moreover in our imitation we ought to avoid too stinging jibes, especially at deformities of face or person; for while bodily defects often furnish excellent material for laughter to a man who uses them with discretion, yet to employ this method too bitterly is the act not only of a buffoon but of an enemy. So, although it be difficult, in this regard we must, as I have said, keep to the manner of our friend messer Roberto, who mimics all men and not without marking their defects sharply even to their face, and yet no one is annoyed or seems to take it amiss. And I will give no instance of this, because in him we see countless examples of it every day.

51.—“Another thing excites much laughter, although it is included under the head of narration; and that is to describe gracefully certain defects of others,—unimportant ones however and undeserving greater punishment, such as follies, sometimes mere absurdities or sometimes accompanied by a quick and pungent dash of liveliness; likewise certain extreme affectations; sometimes a huge and well-constructed lie. As when, a few days since, our friend Cesare told of a delightful absurdity, which was that finding himself before the Podestà of this place,[^[200]] he saw a peasant come in to complain of being robbed of a donkey. The fellow told of his poverty and of the trick played upon him by the thief, and then, to make out his loss the heavier, he said: ‘Masters, if you had seen my donkey, you would have better understood how much cause I have to grieve; for when he had his pack on, he looked like a very Tullius.’[^[201]]

ERCOLE D’ESTE
DUKE OF FERRARA
1431-1505

Reduced from a photograph, specially made by Mansell, of an anonymous bas-relief in the South Kensington Museum,—possibly the work of Sperandio di Bartolommeo de’ Savelli (1425?-1500?).

“And one of our friends, meeting a flock of goats with a great he-goat at their head, stopped and said with a look of admiration: ‘See what a he-goat! He looks like a Saint Paul.’[^[202]]

“My lord Gaspar tells of having known an old servant of Duke Ercole of Ferrara,[^[203]] who offered the duke his two sons as pages; but before they could begin their service, both the boys died. When the duke heard this, he condoled with the father kindly, saying that he was very sorry, for the only time when he had seen them, they had seemed to him very pretty and gentle boys. The father replied: ‘My Lord, you saw nothing; for within the last few days they had grown far handsomer and more virtuous than I could possibly have believed, and already they sang together like two sparrow-hawks.’

“And not long since one of our doctors stood looking at a man who had been condemned to be flogged about the piazza, and taking pity on him, because (although his shoulders were bleeding freely) the poor wretch walked as slowly as if he had been out for a stroll to pass the time, the doctor said to him: ‘Step out, poor fellow, and make haste to be done with your pain.’ Whereat the goodman turned, and gazing at the doctor as if amazed, he stood awhile without speaking, and then said: ‘When you come to be flogged, you will go your own gait; so I choose to go mine now.’

“You surely must still remember that absurd story which my lord Duke[^[2]] lately told of a certain abbot, who, being present one day when Duke Federico[^[26]] was discussing what to do with the great mass of earth that had been excavated to lay the foundations of this palace, which was then building, said: ‘My Lord, I have thought of an excellent place to put it. Give orders to have an immense pit made, and it can be put in without further difficulty.’ Duke Federico replied, not without laughter: ‘And where shall we put the earth to be dug out of this pit of yours?’ The abbot continued: ‘Have it made large enough to hold both.’ And so, for all the duke repeated several times that the larger the pit was made, the more earth would be dug out of it, the man could never get it into his brain that it could not be made large enough to hold both, and kept replying: ‘Make it so much the larger.’ Now you see what good judgment this abbot had.”

52.—Then messer Pietro Bembo said:

“And why do you not tell the story of your friend the Florentine commander who was besieged in Castellina[^[204]] by the Duke of Calabria? Finding one day some poisoned crossbow missiles that had been shot in from the camp, he wrote to the duke that if the warfare was to be carried on so barbarously, he too would have medicine put on his cannon shot, and then woe to the one who had the worst of it.”[^[205]]

Messer Bernardo laughed, and said:

“Messer Pietro, if you do not hold your peace, I will tell all the things I have seen and heard about your dear Venetians (which are not few), and especially when they try to play the horseman.”

“Do not so, I beg of you,” replied messer Pietro, “and I will keep quiet about two other delightful tales that I know of the Florentines.”[^[206]]

Messer Bernardo said:

“They must have rather been Sienese, who often slip in this way; as was recently the case with one, who, on hearing some letters read in council wherein the phrase ‘the aforesaid’ was used (to avoid such frequent repetition of the name of the man who was spoken of), said to the man who was reading: ‘Stop there a moment and tell me, is this Aforesaid a friend to our commune?’”

Messer Pietro laughed, then said:

“I am speaking of Florentines, not of Sienese.”

“Speak out freely then,” added my lady Emilia, “and do not stand so much on ceremony.”

Messer Pietro continued:

“When the Florentine Signory was waging war against the Pisans,[^[207]] they sometimes found their money exhausted by their great expenses; and the method of finding money for daily needs being discussed in council one day, after many ways had been proposed, one of the oldest citizens said: ‘I have thought of two methods whereby we could soon get a goodly sum of money without much trouble. And one of these is, that since we have no revenue greater than from the customs levied at the gates of Florence, and since we have eleven gates, let us at once have eleven more made, and thus we shall double our revenue. The other method is to give orders that the mints be forthwith opened in Pistoia and Prato,[^[208]] just the same as in Florence, and that nothing be done there day and night but mint money, and that all the money be ducats of gold; and in my judgment this course is the quicker and the less costly.’”

53.—There was much laughter at this citizen’s keen sagacity: and the laughter being quieted, my lady Emilia said:

“Messer Bernardo, will you allow messer Pietro to ridicule the Florentines in this fashion, without returning blow for blow?”

“I forgive him this affront,” replied messer Bernardo, still laughing, “for if he has displeased me by ridiculing the Florentines, he has pleased me by obeying you, as I also would always do.”

Then messer Cesare said:

“I heard a delightful blunder made by a Brescian who had been at Venice this year for the feast of the Ascension, and in my presence was describing to some of his companions the fine things that he had seen there; and how much merchandise there was, and how much silverware, spices, cloth and stuffs; then the Signory went forth with great pomp to wed the sea in the Bucentaur,[^[209]] on board of which there were so many finely dressed gentlemen, so much music and singing, that it seemed a paradise. And on being asked by one of his companions which kind of music he liked best among those that he had heard, he said: ‘They all were good; but among the rest I saw a man playing on a certain strange trumpet, which he thrust down his throat more than two palms at every flourish, and then he straightway drew it out and thrust it down again; so that you never saw a greater marvel.’”

Then everyone laughed, perceiving the silly mistake of the man, who had imagined that the player thrust down his throat that part of the trombone which disappears by sliding into itself.

54.—Messer Bernardo then continued:

“Moreover common affectations are tedious, but they excite much laughter when they are beyond measure: like those we sometimes hear from certain mouths regarding greatness or courage or nobility; or sometimes from women, regarding beauty or fastidiousness. As was not long since the case with a lady who remained sad and abstracted at some great festival; and when asked what she was thinking about that should make her so gloomy, she replied: ‘I was thinking of a matter that troubles me greatly whenever it occurs to me, nor can I lift it from my heart; and this is, that on the universal Judgment Day, when all men’s naked bodies must rise and appear before the tribunal of Christ, I cannot endure the distress I feel at the thought that my body will have to be seen unclothed among the rest.’ Being extravagant, such affectations as these cause laughter rather than tedium.

“You all are familiar with those splendid lies so well composed that they move to laughter. A very excellent one was but lately told me by a friend of ours who never suffers us to be without them.”

55.—Then the Magnifico Giuliano said:

“Be that as it may, it cannot be more excellent or more ingenious than one which a fellow-Tuscan of ours, a merchant of Lucca, affirmed the other day as a positive fact.”

“Tell it to us,” added my lady Duchess.

The Magnifico Giuliano replied, laughing:

“This merchant, so he tells the story, once finding himself in Poland, decided to buy a quantity of sables with the intention of carrying them into Italy and making great profit thereby. And after much effort, being unable to enter Muscovy himself (by reason of the war that was then waging between the King of Poland and the Duke of Muscovy), he arranged with the help of some people of the country, that on an appointed day certain Muscovite merchants should come with their sables to the frontier of Poland, and he promised to be there in order to strike the bargain. Accordingly, proceeding with his companions towards Muscovy, the man of Lucca reached the Dnieper, which he found all frozen as hard as marble, and saw that the Muscovites (who on account of the war were themselves suspicious of the Poles) were already on the other bank, but approached no nearer than the width of the river. So, having recognized each other, the Muscovites after some signalling began to speak with a loud voice, and to ask the price that they wished for their sables; but such was the extreme cold that they were not heard, for before reaching the other bank (where the man of Lucca and his interpreters were) the words froze in the air, and remained there frozen and caught in such manner that the Poles, who knew the custom, set about making a great fire in the very middle of the river; because to their thinking that was the limit reached by the warm voice before it was stopped by freezing, and the river was quite solid enough to bear the fire easily. So, when this was done, the words (which had remained frozen for the space of an hour) in due course began to melt and to fall in a murmur, like snow from the mountains in May; and thus they were at once heard very well, although the men had already gone. But as the merchant thought that the words asked too high a price for the sables, he would not accept the offer and so returned without them.”[^[210]]

56.—Thereupon everyone laughed, and messer Bernardo said:

“Of a truth the story I wish to tell you is not so ingenious; however it is a fine one, and runs as follows:

“Speaking a few days since of the country or World recently discovered by the Portuguese mariners,[^[211]] and of the various animals and other things which they bring back to Portugal, that friend of whom I told you affirmed that he had seen a monkey of a form very different from those we are accustomed to see, which played chess most admirably. And among other occasions, the gentleman who had brought her, being one day before the King of Portugal[^[212]] and engaged in a game of chess with her, the monkey made several moves so skilfully as to press him hard and at last checkmated him. Being vexed, as all are wont to be who lose at that game, the gentleman took up the king-piece (which was very large, such as the Portuguese use) and gave the monkey a smart blow upon the head; whereupon she leaped aside crying loudly, and seemed to ask justice of the king for the wrong that had been done her. Then the gentleman invited her to play again; and after refusing awhile by means of signs, she finally began to play once more, and, as she had done the first time, she again had the better of him. At last, seeing that she would be able to checkmate the gentleman, the monkey tried a new trick to guard against being struck again; and without showing what she was at, she quietly put her right paw under the gentleman’s left elbow, which was luxuriously resting on a taffety[^[213]] cushion, and (quickly snatching the cushion) with her left paw she at the same time checkmated him with a pawn, while with her right she held the cushion over her head as a shield against his blows; she then leaped joyfully to the king as if to parade her victory. Now you see how wise, wary and discreet the monkey was.”

Then messer Cesare Gonzaga said:

“It must be that this was a doctor among monkeys, and of great authority; and I think that the Republic of Indian Monkeys sent her to Portugal to make a name in a foreign land.”

Thereupon everyone laughed, both at the story and at the addition given to it by messer Cesare.

57.—So, continuing the discussion, messer Bernardo said:

“You have now heard what occurs to me concerning those pleasantries that render the effect of a thing by continuous talk; therefore it is now well to speak of those that consist in a single saying and have a quick keenness compressed into a phrase or word. And just as in the first kind,—that of humourous talk,—we must in our narrative and mimicry avoid resembling buffoons and parasites and those who make others laugh by their sheer absurdities, so in these short sayings the Courtier must take care not to appear malicious and spiteful, and not to utter witticisms and arguzie solely to annoy and cut to the quick; because for the sin of their tongue such men often suffer in all their members.

58.—“Now of the ready pleasantries that are contained in a short saying, those are keenest that arise from ambiguity. Yet they do not always move to laughter, for they are oftener applauded as ingenious than as comic. As was said a few days since by our friend messer Annibal Paleotto[^[214]] to someone who was recommending a tutor to teach his sons grammar, and who, after praising the tutor as very learned, said that by way of stipend the man desired not only money but a room furnished for living and sleeping, because he had no letto (bed): whereupon messer Annibal at once replied: ‘And how can he be learned if he has not letto (read)?’ You see how well he played upon the double meaning of the phrase, non aver letto [to have no bed, or, not to have read].

“But while this punning witticism has much sharpness, where a man takes words in a sense different from that in which everyone else takes them, it seems (as I have said) to excite wonderment rather than laughter, except when it is combined with some other kind of saying.

“Now that kind of witticism which is most used to excite laughter, is when we are prepared to hear one thing and the speaker says another, and it is called ‘the unexpected.’ And if punning be combined with this, the witticism becomes most spicy: as the other day, when there was a discussion about making a fine brick floor (un bel mattonato) for my lady Duchess’s closet, after much talk you, Giancristoforo, said: ‘If we could fetch the Bishop of Potenza[^[215]] and flatten him out well, it would be the very thing, for he is the craziest creature born (il più bel matto nato).’ Everyone laughed heartily, for by dividing the word matto-nato you made the pun. Moreover saying that it would be well to flatten out a bishop and lay him in the floor of a room, was unexpected to the listener; and so the sally was very keen and laughable.

59.—“But of punning witticisms there are many kinds; therefore we must be careful and play very lightly with our words, and avoid those that make the sally flat or that seem forced; and also those (as we have said) that are too biting. As where several companions found themselves at the house of one of their friends who was blind of one eye, and the blind man bade the company stay to dinner, all took their leave save one, who said: ‘I will stay with you because I see you have a vacant place for one;’ and at the same time he pointed with his finger to the empty socket. You see this is too bitter and rude, for it wounded without cause, and the speaker had not first been stung himself. Moreover he said that which might be said of all blind men; and such universal things give no pleasure, because it seems possible that they may have been thought out beforehand. And of this kind was that gibe at a man without nose: ‘And where do you hang your spectacles?’[^[216]] or ‘With what do you smell the roses in their season?’

60.—“But among other witticisms those have very good grace that are made by taking the very words and sense from another man’s taunt and turning them against him and striking him with his own weapons; as where a litigant—whose adversary had said to him in the judge’s presence: ‘Why do you bark so?’—at once replied: ‘Because I see a thief.’

“And another instance of this was when Galeotto da Narni,[^[217]] on his way through Siena, stopped in the street to ask for the inn; and a Sienese, seeing how fat he was, said, laughing: ‘Other men carry their wallets behind, but this one carries his in front.’ Galeotto at once replied: ‘That is the way we do in a land of thieves.’

61.—“There is still another kind, which we call playing on words,[^[218]] and this consists in changing a word by either adding or omitting a letter or a syllable; as when someone said: ‘You are better versed in the Latrin tongue than in the Greek.’ And you, my Lady, had a letter addressed to you, ‘To my lady Emilia Impia.’[^[219]]

“Moreover it is a pleasant thing to quote a verse or two, applying it to a purpose different from that which the author intends, or some other familiar saw; sometimes to the same purpose, but changing some word. As when a gentleman, who had an ugly and disagreeable wife, was asked how he was, he replied: ‘Judge yourself of my state, when Furiarum maxima juxta me cubat.’[^[220]] And messer Geronimo Donato,[^[221]] while going the rounds of the Stazioni[^[222]] at Rome in Lent with several other gentlemen, met a bevy of beautiful Roman ladies; and one of the gentlemen saying: ‘Quot coelum stellas, tot habet tua Roma puellas,’[^[223]] he at once replied: Pascua quotque haedos, tot habet tua Roma cinaedos,[^[224]] pointing to a company of young men who were coming from the other direction.

GALEOTTO MARZI DA NARNI
1427?-1490?

Enlarged from a cast, kindly furnished by M. Pierre Valton, of an anonymous medal in his collection at Paris. See Armand’s Les Médailleurs Italiens, ii, 35, no. 25.

“In like fashion messer Marcantonio della Torre[^[225]] addressed the Bishop of Padua. There being a nunnery at Padua in charge of a friar reputed to be of very pure life and learned as well, it came to pass that, as the friar frequented the convent familiarly and often confessed the nuns, five of them (more than half of all there were) became pregnant; and the affair being discovered, the friar wished to flee but knew not how. The bishop had him taken into custody, and he soon confessed that he had brought the five nuns to this pass, being tempted of the devil; wherefore the bishop was firmly resolved to punish him roundly. But as the man was learned, he had many friends who all tried to help him, and along with the rest messer Marcantonio went to the bishop to implore some measure of pardon for him. The bishop would in no wise listen to them; and after they had pleaded hard, and recommended the culprit, and urged in excuse the opportunities of his position, the frailty of human nature, and many other things,—at last the bishop said: ‘I will do nothing for him, because I shall have to render God an account of the matter.’ And when they repeated their arguments, the bishop said: ‘What answer shall I make to God on the Day of Judgment, when he says to me, Give an account of thy stewardship?’[^[226]] Then messer Marcantonio at once said: ‘My Lord, say that which the Evangelist says: Lord, thou deliveredst unto me five talents: behold I have gained besides them five talents more.’[^[227]] Whereupon the bishop could not keep from laughing, and greatly softened his anger and the punishment intended for the offender.

62.—“It is also amusing to interpret names, and to pretend some reason why the man who is spoken of bears such a name, or why something is done. As a few days ago, when Proto da Lucca[^[228]] (who is very amusing, as you know) asked for the bishopric of Caglio, the Pope replied: ‘Knowest thou not that in the Spanish tongue caglio means I keep silence? And thou art a babbler; wherefore it would be unseemly for a bishop never to be able to repeat his title without telling an untruth. So be thou silent (caglia) now.’ Here Proto made a reply, which, although it was not of this sort, yet was not less to the point; for having several times repeated his request, and seeing that it was of no avail, at last he said: ‘Holy Father, if your Holiness grant me this bishopric, it will not be without advantage, for I shall leave your Holiness two offices (ufficii).’ ‘And what offices have you to leave?’ said the Pope. Proto replied: ‘The full office (ufficio grande), and the Madonna’s office (ufficio della Madonna).’[^[229]] Then the Pope could not keep from laughing, although he was a very grave man.

“Still another man at Padua said that Calfurnio[^[230]] was so named because he was accustomed to heat (scaldare) ovens (forni). And when I one day asked Fedra[^[231]] why it was that on Good Friday, while the Church offered prayer not only for Christians but even for pagans and Jews, no mention is made of cardinals along with bishops and other prelates,—he answered me that cardinals were included in that prayer which says: ‘Let us pray for heretics and schismatics.’

“And our friend Count Ludovico said that the reason why I censured a lady for using a certain cosmetic that gave a high polish, was because I saw myself in her face, when it was painted, as in a mirrour; and being ill favoured I could have no wish to see myself.

“Of this kind was that retort of messer Camillo Paleotto[^[232]] to messer Antonio Porcaro,[^[233]] who, in speaking of a companion who told the priest at confession that he fasted zealously, attended mass and the sacred offices, and did all the good in the world, said: ‘The man praises himself instead of owning his sins;’ to which messer Camillo replied: ‘Nay, he confesses these things because he thinks it a great sin to do them.’

“Do you not remember what a good thing my lord Prefect said the other day? When Giantommaso Galeotto[^[234]] was surprised at a man’s asking two hundred ducats for a horse, because, as Giantommaso said, it was not worth a farthing and among other defects was so afraid of weapons that no one could make it come near them,—my lord Prefect (wishing to twit the man with cowardice) said: ‘If the horse has this trick of running away from weapons, I wonder that he does not ask a thousand ducats for it.’

63.—“Moreover the very same word is sometimes employed, but in a sense different from the usual one. As when my lord Duke,[^[2]] being about to cross a very rapid river, said to a trumpeter: ‘Cross over’ (passa); and the trumpeter turned cap in hand, and said respectfully: ‘After your Lordship’ (passi la Signoria Vostra).

TOMMASO INGHIRAMI
“FEDRA”
1470?-1516

Reduced from Braun’s photograph (no. 42.171) of the portrait, in the Pitti Gallery at Florence, long attributed to Raphael (1483-1520), but pronounced by Morelli to be a copy, by a non-Italian painter, of the original Raphael owned by the Inghirami family at Volterra and now ruined by restoration.

“Another amusing kind of banter is where a man takes the speaker’s words but not his sense. As was the case this year when a German at Rome, meeting one evening with our friend messer Filippo Beroaldo,[^[235]] whose pupil he was, said: Domine magister, Deus det vobis bonum sero;[^[236]] and Beroaldo at once replied: Tibi malum cito.[^[237]]

“Again, Diego de Chignones[^[238]] being at the Great Captain’s[^[239]] table, another Spaniard, who was eating with them, said: ‘Vino,‘ meaning to ask for drink; Diego replied: ’Y no lo conocistes,’[^[240]] meaning to taunt the man with being a heretic.[^[241]]

“Another time messer Giacomo Sadoleto[^[242]] asked Beroaldo,[^[235]] who was saying how much he wished to go to Bologna: ‘What is it that so presses you at this time to leave Rome, where there are so many pleasures, to go to Bologna, which is full of turmoil?’ Beroaldo replied: ‘On three counts I am forced to go to Bologna,’ and lifted three fingers of his left hand to enumerate three reasons for his going; when messer Giacomo quickly interrupted him and said: ‘These three Counts that make you go to Bologna are: first, Count Ludovico da San Bonifacio; second, Count Ercole Rangone; third, the Count of Pepoli.’ Whereupon everyone laughed, because these three Counts had been pupils of Beroaldo, and were fine youths studying at Bologna.[^[243]]

“Now we laugh heartily at this kind of witticism, because it carries with it a response different from the one we are expecting to hear, and in such matters we are naturally amused by our very mistake and laugh to find ourselves cheated of what we expect.

64.—“But the modes of speech and the figures that are graceful in grave and serious talk, are nearly always becoming in pleasantries and games as well. You see that words set in opposition produce much grace, when one contrasting clause is balanced by another. The same method is often very witty. Thus a Genoese, who was very prodigal in spending, was reproached by a very miserly usurer, who said to him: ‘When will you ever cease throwing away your riches?’ And he replied: ‘When you cease stealing other men’s.’

“And since, as we have said, the same situations that give opportunity for biting pleasantries may also give opportunity for serious words of praise,—it is a very graceful and becoming method in either case for a man to admit or confirm what another speaker says, but to interpret it in a manner different from what was intended. Thus a village priest was saying mass to his flock not long since, and after he had announced the festivals of the week, he began the general confession in the people’s name, saying: ‘I have sinned by doing evil, by saying evil, by thinking evil,’ and so forth, making mention of all the deadly sins. Whereupon a friend and close familiar of the priest, in order to make sport of him, said to the bystanders: ‘Bear witness all of you to what by his own mouth he confesses he has done, for I mean to report him to the bishop.’

“This same method was used by Sallaza dalla Pedrada[^[244]] in complimenting a lady with whom he was speaking. First he praised her for her virtuous qualities and then for still being beautiful; and she replying that she did not deserve such praise because she was already old, he said to her: ‘My Lady, your only sign of age is your resemblance to the angels, who were the first and oldest creatures that God ever made.’

65.—“Just as serious sayings are useful for praising, in like fashion we find great utility also in jocose sayings for taunting, and in well arranged metaphors, especially if they take the form of repartee, and if he who replies preserves the same metaphor used by his interlocutor. And of this kind was the answer made to messer Palla degli Strozzi,[^[245]] who being exiled from Florence, sent back a servant on a certain matter of business and said to him rather threateningly: ‘Thou wilt tell Cosimo de’ Medici from me that the hen is hatching.’[^[246]] The messenger did the errand commanded him, and Cosimo at once replied without hesitation: ‘And thou wilt tell messer Palla from me that hens cannot hatch well away from their nests.’

DJEM OTHMAN
1459-1495

Enlarged from Anderson’s photograph (no. 4268) of a part of the fresco, “The Dispute of St. Catherine,” in the Borgian Apartments in the Vatican, by Bernardino di Betto di Biagio, better known as Pinturicchio, (1454-1513). For the iconographical identification of this head, the translator is indebted to Professor Adolfo Venturi.

“Again, with a metaphor messer Camillo Porcaro[^[247]] gracefully praised my lord Marcantonio Colonna;[^[248]] who, having heard that messer Camillo had been extolling in an oration certain Italian gentlemen famous as warriors, and had spoken very highly of him among the rest, he expressed his thanks and said: ‘Messer Camillo, you have treated your friends as some merchants treat their money when it is found to contain a false ducat; for in order to be rid of it, they put the piece among many good ones, and in this way pass it on. So you, to do me honour (although I am of little worth), have put me in company with such worthy and excellent cavaliers, that by virtue of their merit I shall perhaps pass as good.’ Then messer Camillo replied: ‘Those who forge ducats are wont to gild them so well that they seem to the eye much finer than the good ones; so, if there were forgers of men as there are of ducats, we should have reason to suspect that you were false, being as you are of far finer and brighter metal than any of the rest.’

“You see that this situation gave opportunity for both kinds of witticism; and so do many others, of which countless instances could be given and especially in serious sayings. Like the one uttered by the Great Captain, who, being seated at table and all the places being already taken, saw that there remained standing two Italian cavaliers who had served very gallantly in the war; and he at once rose himself and caused all the others to rise and make room for these two, saying: ‘Allow these cavaliers to sit at their meat, for had it not been for them, the rest of us should now have no meat to eat.’ Another time he said to Diego Garzia,[^[249]] who was urging him to retire from a dangerous position where the cannon shot were falling: ‘Since God hath put no fear in your heart, do not try to put any in mine.’

“And King Louis,[^[250]] who is to-day king of France, being told soon after his accession that then was the time to punish his enemies who had so grievously wronged him while he was Duke of Orleans, replied that it was not seemly for the King of France to avenge the wrongs of the Duke of Orleans.

66.—“Taunts are also often humourously uttered with a grave air and without exciting laughter. As when Djem Othman,[^[251]] brother to the Grand Turk,[^[252]] being a captive at Rome, said that jousting as we practise it in Italy seemed to him too great a matter for play and too paltry for earnest. And on being told how agile and active King Ferdinand the Younger was in running, leaping, vaulting, and the like,—he said that in his country slaves practised these exercises, while gentlemen studied the liberal arts from boyhood, and prided themselves thereon.

“Almost of the same kind, too, but somewhat more laughable, was what the Archbishop of Florence said to the Alexandrian cardinal:[^[253]] that men have only their goods, their body, and their soul; their goods are put in peril by the lawyers, their body by the physicians, and their soul by the theologians.”

Then the Magnifico Giuliano replied:

“To this you might add what Nicoletto[^[254]] said: that we seldom find a lawyer who goes to law, a physician who takes physic, or a theologian who is a good Christian.”

67.—Messer Bernardo laughed, then went on:

“Of these there are countless instances, uttered by great lords and very weighty men. But we often laugh at similes also, such as the one that our friend Pistoia[^[255]] wrote to Serafino: ‘Send back the wallet that looks like you;’ because, if you remember rightly, Serafino looked very like a wallet.

“Moreover there are some who delight to liken men and women to horses, dogs, birds, and often to chests, stools, carts, candle-sticks; which is sometimes good and sometimes very flat. Therefore in this it is needful to consider time, place, persons, and the other things that we have mentioned so many times.”

Then my lord Gaspar Pallavicino said:

“An amusing comparison was the one that our friend my lord Giovanni Gonzaga[^[256]] made between Alexander the Great and his own son Alessandro.”[^[257]]

“I do not know it,” replied messer Bernardo.

My lord Gaspar said:

“My lord Giovanni was playing with three dice, and as was his wont had lost many ducats and was still losing; and his son my lord Alessandro (who, although only a lad, is as fond of play as the father is) stood looking at him with great attention and seemed very sad. Count Pianella,[^[258]] who was present with many other gentlemen, said: ‘You see, my Lord, that my lord Alessandro is little pleased at your losing, and is waiting anxiously for you to win so that he may have some of your winnings. Therefore put him out of his misery, and before you lose everything give him at least a ducat, in order that he too may go and play with his fellows.’ Then my lord Giovanni said: ‘You are wrong, for Alessandro is not thinking of any such trifle. But as it is written that when he was a boy, Alexander the Great began to weep on hearing that his father Philip[^[259]] had won a great battle and subdued some kingdom, and when he was asked why he wept, he replied that it was because he feared his father would subdue so many lands as to leave nothing for him to subdue; in the same way my son Alessandro is now grieving and about to weep, seeing that I his father am losing, because he fears I am losing so much that I shall leave nothing for him to lose.’”

68.—After some laughter at this, messer Bernardo continued:

“Moreover we must avoid impiety in our witticism, (because from this it is only a step to try to be jocular by blaspheming and to invent new forms of blasphemy); otherwise we seem to seek applause by that for which we deserve not only blame but heavy punishment, which is an abominable thing. And therefore those of us who like to show their pleasantry by little reverence to God, deserve to be chased from the society of every gentleman.

“And they, no less, who are indecent and foul of speech, and show no respect for ladies’ presence and seem to have no other pleasure than to make them blush with shame, and who to that end are continually seeking witticisms and arguzie. As in Ferrara this year at a banquet attended by many ladies, there were a Florentine and a Sienese, who are usually hostile, as you know. To taunt the Florentine, the Sienese said: ‘We have married Siena to the Emperor and have given him Florence for dowry.’ He said this because it was reported at the time that the Sienese had given the Emperor a certain sum of money and that he had taken their city under his protection. The Florentine quickly retorted: ‘Siena will first be possessed’ (he used the Italian word, but with the French meaning); ‘then the dowry will be disputed at leisure.’[^[260]] You see that the retort was clever, but, being made in the presence of ladies, it became indecent and unseemly.”

69.—Then my lord Gaspar Pallavicino said:

“Women delight to hear nothing else; and you would deprive them of it. Moreover for my part I have found myself blushing with shame at words uttered by women far oftener than by men.”

“Of such women I was not speaking,” said messer Bernardo; “but of virtuous ladies, who deserve reverence and honour from every gentleman.”

My lord Gaspar said:

“We should have to invent a subtle rule by which to distinguish them, for most often those who are seemingly the best, in fact are quite the contrary.”

Then messer Bernardo said, laughing:

“If we had not present here my lord Magnifico, who is everywhere accounted the champion of women, I should undertake to answer you; but I am unwilling to do him wrong.”

Here my lady Emilia said, also laughing:

“Women have need of no champion against an accuser of so little weight. So leave my lord Gaspar in his perverse opinion,—which arises from his never having found a lady to look at him, rather than from any fault on their part,—and go on with your talk about pleasantries.”

70.—Then messer Bernardo said:

“In truth, my Lady, methinks I have told of many situations from which we can derive sharp witticisms, which then have the more grace the more they are accompanied by fine narrative. Still many others might be mentioned. As when, by overstatement or understatement, we say things that outrageously exceed the probable; and of this sort was what Mario da Volterra[^[261]] said of a prelate, that he held himself so great a man that when he entered St. Peter’s, he stooped in order not to strike his head against the architrave of the portal. Again, our friend here the Magnifico said that his servant Galpino was so lean and light that in blowing the fire to kindle it one morning, the fellow had been carried by the smoke all the way up the chimney to the very top; but happening to be brought crosswise against one of the openings, he had the good luck not to be blown away with the smoke.

“Another time messer Agostino Bevazzano[^[262]] said that a miser, who had been unwilling to sell his grain while it was dear, afterwards hanged himself in despair from a rafter of his bedroom when he found that the price had greatly fallen; and one of his servants ran in on hearing the noise, saw the miser hanging, and quickly cut the rope and thus rescued him from death. Then, having come to himself, the miser insisted that his servant should pay him for the rope that had been cut.

AGOSTINO BEVAZZANO
Flor. 1500

Reduced from Braun’s photograph (no. 43.161) of a part of the double portrait once owned by Bembo and now in the Doria Gallery at Rome. Although by some critics regarded as an old copy, the picture is affirmed by both Morelli and Berenson to be the work of Raphael (1483-1520), probably painted in April 1516.

“Of the same sort also seems to be what Lorenzo de’ Medici said to a dull buffoon: ‘You would not make me laugh if you tickled me.’ And in like fashion he answered another simpleton who had found him abed very late one morning, and who had reproved him for sleeping so late, saying: ‘I have already been at the New Market and the Old, then outside the San Gallo gate and around the walls for exercise, and have done a thousand things besides; and you are still asleep?’ Then Lorenzo said: ‘What I dreamed in one hour is worth more than what you accomplished in four.’

71.—“It is also fine when in a retort we censure something without apparently meaning to censure it. For instance, the Marquess Federico of Mantua,[^[263]] father to our lady Duchess, being at table with many gentlemen, one of them said after eating an entire bowl of stew: ‘Pardon me, my lord Marquess;’ and so saying he began to gulp down the broth that remained. Then the Marquess said quickly: ‘Ask pardon rather of the swine, for you do me no wrong at all.’

“Again, to censure a tyrant who was falsely reputed to be generous, messer Niccolò Leonico[^[264]] said: ‘Think what generosity rules him, for he gives away not his own things only, but other men’s as well!’

72.—“Another very pretty form of pleasantry is that which consists in a kind of innuendo, when we say one thing and tacitly imply another. Of course I do not mean another thing of a completely different kind, like calling a dwarf gigantic and a negro white or a very ugly man handsome, for the difference is too obvious,—although even these sometimes cause laughter; but I mean when with stern and serious air we humourously say something in jest which is not our real thought. For instance, when a gentleman told a palpable lie to messer Agostino Foglietta[^[265]] and affirmed it stoutly on seeing that he had much difficulty in believing it, messer Agostino said at last: ‘Fair sir, if I may ever hope to receive kindness from you, do me the favour to be content even if I do not believe anything you say.’ But as the other repeated, and under oath, that it was the truth, he finally said: ‘Since you will have it so, I will believe it for your sake, for indeed I would do even a greater thing than this for you.’

“Don Giovanni di Cardona[^[266]] said something nearly of this sort about a man who wished to leave Rome: ‘To my thinking the fellow is ill advised, for he is so great a rascal that by staying on at Rome he might in time become a cardinal.’ Of this sort also is what was said by Alfonso Santacroce,[^[267]] who had shortly before suffered some outrage from the Cardinal of Pavia.[^[268]] While strolling with several gentlemen near the place of public execution outside Bologna, he saw a man who had recently been hanged, and turning towards the body with a thoughtful air, he said loud enough for everyone to hear him: ‘Happy thou, who hast naught to do with the Cardinal of Pavia.’

73.—“And this sort of pleasantry which is tinged with irony seems very becoming to great men, because it is dignified and sharp, and can be used in jocose as well as in serious matters. Hence many ancients (and those among the most esteemed) have used it, like Cato and Scipio Africanus the Younger; but above all men, the philosopher Socrates is said to have excelled in it. And in our own times King Alfonso I of Aragon,[^[269]] who, being about to eat one morning, took off the many precious rings that he had on his fingers, in order not to wet them in washing his hands, and so gave them to the first person he happened on, almost without looking to see who it was. This servant supposed that the king had taken no notice who received them, and by reason of weightier cares would easily forget them altogether; and in this he was the more confirmed, seeing that the king did not ask for them again; and as he saw days, weeks and months pass without hearing a word about them, he thought he was surely safe. Accordingly, nearly a year after this had happened, he presented himself again one morning as the king was about to eat, and held out his hand to receive the rings; whereupon the king bent close to his ear and said to him: ‘Let the first ones suffice thee, because these will do for someone else.’ You see how biting, clever and dignified the sally was, and how truly worthy the exalted spirit of an Alexander.

OTTAVIANO UBALDINI
Died 1498

Enlarged from Braun’s photograph (no. 19.553) of the painting, “Astronomy,” by Melozzo degli Ambrosi da Forli (1438-1494). The picture, of which this head is a detail, was one of a series of panels painted to decorate Duke Federico di Montefeltro’s library in the palace of Urbino, but is now in the Royal Museum at Berlin. For iconographical identification, see Schmarzow’s Melozzo da Forli, ein Beitrag zur Kunst- und Kulturgeschichte Italiens im XV Jahrhundert (Berlin: 1886), p. 84.

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.

“In this manner also the painter Raphael replied to two cardinals with whom he was on familiar terms, and who (to make him talk) were finding fault in his presence with a picture that he had painted,—in which St. Peter and St. Paul were represented,—saying that these two figures were too red in the face. Then Raphael at once said: ‘My Lords, be not concerned; because I painted them so with full intention, since we have reason to believe that St. Peter and St. Paul are as red in Heaven as you see them here, for shame that their Church should be governed by such men as you.’[^[281]]

77.—“Very keen also are those witticisms that have a certain latent spice of fun in them. As where a husband was making great lament and weeping for his wife, who had hanged herself on a fig-tree, another man approached him and plucking him by the robe, said: ‘Brother, might I as a great favour have a small branch of that fig-tree to graft upon some tree in my garden?’

“Some other witticisms need an air of patience and are slowly uttered with a certain gravity. As where a rustic, who was carrying a box on his shoulders, jostled it against Cato, and then said: ‘Have a care.’ Cato replied: ‘Hast thou aught else but that chest upon thy shoulders?’[^[282]]

“Moreover we laugh when a man has made a blunder, and to mend it says something of set purpose that seems silly and yet tends to the object he has in view, and thus keeps himself in countenance. For instance, in the Florentine Council not long ago there were (as often happens in these republics) two enemies, and one of them, who was of the Altoviti family, fell asleep. And although his adversary, who was of the Alamanni family, was not speaking and had not spoken, yet to raise a laugh the man who sat next Altoviti woke him with a touch of the elbow, and said: ‘Do you not hear what So and So says? Make answer, as the Signors are asking for your opinion.’ Thereupon Altoviti rose to his feet all drowsy as he was, and said without stopping to think: ‘My Lords, I say just the opposite of what Alamanni said.’ Alamanni replied: ‘But I said nothing.’ ‘Then,’ said Altoviti at once, ‘the opposite of whatever you may say.’

“Of this kind also was what your Urbino physician, master Serafino, said to a rustic, who had received a hard blow in the eye so that it was forced quite out, yet decided to seek aid from master Serafino. On seeing him, although aware that it was impossible to cure him, still in order to force money from his hands (just as the blow had forced the eye from his head), the doctor readily promised to cure him, and accordingly demanded money from him every day, affirming that he would begin to recover his sight within five or six days. The poor rustic gave what little he had; then, seeing that the affair was progressing slowly, he began to complain of the physician, and to say that he felt no benefit at all and saw no more with that eye than as if he had it not in his head. At last master Serafino, seeing that he would be able to extort little more from the man, said: ‘Brother, you must have patience. You have lost your eye and there is no longer any help for it; and may God grant that you do not lose your other eye as well.’ On hearing this, the rustic began to weep and complain loudly, and said: ‘Master, you have ruined me and stolen my money. I will complain to my lord Duke;’ and he made the greatest outcry in the world. Then, to clear himself, master Serafino said angrily: ‘Ah, wretched traitor! So you would have two eyes, as city-folk and rich men have? To perdition with you!’ and accompanied these words with such fury that the poor rustic was frightened into silence and quietly went his way in peace, believing himself to be in the wrong.

78.—“It is also fine to explain or interpret a thing jocosely. As when at the court of Spain there appeared one morning in the palace a cavalier who was very ugly, and his wife who was very beautiful, both dressed in white damask (damasco),—the queen[^[283]] said to Alonso Carillo: ‘What think you of these two, Alonso?’ ‘My Lady,’ replied Alonso, ‘I think she is the dama (lady), and he is the asco,’ which means monster.

FRANCESCO ALIDOSI
CARDINAL OF PAVIA
Died 1511

Reduced from Giraudon’s photograph (no. 1528) of an anonymous bas-relief in the Louvre. The features strikingly resemble those of Francesco Francia’s medal of Alidosi, but are very unlike those shown in a picture by Raphael (in the Prado Gallery at Madrid), which M. Müntz regards as a portrait of the same personage. See L’Archivio Storico dell’Arte for 1891, pp. 328-32.

“Another time Rafaello de’ Pazzi[^[284]] saw a letter which the Prior of Messina[^[285]] had written to a lady of his acquaintance, the superscription of which read, ‘This missive is to be delivered to the author of my woes.’ ‘Methinks,’ said Rafaello, ‘this letter is intended for Paolo Tolosa.’[^[286]] Imagine how the bystanders laughed, when everyone knew that Paolo Tolosa had lent the Prior ten thousand ducats, and that he, being a great spendthrift, found no means to repay them.

“Akin to this is the giving of friendly admonition in the form of advice, yet covertly. As Cosimo de’ Medici did to one of his friends, who was very rich but of moderate education and who had secured through Cosimo a mission away from Florence. When on setting out the man asked Cosimo what course he thought ought to be taken in order to do well in the mission, Cosimo replied: ‘Wear rose-colour,[^[287]] and say little.’ Of the same kind was what Count Ludovico said to a man who wished to travel incognito through a certain dangerous place and knew not how to disguise himself; and being asked about it, the count replied: ‘Dress like a doctor or some other man of sense.’ Again, Gianotto de’ Pazzi[^[288]] said to someone who wished to make a jerkin of as varied colours as he could find: ‘Imitate the Cardinal of Pavia in word and deed.’

79.—“We laugh also at some things that have no connection. As when someone said the other day to messer Antonio Rizzo[^[289]] about a certain man from Forli: ‘You may know he is a fool, for his name is Bartolommeo.’ And another: ‘You are looking for a Master Stall, and have no horses!’ And: ‘All the fellow lacks is money and brains.’

“And we laugh at certain other things that seem to have sequence. As recently, when a friend of ours was suspected of having had the renunciation[^[290]] of a benefice forged, upon another priest’s falling sick, Antonio Torello[^[291]] said to our friend: ‘Why do you delay to send for that notary of yours and see about filching this other benefice?’ Likewise at some things that have no sequence. As the other day, when the pope sent for messer Gianluca da Pontremolo and messer Domenico dalla Porta (who are both hunchbacks as you know),[^[292]] and made them auditors, saying that he wished to set the Wheel right,—messer Latino Giovenale[^[293]] said: ‘His Holiness is in errour if he thinks to make the Wheel right with two wrongs (due torti).’

80.—“We often laugh also when a man admits everything that is said to him and more too, but pretends to take it in a different sense. As when Captain Peralta was brought out to fight a duel with Aldana, and Captain Molart[^[294]] (who was Aldana’s second) asked Peralta on his oath if he wore any amulets or charms to keep him from being wounded; Peralta swore that he wore no amulets or charms or relics or objects of devotion in which he had faith. Whereupon, to taunt him with being a heretic, Molart said: ‘Do not trouble yourself about it, for without your oath I believe you have no faith in Christ himself.’[^[295]]

“Moreover it is a fine thing to use metaphors seasonably in such cases. As when our friend master Marcantonio said to Bottone da Cesena,[^[296]] who was goading him with words: ‘Bottone, Bottone, you will one day be the button (bottone), and your button-hole will be the halter.’ Another time, master Marcantonio having composed a very long comedy in several acts, this same Bottone said to master Marcantonio: ‘To play your comedy, all the timber there is in Slavonia will be needed for the setting.’ Master Marcantonio replied: ‘While for the setting of your tragedy, three sticks will be quite enough.’[^[297]]

81.—“We often use a word in which there is a hidden meaning remote from the one we seem to intend. As was done by my lord Prefect here, on hearing mention of a certain captain who in his time had for the most part been defeated but just then had chanced to win. And the speaker telling that when the captain made his entry into the place in question, he had on a very beautiful crimson velvet doublet, which he always wore after his victories, my lord Prefect said: ‘It must be new.’

“Nor is there less laughter when we reply to something that our interlocutor has not said, or pretend to believe he has done something that he has not but ought to have done. As when Andrea Coscia,[^[298]] having gone to visit a gentleman who rudely kept his seat and left his guest to stand, said: ‘Since your Lordship commands me, I will sit down to obey you;’ and so sat down.[^[299]]

POPE LEO X
GIOVANNI DE’ MEDICI
“MY LORD CARDINAL”
1475-1521

Reduced from the central part of Braun’s photograph (no. 42.040) of the triple portrait, in the Pitti Gallery at Florence, painted between 1517 and 1519 by Raphael (1483-1520) with the assistance of his pupil Giulio Pippi, better known as Giulio Romano, (1492-1546).

82.—“We laugh also when a man accuses himself of some fault humourously. As when I told my lord Duke’s chaplain the other day that my lord Cardinal[^[300]] had a chaplain who said mass faster than he, he answered me: ‘It is not possible;’ and coming close to my ear, he said: ‘You must know, I do not recite a third of the silent prayers.’

“Again, a priest at Milan having died, Biagino Crivello[^[301]] begged his benefice of the Duke,[^[302]] who however was minded to give it to someone else. At last Biagino saw that further argument was of no avail, and said: ‘What! After I have had the priest killed, why will you not give me his benefice?’

“It is often amusing also to express desire for those things that cannot be. As the other day, when one of our friends saw all these gentlemen playing at fence while he was lying on his bed, and said: ‘Ah, how glad I should be if this too were a fitting exercise for a strong man and a good soldier!’

“Moreover it is an amusing and spicy style of talk, and especially for grave and dignified persons, to reply the opposite of what the person spoken to desires, but slowly and with a little air of doubtful and hesitating deliberation. As was once the case with King Alfonso I of Aragon,[^[269]] who gave a servant weapons, horses and clothes, because the fellow said he had the night before dreamed that his Highness had given him all these things; and again not long afterwards the same servant said he had that night dreamed that the king gave him a goodly sum of gold florins, whereupon the king replied: ‘Put no trust in dreams henceforth, because they are not true.’ Of like sort also was the pope’s reply to the Bishop of Cervia,[^[303]] who said to him in order to sound his purpose: ‘Holy Father, it is said all over Rome, and the palace too, that your Holiness is making me governor.’ Then the pope replied: ‘Let them talk,—they are only knaves. Have no fear there is any truth in it.’

83.—“Perhaps, my Lords, I might collect still many other occasions that give opportunity for humourous sallies: such as things said with shyness, with admiration, with threats, out of season, with excessive anger; besides these, certain other conditions that provoke laughter when they occur: sometimes a kind of wondering taciturnity, sometimes mere laughter itself when untimely. But methinks I have now said enough, for I believe that pleasantry which takes the form of words does not exceed the limits we have discussed.

“Then, as to that which is shown in action, although it has numberless forms, it still is comprised under a few heads. But in both kinds the main thing is to cheat expectation and reply otherwise than the hearer looks for; and if the pleasantry is to find favour, it must needs be seasoned with deceit or dissimulation or ridicule or censure or simile, or whatever other style a man chooses to employ. And while pleasantries provoke laughter, yet with this laughter they produce divers other effects: for some contain a certain elegance and modest pleasantness, others a hidden or an open sting, others have a taint of grossness, others move to laughter as soon as they are heard, others the more they are thought of, others make us blush as well as laugh, others rouse a little anger. But in all methods we must consider our hearers’ state of mind, for to the afflicted jocosity often brings greater affliction, and there are certain maladies that are aggravated the more medicine is employed.

“Hence if the Courtier pays heed to time, persons and his own rank, in his banter and amusing talk, and uses them not too often (for in truth it begets tedium to be harping on this all day, in all kinds of converse, in season and out), he may be called a man of humour; taking care also not to be so sharp and biting as to be thought spiteful, assailing causelessly or with evident rancour: either those who are too powerful, which is imprudent; or those who are too weak, which is cruel; or those who are too wicked, which is useless; or saying things to offend those he would not offend, which is ignorance. Yet there are some who feel bound to speak and assail recklessly whenever they can, let the consequence be what it may. And among these last, some there are who do not scruple to tarnish the honour of a noble lady, for the sake of saying something humourous; which is a very evil thing and worthy the heaviest punishment, for in this regard ladies are to be numbered among the weak, and so ought not to be assailed, since they have no weapons to defend them.

“Besides these things, he who would be agreeable and amusing must have a certain natural aptitude for all kinds of fun, and must adapt his behaviour, gestures and face accordingly; and the graver and more serious and impassive his face is, the more spicy and keen will he make his sallies seem.

84.—“But you, messer Federico, who thought to take your ease under this leafless tree and in my arid talk, I am sure you have repented of it and think you have found your way to the Montefiore Inn.[^[304]] Therefore it will be well for you, like a practised postman, to rise somewhat earlier than usual and take up your journey, in order to escape from a bad inn.”

“Nay,” replied messer Federico, “I have come to so good an inn that I mean to tarry in it longer than I first intended. So I shall go on taking my ease until you have finished the whole discourse appointed, of which you have left out one part that you mentioned in the beginning—that is, practical jokes; and it is not right for you to cheat the company of this. But as you have taught us many fine things about pleasantries, and have made us bold to use them by the example of so many singular geniuses, great men, princes, kings, and popes,—so too in practical jokes I think you will give us such daring that we shall venture to try some even upon you.”

Then messer Bernardo said, laughing:

“You will not be the first; but perhaps you may not succeed, for I have already endured so many of them that I am on my guard against everything, like dogs who are afraid of cold water after once being scalded with hot. However, since you will have me speak of this also, I think I can despatch it in a few words.

85.—“It seems to me that practical joking is naught else but friendly deceit in things that do not offend or that offend only a little. And just as in pleasantry it arouses laughter to say something contrary to expectation, so in practical joking it arouses laughter to do something contrary to expectation. And the cleverer and more discreet these jokes are, the more they please and are applauded; for he often gives offence who tries to play a practical joke recklessly, and afterwards quarrels and serious enmities arise in consequence.

“But the occasions that give opportunity for practical jokes are nearly the same as in the case of pleasantries. So not to repeat them, I will merely say that practical jokes are of two kinds, each of which kinds might be further divided into classes. One kind is where anyone is cleverly tricked in a fine and amusing manner; the other is where a net is cast, as it were, and a little bait is offered, so that the victim himself hastens to be tricked.

“Of the first kind was the joke that two great ladies, whom I do not wish to name, lately had played upon them by means of a Spaniard called Castillo.”[^[305]]

Then my lady Duchess said:

“And why do you not wish to name them?”

Messer Bernardo replied:

“I would not have them take offence.”

My lady Duchess answered, laughing:

“It is not amiss to play jokes now and then even upon great lords. Indeed I have heard of many being played upon Duke Federico, upon King Alfonso of Aragon, upon Queen Isabella of Spain, and upon many other great princes; and they not only did not take offence, but rewarded the perpetrators liberally.”

Messer Bernardo replied:

“Not even for the hope of reward will I name those ladies.”

“As you please,” answered my lady Duchess.

Then messer Bernardo went on to say:

“It is not long since there arrived at the court (of I know whom) a Bergamasque rustic on business for a courtier gentleman; and this rustic was so well attired and elegantly appointed that, although he had been only used to tend cattle and knew no other trade, anyone who did not hear him speak would have taken him for a gallant cavalier. Now, being told that a Spanish follower of Cardinal Borgia[^[306]] had arrived, and that he was called Castillo and was exceedingly clever, a musician, a dancer, a ballatore,[^[307]] and the most accomplished Courtier in all Spain,—these two ladies were filled with extreme desire to speak with him, and straightway sent for him. And after receiving him with ceremony, they made him sit down and began to speak to him with the greatest distinction before all the company; and there were few of those present who did not know that the fellow was a Bergamasque cow-herd. So when these ladies were seen entertaining him with so much respect and honouring him so signally, the laughter was very hearty, the more so as the good man spoke his native Bergamasque dialect all the while.[^[308]] But the gentlemen who played the trick had told these ladies in the beginning that he was among other things a great joker, and spoke all languages admirably and especially rustic Lombard. Thus they continually imagined that he was pretending, and they often turned to each other with an air of surprise, and said: ‘Listen to this prodigy, how well he counterfeits the language!’ In short, the conversation lasted so long that everyone’s sides ached from laughing; and he himself could not help giving so many tokens of his gentility that even these ladies were at last convinced, albeit with great difficulty, that he was what he was.

86.—“We meet practical jokes of this kind every day; but among the rest those are amusing which at first excite alarm and turn out well in the end; for even the victim laughs at himself when he sees that his fears were groundless.

“For instance, I was staying at Paglia[^[309]] one night, and in the same inn where I was there happened to be three companions besides myself (two from Pistoia and the other from Prato), who sat down to play after supper, as men often do. They had not been playing long before one of the two Pistoians lost all he had and was left without a farthing, so that he began to lament and to curse and swear roundly; and he retired to sleep blaspheming thus. After gaming awhile, the other two resolved to play a trick upon the one who had gone to bed. So, making sure that he was really asleep, they put out all the lights and covered the fire; then they began to talk loud and to make as much noise as they could, pretending to quarrel over their play, and one of them said: ‘You’ve drawn the under card;’ and the other denied it, saying: ‘And you have wagered on four of a suit; let us deal again;’[^[310]] and the like, with such an uproar that the sleeper awoke. And perceiving that his friends were playing and talking as if they saw the cards, he rubbed his eyes a little, and seeing no light in the room, he said: ‘What the devil do you mean by shouting all night?’ Then he lay back again as if to go to sleep.

“His two friends made no reply, but went on as before; whereat the man began to wonder (now that he was more awake) and seeing that there was really no fire or glimmer of any kind, and that still his friends were playing and quarrelling, he said: ‘And how can you see the cards without light?’ One of the two replied: ‘You must have lost your sight along with your money; don’t you see with these two candles we have here?’ The man who was abed lifted himself upon his arms, and said rather angrily: ‘Either I am drunk or blind, or you are lying.’ The two got up and groped their way to the bed, laughing and pretending to think that he was making sport of them; and still he answered: ‘I say I do not see you.’ Finally the two began to feign great surprise, and one said to the other: ‘Alas, methinks he speaks the truth. Hand me that candle, and let us see if perchance there is something wrong with his sight.’ Then the poor fellow took it for certain that he had become blind, and weeping bitterly he said: ‘Oh my brothers, I am blind;’ and he at once began to call on Our Lady of Loreto, and to implore her to pardon the blasphemies and maledictions that he had heaped upon her for the loss of his money. His two companions kept comforting him, and said: ‘It can’t be that you do not see us; ’tis some fancy you’ve got into your head.’ ‘Alas,’ replied the other, ‘this is no fancy, for I see no more than as if I had never had any eyes in my head.’ ‘Yet your sight is clear,’ replied the two, and one said to the other: ‘See how well he opens his eyes! And how bright they are! Who could believe that he doesn’t see?’ The unhappy man wept more loudly all the while, and begged mercy of God.

“At last they said to him: ‘Make a vow to go in penance to Our Lady of Loreto,[^[311]] barefoot and naked, for this is the best remedy that can be found; and meanwhile we will go to Acquapendente[^[312]] and those other places hard by to see some doctor, nor will we fail to do everything we can for you.’ Then the poor fellow quickly knelt by his bed, and with endless tears and bitter penitence for his blasphemy he made a solemn vow to go naked to Our Lady of Loreto, and to offer her a pair of silver eyes, and to eat no flesh on Wednesday or eggs on Friday, and to fast on bread and water every Saturday in honour of Our Lady, if she would grant him the mercy of restoring his sight. His two companions went into another room, struck a light, and laughing their very loudest, came back to the unhappy man, who was relieved of his great anguish, as you may imagine, but was so stunned by the terror that he had passed through, that he could neither laugh nor even speak; and his two companions did nothing but tease him, saying that he must fulfil all his vows, because he had obtained the mercy which he sought.

87.—“Of the other kind of practical joke, where a man deceives himself, I shall give no other example than the one that was played on me not very long ago.

“During the last carnival, my friend Monsignor of San Pietro ad Vincula[^[313]] (who knows how fond I am of playing tricks on the friars when I am masked, and who had carefully arranged beforehand what he meant to do) came one day with Monsignor of Aragon[^[314]] and a few other cardinals, to certain windows in the Banchi,[^[315]] ostensibly for the purpose of seeing the maskers pass, as the custom is at Rome. I came along in my mask, and seeing a friar (somewhat apart) who had a little air of hesitation, I thought I had found my chance and rushed upon him like a hungry falcon on its prey. And first having asked him who he was and received his answer, I pretended to know him, and with many words began to make him think that the chief constable was out in search of him (because of certain evil reports that had been received against him), and to urge him to go with me to the Chancery,[^[316]] where I would put him in safety. Frightened and trembling from head to foot, the friar seemed not to know what to do and said he feared being taken if he went far from San Celso.[^[317]] I said so much to encourage him, however, that he mounted my crupper; and then I thought I had fully succeeded in my scheme. So I at once began to make for the Banchi, my horse frisking and kicking the while. Now imagine what a fine sight a friar made on a masker’s crupper, with cloak flying and head tossed to and fro, and looking all the time as if he were about to fall.

“At this fine spectacle those gentlemen began to throw eggs on us from the windows, as did all the Banchi people and everyone who was there,—so that hail never fell from heaven with greater violence than from those windows fell the eggs, most of which came on me. Being masked as I was, I did not care and thought that all the laughter was for the friar and not for me; and so I went up and down the Banchi several times with this fury always at my back, although the friar with tears in his eyes begged me to let him dismount and not to shame his cloth in this way. Then the knave had eggs given him on the sly by some lackeys stationed there for the purpose, and pretending to hold me fast to keep from falling, he broke them over my breast, often over my head, and sometimes on my very brow, until I was completely bedaubed. Finally, when everyone was weary both of laughing and of throwing eggs, he jumped off my crupper, and pushing back his cowl showed me his long hair, and said: ‘Messer Bernardo, I am one of the grooms at San Pietro ad Vincula, and it is I who take care of your little mule.’

“I know not which was then greatest, my grief, my anger, or my shame. However, as the least of evils, I set out fast for home, and dared not make an appearance the next morning; but the laughter raised by this trick lasted not only the next day, but nearly until now.”

88.—And so, after they had again laughed awhile at the story, messer Bernardo continued:

“There is another very amusing kind of practical joke, which gives opportunity for pleasantry as well, when we pretend to think that a man wishes to do something which in fact he does not wish to do. For instance, one evening after supper, when I was on the bridge at Lyons and jesting with Cesare Beccadello[^[318]] as we walked along, we began to seize each other by the arm as if we were bent on wrestling, for by chance no one else appeared on the bridge at the time. While we were standing thus, two Frenchmen came up, and on seeing our dispute they asked what the matter was, and stopped to try to separate us, thinking that we were quarrelling in earnest. Then I said quickly: ‘Help me, Sirs, for this poor gentleman loses his reason at certain changes of the moon, and you see he is now trying to throw himself off the bridge into the water.’ Thereupon these two men ran, and with my aid seized Cesare and held him very tight; and he, telling me all the while that I was mad, tried harder to free himself from their hands, and they held him all the tighter. Thus the passers-by gathered to look at the disturbance, and everyone ran up. And the more poor Cesare struck out with his hands and feet (for he was now beginning to grow angry), the more people arrived; and from the great effort that he made, they fully believed he was trying to jump into the river, and on that account held him the tighter. So that a great crowd of men carried him bodily to the inn, all dishevelled, capless, pale with anger and shame; for nothing he said availed him, partly because the Frenchmen did not understand him, and also partly because, as I walked along leading them to the inn, I kept lamenting the poor man’s misfortune in being thus stricken mad.

89.—“Now, as we have said, it would be possible to talk at length about practical jokes; but suffice it to repeat that the occasions which give opportunity for them are the same as in the case of pleasantries. Moreover we have an infinity of examples because we see them every day. Among others there are many amusing ones in the Novelle of Boccaccio, like those which Bruno and Buffalmacco played upon their friend Calandrino and upon master Simone,[^[319]] and many others played by women, that are truly clever and fine.

“I remember having known in my time many other amusing men of this sort, and among others a certain Sicilian student at Padua, called Ponzio;[^[320]] who once saw a peasant with a pair of fat capons. And pretending that he wished to buy them, he struck a bargain, and told the fellow to come home with him and get some breakfast besides the price agreed on. So he led the peasant to a place where there was a bell-tower standing apart from its church[^[321]] so that one could walk around it; and just opposite one of the four sides of the tower was the end of a little lane. Here Ponzio, who had already settled what he meant to do, said to the peasant: ‘I have wagered these capons with one of my friends, who says that this tower measures quite forty feet around, while I say it does not. And just before I found you, I had bought this twine to measure it. Now, before we go home I wish to find out which of the two has won.’ And so saying, he drew the twine from his sleeve, gave one end of it to the peasant, and said: ‘Hand them here.’ Thereupon he took the capons, and holding the other end of the twine as if he were going to measure, he started to walk around the tower, first making the peasant stay and hold the twine against that side of it which was farthest from the one that looked up the little lane. When he reached this other side, he stuck a nail into the wall, tied the twine to it, and leaving the man there he quietly went off with the capons up the little lane. The peasant stood still a long time waiting for Ponzio to finish the measurement; at last,—after he had several times said: ‘What are you doing there so long?’—he went to look, and found that it was not Ponzio who was holding the twine, but a nail stuck in the wall, and that this was all the pay left him for the capons. Ponzio played numberless tricks of this sort.

“There have also been many other men who were amusing in like manner, such as Gonnella, Meliolo in his day,[^[322]] and at the present time our friends Fra Mariano[^[60]] and Fra Serafino[^[61]] here, and many whom you all know. And doubtless this method is well enough for men who have no other business, but I think the Courtier’s practical jokes ought to be somewhat farther removed from scurrility. Care must be taken also not to let practical joking degenerate into knavery, as we see in the case of many rogues, who go through the world with sundry wiles to get money, now pretending one thing and now another. Moreover the Courtier’s tricks must not be too rude; and above all let him pay respect and reverence to women in this as in all other things, and especially where their honour may be touched.”

90.—Then my lord Gaspar said:

“Indeed, messer Bernardo, you are too partial towards women. And why would you have men pay more respect to women than women to men? Should not our honour be as dear to us, forsooth, as theirs to them? Do you think that women ought to taunt men with words and nonsense without the least restraint in anything, and that men should quietly endure it and thank them into the bargain?”

Then messer Bernardo replied:

“I do not say that in their pleasantries and practical jokes women ought not to use towards men the same respect which we have before described; but I do say they may taunt men with unchastity more freely than men may taunt them. And this is because we have made unto ourselves a law, whereby free living is in us neither vice nor fault nor disgrace, while in women it is such utter infamy and shame that she of whom evil is once spoken is disgraced forever, whether the imputation[^[323]] cast upon her be false or true. Wherefore, since speaking of women’s honour brings such risk of doing them grievous harm, I say we ought to attack them in some other way, and to abstain from this; because to strike too hard with our pleasantries and practical jokes, is to exceed the bounds that we have before said are befitting a gentleman.”

91.—As messer Bernardo paused a little here, my lord Ottaviano Fregoso said, laughing:

“My lord Gaspar might answer you that this law you refer to, which we have made unto ourselves, is perhaps not so unreasonable as it seems to you. For since women were very imperfect creatures and of little or no worth in comparison with men, and since of themselves they were not capable of performing any worthy act,—it was necessary by fear of shame and infamy to lay upon them a restraint that might impart some quality of goodness to them almost against their will. And chastity seemed more needful for them than any other quality, in order to have certainty as to our offspring; hence it was necessary to use every possible skill, art and way to make women chaste, and almost to permit them to be of little worth in all things else and to do constantly the reverse of what they ought. Therefore, since they are allowed to commit all other faults without blame, if we taunt them with those defects which (as we have said) are all permitted to them and therefore not incongruous in them, and of which they take no heed,—we shall never arouse laughter; for you said awhile ago that laughter is aroused by certain things that are incongruous.”

92.—Then my lady Duchess said:

“You speak thus of women, my lord Ottaviano, and then you complain that they love you not.”

“I do not complain of this,” replied my lord Ottaviano, “but rather thank them in that they do not, by loving me, force me to love them. Nor am I speaking my own mind, but saying that my lord Gaspar might use these arguments.”

Messer Bernardo said:

“Verily it would be a great gain to women if they could conciliate two such great enemies of theirs as you and my lord Gaspar are.”

“I am not their enemy,” replied my lord Gaspar, “but you are indeed an enemy of men; for if you would not have women taunted as to their honour, you ought also to impose on them a law that they shall not taunt men for that which is as shameful to us as unchastity is to women. And why was not Alonso Carillo’s retort to my lady Boadilla (about hoping to escape with his life by being asked to become her husband) as seemly in him, as it was for her to say that all who knew him thought the king was about to have him hanged? And why was it not as allowable for Riciardo Minutoli to deceive Filippello’s wife and get her to go to that resort, as for Beatrice to make her husband Egano[^[324]] get out of bed and be cudgelled by Anichino, after she had long been with the latter? And for that other woman to tie a string to her toe and make her husband believe that she was someone else?—since you say that these women’s pranks in Giovanni Boccaccio are so clever and fine.”

93.—Then messer Bernardo said, laughing:

“My Lords, as my task was simply to discuss pleasantries, I do not mean to go outside my subject. And I think I have already told why it does not seem to me befitting to attack women in their honour either by word or deed, and have imposed on them as well a rule that they shall not touch men in a tender spot.

“As for the pranks and sallies cited by you, my lord Gaspar, I grant that although what Alonso said to my lady Boadilla may touch a little on her chastity, it still does not displease me, because it is very remote, and is so veiled that it may be taken innocently, and the speaker might disguise his meaning and declare he had not meant it. He said another that was to my thinking very unseemly. And it was this: as the queen[^[325]] was passing my lady Boadilla’s house,[^[280]] Alonso saw the door all blackened with pictures of those indecencies that are painted about inns in such variety; and turning to the Countess of Castagneta,[^[326]] he said: ‘There, my Lady, are the heads of the game that my lady Boadilla slays in hunting every day.’ You see that while the metaphor is clever and aptly borrowed from hunters (who take pride in having many heads of beasts fastened on their doors), yet it is scurrilous and disgraceful. Besides which, it was not an answer to anything; for it is far less rude to say a thing by way of retort, because then it seems to have been provoked and needs must be impromptu.

“Returning, however, to the subject of tricks played by women, I do not say they do well to deceive their husbands, but I say that some of those deceptions (which Giovanni Boccaccio recounts of women) are fine and very clever, and especially those which you yourself told. But in my opinion the trick played by Riciardo Minutoli goes too far, and is much more heartless than the one played by Beatrice; because Riciardo Minutoli did much greater wrong to Filippello’s wife than Beatrice did to her husband Egano, for by his deception Riciardo forced the woman’s will and made her do with herself something that she did not wish to do, while Beatrice deceived her husband in order that she might do with herself something that pleased her.”

94.—Then my lord Gaspar said:

“Beatrice can be excused on no other plea than that of love, which ought to be allowed in the case of men as well as in that of women.”

Then messer Bernardo replied:

“No doubt the passion of love affords great excuse for every fault. But for my part I think that a gentleman of worth, who is in love, ought to be sincere and truthful in this as in all things else; and if it be true that to betray even an enemy is such a vile act and abominable crime, consider how much more heinous the offence ought to be deemed when it is committed against one whom we love.

“Moreover, I think that every gentle lover endures so many toils, so many vigils, braves so many perils, sheds so many tears, employs so many means and ways to please the lady of his love,—not chiefly in order to possess her person, but to capture the fortress of her mind, and to shatter those hardest diamonds, to melt that coldest ice, that often are in the tender breast of woman. This, I think, is the true and sound pleasure and the purposed goal of every noble heart. For myself, were I in love, I certainly should prefer to be assured that she whom I served returned my love from her heart and had given me her mind,—without ever having any other satisfaction from her,—than to enjoy her to the full against her will; for in such case I should deem myself the master of a lifeless body. Hence they who pursue their desires by means of such trickery, which might perhaps be called treachery rather than trickery, do injury to others; nor have they yet that bliss which is to be desired in love, if they possess the body without the will.

“The same I say of certain others who use enchantments in their love, charms and sometimes force, sometimes sleeping potions and such like things. Be assured, too, that gifts much lessen the pleasures of love; for a man may suspect that he is not loved and that his lady makes a show of loving him in order to profit by it. Hence you see that great ladies’ love is prized because it could hardly spring from other source than real and true affection, nor is it credible that a great lady should ever pretend to love one of her inferiors unless she loves him truly.”

95.—Then my lord Gaspar replied:

“I do not deny that the purpose, toils and dangers of lovers ought to have their aim directed chiefly towards the conquest of the mind rather than of the body of their beloved. But I say that these deceits, which you call treachery in men and trickery in women, are excellent means of attaining this aim, for whoever possesses a woman’s person is master of her mind as well. And if you remember rightly, Filippello’s wife, after much lament over the deceit practised on her by Riciardo, discovered how much more delicious than her husband’s were the kisses of her lover, and her coldness to Riciardo changed to sweet affection, so that from that day forth she loved him most tenderly. Thus it came about that what his frequent fond visits, his gifts and countless other tokens shown unceasingly, could not affect, a taste of his embraces soon accomplished. You now see that this same trickery, or treachery as you would call it, was a good way to capture the fortress of her mind.”

Then messer Bernardo said:

“You advance a very false premise, for if women always surrendered their mind to the man who possessed their person, no wife would be found who did not love her husband more than every other person in the world; the contrary of which we find to be the case. But Giovanni Boccaccio was very unjustly hostile to women, as you are also.”[^[327]]

96.—My lord Gaspar replied:

“I am not at all hostile to them; but there are very few men of worth who as a rule make any account of women whatever, although for their own purposes they sometimes pretend the contrary.”

Then messer Bernardo replied:

“You wrong not women only, but also all men who hold them in respect. However, as I said, I do not wish for the present to go outside my original subject of practical joking, and enter upon so difficult an enterprise as would be the defence of women against you, who are a most redoubtable warrior. So I will make an end of this talk of mine, which has perhaps been far longer than was necessary, and certainly less amusing than you expected. And since I see the ladies sit so quiet, enduring your insults thus patiently as they do, I shall henceforth regard a part of what my lord Ottaviano said as true, namely, that they care not what other evil is said of them, provided they be not taunted with lack of chastity.”

Then at a signal from my lady Duchess, many of the ladies rose to their feet, and all ran laughing towards my lord Gaspar, as if to shower blows upon him and treat him as the bacchants treated Orpheus,[^[328]]—meanwhile saying:

“You shall see now whether we care if evil be said of us.”

97.—Thus, partly because of the laughter and partly because everyone rose to his feet, the drowsiness that had seized the eyes and mind of some, seemed to flee away; but my lord Gaspar began to say:

“You see that being in the wrong, they would fain use force and thus end the discussion by giving us a Braccesque leave, as the saying is.”[^[329]]

Then my lady Emilia replied:

“Nay, that shall not help you; for when you saw messer Bernardo wearied by his long talk, you began to say all manner of evil about women, thinking to have no antagonist. But we shall put a fresh champion in the field to fight you, to the end that your offence may not go long unpunished.”

So, turning to the Magnifico Giuliano, who had thus far spoken little, she said:

“You are accounted the defender of women’s honour; wherefore the time has come for you to show that you have not acquired this title falsely. And if hitherto you have ever found profit in your office, you ought now to consider that by putting down so bitter an enemy of ours, you will render all women still more beholden to you, so much so that although nothing else be ever done but requite you, yet the obligation must always stand and can never fully be requited.”

98.—Then the Magnifico Giuliano replied:

“My Lady, methinks you do your enemy much honour, and your defender very little; for so far my lord Gaspar has certainly said nothing against women that messer Bernardo has not most consummately answered. And I believe we all know that it is fitting for the Courtier to show women the greatest reverence, and that he who is discreet and courteous must never taunt them with lack of chastity, either in jest or in earnest. Therefore, to discuss such obvious truth as this, is almost to cast doubt upon that which is undoubted. But indeed I think my lord Ottaviano went rather too far when he said that women are very imperfect creatures, incapable of any worthy action, and possessed of little or no dignity in comparison with men. And as trust is often placed in those who have great authority, even when they say what is not the exact truth and also when they speak in jest,—my lord Gaspar suffered himself to be led by my lord Ottaviano’s words to say that wise men make no account of women whatever, which is most false. On the contrary, I have known very few men of merit who did not love and honour women,—whose worth (and so whose dignity) I regard as in no wise inferior to men’s.

UNICUS ARETINUS

Bernardo Accolti

JO. CHRISTOFANO ROMANO

VINCENTIO CALMETA

NICOLO PHRYSIO

SERAPHINO

AUTOGRAPH SIGNATURES OF INTERLOCUTORS

From negatives, made by Signor Lanzoni, from originals preserved in the Royal State Archives at Mantua and selected by the Director, Signor Alessandro Luzio.

“Yet if this were to be the subject of dispute, women’s cause would be at serious disadvantage; because these gentlemen have described a Courtier so excellent and of such heavenly accomplishments, that whoso undertook to consider him as they have pictured him, would imagine that women’s merits could not attain that pitch. But if the contest were to be fair, we should first need to have someone as clever and eloquent as Count Ludovico and messer Federico are, to describe a Court Lady with all the perfections proper to woman, just as they have described the Courtier with the perfections proper to man. And then, if he who defended their cause were of only moderate cleverness and eloquence, I think that with truth for ally, he would clearly prove that women are as full of virtue as men are.”

“Nay,” replied my lady Emilia, “far more so; and in proof of this, you see that virtue (la virtù) is feminine, and vice (il vizio) is masculine.”[^[330]]

99.—Then my lord Gaspar laughed, and turning to messer Niccolò Frisio, said:

“What think you of this, Frisio?”

Frisio replied:

“I am sorry for my lord Magnifico, who has been beguiled by my lady Emilia’s promises and soft words into the errour of saying that which I blush for on his behalf.”

My lady Emilia replied, still laughing:

“You will be ashamed rather of yourself, when you see my lord Gaspar confuted, confessing his own and your errour, and imploring a pardon that we shall refuse to grant him.”

Then my lady Duchess said:

“As the hour is very late, let the whole matter be postponed until to-morrow; especially since it seems to me wise to follow my lord Magnifico’s counsel, which is: that before we enter upon this controversy, a Court Lady be described with all her perfections, just as these gentlemen have described the perfect Courtier.”

Then my lady Emilia said:

“My Lady, God forbid that we chance to entrust this task to any fellow-conspirator of my lord Gaspar, who will describe us a Court Lady that can do naught but cook and spin.”

Frisio said:

“But this is her proper calling.”

Then my lady Emilia said:

“I am willing to trust my lord Magnifico, who will (with the cleverness and good sense which I know are his) imagine the highest perfection that can be desired in woman, and will set it forth in beautiful language too; and then we shall have something to offer against my lord Gaspar’s false aspersions.”

100.—“My Lady,” replied the Magnifico, “I am not sure how well advised you are to impose on me an enterprise of such weight that I really do not feel myself sufficient for it. Nor am I like the Count and messer Federico, who have with their eloquence described a Courtier that never was and perhaps never can be. Still, if it pleases you to have me bear this burden, at least let it be upon the same conditions as in the case of these other gentlemen, namely: that everyone may contradict me when he pleases; for I shall take it, not as contradiction, but as aid; and perhaps by the correction of my mistakes we shall discover that perfection of the Court Lady which we seek.”

“I hope,” replied my lady Duchess, “that your talk will be of such sort that little may be found in it to contradict. So give your whole mind to it, and describe for us such a woman that these adversaries of ours shall be ashamed to say she is not equal in worth to the Courtier; of whom it will be well for messer Federico to say no more, since the Courtier has been only too well adorned by him, especially as there is now need to give him a paragon in woman.”

Then messer Federico said:

“My Lady, little or nothing is now left for me to tell about the Courtier; and what I thought of saying has been driven from my mind by messer Bernardo’s pleasantries.”

“If that be so,” said my lady Duchess, “let us come together again early to-morrow, and we shall have time to attend to both matters.”

Thereupon all rose to their feet, and having reverently taken leave of my lady Duchess, everyone went to his own room.

THE THIRD BOOK OF THE COURTIER
BY COUNT BALDESAR CASTIGLIONE

TO MESSER ALFONSO ARIOSTO

1.—We read that Pythagoras very ingeniously and cleverly discovered the measure of Hercules’s body; and the way was this: it being known that the space where the Olympic games were celebrated every five years, before the temple of Olympian Jove near Elis, in Achaia,[^[331]] had been measured by Hercules, and a stadium made six hundred and twenty-five times the length of his own foot; and that the other stadia which were afterwards established throughout Greece by later generations, were likewise of the length of six hundred and twenty-five feet, and yet were somewhat shorter than the first one: by this proportion Pythagoras easily reckoned how much larger Hercules’s foot was than other human feet; and thus, knowing the measure of the foot, from this he argued that the whole body of Hercules was larger than other men’s in the same proportion that the first stadium bore to the other stadia.

So you, my dear messer Alfonso, by the same reasoning may clearly see, from this small part of the whole body, how superior the court of Urbino was to all others in Italy, considering how much the games that were devised for the refreshment of minds wearied by the most arduous labours, were superior to those that were practised in the other courts of Italy. And if these were of such sort, think what were the other worthy pursuits to which our minds were bent and wholly given; and of this I confidently make bold to speak with hope of being believed; for I am not praising things so ancient that I might be allowed to invent, but can prove what I affirm by the testimony of many men worthy of faith, who are still living and personally saw and knew the life and behaviour that one time flourished in that court: and I hold myself bound, as far as I can, to strive with every effort to rescue this bright memory from mortal oblivion, and by my writing to make it live in the hearts of posterity.

Wherefore perhaps in the future there will not be lacking some to envy our century for this also; since no one reads the wonderful exploits of the ancients, who in his mind does not conceive a somewhat higher opinion of those that are written of than the books themselves seem able to express, however divinely they be written. Even so we desire that all to whose hands this work of ours shall come (if indeed it shall ever be worthy of such favour as to deserve being seen by noble cavaliers and virtuous ladies) may assume and take for certain that the court of Urbino was far more excellent, and adorned by men of singular worth, than we can express in writing; and if we had as great eloquence as they had merit, we should have no need of other proof to make our words believed by those who saw it not.

2.—Now the company being assembled the next day at the accustomed hour and place, and seated in silence, everyone turned his eyes to messer Federico and to the Magnifico Giuliano, waiting to see which of them would begin the discussion. Wherefore my lady Duchess, having been silent awhile, said:

“My lord Magnifico, everyone desires to see this lady of yours well adorned; and if you do not display her to us in such fashion that all her beauties may be seen, we shall think that you are jealous of her.”

The Magnifico replied:

“My Lady, if I deemed her beautiful, I should display her all unadorned and in the same fashion wherein Paris chose to view the three goddesses;[^[332]] but if these ladies here, who well know how, do not aid me to deck her forth, I fear that not only my lord Gaspar and Frisio, but all these other gentlemen, will have just cause to say ill of her. So, while still she stands in some repute for beauty, perhaps it will be better to keep her hidden, and to see what messer Federico has left to say about the Courtier, which without doubt is far more beautiful than my Lady can be.”

“What I had in mind,” replied messer Federico, “is not so necessary to the Courtier that it may not be omitted without any harm; nay, it is rather different matter from that which has thus far been discussed.”

“And what is it, then?” said my lady Duchess.

Messer Federico replied:

“I had thought of explaining, as far as I could, the origin of these companies and orders of knighthood established by great princes under different ensigns: as that of Saint Michael in the House of France;[^[333]] that of the Garter, which bears the name of Saint George, in the House of England;[^[334]] the Golden Fleece in that of Burgundy:[^[335]] and in what manner these dignities are bestowed, and how they who deserve them are deprived thereof; whence they arose, who were the founders of them, and to what end they were established: for even in great courts these knights are always honoured.

“I thought too, if I had time enough, to speak not only of the diversity of customs that are in use at the courts of Christian princes in serving them, in merry-making and in appearing at public shows, but also to say something of the Grand Turk’s[^[252]] court, and much more particularly of the court of the Sophi king of Persia.[^[336]] For having heard, from merchants who have been long in that country, that the noblemen there are of great worth and gentle behaviour, and that in their intercourse with one another, in their service to ladies and in all their actions, they practise much courtesy and much discretion, and on occasion much magnificence, much liberality and elegance in their weapons, games and festivals,—I was glad to learn what ways they most prize in these things, and in what their pomp and finery of dress and arms consist; in what they differ from us, and in what they resemble us; what manner of amusements their ladies practise and with what modesty show favour to lovers.

“But indeed it is not fitting to enter upon this discussion now, especially as there is something else to say, and far more to our purpose than this.”

3.—“Nay,” said my lord Gaspar, “both this and many other things are more to the purpose than to describe this Court Lady; seeing that the same rules that are set the Courtier, serve also for the Lady; for she, like the Courtier, ought to have regard to time and place, and (as far as her stupidity permits) to follow all those other ways that have been so much discussed. And therefore, in place of this, perhaps it would not have been amiss to teach some of the details that pertain to the service of the Prince’s person, for it is well befitting the Courtier to know them and to show grace in practising them; or indeed to tell of the method to be pursued in bodily exercises, such as riding, handling weapons and wrestling, and to tell wherein consists the difficulty of these accomplishments.”

Then my lady Duchess said, laughing:

“Princes do not employ the personal service of so admirable a Courtier as this: and as for bodily exercises and physical strength and agility, we will leave to our friend messer Pietro Monte the duty of teaching them, when he shall deem the season more convenient; for now the Magnifico must speak of nothing but this Lady, of whom, methinks, you are already beginning to be afraid, and so would make us wander from our subject.”

Frisio replied:

“Surely it is irrelevant and little to the purpose to speak of women now, especially when more remains to be said about the Courtier, for we ought not to mix one thing with another.”

“You are much in errour,” replied messer Cesare Gonzaga; “for just as no court, however great it be, can have in it adornment or splendour or gaiety, without ladies, nor can any Courtier be graceful or pleasing or brave, or perform any gallant feat of chivalry, unless moved by the society and by the love and pleasure of ladies: so, too, discussion about the Courtier is always very imperfect, unless by taking part therein the ladies add their touch of that grace wherewith they perfect Courtiership and adorn it.”

My lord Ottaviano laughed, and said:

“There you have a taste of that bait which makes men fools.”

GIULIANO DE’ MEDICI
“MY LORD MAGNIFICO”
1479-1516

From Alinari’s photograph (no. 359) of the portrait, in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence, painted by Alessandro Allori (1535-1607), and believed to be a copy of an earlier portrait by Raphael.

4.—Then my lord Magnifico, turning to my lady Duchess, said:

“Since so it pleases you, my Lady, I will say what occurs to me, but with very great fear of not satisfying. And in sooth it would be a far lighter task to describe a lady worthy to be queen of the world, than a perfect Court Lady: because of the latter I know not where to take my model; while for the queen I should not need to go far, and it would be enough for me to think of the divine accomplishments of a lady whom I know,[^[337]] and, lost in contemplation, to bend all my thoughts to express clearly in words that which many see with their eyes; and if I could do no more, by merely naming her I should have performed my task.”

Then my lady Duchess said:

“Do not wander from your subject, my lord Magnifico, but hold to the order given you and describe the Court Lady, to the end that so noble a Lady as this may have someone competent to serve her worthily.”

The Magnifico continued:

“Then, my Lady, to show that your commands have power to induce me to essay even that which I know not how to do, I will speak of this excellent Lady as I would have her; and when I have fashioned her to my liking, not being able then to have another such, like Pygmalion I will take her for my own.[^[338]]

“And although my lord Gaspar has said that the same rules which are set the Courtier, serve also for the Lady, I am of another mind; for while some qualities are common to both and as necessary to man as to woman, there are nevertheless some others that befit woman more than man, and some are befitting man to which she ought to be wholly a stranger. The same I say of bodily exercises; but above all, methinks that in her ways, manners, words, gestures and bearing, a woman ought to be very unlike a man; for just as it befits him to show a certain stout and sturdy manliness, so it is becoming in a woman to have a soft and dainty tenderness with an air of womanly sweetness in her every movement, which, in her going or staying or saying what you will, shall always make her seem the woman, without any likeness of a man.

“Now, if this precept be added to the rules that these gentlemen have taught the Courtier, I certainly think she ought to be able to profit by many of them, and to adorn herself with admirable accomplishments, as my lord Gaspar says. For I believe that many faculties of the mind are as necessary to woman as to man; likewise gentle birth, to avoid affectation, to be naturally graceful in all her doings, to be mannerly, clever, prudent, not arrogant, not envious, not slanderous, not vain, not quarrelsome, not silly, to know how to win and keep the favour of her mistress and of all others, to practise well and gracefully the exercises that befit women. I am quite of the opinion, too, that beauty is more necessary to her than to the Courtier, for in truth that woman lacks much who lacks beauty. Then, too, she ought to be more circumspect and take greater care not to give occasion for evil being said of her, and so to act that she may not only escape a stain of guilt but even of suspicion, for a woman has not so many ways of defending herself against false imputations as has a man.

“But as Count Ludovico has explained very minutely the chief profession of the Courtier, and has insisted it be that of arms, methinks it is also fitting to tell what in my judgment is that of the Court Lady: and when I have done this, I shall think myself quit of the greater part of my duty.

5.—“Laying aside, then, those faculties of the mind that she ought to have in common with the Courtier (such as prudence, magnanimity, continence, and many others), and likewise those qualities that befit all women (such as kindness, discretion, ability to manage her husband’s property and her house and children if she be married, and all those capacities that are requisite in a good housewife), I say that in a lady who lives at court methinks above all else a certain pleasant affability is befitting, whereby she may be able to entertain politely every sort of man with agreeable and seemly converse, suited to the time and place, and to the rank of the person with whom she may speak, uniting with calm and modest manners, and with that seemliness which should ever dispose all her actions, a quick vivacity of spirit whereby she may show herself alien to all indelicacy; but with such a kindly manner as shall make us think her no less chaste, prudent and benign, than agreeable, witty and discreet: and so she must preserve a certain mean (difficult and composed almost of contraries), and must barely touch certain limits but not pass them.

“Thus, in her wish to be thought good and pure, the Lady ought not to be so coy and seem so to abhor company and talk that are a little free, as to take her leave as soon as she finds herself therein; for it might easily be thought that she was pretending to be thus austere in order to hide something about herself which she feared others might come to know; and such prudish manners are always odious. Nor ought she, on the other hand, for the sake of showing herself free and agreeable, to utter unseemly words or practise a certain wild and unbridled familiarity and ways likely to make that believed of her which perhaps is not true; but when she is present at such talk, she ought to listen with a little blush and shame.

“Likewise she ought to avoid an errour into which I have seen many women fall, which is that of saying and of willingly listening to evil about other women. For those women who, on hearing the unseemly ways of other women described, grow angry thereat and seem to disbelieve it and to regard it almost monstrous that a woman should be immodest,—they, by accounting the offence so heinous, give reason to think that they do not commit it. But those who go about continually prying into other women’s intrigues, and narrate them so minutely and with such zest, seem to be envious of them and to wish that everyone may know it, to the end that like matters may not be reckoned as a fault in their own case; and thus they fall into certain laughs and ways that show they then feel greatest pleasure. And hence it comes that men, while seeming to listen gladly, usually hold such women in small respect and have very little regard for them, and think these ways of theirs are an invitation to advance farther, and thus often go such lengths with them as bring them deserved reproach, and finally esteem them so lightly as to despise their company and even find them tedious.

“And on the other hand, there is no man so shameless and insolent as not to have reverence for those women who are esteemed good and virtuous; because this gravity (tempered with wisdom and goodness) is as it were a shield against the insolence and coarseness of the presumptuous. Thus we see that a word or laugh or act of kindness (however small it be) from a virtuous woman is more prized by everyone, than all the endearments and caresses of those who show their lack of shame so openly; and if they are not immodest, by their unseemly laughter, their loquacity, insolence and like scurrile manners, they give sign of being so.

6.—“And since words that carry no meaning of importance are vain and puerile, the Court Lady must have not only the good sense to discern the quality of him with whom she is speaking, but knowledge of many things, in order to entertain him graciously; and in her talk she should know how to choose those things that are adapted to the quality of him with whom she is speaking, and should be cautious lest occasionally, without intending it, she utter words that may offend him. Let her guard against wearying him by praising herself indiscreetly or by being too prolix. Let her not go about mingling serious matters with her playful or humourous discourse, or jests and jokes with her serious discourse. Let her not stupidly pretend to know that which she does not know, but modestly seek to do herself credit in that which she does know,—in all things avoiding affectation, as has been said. In this way she will be adorned with good manners, and will perform with perfect grace the bodily exercises proper to women; her discourse will be rich and full of prudence, virtue and pleasantness; and thus she will be not only loved but revered by everyone, and perhaps worthy to be placed side by side with this great Courtier as well in qualities of the mind as in those of the body.”