# The Book of the Courtier/Book 1

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 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 may be 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, 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, 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.
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; although
​in the calamities of the universal wars of Italy, it was for a season deprived of them. But without seeking further, we can give good proof of this by the glorious memory of Duke Federico, 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; 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.
3.— Following then the course of nature, and already sixty-five years old, 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, 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 and Ferdinand the Younger; later with Pope Alexander VI, and with the Venetian and Florentine signories.
Upon the accession of Julius II 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] languages, and uniting affability and pleasantness 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.
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, 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; 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.
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; 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, the Magnifico Giuliano de' Medici, messer Pietro Bembo, messer Cesare Gonzaga, Count Ludovico da Canossa, my lord Gaspar Pallavicino, my lord Ludovico Pio, my lord Morello da Ortona, Pietro da Napoli, messer Roberto da Bari, 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, Giancristoforo Romano, Pietro Monte, Terpandro, messer Niccolo Frisio; so that there always flocked thither poets, musicians and all sorts of agreeable men, and in every walk the most excellent that were to be found in Italy.
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, 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."
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 Caspar, "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 Caspar having spoken thus, my lady Emilia made sign to madonna Costanza Fregosa 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, 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," 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' 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 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; 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."
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.
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 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. 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."
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, 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.
"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 anjrthing 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; 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; 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 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. 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. 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 be- fitting 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.
"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. 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, 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.
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 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 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 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,— 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 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."
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."
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 speak." 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.
"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 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." 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 Caspar 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 ofiice 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. 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 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 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; 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; 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." And in sundry places Cicero reprehends many of his predecessors, and slightingly affirms that Sergius Galba's orations had an antique flavour, 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. 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 sensa 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.
"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, 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; 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 bypaths; 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.
"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. 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 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 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, Mantegna, Raphael, Michelangelo, Giorgio da Castelfranco, 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.
"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, 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, 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 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 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, to Lorenzo de' Medici, to Francesco Diacceto, 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, 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, Caesar, Varro 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. 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."
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 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."
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 Caesar ​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, 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 Caesar, 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. 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. 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; for besides the enjoyment he will find in it, he will by this means never lack agreeable entertainment with ladies, 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. 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. 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
Thus spake the mighty Alexander, sighing:
'O happy youth, who found so clear a trumpet.
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."
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 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; and that music is not only no hindrance in the pursuits of peace and war, but is very helpful therein. ​"Again, Lycurgus 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, practised music; and that those who were ignorant of it, like Themistocles,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, 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; 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. 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 Caspar. 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. 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; 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 maybe found in the antique marble and bronze statues that yet are seen. 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?"
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."
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 w^hile 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. 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; 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 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, a philosopher and very excellent painter, was sent by the Athenians to Lucius Paulus 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: 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?"
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, 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, messer Ettore Romano, Vincenzo Calmeta, Orazio Florido, 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 and madonna Costanza Fregosa to dance. Whereupon Barletta, 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, 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.