# The Book of the Courtier/Dedicatory Letter

TO THE REVEREND AND ILLUSTRIOUS
LORD DOM MIGUEL DE SILVA,
BISHOP OF VISEU
1.— When my lord Guidobaldo di Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino, passed from this life, I, together with several other cavaliers who had served him, remained in the service of Duke Francesco Maria della Rovere, his heir and successor in the State. And as the recollection of Duke Guido's character was fresh in my mind, and the delight I had during those years in the kind companionship of the notable persons who at that time frequented the Court of Urbino, I was moved by their memory to write these books of the Courtier, which I did in a few days, purposing in time to correct those errours that arose from the wish to pay this debt speedily. But for many years past fortune has burdened me with toil so constant that I never could find leisure to make the book such as would content even my poor judgment.
Now being in Spain, and learning from Italy that my lady Vittoria della Colonna, Marchioness of Pescara, to whom I gave a copy of the book, had against her word caused a large part of it to be transcribed, I could not but feel some annoyance, fearing the many inconveniences that may befall in such cases. Still, I relied upon the wit and good sense of this lady (whose character I have always held in veneration as a thing divine) to prevent any mischief coming to me from having obeyed her wishes. Finally I was informed that this part of the book was in the hands of many people at Naples; and as men are always eager for anything new, it seemed likely that someone might try to have it printed. Alarmed at this peril, then, I resolved to revise the book at once so far as I had time, with intent to publish it; for I thought better to let it be seen imperfectly corrected by my own hand than grievously mutilated by the hand of others.
And so, to carry out this plan, I began to read the book again; and touched at the very outset by the title, I was saddened not a little, and far more so as I went on, by the thought that most ​of the personages introduced in the discussion were already dead; for besides those mentioned in the proem of the last Book, messer Alfonso Ariosto (to whom the work is dedicated) is also dead, a gracious youth, considerate, of the highest breeding, and apt in everything proper to a man who lives at court. Likewise Duke Giuliano de' Medici, whose kindness and noble courtesy deserved to be enjoyed longer by the world. Messer Bernardo, Cardinal of Santa Maria in Portico, who for his keen and playful readiness of wit was most delightful to all that knew him, he, too, is dead. Dead also is my lord Ottaviano Fregoso, a man very rare in our times: magnanimous, devout, full of kindness, talent, good sense, and courtesy, a true lover of honour and merit, and so worthy of praise that his very enemies were ever forced to praise him; and the misadventures that he bore so bravely were enough to prove that fortune is still, as always, adverse to merit. And of those mentioned in my book many more besides are dead, to whom nature seemed to promise very long life.
But what should not be told without tears is that my lady Duchess, too, is dead. And if my heart mourns the loss of so many friends and patrons, who have left me in this life as in a solitude full of sorrows, it is meet that I grieve more bitterly for the death of my lady Duchess than of all the others; for she was more precious than they, and I more bound to her than to all the others. Not to delay, then, the tribute that I owe the memory of so excellent a Lady and of the others who are no more, and moved also by the danger to my book, I have had it printed and published in such state as the shortness of time permitted.
And since you had no knowledge in their lifetime either of my lady Duchess or of the others who are dead (except Duke Giuliano and the Cardinal of Santa Maria in Portico), in order to give you that knowledge after their death as far as I can, I send you this book as a picture of the Court of Urbino, not by the hand of Raphael or Michelangelo, but of a humble painter, who knows only how to trace the chief lines, and cannot adorn truth with bright colouring, or by perspective art make that which is not seem to be. And although I tried to show forth in their discourse the qualities and character of my personages, I own I failed to express or even to suggest the excellences of my lady Duchess, ​not only because my style is inadequate to describe them, but because my intelligence fails even to conceive of them; and if I be censured for this or any other matter worthy of censure (for I well know that my book contains many such), I shall not gainsay the truth.
2.— But as men sometimes so delight in finding fault that they reprehend even that which does not merit reprehension, to such as blame me because I did not imitate Boccaccio or conform to the usages of present Tuscan speech, I shall not refrain from saying that while, for his time, Boccaccio had a charming faculty and often wrote with care and diligence, yet he wrote far better when he followed only the guidance of his natural wit and instinct, without further thought or care to polish his writings, than when he strove industriously and laboriously to be more refined and correct. For this reason even his followers declare that he greatly erred in judgment concerning his own works, holding cheap what did him honour and prizing what was worthless. Therefore, if I had imitated that manner of writing which in Boccaccio is censured by those who elsewise praise him, I should not have been able to escape those same aspersions that were cast on him in this regard; and I should have more deserved them, because he committed his faults thinking he was doing well, while I should have known I was doing ill. Again, if I had imitated the style now admired by many but less esteemed by him, it seemed to me that by such imitation I should show myself at variance with him whom I was imitating, a thing I deemed unseemly. And again, if this consideration had not moved me, I was not able to imitate him in my subject-matter, for he never wrote anything at all in the manner of these books of the Courtier; and I thought I ought not to imitate him in language, because the power and true law of good speech consist rather in usage than in aught else, and it is always a bad habit to employ words not in use. Therefore it was not meet for me to borrow many of Boccaccio's words that were used in his day, but are not now used even by the Tuscans themselves.
Nor was I willing to limit myself to the Tuscan usage of today, because intercourse between different nations has always had the effect to transport, as it were like merchandise, new ​forms of speech from one to the other; and these endure or fail according as custom accepts or rejects them. Besides being attested by the ancients, this is clearly seen in Boccaccio, who used so many French, Spanish, and Provençal words (some of them perhaps not very intelligible to modern Tuscans) that if they were all omitted his work would be far shorter.
And since, in my opinion, we ought not to despise the idiom of the other noble cities of Italy, whither men resort who are wise, witty, and eloquent, wont to discourse on weighty matters of statecraft, letters, war, and commerce, I think that, of the words used in the speech of these places, I could fitly use in writing such as are graceful in themselves, elegant to pronounce, and commonly deemed good and expressive, although they might not be Tuscan or even of Italian origin. Moreover, in Tuscany, many words are used which are plainly corruptions of the Latin, but which in Lombardy and other parts of Italy have remained pure and unchanged, and are so generally employed by everyone that they are accepted by the gentle and easily understood by the vulgar.Hence I think I did not err if in writing I used some of these words, or preferred what is whole and true speech of my own country rather than what is corrupt and mutilated from abroad.
Neither do I regard as sound the maxim laid down by many, that our common speech is the more beautiful the less it is like Latin; nor do I understand why one fashion of speech should be accorded so much greater authority than another, that, if the Tuscan tongue can ennoble debased and mutilated Latin -words and lend them such grace that, mutilated as they are, they may be used by anyone without reproach (which is not denied), the Lombard or any other tongue may not support these same Latin words, pure, whole, precise, and quite unchanged, so that they be tolerable. And truly, just as to undertake, in spite of usage, to coin new words or to preserve old ones may be called bold presumption, so also, besides being difficult, it seems almost impious to undertake, against the force of that same usage, to suppress and bury alive, as it were, words that have already endured for many centuries, protected by the shield of custom against the envy of time, and have maintained their dignity and splendour ​through the changes in language, in buildings, in habits and in customs, wrought by the wars and disasters of Italy.
Hence if in writing I have chosen not to use those words of Boccaccio that are no longer used in Tuscany, nor to conform to the rule of those who deem it not permissible to use any words that the Tuscans of to-day do not use, I seem to myself excusable. And I think that both in the matter and in the language of my book (so far as one language can aid another), I have followed authors as worthy of praise as is Boccaccio. Nor do I believe that it ought to be counted against me as a fault that I have elected to make myself known rather as a Lombard speaking Lombard, than as a non-Tuscan speaking Tuscan too precisely, in order that I might not resemble Theophrastus, who was detected as non-Athenian by a simple old woman, because he spoke the Athenian dialect with excess of care.
But as this subject is sufficiently treated of in my first Book, I shall say no more, except that, to prevent all possible discussion, I grant my critics that I do not know this Tuscan dialect of theirs, which is so difficult and recondite. And I declare that I have written in my own dialect, just as I speak and for those who speak as I do; and in this I think I have wronged no man, because it seems to me that no one is forbidden to write and speak in his own language; nor is anyone bound to read or listen to what does not please him. Therefore if these folk do not care to read my Courtier, I shall not hold myself in the least wronged by them.
3.— Others say that since it is so very hard and well nigh impossible to find a man as perfect as I wish the Courtier to be, it was superfluous to write of him, because it is folly to teach what cannot be learned. To these I make answer that I am content to have erred in company with Plato, Xenophon and Marcus Tullius, leaving on one side all discussion about the Intelligible World and Ideals; among which, just as are included (according to those authors) the ideal of the perfect State, of the perfect King and of the perfect Orator, so also is the ideal of the perfect Courtier. And if in my style I have failed to approach the image of this ideal, it will be so much the easier for courtiers to approach in deeds the aim and goal that ​I have set them by my writing; and even if they fail to attain the perfection, such as it is, that I have tried to express, he that approaches nearest to it will be the most perfect; just as when many archers shoot at a target and none hit the very mark, surely he that comes nearest to it is better than the rest.
Still others say that I thought to paint my own portrait, as if I were convinced that I possessed all the qualities that I attribute to the Courtier. To these I shall not indeed deny having essayed everything that I should wish the Courtier to know; and I think that a man, however learned, who did not know something of the matters treated of in the book, could not well have written of them; but I am not so lacking in self-discernment as to fancy that I know everything I have the wit to desire.
My defence then against these and perhaps many other accusations, I leave for the present to the verdict of public opinion; for while the many may not perfectly understand, yet oftener than not they scent by natural instinct the savour of good and bad, and without being able to explain why, they relish one thing and like it, and reject another and hate it. Therefore if my book wins general favour, I shall think it must be good and ought to live; but if it fails to please, I shall think it must be bad and soon to be forgot. And if my censors be not satisfied with the common verdict of opinion, let them rest content with that of time, which in the end reveals the hidden defects of everything, and being father of truth and judge without passion, ever passes on men's writings just sentence of life or death.
Baldesar Castiglione.