Castiglione's Courtier
SOURCE: Baldassare Castiglione. "The Courtier." In Three
Renaissance Classics. Translated by Thomas Hoby. Edited by by
Burton A. Milligan. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1953,
242-624. Permission to mount electronic version applied for.
[1507: date of dialogue. 1528: date of first edition. 1561: date of
Hoby's translation.] Before using any portion of this text in any
theme, essay,research paper, thesis, dissertation, or publication,
please read the disclaimer
Transcription
conventions: Page numbers in angle brackets refer to the edition cited as the source.
Words or phrases singled out for indexing are marked by plus signs.
In the index, numbers in parentheses indicate how many times the
item appears. A slash followed by a number indicates a note at the
end of the book.
INDEX: Achilles+(2) | action+(2)
|active+(2) | active_or_doing_life+(1)
|Adam's_to_blame+(1) | affability+(1) |affable+(2) | Affectation+(1) |affections+(1) | affetazione+(1) |Agesilaus+(1) | Alcibiades+(1) |Alexander+(6) | amateur+(6) |amicitia+(3) | amitie+(2) |ancients+(1) | anger+(2) | Antonio+(5) | Antonius+(1) |appetite+(2) | appetites+(1) |applied+(1) | Aragon+(6) |Aristippus+(1) | Aristotle+(8) |armes+(1) | arte+(1) | auncestors+(1) | auntient+(1) |babler+(1) | baited+(1) |Barbarians+(1) | Barbary+(1) |Bassanio+(3) | Beatrice_Benedict+(1)
|Bees+(2) | Belmont+(1) |benefit+(1) | benefits+(2) |benevolent+(1) | binde+(1) |boaster+(1) | Boccacio+(2) |body_members+(1) | bond+(1) |bondage+(1) | Borgia+(1) |bounde+(1) | brag+(1) |bragge+(2) | bragging+(1) |braverie+(3) | Brutus+(2) |burden+(6) | Caligula+(1) |calmenesse+(1) | Carbo+(1) | Cardinallof_Pavia+(1) |
cart+(1) |Catilina+(1) | Cato+(5) |Catoes_gravitie+(1) | Catullus+(1) |Cesar+(2) | Chaucer's_knight+(1) |cheer+(2) | Cheer+(1) |chivalry+(1) | Cicero+(6) |civilitie+(1) | Civilitie+(1) |Claudius+(1) | clemency+(1) |Clemency+(1) | common+(1) |common_weales+(1) | condescension+(1) |continencie+(1) | continent+(1) |coquette+(3) | Cordelia+(5) |Cornelia+(1) | Cornwall's_servant+(1)
|Cotta+(1) | courage+(7) |courtesie+(1) | Courtesie+(1) |Courtesy+(1) | Courtier+(1) |courtisie+(1) | covetous+(1) |Crassus+(2) | curiositie+(4) |Curiositie+(1) | curiousnesse+(1) |custome+(1) | Cyrus+(1) |deadly_sins+(1) | death+(1) |debt+(1) | deede+(1) |deedes+(4) | deeds+(2) |Demetrius+(1) | Demosthenes+(1) |deserts+(1) | deserve+(1) |Diaceto+(1) | disinvoltura+(1) |divine_right+(1) | dog_obeyed_in_ofice+(1)
|doinges+(1) | Donne+(1) |double_standard+(1) | drawing+(1) |Duessa+(1) | duetie+(3) |dulce_utile+(1) | effemininate+(1) |ende+(1) | Ennius+(3) |Epaminondas+(2) | Eschines+(2) |Esope+(1) | Este+(1) |ex_tempore+(1) | example+(1) | expectation+(1) | Fabii+(1) |familiaritie+(1) | father+(1) |fellowship+(2) | felowship+(1) |Ferdinande+(1) | Ferrara+(3) |fidelitie+(1) | flaterer+(1) |flatterer+(2) | flatterers+(3) |flatterie+(1) | flea_in_their_eare+(1)
|fortune+(8) | Friend+(1) |friende+(1) | friendship+(2) |Friers+(1) | Galba+(1) |garments+(2) | generallitie+(1) |gentleman+(1) | gift+(1) |gift_of_nature+(1) | give+(1) |glorie+(1) | glory+(3) |Gloucrsster+(1) | Gobbo+(1) |golden_age+(1) | Gonzaga+(2) |good+(2) | good_name+(1) | good_turne+(1) | Graccus+(1) |grace+(3) | grave+(1) |Greek+(1) | habite+(1) |Hamlet+(1) | hand_in_hand+(1) |handicraft+(1) | Hannibal+(1) |happe+(1) | happinesse+(1) |harmony+(1) | hazard+(1) |Henry+(1) | Henry4+(2) | Hesiodus+(1) | Historiographers+(1) |Homer+(4) | honest+(1) |honest_man+(1) | honestie+(2) |honour+(2) | Horace+(1) |Hortensius+(1) | Humanitie+(1) |Idea+(1) | ignorance+(1) |imagination+(1) | impudencie+(1) |infidels+(1) | ingratitude+(1) |Isabel+(2) | Isocrates+(1) |Jessica+(3) | jesting+(1) |judgement+(1) | justice+(5) |Kent+(2) | know_him_selfe+(1) |knowledge+(2) | Latin+(1) |Laurence_de_Medicis+(1)
| Lawier+(1) |Lawiers+(2) | Lear+(3) |Lenard-Vincio+(1) | letters+(2) |liberalitie+(1) | liberall_artes+(1) |liberallitie+(1) | libertie+(2) |Livius+(1) | Loelius+(1) |love_and_feare+(1) | Luca+(1) |lucke+(1) | Lucullus+(1) |lust+(1) | Lycurgus+(1) |lying+(1) | Lysias+(1) |Magdalen+(1) | Mahumet+(1) |malapertnesse+(1) | Malvolio+(3) |manliness+(1) | Mantegna+(1) |Mantua+(4) | marchant+(1) |Marcus_Antonius+(1) | Marmaidens+(1) |maskers+(1) | meane+(2) |Measure_for_Measure+(1)
| Medicis+(1) |memorye+(1) | mercie+(1) |mercy+(1) | merie_conceites+(1) |merry+(2) | Michael_Angelo+(1) |Michaelangelo+(1) | miles_gloriosus+(1) |Miranda+(1) | mirth+(1) |modest+(1) | Modest+(1) |modestie+(3) | Monarchy+(1) |Montefeltro+(1) | morall_Philosopher+(1)
|Musicke+(1) | name+(1) |natural_virtue+(1) | nboblesse-unnecessary+(1)
|nette+(1) | noblenesse+(1) |noblesse-oblige+(1) | Octavia+(1) |office+(1) | Officiis+(4) |Oratours+(1) | othes+(1) | Ovid+(1) | Panetius+(1) |Paris+(1) | Parliament+(1) |passion+(1) | passions+(2) |patience+(1) | Paul+(1) |Paule+(1) | Paulus+(1) |peace_corrupts+(1) | pearce+(1) |pedantry+(1) | perfect_commune_weale+(1)
|perfect_Courtier+(1) | perfect_king+(1) |perfect_Oratour+(1) | Petrarca+(1) |Petrarch+(1) | Philip+(1) |Philosophers_schooles+(1)
|Phisitions+(1) | Pigmalion+(1) |Pilot+(1) | PlainDealer+(10) |plaine+(1) | Plato+(11) |Platonic_love+(4) | Plautus+(1) |Plotinus+(1) | Plutarch+(1) |Poets+(1) | Politian+(1) |Polonius+(3) | Pompeius+(1) |Porcia+(1) | Portia+(1) |posteritie+(1) | posterity+(1) |practise+(1) | Prelates+(1) |profit+(1) | profitable+(1) |Prometheus+(1) | Prospero+(2) |Pylades_and_Orestes+(1)
| quiet+(1) | quietnesse+(1) | Raphael+(2) |Raphaelles+(1) | reason+(1) |Rechlesnesse+(1) | recklessnesse+(1) |Recklessnesse+(1) | rewarde+(1) |rewarding+(1) | Richard3+(1) |ring+(4) | ripenesse+(1) |Romolatry+(1) | rovers+(1) | Saint_Francis+(1) | Salomon+(1) |Salust+(1) | Scipio+(2) |Scipio_Africanus+(1) | self_criticism+(1) |Seneca+(2) | servant+(1) |shame+(1) | Shylock+(4) |Silius+(1) | simplicitie+(2) |simply+(1) | slavery+(1) |Socrates+(7) | solace+(1) |Spaine+(1) | spies+(1) |sprezzatura+(3) | Stagira+(1) | staiednesse+(1) | stedfastnesse+(2) |Stoikes+(1) | Strozzi+(1) |Sulpitius+(1) | superstitious+(1) |Sylla+(1) | Tacitus+(2) |temperance+(2) | temperate+(1) |Themistocles+(1) | Themistoeles+(1) |Theophrastus+(1) | Theseus_and_Perithous+(1)
|Tirant+(1) | trade+(1) |troth+(1) | Troy+(1) |trust+(1) | truth+(3) |Tullius+(1) | Tully+(1) |tyrannicall+(1) | tyrannicide+(1) |Tyranny+(1) | tyrant+(1) |tyrants+(1) | Tyrants+(2) |Ulisses+(1) | unity_of_virtues+(1) |untemperate+(1) | Varro+(1) |vertue+(5) | vertues+(1) |Virgill+(4) | virtue_education+(1) |virtue_learned+(1) | virtue_teaching+(1) |virtues_list+(11) | wavering+(1) |wisdom+(1) | wisedom+(4) |wit+(1) | wit_and_judgement+(1)
|womanish+(2) | wordes+(2) |worthy+(1) | Wyf+(1) |Xenophon+(3)
THE COURTIER
CHIEF SPEAKERS IN THE DIALOGUES OF THE
COURTIER
ELISABETTA GONZAGA, wife of Guidobaldi di
Montefeltro,Duke of Urbino
LADY EMILIA PIA,
friend and companion of the Duchess, and widow of the Duke's
half-brother
MAIRGARITA GONZAGA, young niece
and companion of the Duchess
COSTANZA
FREGOSO, young half-niece of the Duke
FRANCESCO MARIA DELLA ROVERE ("THE
LORD GENERALL"), young nephew and adopted heir of the
Duke
FIREDERICO FRECOSO (SIR FIREDERICK),
half-nephew of the Duke, afterwards made a cardinal
OTTAVIANO FRECOSO (LORD OCTAVIAN), elder brother
of Costanza and Federico, afterwards a Doge of Genoa
COUNT LUDOVICO DA CANOSSA (COUNT LEWIS), a
kinsman of Castiglione, afterwards Bishop of Bayeux GIULIANO DE'
MEDICI [Lord Julian] ("MY LORD MAGNIFICO"), Son Of Lorenzo the
Magnificent; close friend of Casstiglione; afterwards Duke of
Nemours
BERNARDO Dovizi (BIBBIENA), an
adherent of the Medici, afterwards a cardinal
CESARE GONZAGA, kinsman of the Duchess, cousin
and close friend of Castigl BERNAltDo AcCOLTI better known as UNICO
ARETINO, "the unique Aretine," a courtier-poet
LURD GASPAR PALLAVICINO, the young man who is
the Benedick to Lady Emilia Pia's Beatrice ,
PIETRO BEMBO, Venetian scholar and poet,
afterwards a cardinal
<242>
Epistle of the Author
UNTO THE REVEREND AND HONOURABLE LORDE
MYCHAELL DE SYLVA BISHOP OF VISEO:
AFTER the Lorde
Guidubaldo of Montefeltro Duke of Urbin was departed out of this
life, certein other Gentilmen and I that had bine servauntes to him,
continued in servyce wyth Duke Francescomaria Della Rover6 hys heire
and successor in the state: and whyle the savour of the vertues of
Duke Guidubaldo was fresh in my mynde, and the great delite I took
in those yeeres in the loving companie of so excellent Personages as
then were in the Court of Urbin: I was provoked by the memorie
therof to write these bookes of the Courtier. The which I
accomplished in a fewe dayes,/1 myndinge in time to amende those
faultes that spronge of the desire that I had speedilie to paye this
debt. But fortune now manie yeeres hath alwayes kept me under in
suche continuall travayles, that I coulde never gete leyser to
bringe it to the passe that my feeble judgement might be throughlie
satisfied withall. At such time therfore as I was in Spayne, being
advertised out of Italy how the Lady Vittoria Colonna Marquesse of
Pescara, unto whom in foretime I had graunted a Copie of this booke,
contrarie to her promise, had made a qreat part of it to be copied
out: it greeved me somwhat whether I would or no, standinge in doubt
of the sundrie inconveniences that in the like cases may happen. Yet
had I a hope that the witt and wis-
<243>
CASTIGLIONE dome of that Lady
(whose troth I have alwaies had in reverence, as a matter from
above) was sufficient to provide, not to be harmfull unto me my
beeinge obedient to her commaundement. At last I hard an ynckinge
that part of the booke was rief in Naples in many mens handes: and
as men are alwayes desirous of noveltie, it was thought that they
attempted to imprint it. Wherfore I, amased at this mischaunce,
determined wyth my self to overlooke by and by that litle in the
booke that time served me therto, with entent to set it abrode,
thinking it lesse hurtful to have it somwhat corrected with mine
owne hande, then much mangled with an other mannes. Therfore to have
this my pourpose take effect, I tooke in hande to reade it over
afresh, and sodeinlie at the flrst blush by reason of the title, I
tooke no litle grief, which in proceadinge forward encreased much
more, remembringe that the greater part of them that are brought in
to reason, are now dead. For beside those that are mentioned in the
Proheme of the last booke, M. Alphonsus Ariosto him self is dead,
unto whom the booke was dedicated, a noble yonge Gentilman,
discreete, full of good condicions, and apt unto every thing meete
for one livinge in court. Likewise Duke Julian de Medicis, whose
goodnesse and noble Courtesy+
deserved to have bene a longer time enjoyed of the world. Also M.
Bernard, Cardinall of S,. Maria in Portico, who for his livelie and
pleasant promptnes of witt, was most acceptable unto as manie as
knew him, and dead he is. The Lord Octavian Fregoso is also dead, a
man in oure tymes verie rare, of a most noble courage, of a pure
lief, full of goodnesse, witt, wisdome and Courtesie+, and a
verie frende unto honour+ and vertue+, {virtues_list+} and so worthy+ prayse, that his verie ennemies
could say none other of hym, then what sounded to his renoume: and
the inishappes he hath borne out with great steadinesse, were
sufficient inoughe to geve evidence, that fortune+, as
she hath alwayes bene, so is she in these dayes also an enemie
to vertue+. There are dead in like
manet manie other that are named in this boke, unto whom a man wold
have
<244>
THE COURTIER thought that
nature had promised a verie longe lief. But the thinge that should
not be rehersed wythout teares is, that the Dutchesse she is also
dead. And if my minde be troubled with the losse of so manye frindes
and good Lordes of myne, that have left me in this lief, as it were
in a wildernes full of sorow, reason would it should with much more
grief beare the heavinesse of the Dutchesse death, then of al the
rest, bicause she was more woorth then all the rest, and I was much
more bounde+ unto her then unto all the rest.
Therfore for leesinge time to bestowe that of dutye I ought upon the
memorye of so excellent a Ladye, and of the rest that are no more in
lief, provoked also by the jeopardye of the booke, I have made him
to be imprinted, and set forth in such sort, as the shortnes of time
hath served me. And bicause you had no acqueintance, neither with
the Dutches, nor with any of the rest that are dead, saving only
with Duke Julian, and with the Cardinal of S.Maria in Portico, while
they lived, therfore to the entent, in what I can do, you may have
acqueintance with them after their death, I send unto you this
booke, as a purtraict in peinctinge of the Court of Urbin: not of
the handiwoorke of Raphael+, or Michael_Angelo+, but of an unknowen pemeter,
and that can do no more but draw the principall lines, without
settingfurth the truth with beawtifull coulours, or makinge it
appeere by the art of Prospective that it is not. And wher I have
enforced my self to setfurth together with the communication the
propreties and condicions of such as are named in it, I confess I
have not only not fully expressed, but not somuch as touched the
vertues of the Dutchesse. Bicause not onlye my stile is
unsunsufficient to express them, but also mine understanding to
conceive them. And if in this behalf, or in anie other matter
woorthy reprehention (as I know well there want not manie in the
booke) fault be found in me, I will not speake against the truth.
But bicause men somtime take such delite in finding fault, that they
find fault also in that deserveth not reproof, unto some that blame
me bicause I
<245>
CASTIGLIONE have not
folowed Boccacio+, nor bound my self to
the maner of the Tuscane speach used nowadayes, I will not let to
say, for all Boccaccio was of a fine.witt, according to those times,
and in some part writt with great advisement and diligence: yet did
he write much better whan he lett him self be guided with witt and
his naturall inclination without the him home in I of unknown to
oven to the AAA AAA to have a what one of the anile other maner
studie or regarde to polish his writings than when with al travaile
and bent studye he enforced him self to be most fine and eloquent.
{PlainDealer+} For his verie
favourers affirme that in his own matters he was far deceived in
judgement, litle regarding such thinges as have gotten him a name,
and greatlye esteaminge that is noth ing to woorth. Had I then
folowed that trade of writing which is blamed in him by such as
praise him in the rest, I could not have eschewed the verye same
reprooffes that are laied to Boccaccio himself as touching this. And
I had deserved somuch the more, for that his errour was then, in
beleavyng he did well, and mine should be nowe, in knowinge I do
amisse. Again if I had folowed that trade which is reckoned of many
to be good, and was litle regarded of him, I should appeere in
folowing it to disagree from the judgement of him whom I folowed:
the which thing (in mine opinion) were an inconvenience. And beeside
yf this respect had not moved me, I could not folowe him in the
matter, forsomuch as he never wrott any thing in treatise like unto
these bookes of the Courtier: and in the tunge, I ought not in mine
advise, bicause the force or rule of speach doeth consist more in
use, then in anye thinge els, and it is alwayes a vice to use
woordes that are not in commune speach. {PlainDealer+} Therfore it was
not meete I should have used many that are in Boccaccio, which in
his time were used, and now are out of use emonge the Tuseanes them
selves.
Neyther
would I binde my self to the maner of the Tuseane tunge in use nowe
a dayes, bicause the practising emonge sundrye Nations, hath alwayes
bene of force to transport from one to an other (in a maner) as
merchaundise, so also new woordes, which afterward remaine or
decaye,
<246>
THE COURTIER according as they
are admitted by custome or refused. And this beside the record of
auntient writers, is to be evidently seene in Boccaccio, in whom
there are so manie woordes French, Spanish, and provincial, and some
perhappes not well understood of the Tuseanes in these dayes, that
whoso woulde pick them out, should make the booke much the lesser.
And bicause (in mine opinion) the kinde of speach of the other noble
Cities of Italy, where there resorte men of wisdome, understandinge
and eloquence, which practise great matters of government of states,
of letters, armes, and diverse affayres, ought not altogether to be
neglected for the woordes whiche in these places are used in commune
speach: I suppose that they maye be used wel inough, writing such as
have a grace and comlynesse in the pronuntiation, and communly
counted good and of propre signification, though they be not
Tuseane, and have also their origion out of Italy. Beeside this in
Tuseane they use many woordes cleane corrupte from the Latin, the
which in Lumbardye and in the other partes of Italy remaine wholl
and without any chaunge at al, and they are so universallye used of
everye man, that of the best sorte they are allowed for good, and of
the commune people understood with out difficulty. Therfore I thinke
I have committed no errour at all, yf in writing I have used any of
these, and rather taken the wholl and pure woord of mine owne
Countrey, then the corrupt and mangled of an other. Neyther doeth
that rule seeme good unto me, where many say the vulgar tung, the
lesse it is like unto the Latin, the more beawtiful it is: and I can
not perceive why more authoritie should consist in one custome of
speach, then in an other. For if Tuseane be sufficient to authorise
corrupt and mangled Latin woordes, and to geve them so greate a
grace, that mangled in such sort everye man may use them for good
(the which no man denieth) should not Lumbardy or any other countrey
have the authoritye to allow the very Latin woordes that be pure,
sounde, propre and not broken in any part so, but they may be well
borne: and assuredly as it may be
<247>
CASTIGLIONE called a rash
presumption to take in hand to forge new wordes, or to set up the
olde in spite of custome: so is it no lesse, to take in hande
against the force of the same custome to bring to naught, and (as it
were) to burye alive such as have rasted nowe many yeeres, and have
ben defended from the malice of the time with the shield of use, and
have preserved their estimation and dignitye, whan in the warres and
turmoiles of Italy, alterations were brought up both of the tunge,
buildinges, garmentes and maners.
And beeside the
hardnesse of the matter, it seemeth to be (as it were) a certein
wickednesse. Therfore where I have not thought good in my writing to
use the wordes of Boccaccio which are used no more in Tuscane, nor
to binde my self to their law that think it not lawful to use them
that the Tuseanes use not nowadayes, me thynke I ought to be held
excused. But I suppose both in the matter of the booke and in the
tunge, forsomuch as one tung may help an other, I have folowed
Authores asmuch woorthie praise, as Boceaccio. And I beleave it
ought not to be imputed unto me for an errour, that I have chosen to
make my self rather knowen for a Lumbard, in speaking of Lumbard,
then for no Tusean, in speaking of tomuch Tusean. Bicause I wil not
do as Theophrastus+ did, which for speaking tomuch
the meere Athenian tunge, was of a simple olde woman knowen not to
be of Athens. But byeause in thys point there is sufficyent talke in
the first booke, I will make no more a do. And to avoid al
contention I confesse to my fault-finders, that I have no knowleage
in this their Tusean tunge so hard and secrete: and I say that I
have written it in mine owne, and as I speak, and unto such as
speake as I speake: and so I trust I have offended no man. For I
beleave it is forbed no man that is, to wryte and speake in his owne
tunge, neyther is anye man bound to reade or heare that contenteth
hym not. Therfore if they will not reade my Courtier, they shall
offende me nothing at all.
Other say, bicause it
is so hard a matter and (in a maner) unpossible to finde out a man
of such perfection, as I would
<248>
THE COURTIER have the Courtier+ to be, it is but superfluous to
write it: for it is a vaine thing to teach that can not be learned.
To these men I answere, I am content, to err with Plato+, Xenophon+,
and M. Tullius+, leaving apart the disputing of the
intelligible world and of the Ideas or imagined fourmes: in which
number, as (according to that opinion) the Idea+ or figure
conceyved in imagination of a perfect_commune_weale+, and of a perfect_king+, and of a perfect_Oratour+ are conteined: so is it
also of a perfect_Courtier+. To the image wherof if my
power could not draw nigh in stile, so much the lesse peynes shall
Courtiers have to drawe nigh in effect to the ende and marke that I
in writing have set beefore them. And if with all this they can not
compasse that perfection, such as it is, which I have endevoured to
expresse, he that cummeth nighest shall be the most perfect: as
emonge many Archers that shute at one marke, where none of them
hitteth the pinn, he that is nighest is out of doubt better then the
rest. Some again say that my meaning was to facion my self,
perswading my self that all suche qualities as I appoint to the
Courtier are in me. Unto these men I will not cleane deny that I
have attempted all that my mynde is the Courtier shoulde have
knowleage in. And I thinke who so hath not the knowleage of the
thinges intreated upon in this booke, how learned so ever he be, he
can full il write them. But I am not of so selender a judgment in
knowing my self, that I wil take upon me to know what soever I can
wish. The defence therfore of these accusations and peraventure of
many mo, I leave for this once, to the judgement of the commune
opinion: bicause for the most part the multytude, though they have
no perfect knowleage, yet do they feele by the instinct of nature
{natural_virtue+} a certein savour of good
and ill, and can geve none other reason for it: one tasteth and
taketh delite, an other refuseth and is against his stomake.
Therfore if the book
shall generallv please, I wil count him good, and think that he
ought to live: but if he shall displease, I will count him naught,
and beleave that the
<249>
CASTIGLIONE memorye+ of him
shall soone perish. And if for all this mine accusers will not be
satisfied with this commune judge- mente, let them content them
selves with the judgement of time, which at length discovereth the
privie faultes of every thing: and bicause it is father to truth and
a judge without passion+, it accustometh evermore to
pronounce true sentence of the life or death of writynges.
THE COURTIER FIRST BOOK
The First Booke of The Courtier
of Counte Baldesser Castilion,
unto Maister Alfonsus Ariosto
I HAvE a long time douted with my self (moste
loving M. Alphonsus) whiche of the two were harder for me, either to
denie you the thing that you have with such instance many times
required of me, or to take it in hand: because on the one side mee
thought it a verie hard matter to denie any thing, especially the
request being honest+, { Antonio+} to
the person whom I love dearely, and of whom I perceive my selfe
dearly beloved. {Friend+} Againe, on the other side, to
undertake an enterprise which I doe not know my selfe able to bring
to an ende, I judged it uncomly for him that weyeth due reproofes so
much as they ought to bee weyed.
At length, after much
debating, I have determined to proove in this behalfe, what ayde
that affection and great desire to please can bring unto my
diligence, which in other things is woont to encrease the labour of
men.
<250>
THE COURTIER
You then require me to write, (what is to my thinking) the trade and
maner of courtiers, which is most convenient for a gentleman that
liveth in the Court of Princes, by the which he may have the
knowledge how to serve them perfitely in every reasonable { Cordelia+} matter, and obtaine
therby favour of them, and praise of other men.
Fnally of what sort hee
ought to bee that deserveth to be called so perfit a Courtier, that
there be no want in him: Wherefore I considering this kinde of
request (say) that in case it shoulde not appeare to my selfe a
greater blame, to have you esteeme me to be of small friendship,
than all other men of little wisdom, I would have ridde my hands of
this labour, for feare least I should be counted rash of al such as
knowe, what a hard matter it is, among such diversitie of maners,
that are used in the Courts of Christendome, to picke out the
perfectest trade and way, and (as it were) the floure of this
Courtiership. Bicause use maketh us many times to delite in, and to
set little by the selfe same things: whereby sometime it proceedeth
that maners, garments, customes, and fashions, which at somtime have
ben in price, become not regarded, and contrariwise, the not
regarded, become of price.
Therefore it is
manifestly to be discerned, that use hath greater force than reason,
to bring up new inventions among us, and to abolish the olde, of the
which who so goeth about to judge the perfection, is oftentimes
deceived.
For which
consideration, perceiving this and many other lettes, in the matter
propounded for me to write upon, I am constreined to make a peece of
an excuse, and to open plainely that this error (if it may be termed
an errour) is common to us both, that if any blame happen to me
about it, it may be partned with you. For it ought to bee reckned a
no lesse offence in you, to lay upon me a burthen that passeth my
strength, than in me to take it upon me.
Let us therefore at
length settle our selves to beginne that that is our purpose and
drift, and (if be it possible) let us fashion such a Courtier, as
the Prince that shall be
<251>
CASTIGLIONE worthie to have him
in his service, although his state be but small, may notwithstanding
be called a mighty Lord.
We wil not in these
books follow any certaine order or rule of appointed preceptes, the
which for the most part is woont to bee observed in teaching of any
thing whatsoever it bee: But after the manner of men of olde time,
renuing a gratefull memorie: we will repeate certaine reasonings
that were debated in times past, betweene men very excellent for
that purpose. And although I was not there present/2 but at the time
when they were debated, it was my chaunce to be in Englande, yet
soone after my returne, I heard them of a person that faithfully
reported them unto me. And I will endevour my selfe, for so much as
my memory will serve me, to call them particularly to remembrance,
that you may see, what men worthy great commendation, and unto whose
judgement a man may in every point give an undoubted credite, have
judged and beleeved in this matter.
Neither shall we swarve
from the purpose to arrive in good order at the ende, unto the which
all our communication is directed, if we disclose the cause of the
reasonings that hereafter follow.
As every man knoweth,
the little Citie of Urbin is situated upon the side of the Appennine
(in a manner) in the middes of Italy, towards the Goulfe of Venice.
The which for all it is placed among hilles, and those not so
pleasant as perhappes some other that we behold in many places, yet
in this point the Element hath beene favourable unto it, that all
about, the Countrey is verie plentifull and full of fruites: so that
beside the holesomnes of ayre, it is verie aboundant and stored with
all thinges necessarie for the life of man. But among the greatest
felicities that man can reckon to have, I count this the chiefe,
that now a long time it hath alwaies bene governed with very good
princes, in the common calamities of the wars of Italie it remained
also a season without any at all.
But without searching
further of this, we may make a
<252>
THE COURTIER good proofe with
the famous memorie of Duke Fridericke/3 who in his daies was the
light of Italy. Neither do wee want true and very large testimonies
yet remaning of his wisedome, courtesie, justice, liberalitie, of
his invincible courage and policy of warre. And of this doe his so
manye victories make proofe, chiefly his conquering of places
impugnable, so sodaine readines in setting forward to give battaile,
his putting to flight sundrie times with a small number, very great
and puissant armies, and never sustained losse in anye conflict, So
that we may, not without cause, compare him to many famous men of
olde time.
This man
among his other deedes praise-worthie, in the hard and sharpe
situation of Urbin buylt a Palace, to the opinion of many men, the
fairest that was to bee found in all Italie, and so furnished it
with all necessarie implementes belonging thereto, that it appeared
not a Palace, but a Citie in forme of a Palace, and that not onelye
with ordinarye matters, as Silver plate, hangings for Chambers of
very rich cloth of Golde, of Silke and other like, but also for
sightlines: and to decke it out withall, placed there a wondrous
number of auncient Images of Marble and Mettall, very excellent
paintings and Instruments of Musicke of all sortes, and nothing
wjuld he have there but what was most rare and excellent.
To this with verie
great charges hee gathered together a great number of most excellent
rare bookes, in Greeke, Latin, and Hebrue, the which all hee
garnished with gold and silver, esteeming this to be the chiefest
ornament of his great Palace.
This Duke then
following the course of nature, when he was threescore and five
yeares of age, as he had lived, so did he end his lyfe with glorie.
And left Duke after him a child of ten yeres having no more male,
and without mother, who hight Guidubaido.
This childe, as of the
state, so did it appeare also that he was heire of all his fathers
vertues: and sodainly with a marveilous towardnes, began to promise
so much or him-
<253>
CASTIGLIONE selfe, as a man
would not have thought possible to bee hoped of a man mortall. So
that the opinion of men was, that of all Duke Frederickes notable
deedes, there was none greater than that he begat such a sonn. But
fortune envying this so great vertue, with all her miqht gainstood
this so glorious a beginning, in such wise that berore Duke
Guidubaldo was xx, yeares of age, he fell sicke of the goute, the
which encreasing upon him with most bitter paines, in a short time
so nummed him of all his members, that hee coulde neither stand on
foote, nor move himselfe. And in this manner was one of the best
favoured, and towardliest personages in the world, deformed and
marred in his greene age. And beside, not satisfied with
this, fortune+ was so contrarie to him
in al his purposes, that verye seldome he brought to passe any thing
to his mind. And for all bee had in him most wise counsaile, and an
invincible courage, yet it seemed that whatsoever he tooke in hand,
both in teats of armes, and in everye other thing small or great, it
came alwaies to ill successe.
And of this make proofe
his manye and diverse calamities, which hee alwaies bare out with
such stoutnesse of courage, that vertue never yeelded to fortune.
But with a bold stomacke despising her stormes, lived with great
dignitie and estimation among all men: in sicknesse, as one that was
soundle, and in adversitie, as one that was most fortunate. So that
for all hee was thus diseased in his bodie he served in time of
warre with most honourable entertainement under the most famous
kings of Naples, Alphonsus and Ferdinande the yonger. Afterward with
Pope Alexander the sixt, with the Lordes of Venice and Florence.
And when Julius the
second was created Pope, hee was then made General Capitaine of the
Church: at which time proceeding in his accustomed usage, hee set
his delight above all thinges to have his house furnished with most
noble and valiant Gentlemen, with whom hee lived verie familiarly,
enjoying their conversation.
Wherein the pleasure
which hee gave unto other men
<254>
THE COURTIER was no lesse, than
that he received of other, because hee was verie well seene in both
toongs, and togither with a loving behaviour and pleasantnesse hee
had also accompanied the knowledge of infinite things. And beside
this, the greatnesse of his courage so quickned him, that where hee
was not in case with his person to practise the feates of Chivalrie,
as he had done long before, yet did he take vene great delight to
beholde them in other men, and with his wordes sometime correcting,
and otherwhile praising every man according to his deserts, he
declared evidently how great a judgement hee had in those matters.
And upon this at
Tilt, at Tourney, in playing at all sorts of weapon, also in
inventing devices in pastimes, in Musicke, finally in all exercises
meete for noble Gentlemen, every man strived to shew himselfe such a
one, as might deserve to bee judged worthie of so noble assembly.
Therefore were all
the houres of the day divided into honourable and pleasant
exercises, as well of the bodie, as of the minde. But because the
Duke used continually, by reason of his infirmitie, soone after
Supper to goe,to his rest, everie man ordinarily, at that houre drew
where the Dutchesse was, the Ladie Elizabeth Gonzaga, where also
continually was the Ladie Emilia Pia, who for that shee was indued
with so lively awit_and_judgement+, as you know, seemed the
maistresse and ringleader of all the company, and that everie man at
her received understanding and courage.
There was then to bee
heard pleasant communications and merie_conceites+,
and in everie mans countenance a man might perceive painted a loving
jocundnesse. So that this house truely might wel be called the very
Mansion place of mirth+ and joy. And I beleeve it was never
so tasted in other place, what manner a thing the sweete
conversation that is occasioned of an amiable and loving company, as
it was once there.
For leaving apart what honour it was to all us to serve such a
Lorde, as hee whom I declared unto you right now,
<255>
CASTIGLIONE everye man
conceived in his minde an high contentation every time we came into
the Dutchessi sight. And it appeared that this was a chaine { ring+} that kept all linked together
in love, in such wise that there was never agreement of wil or
hartie love greater betweene brethren, than there was betweene us
all.
The like was
betweene the woman with whom we had such free and honest
conversation that everye man miqht commune, sitte, dallye, and laugh
with whom hee had lusted.
But such was the
respect which we bore to the Dutchesse will, that the selfe same
libertie was a very great bridle.
Neither was there any
that thought it not the greatest pleasure he could have in the
world, to please her, and the greatest griefe to offende her.
For this respect were
there most honest conditions coupled with wondrous great libertie,
and devises of pastimes, and laughing matters tempred in her sight,
beside most witty jestes, with so comely and grave a Majestie, that
the verye sober moode and greatnes that did knit together all the
actes, woordes and gestures of the Dutchesse in jesting and
laughing, made them all that had never seene her in their lyfe
before, to count her a verie great Ladie.
And all that came in
her presence, having this respect fixed in their breast, it seemed
shee had made them to her becke.
So that everie man
enforced himselfe to followe this trade, taking (as it were) a rule
and ensample of faire conditions at the presence of so great and so
vertuous a Ladie. Whose most excellent qualities I entend not now to
expresse, for it is neither my purpose, and againe they are well,
ynough knowne to the world, and much better than I am able either
with tonque, or with pen to indite.
And such as would
perhaps have lien hid a space, fortune, as shee that wondreth at so
rare vertues, hath thought good, with manye adversities and
temptations of miseries to disclose them, to make triall thereby
that in the tender
<256>
THE COURTIER breast of a woman,
in companie with singular beautie there can dwel wisedome and
stoutnes of courage and all other vertues that in grave man
themselves are most seldome.
But leaving this apart,
I say that the maner of the gentlemen in the house was immediately
after supper to assemble together where the Dutchesse was. Where
among other recreations, musicke and dauncing, which they used
continually, sometime they propounded feate questions, otherwhile
they invented certayne wittye sportes and pastimes at the device
sometime of one sometime of another, in the which under sundry
coverts oftentimes the standers by opened subtilly their
immaginations unto whome they thought best.
At other times there
arose other disputations of divers matters, or else jeastings with
prompt inventions. Many times they fell into purposes, (as we now a
daies terme them) where in this kinde of talke and debating of
matters, there was wonderous great pleasure on al sides: Because (as
I have said) the house was replenished with most noble wittes. Among
which (as you know) were most famous the Lord Octavian Fregoso, Sir
Friderick his brother, the Lord Julian de Medicis, M. Peter Bembo,
the Lord Cesar Gonzaga, Counte Lewis of Canossa, the Lord Gasper
Pallavicin, the Lorde Lodovicus Pins, Maister Morello of Ortona,
Peter of Naples, Maister Robert of Bari, and infinite of other most
worthy knights and gentlemen.
Beside these, there
were many that for all ordinarilye they dwelled not there, yet spent
they most of all their time there, as Maister Bernard Bibiena, Unico
Aretino, John Christopher Romano, Peter Mount, Therpander, Maister
Nicholas Phrisio, so that thither ran continually Poets, Musitions,
and all kind of men of skill, and the excellentest in every faculty
that were in all Italy.
After Pope julius the
second had with his owne presence by the ayde of the Frenchmen
brought Bolonia to the obedience of the Apostolique sea againe, in
the yeare a
<257>
CASTIGLIONE thousand five
hundred and sixe, in his returne toward Rome he took Urbin in his
way, where hee was received as honorably as was possible, and with
as sumptuous and costly preparation, as could have bene in any other
City of Italie whatsoever it be. So that beside the Pope, all the
Cardinals and other Courtiers thought themselves thorowly satisfied.
And some there were
that provoked with the sweetnes of this company, after that the Pope
and the Court was departed, continued many daies tocether in Urbin.
At which time they did not onely projeede in their accustomed trade
of disporting and ordinarye recreations, but also every man set to
his helpinii hande to augment them somewhat, and especially in
pastimes, which they had up almost every night.
And the order thereof
was such, that as soone as they were assembled where the Dutchesse
was, every man sat him downe at his will, or as it fell to his lot,
in a circle together, and in sitting were devyded a man and a woman,
as long as there was women, for alwaies lightly, the number of men
was far the greater.
Then were they governed
as the dutchesse thought best, which many times gave this charge
unto the Ladye Emilia.
So the day after the
Pope was departed, the companye being gathered to the accustomed
place, after much pleasant talke the Dutchesse pleasure was that the
Ladye Emilia shoulde begin these pastimes.
And she after a little
refusing of that charge, said in this manner: Sith it is your
pleasure [Madame] I shall be she that must give the onset in our
pastimes this night, because I ought not of reason disobey you, I
thinke meete to propound a pastime, whereof I suppose shall ensue
little blame, and Iesse travaile.
And that shall be to
have every man, as nigh as he can, propound a device not yet heard
of, then shal we choose out such a one as shall be thought meete to
be taken in hand in this company.
<258>
THE COURTIER And after she had
thus spoken, she turned her to the Lord Gaspar Pallavicin, willing
him to propound his: who immediately made answere.
But first (Madame) you
must begin to propound yours.
Then said the Ladye
Emilia: I have already done. But your Crace must commande him
(Madame) to be obedient.
Then the dutchesse
laughing, to the intent (quoth she) every man shall obey you, I make
you my Deputie, and give unto you all mine authority.
It is surely a great
matter, answered the Lord Gaspar, that it is alwaies lawful for
women to have this priviledge, to be exempt and free from paines
taking.
And truely
reason woulde we should in any wise know why. But because I will not
be he that shall give example to disobey, I shall leave this untill
an other time, and will speake of that I am now charged withall, and
thus I begin.
Mine
opinion is, that our mindes, as in other thinges, so also in loving
are diverse in judgement, and therefore it chauneeth often times,
that the thing which is most acceptable unto one, is most abhorred
of an other. Yet for all that they alwaies agree in that everye man
counteth most deare the wight beloved. So that many times the
overmuch affection in lovers doth deceive their judgment, that they
weene the person whom they love, to be so garnished with al
excellent vertues and without fault, that he hath no peere in the
world.
But because
the nature of man doth not admit such full perfections, and there is
no man that hath not some default or want in him, it can not be said
that such as these be, are not deceyved, and that the lover doth not
become blind as touching the beloved.
I would therefore our
pastimes should be this night to have everye man open what vertues
he would principally the person he loved should be indued withall .
And seeing it is so necessarily that we al have some sport, what
vice he would also have in him: to see who can find out most
<259>
CASTIGLIONE praise-worthy and
manly vertues, and most tollerable vices, that should be least
hurtfull both to him that loveth, and to the wight beloved.
After the L. Gaspar had
thus spoken, the L. Emilia made a signe unto the Lady Constaunce
Fregosa, because she was next in order, to follow: who was now about
to speake when the Dutchesse solemnly saide.
Seeing the L. Emilia
will not take the paines to finde out some pastime, reason willeth
that the other Ladies should be partakers of the same privilege, and
bee also free from this burden for this nicht especially seeing
there are so many men in place, for assure your selfe wee shall want
no pastime.
So
shall we doo, answered the L. Emilia, and putting the L. Constance
to silence, turned her to the L. Cesar Gonzago that sat next her,
commaunding him to speake, and thus began.
Who so will diligently
consider all our dooing, hee shall finde alwaies in them sundry
imperfections. And that happeneth, because nature doth vary, as well
in this, as in all other things, Unto one she hath given the light
of reason in one thing, and unto an other, in an other thing.
Therefore it commeth to
passe, where one man knoweth that an other knoweth not, and is
ignorant in the thing that the other hath understanding in, eche man
doth easily perceive the errour of his fellow, and not his owne, and
wee all thinke our selves to be verie wise, and paradventure in that
point most, wherin we are most foolish.
So that we have
seenenœr by experience in this house many men which at the beginning
were counted most wise, in processe of time were knowne to bee most
foolish, which hath proceeded of no other thing but of our owne
diligence.
Like as
it is said to be in Pulia, of them that are bitten with a
Tarrantula, about whom men occupy many instruments of musicke, and
with sundry sounds go searching out, untill the humour that maketh
this disease, by a certain concordance it hath with some of
those.soundes, feeling it,
<260>
THE COURTIER do sodenly moove,
and so stirreth the pacient, that by that -stirring he recovereth
his health againe. In like maner wee, when wee have felt some privie
operation of folly, we provoke it so subtilly, and with such sundry
persuasions, and so divers waies, that at length wee understand
whether it tended.
Afterward the humour knowne, we so stir it, that alwaies it is
brought to the perfection of open folly. And some is wexed foolish
in verses, some in musicke, some in love, some in dauncing, some in
making antiques,/4 some in riding, some in playing at fence, everie
man according to the mine of his mettall: wherby hath ensued (as you
know) marvellous great pastime.
I hold therfore for
certaine, that in every one of us there is some seede of folly, the
which beeing stirred may multiply (in a maner) infinite.
Therefore I would this
night our pastime were to dispute upon this matter: and that everie
man might say his mind, seeing: I must be openly foolish, in what
sort of folly I am foolish, and over what matter, judging it the
issue for the sparkles of folly that are daily seene to proceede
from mee.
And let
the like be said of all the rest, keeping the order of our devises.
And let every man
doe his best to grounde his opinion upon some sure signe and
argument, and so by this our pastime shall everie one of us get
profite, in that we shall know our defaults, and then shall we the
better take heede.
And in case the vaine of folly which wee shall discover, be so ranke
that it shall appeare to us past remedie, we shall set thereto our
helping hand, and according to the doctrine of Frier Marian, wee
shall gaine a soule, which shall be no smal gain. At this devise
there was much laughing, and none could refraine from speaking.
One saide, I should bee
found foolish in imagining. An other, in viewing. An other said, he
was already become foolish for love: and such like matters.
<261>
CASTIGLIONE Then Frier
Seraphin, after his manner, laughing. This (quoth he) should bee too
tedious a matter. But if you will have a pretie pastime, let everie
man tell his opinion, how it commeth that (in a maner) all women
abhorre rattes, and love serpents, and you shall see that none will
hit upon it, but I, that know this misterie by a straunge meane. And
now began hee to enter into his trifling tales, but the L. Emilia
commanded him to silence, and overskipping the Ladie that sat there,
made a signe to Unico Aretino that was next in order, and hee went
without looking for anie more bidding.
I (quoth he) would
gladly bee a judge of authoritie, that I might with all kinde of
torment boult out the truth of offenders and that, to discover the
deceits of an ingrate woman, who with the eyes of an angell, and
heart of a Serpent, never agreeth her toong with her minde, and with
a fained deceivable compassion, purposeth nothing els but to make
Anatomie of hearts.
Neither is there in all the sandie country of Libia to be found so
venimous a serpent that is so desirous of mans bloud, as is this
false creature. Which not onely for the sweetenesse of voice and
pleasant sound of words, but also for her eyes, for her laughing,
for her countenance, and for all her gestures is a most perfect
Marmaide.
Therefore
seeing it is not lawfull for me, as I would, to use chaines, ropes,
or fire, to understand a matter of trueth, my desire is to compasse
the knowledge of it with a merry pastime, which is this: That everie
man should expresse his fansie what the S, doth signifie that the
Dutchesse carieth in her forehead.
For although this be
also an artificiall covert, the better to beguile, perhaps there may
bee an interpretation which she never thought upon. And who knoweth
whether fortune, with pitie beholding ye torments of men, hath
stirred her with his small token, to discover against her will the
inwarde desire she hath to slea and bury alive in calamitie him that
honoureth and serveth her.
<262>
THE COURTIER The Dutchesse
laughed, and Unico perceiving shee would have excused her selfe of
this interpretation, no (quoth hee) speake you not, madam, for it is
not your turne to speake now.
The L. Emilia then
turned her and said: M. Unico there is none of us all here that
giveth not place to you in everie thing, and especially in knowing
the disposition of the Dutchesse. And as you by your divine wit know
her better than all the rest, so doe you love her better than all
the rest, which like birds of feeble sight, that cannot looke
stedfastly into the circle of the Sun, cannot so well perceive the
perfection of it.
Therefore all labour were in vaine in clearing of this doubt, saving
your judgement alone.
This enterprise then is
reserved onely to you, as unto him that alone can bring it to an
end, and none other.
Unico, after he had
pawsed a while, being still called upon to say his fansie, at length
rehearsed a rime upon the foresaid matter, expounding what signified
the letter S, the which manie judged to be made at the first sight.
But because it was more wittie and better knit than a man would have
believed the shortnes of time required, it was thought he had
prepared it before.
So after mens favourable voice given in the prayse of this rime, and
after sufficient talke, the L. Octavian Fregoso, whose turne was
then next, began in this sorte smyling, my Lordes, if I shoulde say
unto you that I never felt passion of love in my dayes, I am sure
the Dutchesse and the L. Emilia, although they believe it not in
deede, yet would they make semblance to believe it, and would say
that it proceeded because I mistrusted I should never frame any
woman to love me.
The which truely I have not hetherto proved with such instance, that
of reason I should dispaire to obtaine it once.
Neither have I forborne
the doing of it, because I set so much by my selfe, and so litle by
women that I thinke none worthie to bestow my love and service upon.
But
<263>
CASTIGLIONE rather amased at
the continuall bewailing of some lovers, that with their palenesse,
sorrow, and silence, it appeareth they have evermore their owne
discomfort painted in their eyes. And if they speake accompanying
every worde with certaine treblefolde sighes, they reason of nothing
else but of teares, of torments, of desperations, and of longing for
death. So that whensoever any sparke of love hath begonne to kindle
in my brest, I have by and by enforced my selfe with all diligence
to quench it: not for any hatred that I have conceived against women
(as these Ladies suppose) but for mine owne health.
On the other side, I
have knowne some other cleane contrarie to these sorrowful, which do
not nely advance and content them selves, with the chearefull
lookes, loving wordes, and sweete countenances of their Ladies, but
also sauce their sorrowes with sweetnes, so that they count debates,
the angers, and the disdaines of them, most sweete.
Therefore these men
seeme unto mee to bee much more than happie: for whereas they finde
so much sweetnesse in the amorous disdaines, which some men recken
much more bitter than death, I believe in loving gestures they
should feele that woonderfull blisse, which we seeke for in vaine in
this world.
Therefore I would our pastime were this night, to have every man
shew, where there must bee a disdaine against him in the person
beloved, what the cause should be that should make the person
conceive this disdeine. For if there be any here that have proved
those sweet disdaines, I am sure they will desire for courtesie one
of these causes that make them so sweete. And perhaps I shall with a
better will proceede somewhat farther in love, in hope that I shall
also finde this sweetnesse, where as some finde bitternesse.
And so shall not these
Ladies give me any more this slanderous report, that I am not in
love.
This pastime
was much praised, and therfore did every man settle hfmselfe to
reason upon this matter. But ye L.
<264>
THE COUIRTIER Emilia holding
her peace, M. Peter Bembo that sat next in order, spake in this
maner: My Lords, this pastime that the L. Octavian hath propounded,
hath raised no smal doubt in my minde, where he hath reasoned of the
disdaines of love, the which though they be sundry, yet unto me have
they alwaies beene most bitter.
Neither do I believe,
that I can learne any sauce that shall bee sufficient to sweeten
them.
But
peradventure they are the more and the lesse bitter, according to
the cause whereof they arise. For I have in my daies (I remember)
seene the woman whom I served, stirred against me, either upon a
vaine suspition that shee conceived her selfe of my trustinesse, or
els upon some other false opinion that had been put into her head by
some mens report to my hinderance, so that I beleeved no griefe
might be compared to mine.
And me thought that the
greatest sorrow I felt, was to suffer without deserving, and to
susteine this affliction, not for any offence of mine, but for the
small love that was in her.
At other times I saw
her disdainful for some oversight of mine, and knew that her anger
proceeded of mine offence, and at that instant I judged the former
vexation to be very light, in comparison to that which I felt then.
And me thought to be in displeasure, and that for mine owne
trespasse, with the person whom onely I coveted, and with such
diligence sought to please, was the greatest torment of all other.
Therefore would I
our pastime were to have everie man declare his opinion, where there
must be a disdaine against him in the person beloved, of whom hee
would the cause of this disdaine should have his beginning, whether
of her, or of himselfe to know which is greater griefe, either to
displease the wight beloved, or to receive displeasure of the wight
beloved.
Every man
looked what the L. Emilia wouldle make
<265>
CASTIGLIONE answere to this,
but without any word speaking to Bembo, she turned her, and made a
signe to sir Fridericke Frigoso to shew his devise. And hee
incontinentlv beganne thus.
Madame, I woulde it
were lawfull for me, as the maner is many times, to remit me to the
judgement of an other, for I for my part would with all my heart
allow some of the pastimes that have been alreadie propounded by
these Lords, because indeed mee thinke they would be worth the
hearing. Yet least I should breake the order, this I say: who so
would take in hand to praise our Court, leaving apart the deserts of
the Dutchesse, which ghostly spirit with hir influence is sufficient
to draw from the earth up into heaven the simplest wits in the
world, he might well doe it without suspition of flatterie. For
peradventure in all Italy a man shall have much a do to findout so
many Gentlemen and noble personages that are so worthie, and beside
the principall profession of Chivalrie so excellent in sundrie
things, as are presently here.
Therefore if in any
place men may bee found that deserve ye name of good Courtiers, and
can judge what belongeth to the perfection of Courtiership, by
reason a man may believe them to be here.
To disgrace therfore
many untowardly Asseheades, that through malapartnesse thinke to
purchase the name of a good courtier, I would have such a pastime
for this night that one of the Company might bee picked out, who
should take in hand to shape in wordes, a good Courtier, specifying
all such conditions and particiilar qualities, as of necessitie must
bee in him that deserveth this name.
And in such thinges as
shall not appeare necessarie, that it may bee lawfull for everie man
to reply against them, as the maner of Philosophers_schooles+ is against him that
keepeth disputations.
Sir Fredericke
proceeded still forwarde in his talke, when the L. Emilia
interrupting him, said: If it be my Ladie the Dutchesse pleasure,
this shall be our pastime for this, once.
The dutchesse answered:
I am well pleased.
<266>
THE COURTIER Then (in maner)
all the company began to say both to the Dutchesse and among
themselves, that this was the trimmest pastime they could have.
And without looking for
answere the one of the other, they craved upon the L. Emilia, to
appoint who should first begin. Who turning toward the Dutchesse
said.
Command you,
madame, whom shall please you to take this enterprise in hand, for I
will not by choosing more one than another, declare my selfe to
judge in this behalfe, whom I thinke to be better skilled than the
rest, and so do wrong to some.
The Dutchesse answered:
make you this choise your selfe, and take heede that in disobeying,
you be not a president to the rest to bee disobedient.
Then the L. Emilia
saide laughing unto Lewis Count of Canosse: therfore for leesinge
any more time, you (Counte) shalbe he that shal take this enterprise
upon him in forme and manner as sir Fredericke hath declared. Not
for that wee know ye are so good a Courtier, that ye have at your
fingers ends that belongs therto: but because in repeating everie
thing arsiversie, as we hope ye wil, we shal have so much the more
pastime, and everie one shall be able to answere you.
Where if an other more
skilfull than you should take it in hand, there should bee nothing
said against him for telling the truth, and so should we have but a
cold pastime.
The
Counte answered by and by: we need not feare (Madame) that wee shall
want contrarying in words against him that telleth the truth, as
long as you be here.
And after they had
laughed a while at this answere, he proceeded on: but truely I would
with all my heart be rid of this burthen, for it is too hard for
mee. And I know that to be most true in me, which you have spoken in
jeast: namely, that I have no understanding in that belongeth to a
good Courtier. And this doe I not seeke to prove with any other
triall: for seeing I do not ye deedes,
<267>
CASTIGLIONE a man may judge I
understand it not, and I believe I am the lesse to bee blamed. For
out of doubt, it is a worse matter not to do wel, than not to
understand how to do it.
Yet seeing your
pleasure is, that I shall take the charge upon me, I cannot, nor
will refuse it, for withstanding your order and judgement, the which
I know is much better than mine.
Then the L. Cesar
Gonzaga. Because it is now (quoth bee) well forward in night, and we
have here readie for us other sortes of pastimes, peradventure it
shuld not be amisse to deferre this reasoning untill to morrow, and
the Counte shall have leisure to thinke better upon that ]he hath to
say: for in verie deed, to entreat upon such a matter at the first
sight, it is a hard thing.
Then answered the
Counte: I will not do as he did, that stripped himselfe into his
doublet, and leaped lesse ground than he did before in his Coate.
And me thinke my lucke is good that it is late, because the
shortnesse of time shall make me use fewe words, and the sodainesse
of the matter shall so excuse me, that it shall be lawfull for me to
speake withotit blame, whatsoever commeth first to minde.
Because I will not
therfore carry this burthen of duetie anv longer upon my shoulders,
this I say in everie thing it is so hard a matter to know the true
prtfection; that it is almost impossible, and that by reason of the
varietie of judgements.
Therfore many there
are, that delight in a man of much talke aod him they call a
pieasant fellow. Some wfl delight more in modestie+,
some other will fancie a man that is active+ and
alwaies dooing: other, one that sheweth a quietnesse and a respect
in everie thing. And thus doth everie man praise or dispraise
according to his fancie, alwaies covering a vice,with the name of
the next vertue to it, and a vertue with the name of the next vice:
as in calling him that is sawcie, bold: him that is sober, dry: him
that is seelie, good: him that is unhappie, wittie: and likewise in
the rest.
<268>
THE COURTIER Yet doe I thinke
that eche thing hath his perfection, although it be hid, and with
reasonable discourses, might be judged of him that hath knowledge in
that matter.
And
for as much as the truth (as I have said) is oftentimes hid, and I
take not upon me to have this knowledge, I can not praise, but that
kinde of Courtiers which I set most by, and allow that which seemeth
unto me most nigh the truth, in my small judgement. The which you
shall follow if ye thinke it good, or els sticke to your owne, if it
shall varie from mine. Neither will I (for all that) stand stiffe
that mine is better than yours, for not onely one thing may seeme
unto you, and an other to me.
But also unto my selfe
it may appeare sometime one thing, sometime an other.
I wil have this our
Courtier therefore to be a gentleman+ borne
and out of a good house. For it is a great daeale lesse dispraise
for him that is not borne a gentlgeman to faile in the actes of
vertue, then for a getleman. {noblesse-oblige+}
If he swerve from the steps of his ancestors, hee staineth the name
of his familie.
And
doth not onely not get, but looseth that is alreadie gotten.
For noblenesse+ of birth, is as it were a cleare
lampe that sheweth forth and bringeth into light, workes both good
and bad, and inflameth and provoketh unto vertue, as well with the
feare of slaunder, as also with the hope of praise.
And whereas this
brightnesse of noblenesse doth not discover theworkes of the
unnoble, they have a want of provocation, and of feare of slaunder,
and they reckon not them selves bound to wade any further than their
ancestors did before them, whereas the noble of,birth counte it a
shame not to arrive at the least at the boundsof their pre-
decessors, set forth,unto them.
Therefore it chahceth
alwaies in a manner both in armes and in all other vertuous acts,
that the most famous men are Gentlemen. B6cause nature in every
thiing hath deepely sowed that privie seed, which givdth a certaine
force and
<269>
CASTIGLIONE propertie of her
beginning, unto whatsoever springeth of it, and maketh it like unto
her self e.
As we
see by example, not onely in the race of horses and other beastes,
but also in trees, whose slippes and graftes alwaies for the most
part are like unto the stocke of the tree they came from: and if at
any time they grow out of kinde, the fault is in the husbandman. And
the like is in men, if they be trained up in good nurture, most
commonly they resemble them from whom they come, and often times
passe them, but if they have not one that can well traine them up,
they growe (as it were) wilde, and never corne to their ripenesse+.
Truth it is, whether it
be through the favor of the Starres or of nature, some there are
borne indued with such graces, that they seeme not to have beene
borne, but rather fashioned with the verie hand of some God, and
abound in all goodnes both of bodie and minde. As againe we see some
so unapt and dull, that a man will not believe, but nature hath
brought them into the world for a spite and mockerie.
And like as these with
continuall diligence and good bringing up for the most part can
bring small fruit: even so the other with litle attendance climbe to
the full perfection of all excellencie.
And to give you an
example, marke me the Lord Hyppolitus da Este Cardinall of Ferrara+, he hath had so happie a
birth, that his person, his countenance, his words, and all his
gestures are so fashioned and compact with this grace, that among
the most ancient prelates (for all he is but young) he doth
represent so grave an authoritie, that a man would weene he were
more meete to teach, than needful to learne.
Likewise in companie
with men and women of al degrees, in sporting, in laughing, and
in jesting+, he hath in him certaine sweetnes,
and so comely demeanours, that who so speaketh with him, or yet
beholdeth him, must needes beare him an affection for ever
.
<270>
THE COURTIER But returning to
our purpose, I say, that betwene this excellent grace, and that fond
foolishnes, there is yet a meane, and they that are not by nature so
perfectly furnished, with studie and diligence may polish and
correct a great part of the defaults of nature.
The Courtier therefore,
beside noblenesse of birth, I will have him to bee fortunate in this
behalfe, and by nature to have not onely a wit, and a comely shape
of person and countenance, but also a certaine grace, and (as they
say) a hewe, that shall make him at the first sight acceptable and
loving unto who so beholdeth him.
And let this bee an
ornament to frame and accompany all his acts, and to assure men in
his looke, such a one to be worthie the companie and favour of
everie great man.
Here without any longer tarrying the L. Gasper Pallavicin said: that
our pastime may have the forme and maner agreed upon, and least it
should appeare, that we litle esteeme the authoritie given us to
contrary you, I say (in mine advise) that this noblesse of him is
not so necessarie for the courtier. {nboblesse-unnecessary+} And if I wist that
any of you know what it a strange or a new matter, I would alledge
unto you sundry, who for all they were borne of most noble bloud,
yet have they been heaped full of vices: and contrariwise many
unnoble that have made famous their posteritie.
And if it be true that
you said before, that the privie force of the first seede is in
everie thing, we should all bee in one maner condition, for that we
had all one selfe beginning, and one should not be more noble than
an other.
But
beside the diversities and degrees in us of high and low, I believe
there be many other matters, wherein I judge fortune+ to
bee the chiefe, because we see her beare a stroke in all worldly
things, and (as it were) take a pastime to exalte manie times whom
pleaseth her without any desert at al, and bury in the bottomles
depth the most worthie to be exalted.
I confirme your saying
as touching the happinesse of
<271>
CASTIGLIONE them that are borne
abounding in all goodnesse both of minde and bodie: but this is
seene as well in the unnoble, as in the noble of birth, for nature
hath not these so subtile distinctions: yea (as I have said) we see
many times in persons of most base degree, most hie gifts of nature.
Therefore seeing
this noblenes is gotten neither with wit, force, nor art, but is
rather a praise of our ancestors than our owne, me thinke it a
strange opinion that the parents of our Courtier being unnoble, his
good qualities should be defaced, and those other good conditions
which you have named shuld not be sufficient to bring him to the top
of all perfection: that is to say, wit, beautie of phisnomy, dis-
position of person, and the grace which at the first sight shall
make him most acceptable unto al men.
Then answered Counte
Lewis, I denie not, but men of base degree of many raign the very
same vertues, ttat are Gentlemen. But to avoide rehearsall of that
wee have alreadie said, with many other reasons that might be
alleaged in commendation of noblenes, the which is evermore honored
of all men, because it standeth with reason, that good should spring
of good: for so much as our intent is to fashion a Courtier without
any maner default or lack in him, and heaped with all praise, me
thinke it a necessary matter to make him a Gentleman, as well for
many other respects, as also for the common opinion, which by and by
doeth leane to noblenes.
For where there are two
in a noble mans house, which at the first have given no proofe of
themselves with workes good or bad, as soone as it is knowne that
the one is a Gentleman borne, and the other not, the unnoble shall
be much lesse esteemed with everie man, than the Gentleman, and he
must with much travell and long time imprmt in mennes heades a good
opinion of himselfe, which the other shall get in a moment, and
onely for that he is a Gentleman: and how waightie these imprintings
are, everie man may easilie judge.
For to speak of our
selves, we have seene men come to
<272>
THE COURTIER this house, which
for al they were fooles and dulwitted, yet had they a report through
al Italy of great Courtiers, and though at length they were
discovered and knowne, yet many daies did they beguile us, and
maintained in our mindes that opinion of themselves, which at the
first they found there imprinted, although they wrought according to
their small skill.
Wee have seene other at the first in verie small estimation, and
afterward in the ende, have acquitted themselves marvellous well.
And of these errors there are divers causes, and among other the
obstinateness of Princes, which to prove maistries, oftentimes bend
themselves to favour him, mat to their seeming, deserveth no favor
at all.
And many
times in deede they are deceived: but because they have alwaies many
that counterfaite them, a verie great report dependeth upon their
favor, the which most commonly the judges follow. And if they finde
any thing that seemeth contrary to the common opinion, they are in
doubt for deceiving them selves, and alwaies looke for some matter
secretly, because it seemeth, that these generall opinions ought to
bee founded upon a troth, and arise of reasonable causes.
And forasmuch as our
mindes are verie apte to love and to hate: as in the sights of
combates and games, and in all other kinde of contention, where the
lookers on are affectionate without manifest cause unto one of the
two parties, with a greedy desire to have him get the victorie, and
the other the losse.
Also as touching the
opinion of mens qualities, the good or ill report at the first brunt
moveth our minde to one of these two passions.
Therefore it commeth to
passe, that for the most part we judge with love, or els with
hatred.
You see
then of what importance this first imprinting is, and how he ought
to endevour him selfe to get it good at first, if hee entend to be
set by, and to purchase him the name of a good.Courtier.
<273>
CASTIGLIONE But to come to some
particularitie, I judge the principall and true profession of a
Courtier ought to be in feates of armes, the which above all I will
have him to practise lively, and to bee knowne among other of his
hardines, for his atchieving of enterprises, and for his fidelitie+ towarde him whom he serveth. And
hee shall purchase himselfe a name+ with these
good conditions, in doing the deedes in every time and place, for it
is not'for him to fainte at any tim_e in this behalfe without a
wondrous reproch.
And even as in women honestie once stained doth never returne againe
to the former estate: so the fame of a gentleman that carrieth
weapon, if it once take a soyle in anye litle point through
dastardlinesse or any other reproch, doth evermore continue
shamefull in the world and full of ignorance. Therefore the more
excellent our Courtier shall be in this arte, the more shall he be
worthie praise: albeit I judge not necessarie in him so perfect a
knowledge of things and other qualities that is requisite in a
Captaine.
But
because this is overlarge a scope of matters, we wil holde our
selves contented, as wee have saide, with the uprightnesse of a well
meaning mind, and with an invincible courage+, and
that he alwaies shew himself such a one.
For many times men of
courage are sooner knowne in small matters than in great. Often
times in dangers that stand them upon, and where many eyes be, ye
shal see some that for all their hart is dead in their bodie, yet
pricked with shame or with the company, goe forwarde, as it were
blindfield and doe their ductie. And God knoweth both in matters
that litle touch them, and also where they suppose that without
missing they may convey them selves from danger, how they are
willing inough to sleepe in a whole skinne.
But such as thinke them
selves neither marked, scene, nor knowne, and yet declare a stoute
courage, and suffer not the least thing in the world to passe that
may burthen
<274>
THE COURTIER them, they have
that courage of spirite which we seek, to have in our Courtier. Yet
will wee not have him for all that so lustie to make braverie+ in wordes+ and
to bragge+ he hath wedded his harnes
for a wife, and to threaten with such grimme lookes, as wee have
seene Berto/5 doe often times.
For unto such may well
be said, that a worthie gentle woman in a noble assemblie spake
pleasantly unto one, that shall bee namelesse for this time, whom
she to shew him a good countenance, desired to daunce with her, and
hee refusing it, and to heare musicke, and many other
entertainements offered him, alwaies affirming such trifles not to
be his profession, at last the gentlewoman demaunding him, what is
then your profession? he answered with a frowning looke, to fight.
Then saide the
Gentlewoman: seeing you are not now at the warre nor in place to
fight, I would think it best for you to bee well besmered and set up
in an armory with other implements of warre till time were that you
should be occupied, least you waxe more rustier than you are. Thus
with much laugfhing of the standers by, she left him with a mocke in
his fooish presumption.
He therefore that we
seeke for, where the enimies are, shall shew him selfe most fierce,
bitter, and evermore with the first. In every place beside, lawly,
sober, a circumspect, fleeing above all things bragging+ and shameful praysing himself .
For therewith a man alwaies purchaseth the hatred of the hearers.
And I, answered the L. Gasper, have known few men excellent in any
thing whatsoever it be, but they praise themselves. And me thinke it
may wel be borne in them: for he yl is of skill, when he seeth that
hee is not knowne for his workes of the ignorant, hath a disdaine,
that his cunning should be buried, and needes must be open one way,
least he should bee defrauded of the estimation that belongeth to
it, which is the true rewarde of vertuous travailes.
<275>
CASTIGLIONE Therefore among
auncient writers, he that much excelleth doth seldome forbeare
praysing himselfe.
They in deed are not to be borne withall, that having no skill in
them will praise themselves: but we wil not take our Courtier to be
such a one.
Then
the Count, if you have well understood (quoth he) I blamed the
praysing of a mans selfe impudently, and without respect. And surely
(as you say) a man ought not to conceive an ill opinion of a
skilfull man that praiseth himself discretely, but rather take it
for a more certaine witnes, than if it came out of an other mans
mouth.
I agree well
that bee, which in praysing him selfe falleth not into error, nor
purchaseth himselfe lothsomnes or hatred of the hearers, is most
discreet: and beside the prayses which he giveth himselfe, deserveth
the same of other men also, because it is a verie hard matter.
Then the L. Gasper,
this (quoth he) must you teach us.
The Counte answered,
among the auncient writers there hath not also wanted that hath
taught it. But in mine opinion, all doth consist in speaking such
thinges after a sorte, that it may appear that they are not
rehearsed to that end: but that they come so to purposes that he can
not refrain telling them and alwaies seeming to flee his own praise,
tell the truth. But not as those lusty lands do that open their
mouth and thrust out wordes at a venture they care not how. As
within these few dayes one of our company, being pusshed through the
thigh with a pike at Pysa, thought that it was the byting of a flie.
And an other saide that hee occupied no looking glasse in his
chamber, because in his rage hee was so terrible to behold, that in
looking upon his owne countenance he should put himselfe into much
feare.
At this
every one laughed. But the L. Cesar Gonzaga saide unto them: at what
laugh you? Know yee not that the great Alexander+, hearing a certaine
philosophers opinion to be that there were infinite worlds, fel in
weeping: And when he was asked the
<276>
THE COURTIER question why hee
wept, hee answered: Because I have not yet one in hand, as though
his mind was to have them all.
Doe you not thinke that
this was a greater braverie+, than to speake of a
flie byting? So was Alexander a greater person than hee that so
saide, aunswered the Count.
But excellent men in
verie deed are to be held excused, when they take much upon them,
because hee that undertaketh great enterprises, must have a
boldnesse to doe it, and a confidence of himselfe, and not a
bashfull or cowardly minde, but yet sober in wordes: shewing as
thouch he tooke less upon him then he doth in deede so that his
taking upon him doe not extend unto rashnes.
Here the Count
respecting a while, M. Bernard Bibiena said merely: I remember you
saide before, that this our Courtier ought of nature to have a faire
comelinesse of phisnomy and person, with the grace that ought to
make him so amiable.
As for the grace and
beautie of phisnomy, I thinke not the contrarie but they are in me,
and therefore doe so many women burne for the love of men, as you
know. But for the comelines of person, I stand somewhat in doubt,
and especially by the reason of my legges here, for me thinke in
deede they are not so well made as I could wish they were: the body
and the rest is metely well.
Therfore declare
somewhat more particularly this comelinesse of person, what it
should be, that I may be out of this doubt, and set my hart at rest.
When they had a
while laughed at this, the Count saide: Certes, the grace of the
Phisonomy may well bee saide to bee in you without any lye. And no
other example doe I alledge but this, to declare what maner thing it
should be: for undoubtedly wee see your countenance is most
acceptable and pleasant to behold unto every man, although the
proportion and draughts of it be not verie delicate, but it is manly
and hath a good grace withall.
<277>
CASTIGLIONE And this qualitie
have many and sundry shapes of visages.
And such a countenance
as this is, will I have our Courtier to have, and not so soft and
womanish as many to procure to have, that do not onely courl the
haire, and picke the browes, but also pampre them selves in everie
point like the most wanton and dishonest women in the world: and a
man would thinke them in going, in standing, and in all their
gestures so tender and faint, that their members were readie to flee
one from an other, and their wordes they pronounce so drawningly,
that a man woulde weene they were at that instant yeelding up the
ghost, and the higher in degree that men are they talke withall, the
more they use such fashions. {effemininate+}
These men, seeing nature (as they seeme to have a desire to appeare
and to be) hath not made them women, ought not to bee esteemed in
place of good women, but like common Harlots to bee banished, not
onely out of princes courtes, but also out of the company of
gentlemen.
To come
therefore to the qualitie of the person, I say he is well, if he bee
neither of the least, nor of the greatest size. For both the one and
the other hath with it a certaine spitefull woonder, and such men
are marvelled at, almost as much as men marvel to behold monstrous
thinges. Yet if there must needes be a default in one of the two
extremities, it shall be lesse hurtfull to bee somewhat of the
least, than to exceede the common stature of height.
For men so shut up of
bodie, beside that many times they are of a dull wit, they are also
unapt for all exercise of nimblenesse, which I much desire to have
in the Courtier.
And therefore wil I have him to bee of a good shape, and well
proportioned in his lims, and to shew strength, lightnesse and
quicknesse, and to have understanding in all exercises of the bodie
that belong to a man of warre.
And herein I thinke the
chiefe point is to handle wel all kinde of weapon, both for footeman
and horseman, and to 6o the vantages in it. And specially to bee
skilfull on
<278>
THE COURTIER those weapons that
are used ordinarily among Gentlemen.
For beside the use that
he shall have of them in warre, where peradventure needeth no great
cunning, there happen oftentimes variances betweene one gentleman
and an other, whereupon ensueth a doubt. And many times it it shall
stand him in steade to use the weapon that he hath at that instant
by his side, therefore it is a very sure thing to be skilfull. And I
am none of them which say, that he forgetteth his cunning when hee
commeth to the point: for to abide by, who so looseth his cunning at
that time, sheweth that hee hath first lost his heart and his
spirites for feare.
I thinke also it will serve his turne greatly, to know the feat of
wrastling, because it goeth much together with all weapon on foote.
Againe it is
behovefull both for himselfe and for his friendes, that he have a
foresight in the quarrels and con- troversies; that may happen, and
let him beware of the vantages, declaring alwaies in everie point
both courage and wisedom.
Neither let him run
rashly to these combats but when he needs to save his estimation
withall: for beside the great daunger that is in the doubtful lot,
he that goeth headlong to these thinges, and without urgent cause,
deserveth great blame, although his chaunce bee good. { Polonius+} But when he pereeiveth
that he is entred so far that lice can not draw backe without
burthen, hee must both in such thinges as hee hath to doe before the
combate, and also in the combate, be utterly resolved with him
selfe, and alwaies shew a readinesse and a stomacke. And not as some
doe, passe the matter in argument and points.
And having the choise
of weapon, take such as have neither point nor edge. And aime
themselves as though they should goe against the shotte of a Cannon.
And weening it
sufficient not to be vanquished, stand alwaies at their defence and
give ground, in so much that
<279>
CASTIGLIONE they declare an
extreame faint hart, and are a mocking stocke to the verie children.
As those two of
Ancona: that a while agoe fought a combate beside Perugia, and made
them to laugh that looked on.
And what were they,
quoth the L. Gasper Pallavicin? The L. Cesar answered: Cousins
Germains of two sisters.
Then saide the Count:
at the combat a man would have thought them naturall bretheren: then
hee went forwarde.
Also men occupy their weapon oftentimes in time of peace about
sundrie exercises, and gentlemen are scene in open shewes in the
presence of people, women and princes.
Therefore will I have
our Courtier a perfect horseman for everie saddle. And beside the
skill in horses, and in whatsoever belongeth to a horseman, let him
set all his delight and diligence to wade in everie thing a little
farther than other men, so that he may be knowne among all men for
one that is excellent.
As it is redde of
Alcibiades, that he excelled all other nations wheresoever hee came.
And everie man in the thing hee had most skill in. So shall this our
Courtier passe other men, and everie man in his owne profession.
And because it is ye
peculiar praise of us Italians to ride well, to manage with reason,
especially rough horses, to runne at the Ring, and at Tilt, he shall
be in this esteemed among the best Italians.
At Tournament in
keeping a passage, in fighting at Barriers, he shall be good amongst
the best Frenchmen.
At joce di canne,/6 running at Bull, casting of Speares and Dartes,
hee shall bee among the Spaniards excellent.
But principally let him
accompanie all his motion with a certaine good judgement and grace+, if hee will deserve that
generall favor which is so much set by.
There be also many
other exercises, the which though they depend not throughly upon
Armes, yet have they a great agreement with them, and have in them
much manly
<280>
THE COURTIER activitie. And of
them me thinke, hunting is one of the chiefest.
For it hath a certaine
likenesse with warre, and is truely a pastime for great men, and fit
for one living in Court.
And it is found that it
hath also beene much used among them of olde time.
It is meete for him
also to have the arte of swimming, to leape, to runne, to cast the
stone: for beside the profit that he may receave of this in the
warres, it happeneth to him many times to make proofe of him selfe
in such thinges, whereby hee getteth him a reputation, especially
among the multitude, unto whom a man must sometim apply him selfe.
Also it is a noble
exercise, and meete for one living in Court to play at Tenise, where
the disposition of the bodie, the quicknes and nimblenesse of everie
member is much perceived, and almost whatsoever a man can see in all
other exercises.
And I reckon vauting/7 of no lesse praise, which for all it is
painefull and hard, maketh a man more light and quicker than any of
the rest.
And
beside the profit, if that lightnes bee accompanied with a
good grace+, it maketh (in my judgement)
a better shew than any of the rest.
If our Courtier then
bee taught these exercises more than indifferently well, I believe
he may set aside tumbling, climing upon a cord, and such other
matters that tast somewhat of jugglers craft, and doe litle besceme
a gentleman. { amateur+} But because wee can not
alwaies endure among these so painefull doings, beside that the
continuance goeth nigh to give a man his fill, and taketh away the
admiration that men have of thinges seldom scene, wee must
continually alter our life with practising sundrie matters.
Therefore will I have
our Courtier to descend many times to more easie and pleasant
exercises. And to avoide envie, and to keepe company pleasantly with
every man,
<281>
CASTIGLIONE let him doe
whatsoever other men doe: so hee decline not at any time from
commendable deedes, but governeth him selfe with that good judgement
that will not suffer him to enter into any folly: but let him laugh,
dally, jest, and daunce, yet in such wise that he may alwaies
declare him selfe to be wittle and discreete, and every thing that
hee doth or speaketh, let him doe it with a grace. {Cheer+} Truely,
saide then the Lord Cesar Gonzaga, the course of this communication
shoulde not bee stopped: but if I should holde my peace, I should
not satisfie the libertie which I have to speake, nor the desire
that I have to understand one thing. And let me be pardoned, if
where I ought to speake against, I demaund a question: because I
suppose I may lawfully doe it after the example of M.
Bernard, who for the
too great desire he had to bee counted a well favored man, hath
offended against the lawes of our pastime, in demaunding without
speaking against.
Behold I beseech ye, said then the Dutchesse, how one error bringeth
in a great sort. Therefore who so offendeth and giveth evil example,
as M. Bernard hath done, deserveth to bee punished, not onely for
his owne offence, but for other mens also.
Then answered the Lord
Cesar: Therefore must I (Madame) escape punishment, for that M.
Bernard ought to be punished for his owne offence and mine both.
Nay (quoth the
Dutchesse) you ought both, to have double punishment. He for his
offence, and for being an occasion for you to commit the like: and
you for your offence, and for taking him for a president that did
offend.
I have not
hetherto offended Madam, answered the Lord Cesar. Therefore because
I will leave the whole punishment for M. Bernard I will keepe
silence.
And now
hee helde his peace, when the Ladie Emilia answered: say what
pleaseth you, for (by the Dutchesse leave) I pardon this fault, and
whosoever shall offend in so small a trespasse.
<282>
THE COURTIER Upon that the
Dutchesse saide: I am well pleased. But take ye heede you deceive
not your selfe thinking peradventure to be better reported of
for mercy+ than for justice+. For
in pardoning the offender too much, ye doe wrong to him that doth
not offend.
Yet
will not I have my rigour at this time in accusing your mercy to bee
the cause that we shall loose the hearing of this the Lord Cesars
demaund. So he, after the Dutchesse and the Ladie Emilia had made a
signe to him, saide by and by.
If I doe well beare in
minde, me thinke (Count Lewis) you have this night often times
repeated, that the Courtier ought to accompany all his doings,
gestures, demeaners: finally all his motions with a grace.
And this, me thinke, ye
put for a sauce to everie thing, without the which all his other
properties and good condi- tions were litle worth.
And I believe verily
that every man would soone bee perswaded therein, for by the vertue
of the word a man may say, that who so hath grace+, is
gracious.
But
because you have saide sundry times that it is the gift_of_nature+ and of the heavens, and
againe, where it is not so perfect, that it may with studie and
diligence be made much more: they that be borne so happie and so
welthie with such a treasure (as some that wee see) me thinke
therein they have litle neede of any other teacher, because the
bountifull favor of heaven doth (as it were) in spite of them, guide
them higher than they covet, and maketh them not onely acceptable
but marvellous unto all the world.
Therefore I doe not
reason of this, because the obtaining of it of our selves lyeth not
in our power.
But
such as by nature have onely so much, that they be apt to become
gracious in bestowing labour, exercise, and diligence, I would faine
know with what arte, with what learning, and by what meane they
shall compasse this grace, as well in the exercises of the bodie
(wherein ye thinke it
<283>
CASTIGLIONE so necessarie a
matter) as in al other things that they doe or speake.
Therefore as you have,
in praysing this qualitie to us engendred (I believe) in al a
fervent thyrst to come by it, by the charge ye receyved of the Ladie
Emilia, so with teaching it us, ye are bound to quench it.
Bound I am not (quoth
the Count) to teach you to have good grace, nor any thing els,
saving onely to shew you want a perfect Courtier ought to be.
Neither wil I take upon
me to teach you this perfection, since a while agoe, I said, that
the Courtier ought to have the feate of wrastling and vauting, and
such other thinges, the which how should I bee able to teach them,
not having learned them my selfe, I am sure ye know it all? It
sufficeth, that as a good souldier can speake his mind to an
Armourer, of what fashion, of what temper and goodnes hee will have
his harnesse, and for all that can not teach him to make it, nor to
hammer or temper it: So perhaps I am able to tell you what a perfect
courtier ought to be, but not to teach you how he should doe to be
one.
Notwithstanding to fulfill your request in what I am able, although
it bee (in maner) in a proverbe, that Grace is not to be learned, I
say unto you, who so mindeth to be gracious, or to have a good grace
in the exercises of the bodie, (presupposing first that he be not of
nature unapt) ought to beginne betimes, and to learne his principles
of cunning men.
The
which thing how necessarie a matterPhilip+ king of
Macedonie thought it, a man may gather in that his will was,
that Aristotle+ so famous a
Philosopher, and perhaps the greatest that ever hath beene in the
world, shoulde bee the man that should instructAlexander+
his sonne, in the first principles of letters.
And of men whom wee
know now adaies, mark how well and with what a cood grace Sir
Galliazzo Sanseverino maister of the horse to the French king, doth
all exercises of the bodie, and that because, beside the naturall
disposi-
<284>
THE COURTIER tion of person
that is in him, he hath applyed all his studie to learne of cunning
men, and to have continually excellent men about him, and of everie
one to choose the best of that they have skill in.
For as in wrastling, in
vauting, and in learnining to handle sundrie kind of weapons, he
hath taken for his guide our maister Peter Mount, who (as you know)
is the true and onely maister of all artificial force and sleight:
So in ryding, in justing, and in everie other feate, he hath alwaies
had before his eyes, the most perfectest that hath beene knowne to
be in those professions.
We therefore that will
bee a good scholler, besiode the practising of good thinges must
evermore set all his diligence to be like his maister, and (if it
were possible) chaung him selfe into him.
And when hee hath had
some entrie, it profiteth him much to behold sundrie men of that
profession: and governing himselfe with that good judgement that
must alwaies be his guide goe about to picke out, sometime of one,
and sometime of an other, sundrie matters.
And even as the Bee in
greene medowes fleeth alwaies about the grasse, choosing out
flowers: So shall our Courtier steale his grace from them that to
his seeming have it, and from eche one, that pareell that shall be
most worthie prayse. And not to do as a friend of ours, whom you all
know, that thought he resembled much Ferdinande the younger
of Aragon+, and regarded not to
resemble him in any other point, but in the often lifting up of his
heade, wiything therewithall a part of his mouth, the which custome
the kine had ffotten by infirmitie.
Andd many Such there
are that thinke that they doe much, so they resemble a great man in
somewhat, and take many times the thing in him that worst becommeth
him.
But I,
imagining with my selfe often times how this grace commeth, leavinig
apart such as have it from above, finde one rule that is most
general, which in this part (me thinke) taketh place in all things
belonging to a man in
<285>
CASTIGLIONE word diligence to
in any thought he added in deede, above all other. And that is to
eschue as much as a man may, and as a sharpe and daungerous rocke,
too much curiousnesse+, and (to speake a new word) to
use in everye thing a certaine disgracing to cover arte+
withall, and seeme whatsoever he doth and saith, to doe it without
paine, and (as it were) not minding it.
And of this doe I
believe grace is much derived, for in rare matters and well brought
to passe, every man knoweth the hardnesse of them, so that a
readinesse therein maketh great wonder.
And contrariwise to use
force, and (as they say) to hale by the haire, giveth a great
disgrace, and maketh everie thing how great so ever it bee, to be
litle esteemed.
Therefore that may be said to bee a very arte, that appeareth not to
be arte, neither ought a men to put more diligence in any thing then
in covering it: for in case it be open, it looseth credite cleane
and maketh a man litle set by.
And I remember that I
have redde in my dayes, that there were some most excellent Orators,
which among other their cares, enforced themselves to make everie
man believe, that they had no sight in letters, and dissembling
their cunning, made semblant their Orations to be made verie simply+, and rather as nature and truth
ledde them, than studie and arte, the which if it had beene openly
knowne, would have put a doubt in the peoples minde, for feare least
hee beguiled them. { PlainDealer+} {Socrates+} You may see then, how
to shew arte, and such bent studie taketh away the grace of every
thing.
Mich of you
is it that laugheth not when our maister Peterpaul dauneeth after
his owne fashion, with such fine skippes, and on tipto, without
moving his heade, as though hee were all of wood, so heedfully, that
truly a man woulde weene hee counted his paces. What eye is so
blind, that pereeiveth not in this the disgrace of curiositie+, and in many men
and women here preesent, the grace of that not regarded agility {disinvoltura+} and sleight conveyance {sprezzatura+} (for in the
motions of
<286>
THE COURTIER the bodie many so
terme it) with a kind of speaking or smyling, or gesture, betokening
not to passe upon it, and to minde any other thing more than that,
to make him believe that looketh on, that he can not doe amisse.
Here maister Bernard
Bibiena not forbearing any longer, said: you may see yet that our
maister Robert hath one to praise his maner of daauncing, though the
rest of you set litle by it. For if this excellencie doth consist in
disgracing and in shewing not to passe upon, and rather to minde any
other thing than that a man is in hand withall, maister Robert hath
no peere in the world. For that men should well perceive that hee
litle mindeth it, many times his garments fal from his back, and his
slippers from his feete, and dauneeth on still without taking up
againe any of both. Then answered the Count: seeimig you will needs
have I will say something also of our vices.
Do you not make, this
that you call in maister Robert disgracing? { sprezzatura+} for, it is well
knowne that he enforceth himself with all diligence possible to make
a to make a shew not to minde it, and that is to mind it too much.
And because hee
pdsseth certaine hiits of a meane, that disgracing of his is
curious, and not comely, and is a thing that cometh cleane contrary
to passe from the drift, (that is to wit) to cover arte. Therefore I
judge it no lesse vice of curiositie+ {affetazione+} to be in dispraysing (which in
it selfe is praise worthie) in letting a mans clothes fall off his
backe, than in recklessnesse+
(which likewise of it selfe is praise worthie) to carrie a mans
heade very stedfast for feare of ruffling his haire, or to keep in
the bottom of his cappe a lookina glasse and a combe in his sleeve,
and to have alwaies at his heeles up and down the streetes a Page
with a Spunge and a Brush. For this maner of Precisenesse and
curiousnesse is too much in extremitie, which is alwaies a vice
contrarie to that pure and amiable simplicitie+, {PlainDealer+} which is so
acceptable to mens mindes.
<287>
CASTIGLIONE Marke what an ill
grace a man at Armes hath, when he enforeeth him selfe to goe so
bolt upright, setled in saddle (as we use to say after the Venetian
phrase/8) in comparison of an other that appeareth not to minde it,
and sitteth on horsebacke so nimbly and close as though hee were on
foote.
How much
more doe we take pleasure in a Gentleman that is a man at armes, and
how much more worthy praise is he if he bee modest, of few wordes,
and no braggeer, than an other that alwaies craketh of himselfe, and
blspheming with a braverie+ seemeth to threaten the world.
And this is nothing
els, but a curiositie to seem to be a roister.
The like happeneth in
all exercises, yea in everie thing in the world that a man can doe
or speake.
Then
said the L. Julian: this in like maner is verified in musicke: where
it is a verie great vice to make two perfect chordes, the one after
the other, so that the verie sense of our hearing abhorreth it, and
oftentimes delyteth in a second or in a seventh, which in it selfe
is an unpleasant discorde, and not tollerable: and this proceedeth
because the countenance in the perfect tunes engendreth
irkesomnesse, and betokeneth a too curious harmony, the which in
mingling therewithall the unperfect is avoided, with making (as it
were) a comparison, whereby our eares stand to listen and greedely
attend and tast the perfect, and are otherwhile delited with the
disagreement of the second or seventh, as it were with a thing litle
regarded.
Behold ye
then, answered the Count, that curiousnes hurteth in this, as well
as in other things.
They say that also, it hath been a proverbe among some most
excellent painters of olde time, that too much diligence is
hurtfull, and that Appeles found fault with Protogenes, because he
could not keepe his handes from the table.
Then saide the Lord
Cesar. The verie same fault (me thinke) is in our Frier Seraphin,
that hee can not keepe
<288>
THE COURTIER handes from the
table, especially as long as there is any meate stirring.
The Count laughed, and
went forwarde: Apelles meaning was, that Protogenes knew not when it
was well, which was nothing 61s but to reprehend his curiousnes in
his workes.
This
virtue therefore contrary to curiositie this time terme Recklessnesse+, {sprezzatura+}
decide that it is the true fountaine from which all grace sprineth,
it bringeth with it also an other ornament, which accompanying any
deede that a man doth, how litle so ever it be, doth not onely by
and by open the knowledge of him that doth it, but also many times
maketh it to bee esteemed much more in effect than it is, because it
imprinteth in the mindes of the lbokers on, an opinion, that who so
can so sleightly doe well, hath a great deale more knowledge than in
deede he hath: and if he will apply his studie and diligence to that
he doth, he might do it much better.
And to repeate even the
verie examples, marke a man that taketh weapon in hand: If going
about to caste a darte, or holding in his hand a sword or any other
waster, he setleth him selfe lightsomly (not thinking upon it) in a
ready aptnesse, with such activitie, that a man would weene his
bodie and all his members were naturally setled in that disposition,
and without any paine, though he doth nothing else, yet doth he
declare him selfe unto every man to be most perfect in that
exercise.
Like wise
in dauncing, one measure, one motion of a bodie that hath a good
grace, not being forced, doth by and by declare the knowledge of him
that dauneeth.
A
musition, if in singing he rolle out but a plain note, ending in a
double relise with a swete tune, so easily that a man would judge
hee did it at a venture, in that point alone he doth men to
understand, that his knowledge is farre greater than it is in deede.
Oftentimes also in
painting, one line not studied upon, one draught with the Pensell
sleightly drawne, so it ap-
<289>
CASTIGLIONE peareth the hand
without the guiding of any studie or art, tendeth to his marke,
according to the Painters purpose, doth evidently discover the
excellencie of the workeman, about the opinion whereof every man
afterwarde contendeth, according to his judgmen.
The like happeneth also
in a manner, about everie other thing. Therefore shall our courtier
be esteemed excellent, and in everie thing he shall have a good
grace, and especialry in speaking, if he avoide curiositie: into
which error many men run, and sometime more than other, certaine of
our Lumbardes, which after a yeares travaile abroad, come home and
beginne by and by to speake the Romane tongue, sometime ye Spanish,
tonlgue or the French, and God woteth how.
And all this proceedeth
of an over great desire to shew much knowledge and in this wise a
man applyeth his studie and diligence to get a most odious vice.
And truely it were no
small travaile for me, if I should use in this communication of
ours, those auncient Tuskane wordes, that are not in use among the
Tuskanes now adaies: and beside that, I believe every man would
laugh at me.
Then
spake Sir Fredericke. In deede reasoning together as we now doe,
peradventure it were not well done to use those auncient Tuskane
wordes: for (as you say) they woulde bee a loathsomnesse both to the
speaker and to the hearer, and of many they shoulde not be
understood without much a doe.
But he that should
write, I would thinke he committed an errour in not using them:
because they gave a great grace and authoritie unto wrytings, and of
them is compact a tongue more grave, and more full of majestie, than
of the new.
I know
not, answered the Count, what grace and authoritie those wordes can
eive unto wrytings that ought to be eschued, not only in the manner
of speach that wee now use (which you your selfe confesse) but also
in any other maner that can be imagined. For if any man, of how good
<290>
THE COURTIER a judgement so
ever hee were, had to make an Oration of grave matters in the verie
Councell Chamber of Florence, which is the heade of Tuskane: or els
to comune privately with a person of estimation in that Citie about
waightie affaires: or also with the familiarest friend hee hath
about pleasant matters: or with women or Gentlemen about matters of
love, either in jeasting or dallying, banketing, gaming, or where
ever else: or in any time or place, or purpose, I am assured he
would flee the using of those auncient Tuskane words, and in using
them, beside that he would be a laughinii stocke, hee would bring no
small loathsomnesse to him that heard them.
Therefore me thinke it
a straunge matter to use those words for good in wryting, that are
to bee eschewed for naughtie in every manner of speach: and to have
that which is never proper in speach, to bee the properest way a man
can use in wryting.
Or so much as (in mine of opinion) wryting is but a maner of speach,
that remaineth still after a man has spoken, or (as lt were) an
image, or rather the life of the wordes. And therefore in speache,
which as soone as the sound is pronounced, vanisheth away,
peradventure some things are more to be borne withall, than in
writing.
Because
wryting keepeth the wordes in store, and referreth them to the
judgement of the Reader, and giveth time to examine them deepely.
And therefore
reason willeth, that greater diligence should be had therein, to
make it more trimme and better connected: yet not so, that the
written wordes should be unlike the spoken, but in wryting to choose
out the fairest and proprest of signification that be used in
speaking.
And if
that should be lawfull in writing which is not lawfull in speaking,
there should arise an inconvenience of it (in my judgement) verie
greate: namely, that a man might use a greater libertie in the
thing, where he ought to use most diligence, and the labour he
bestoweth in writing, in steade of furtherance should hinder him.
<291>
CASTIGLIONE Therefore it is
certaine, whatsoever is allowed in wryting, is also allowed in
speaking: and that speach is most beautiful witch is like unto
beautifull wrytings.
And I judge it much
more behovefull to be understood in wryting than in speaking,
because they that write are not alwaies present with them that reade
as they that speake with them that speak.
Therefore would I
commend him, that beside the eschewing of many auncient Tuskane
words, would apply him selfe also to use both in wryting and
speaking, such as now adaies are in use in Tuskane and in other
partes of Italy, and that have some grace in pronunciation.
And (in my minde) who
so followeth any other trade, is not assured not to runne into that
curiositie so much blamed, which we have spoken of before.
Then spake Sir
Fredericke: I can not deny you, Count Lewis, that wryting is not a
maner of speaking. But this I say, if the words that are spoken have
any darkenesse in them, that communication pierceth not the minde of
him that heareth: and passing without being understood, waxeth vaine
and to no purpose: the which doth not happen in writing.
For if the words that
the writer useth bring with them a litle (I will not say
difficultie) but covered subtiltie, and not so open, as such as be
ordinarily spoken, they give a certaine authoritie to writing, and
make the Reader more heedefull to pause at it, and to ponder it
better, and he taketh a delyte in the wittinesse and learning of him
that wryteth, and with a good judgement, after some paines taking,
he tasteth the pleasure that consisteth in hard thinges.
And if the ignorance of
him that readeth bee such, that he can not compasse that
difficultie, there is no blame in the writer, neither ought a man
for all that to thinke that tongue not to bee faire.
Therefore in wryting, I
holde opinion it is necessarie for a man to use the Tuskane wordes,
and onely such as
<292>
THE COURTIER have beene used
among the auntient Tuskanes: for it is a great testimoniall, and
approved by time, that they be good and of a pithie signification,
in that they be applyed to. And beside this, they have that grace
and majestie that antiquitie giveth not onely to wordes, but unto
buildinges, images, paintings, and to everie thing that is of force
to preserve it. And many times with this onely brightnesse and
dignitie, they make the forme of sentences verye faire, and through
the vertue and elegancie thereof, every matter how base so ever it
be, may be so decked out, that it may deserve very great
commendation.
But
this your custome, that you make so much a doe off, appeareth unto
me very daungerous, and many times it may be naught. And if any vice
of speech be taken up of many ignorant persons, me thinke for all
that it ought not to be received for a rule, nor followed of other.
Besides this,
customes be many and diverse, and yee have not a notable Citie in
Italie, that hath not a diverse maner of speach from al the rest.
Therefore if ye
take not the paines to declare which is the best, a man may as well
give him selfe to the Bergamaske tongue, as to the Florentine, and
to follow your advise, it were no errour at all Me seemeth then, who
so will be out of doubt and wel assured, it is requisite for him to
determine with him selfe to follow one, that by all mens accorde is
judged good, and to take him for a guide alwaics, and for a shield,
against such as will goe about to find fault, and that I thinke
ought to be none other, (I meane in the vulgar tongue) but Petrarca+ and Boccacio+: and
who so swarveth from these two, goeth at all adventure, as he that
walketh in the darke without light, and therefore many times
strayeth from the right way.
But we are so hardy now
adayes, that wee disdaine to doe as other good men of ancient time
have done: that is to say, to take diligent heede to following,
without the which, I judge no man can write well. And mee thinke
<293>
CASTIGLIONE Virgill+
declareth a great tryall of this, who for all that with his so
divine a witte and judgement, hee tooke all hope from his posterite
for any to follow him at any time, yet would he follow Homer+.
Then the Lorde Gasper
Pallavicin, This disputation (quoth he) of wryting in verie deede is
worth the hearing: yet were it more to our purpose, if you woulde
teach in what sorte the Courtier ought to speake, for me thinke hee
hath more neede of that, and he serveth his turne oftner with
speaking than with wryting.
The Lord Julian
answered: there is no doubt, but so excellent and perfect a Courtier
hath neede to understand both the one and the other: and without
these two qualities, peradventure all the rest shoulde not bee much
worthie praise.
Therefore if the Count will fulfill his charge, hee shall teach the
Courtier not onely to speake, but also to write well.
Then said the Count: I
will not (my Lord) undertake this enterprise, for it should bee a
great folly for me to teach an other that I understand not my self.
And though I were skilfull in it, yet can I not see howe I should
thinke to do the thing in so few wordes, which great Clarkes have
scarse done with such great studie and diligence, unto whose
wrytinges I would remit our Courtier, if it were so, that I were
bound to teach him to write and to speake.
The Lord Cesar then
said: the Lorde Magnifico meaneth the speaking and wryting of the
vulgar tongue, and not Latin, therfore those wrytings of great
Clarkes are not for our purpose.
But you must shew us in
this behalfe as much as you know, and for the rest yee shall be held
excused.
I have
alreadie saide, answered the Count. But if reasonilig upon the
Tuskan tongue, perhaps it were rather the.
Ladie Julians parte,
than any mans els to give judgement in it.
The L. Magnifico saide:
I can not, nor of reason ought to
<294>
THE COURTIER speake against
him, that saith the Tuskane tongue is fairer then all the rest.
Truth it is, there are
many wordes in Petrarca, and Boceaccio, worne out of use now adaies:
and such would I never use, neither in speaking, nor in wryting, and
peradventure they themselves, if they were now alive, woulde use
them no more.
Then
spake Sir Fredericke: no doubt but they would use them still. And
you Lordes of Tuskane ought to renew your tongue, and not to suffer
it decay, as you doe: for a man may say now, that there is lesse
knowledge in Florence, than in many other places of ltalie.
Then answered maister
Bernard: those words that are no more in use in Florence, doe still
continue among the men of the Countrie, and are refused of the
Gentlemen for wordes corrupt and decayed by antiquitie.
Then the Dutches, let
us not swarve (quoth shee) from our first purpose, but let us marke
Count Lewis, teach the Courtier to speake and to write well, bee it
Tuskane, or what ever els.
The Count answered: I
have alreadie spoken (Madame) what I know. And I suppose the verie
same rules that teach the one, may also serve to teach the other.
But since you commund me: I will make answere unto Sir Fredericke
what commeth in my head, for I am of a contrarie opinion to him.
And peradventure I shal
be driven to answere somewhat more darkely than will be allowed, but
it shall be as much as I am able to say.
And first I say, that
(to my judgement) this our tongue which we name the vulgar tongue,
is tender and new, for all it hath beene now used a long while. For
in that Italie hath beene, not onely vexed and spoiled, but also
inhabited a long time with barbarous people, by the great resorte of
those nations the Latin tongue was corrupted and destroyed, and of
that corruption have sprong other tongues. The which like the Rivers
that departe from the
<295>
CASTIGLIONE toppe of the
Appennine, and runne abroad towarde the two seas: so are they also
divided, and some dyed with the Latin speach have spredde abroad
sundrie waies, some into one parte, and some into an other, and one
dyed with barbarousnesse hath remained in Italy.
This then hath a long
time beene among us out of order, and diverse, because there was
none that would bestow diligence about it, nor write in it, ne yet
seeke to give it brightnesse, or any grace: yet hath it beene
afterwarde brought into better frame in Tuskane, than in the other
partes of Italie.
And by that it appeareth, that the flower of it hath remained there
ever since those first times, because that Nation hath kept proper
and sweete accents in the pronunciation, and an order of Grammer,
where it was meete, more than the other. And hath had three noble
writers,/9 which wittily both in wordes and tearmes, that custome
did allow in their time, have expressed their conceites, and that
hath happened (in my minde) with a better grace to Petrarca, in
matters of love, than to any of the other.
Where there arose
afterwarde from time to time, not onely in Tuskane, but in all
Italy, among gentlemen brought up in Court, in armes and in letters,
some studie, to speake and to write more finely than they did in
that first rude age, when the turmoile of the miseries that rose
through barbarous nations, was not as yet quieted, many words have
beene left out, as well in Florence it selfe, and in all Tuskane, as
in the residue of Italie, and other brought in, in their steade, and
made in this behalfe the alteration that happeneth in all worldlye
thinges: the which also hath evermore chaunced in other tongues.
For in cause these
auncient Latin writinges had lasted hetherto, we shoulde see that
Evander and Tumrns, and the other Latins in those dayes, spake
otherwise than did afterwarde the last kings of the Romans, and the
first Consules.
You
may see, the verses sung by the Salii were scantly
<296>
THE COUIRTIER understood of
their posteritie: but because it was so ordeined by the first
inventers of it, they were not altered for reverence of religion.
So from time to
time Orators and Poets forsooke many wordes that had beene used
among their predecessors: forAntonius+, Crassus+, Hortensius+,
and Cicero+, eschued many that Cato+ had used, and Virgill+ many of Ennius+ and so did the rest. For
albeit they had antiquitie in great reverence, yet did they not
esteeme them so much, that they would be so bound to them, as you
will have us now. Yea, where they thought good, they spake against
them, as Horace+, that saith his predecessors did
foolishlye praise Plautus+, which would that we should have
the authoritie to bring up new wordes. And Cicero in many places
reprehendeth manie of his predecessors.
And to blame S. Gibda,
he saith that his Orations smelled of antiquitie. And affirmeth that
Ennius also in some pointes set litle by his predecessors, so that
if wee will follow them of old time, we shall not follow them.
And Virgill that you
say followed Homer, followed him not in the tongue.
Therefore would I (for
my parte) alwaies shunne the use of those auncient wordes, except it
were in certaine clauses, and in them verie seldom. And (in my
judgement) hee that useth them otherwise, committeth a no lesse
error, than who so would, to follow them of old time, feede upon
maste, where he hath now aboundance of co[rne found out.
And because you say,
the auncient wordes onely with the brightnesse of antiquitie, decke
out so highly every matter, how base so ever it be, that it may make
it worthie great commendation: I say unto you, that not of these
auncient words onely, but of those that bee good in deede, I make no
small account, that I suppose without the juice of faire sentences,
they ought of reason to be litle set by.
For to divide the
sentences from the words, is the deviding of the soule from the
bodie, the which can not bee done,
<297>
CASTIGLIONE neither in the one
nor in the other, without destruction ensue upon it.
That therefore which is
the principall matter and necessarie for a Courtier to speake, and
write well, I believe is knowledge+. For he that bath not
knowledge and the thing in his minde that deserveth to bee
understood, can neither speake nor write it.
Then must hee couch in
a good order that hee hath to speake or to write, and afterwarde
expresse it well with wordes: the which (if I bee not deceived)
ought to bee apt, chosen, cleare, and well applyed, and (above all)
in use also among the people: for very such make the greatnesse and
gorgeousnesse of an Oration, so he that speaketh have a good
judgement and heedfulnesse withall, and the understanding to picke
such as be of most proper signification, for that he intendeth to
speake and commend, and tempering them like waxe after his owne
minde, applyeth them in such part and in such order, that at the
first shew they may set forth and doe men to understand the dignitie
and brightnesse of them, as tables of painting placed in their good
and naturall light.
And this doe I say, as well of writing as of speaking,
wherein,certain things are requisite that are not necessarie in
writing, as a good voice, not too subtill or soft, as in a woman:
nor yet SO boisterous and rough, as in one of the countrie, but
shril, cidare, sweete and well,frarned with a prompt
plronuriciatibion, and with fit maners, and gestures, Which (in my
minde) consist in certaine motions of all the bodie, not affected n6
forced, but tempred With a manerly countenance and with a moving of
the'eyes that may give a grace and accorde,with the,wordes, and (as
much as he can) signify also with gestures, the intent and affection
of the the speaker.
But all these things were in vaine and of small account, is the
sentences expressed by the wordes should not be fair, wittie,
subtil, fine a grave according to the matter.
I doubt, saide the L.
Morello, if this Courtier speake
<298>
THE COURTIER with such
finenesse and gravitie among us, there will be some that will not
understand him.
Nay, every one shall understand him, answered the Count, for finenes
hindreth not the easinesse of understanding.
Neither will I have him
to speake alwaies in gravity, but of pleasant matters, of mery
conceites, of honest devises, and of jestes according to the time,
and in all notwithstanding after a pithy maner, now { cheer+} and with
readinesse and varietie without confusion, neither shall hee in anie
part shew vanitie or childish follie.
And when hee shall then
commune of a matter that is darke and hard, I will have him both in
words and sentences well pointed, to expresse his judgement, and to
make every doubt cleare andplaine+ after a
certaine diligent sorte without tediousnesse.
Likewise(when hee shall
see time) to have the understanding to speake with dignitie and
vehemencie and to raise those affections which our mindes have in
them, and to inflame or stirre them according to the matter:
sometime with a simplicitie of such meekenesse of minde, that a man
would weene nature her selfe spake to make them tender and (as it
were) dronken with sweetnes: and with such conveyance of easinesse,
that who so heareth him, may conceive a good opinion of him selfe,
and thinke that he also with verie litle adoe, might attaine to that
perfec- tion, but when hee commeth to the proofe, shall finde him
selfe farre wide.
I
would have our Courtier to speake and write in that sorte, and not
onely choose gorgeous and fine wordes out of every part of Italie,
but also I woulde judge him worthie praise to use some of those
termes both French and Spanish, which by our custome have beene
admitted.
Therefore
it shoulde not mislike me, falling so to purpose, to say
vauntcourrour, to say, to aseertaine, to aventure, to say, to pearce
through a bodie with talke, meaning thereby to use a familiaritie
with him, and grope him to get of him
<299>
CASTIGLIONE some perfect
knowledge: to say, a royall gentleman, a neat man to be about a
prince, and such other tearmes, so hee may thinke to be understood.
Sometime I would
have him take certaine wordes in an other signification than that is
proper to them, and wrastling them to his purpose (as it were)
graffe them like a grafte of a tree in a more luckie stocke, to make
them more sightly and faire, and (as it were) draw the matters to
the sense of the verie eyes, and (as they.say) make them felt with
hande, for the delite of him that heareth, or readeth.
Neither would I have
him to sticke to forge new also, and with new figures of speach,
deriving them featly from the Latins, as the Latins in old time
derived from the Grecians.
In case then of such
learned men both of good witte and judgement, as now adayes may be
picked out among us, there were some that would bestow their travell
to write after the maner that we have spoken off, in this tongue
things worth the reading, we should soone see it in good frame, and
following with termes and good phrases, and so copious that a man
might as well write in it, as in any other tongue: and though it
were not the mere auncient Tuskane tongue, yet shoulde it be the
Italian tongue, commune, plentifull, and variable, and (as it were)
like a delicious garden full of sundrie flowers and fruites.
Neither should this bee
a new matter: for of the foure tongues, that were in use among the
Greeke writers, pick- ing out of everie word, moodes and rules as
they thought meete, they raised thereby an other, which was named ye
Commune tongue, and afterwarde all five they called with one name
the Greeke tongue.
And albeit the Athenian tongue was more fine, pure, and eloquenter
than the rest, yet did not the good writers that were not of Athens
borne, so affect it, but in the stile, of writing, and (as it were)
in the smacke and propertie of their naturall speach they were wel
inough knowne:
<300>
THE COURTIER neither were they
any whit the lesse regarded for all that, but rather such as would
appeare over mere Athenians were blamed for it.
Among the Latin wryters
in like case many there were in their dayes much set by that were no
Romanes, although there appeared not in them that proper and
peculiar purenesse of the Romane tongue, which men of an other
nation can verie seldome attaine.
In times past,
Titus Livius+ was not neglected, although some one
saide hee found in him mere Padowan: Nor Virgill, for that he was
reprehended that hee spake not Romane.
And (as you know) there
were also read, and much set by in Rome, many writers of barbarous
nations.
But wee
more precise a great deale than they of old time, doe binde our
selves with certaine new lawes out of purpose: and having the broad
beaten way before our eyes, seeke throuœrh gappes to walke in
unknowne pathes.
For in our owne tongue, whose office is (as all others) to expresse
well and clearely the conceites of the minde, we delite in
darknesse, and calling it the vulgar tongue, will use in it wordes,
that are not onely not understood of the vulgar people, but also of
the best sorte of men, and those men of learning, and are not used
in any part, not regarding that all good writers of olde time blamed
such wordes as were refused of custome, the which you (in my mind)
do not wel know: forsomuch as you say, if any vice of speach be
taken up of any ignorant persons, it ought not to bee called a
custome, nor received for a rule of speach.
And (as at other times
I have heard you say) ye will have againe in stead of Capitolio, we
should say Campidoglio: for Ieronymo, Girolamo: Aldace, for Audace:
and for Patrono, Padrone: and such corrupt and mangled wordes,
because they have bin found so written by some ignorant Tuscane of
olde time, and bicause the men of the Countrie speak so in Tuseane
now a daies.
<301>
CASTIGLIONE The good use of
speech therfore I beleeve, ariseth of men that have witt kud with
learning and practise have gotten a good jUdgement and with it
consent and agree to receive the wordes that they thinke good, which
are knowen by a certaine naturall judgement, and not by art or any
manner rule.
Doe
you not knowe, that figures of speech which give such grace and
brightnesse to an Oration, are all the abuse of Grammer rules, but
yet are received and confirmed by use, because men are able to make
no other reason but that they delite, and to the verie sense of our
eares it appeareth, they bring a life and a sweetnes.
And this believe I is
good custome, which the Romanes, the Neapolitans, the Lumbards, and
the rest are as apt to receive, as the Tuskanes. Truth it is, in
everie tongue some things are alwaies good, as easiness to be
understood, a good order, varietie, picked sentences, clauses well
framed: and on the other side Affectation+, and
the other contrary to these, are to bee shunned.
But of words some there
are that last a good time, and afterwarde waxe stale and cleane lose
their grace: other some take force and creepe into estimation.
For as the seasons of
the yeare make leaves and fruites to fall, and afterwarde garnish
the trees a fresh with other: even so, doth time make those first
wordes to fall, and use maketh other to spring a fresh, and giveth
them grace and estimation, until they in like sorte consumed by
litle and litle with the envyous byting of time, come to their end,
because at the last both wee and whatsoever is ours, are mortall.
Consider with our
selves, that we have no more knowledge of the Osca tongue. The
Provinciall tongue, that (a man may say) the last dav was renowmed
of noble writers, now is it not understoode of the inhabitants of
the Countrey.
I
believe therefore (as the Lorde Magnifico hath saide) that were
Petrarca and Boceaccio at this present in life, they woulde not use
many words that we see in their
<302>
THE COURTIER writings.
Therefore (in mine opinion) it is not wel done to follow them
therein.
Yet doe I
much commend them that can follow that ought to be followed: but
notwithstanding I believe it be possible inough to write well
without following, and especially in this our tongue, wherein we may
bee helped by custome, the which I wil not take upon me in the
Latin.
Then Sir
Fredericke, why, will you (quoth hee) custome should bee more
apprised in the vulgar tongue, than in the Latin? Nay, both in the
one and the other (answered the Count) I judge custome ought to bee
the mistresse. But for so much as those men, unto whom the Latin
tongue was as proper, as is the vulgar tongue now to us, are no more
in the world, we must learne of their writinges that they learned by
use and custome: neither doth auncient speach signifle any thing els
but an auncient custome of speach: and it were a fond matter to love
the auncient speach for nothing els but to speake rather as men did
speake, than as men doe speake? Did not they then of olde time
follow, answered Sir Fredericke? I believe, (quoth the Count) many
did follow, but not in every point.
And if Virgill had
altogether followedHesiodus+, hee should not have passed him,
nor Cicero+ Crassus, nor Ennius+ his predecessors.
Behold Homer+, who is so ancient that he is
thought of many to be the first heroicall Poete, as well of time, as
also of excellencie of phrase: and whom will you have him to have
followed? Some other, answered Sir Fredericke, more auncient than he
was, which wee heare not of, by reason of antiquitie.
Whom will you say then
Petrarca and Boceaccio followed, said the Count, which (a man may
say) were but three dayes agoe in the world?
<303>
CASTIGLIONE I know not,
answered Sir Fredericke, but it is to bee thought they in like wise
bent their minde to following, though we know not of whom.
The Count answered: a
man may believe that they that were followed, were better than they
that did follow: and it were too great a wonder that their name and
renowne, if they were good, should so soone bee cleane lost. But I
believe their verie maister was witt, and their owne naturall
inclination and judgement. And thereat no man ought to wonder, for
(in a manner) alwaies a man by sundrie waies may cllimbe to the top
of all perfection.
And there is no nature, that hath not in manye things of like sorte
unlike the one to the other, which for al that among themselves
deserve a like praise.
Marke me musike,
wherein are harmonies sometime of base sound and slow, and
otherwhile verie quicke and of new devises, yet doe they all
recreate a man, but for sundrie causes, as a man may perceive in the
manner of smging that Bido useth, which is so artificiall, cunning,
vehement, stirred, and such sundrie melodies, that the spirites of
the hearers move all and are inflamed, and so listing, a man would
weene they were lift up into heaven.
And no lesse doth our
Marchetto Cara move in his singing, but with a more soft harmony,
that by a delectable way and full of mourning sweetenes maketh
tender and perceth the mind, and sweetly imprinteth in it a passion
full of great delite.
Sundrie thinges in like
manner doe equally pleise our eyes so much that a man shall have
much a doe to judge in which they most delite.
Behold in
painting Lenard-Vincio+, Mantegna+,Raphael+, Michelagelo, George of
Castelfranco: they are all most excellent doers, yet are they in
working unlike, but in any of them a man would not judge that there
wanted ought in his kinde of trade: for everie one is knowne to bee
of most perfection after his manner.
<304>
THE COURTIER The like is of
many Poets both Greeke and Latin, Which being diverse in writing are
alike in prayse.
Orators also have alwaies had such a diversitie among them, as (in a
manner) every age hath brought forth and set by one sorte of Orators
peculiar for that time, which have beene unlike and disagreeing not
onely to their predecessors and followers but also among them
selves. As it is written among the Grecians of Isocrates+, Lysias+, Eschines+, and many other
excellent, but yet like unto none saving themselves.
And among the
Latins, Carbo+, Loelius+,
Scipio_Affricanus, Galba+, Sulpitius+, Cotta+, Graccus+, Marcus_Antonius+Crassus+, and so many that
it should be long to repeate them, all good and most divers one from
another. So that who so could consider al the Orators that have
beene in the world, he should finde so many Orators, so manie kindes
of speach.
Me
thinke I remember also that Cicero+ in a
place bringeth in Marcus Antonius to say unto Sulpitius that there
are many that follow no man, and yet climbe they to a high degree of
excellencie.
And
speaketh of certaine that had brought up a new stile and phrase of
speaking faire, but not used of Orators of that time wherein they
followed none but themselves.
Therefore he affirmeth
also that maisters should consider the nature of their scholers, and
taking it for their guide, direct and prompt them in the way that
their wit and naturall inclination moveth them unto. { Officiis+} For this cause
therefore, Sir Fredericke, doe I believe if a man have not an
inclination unto some author whatsoever he bee, it were not well
done to force him to follow him.
Because the vertue of
that disposition of his soone fainteth, and is hindred, by reason
that it is to stray out of the way in which he would have profited,
had he not beene stopped in it.
I know not then how it
will stand well, in steade of enriching this tongue, and of givine
it majestie and 1ight, to make it ppore, slender, bare and darke,
and to seeke to
<305>
CASTIGLIONE shut it up into so
narrow a roome, that everye man should.
bee compelled to follow
onely Petrarca and Boceaccio, and that we should not also in that
tongue, credite Politian+,Laurence_de_Medicis+, Francis Diaceto+, and certain other that
notwistanding are Tuskanes, and perhaps of no lesse.
learning and judgement
than Petrarea and Boccaccio.
And truely it should
bee a great miserie to stop without.
wading any further than
almost the first that ever wrote: and to dispaire, that so many and
so noble wits shall never finde out any moe than one good manner of
speach in the tongue that unto them is proper and naturall.
But now adaies there be
some so scrupulous, that (as it were) with a religion and high
mysteries of this their Tuskan tongue, put as many as heareth in
such dread, that they bring in like case many gentlemen and learned
men in such awe, that they dare not open their mouth: and confesse
plainely, that they can not speake the tongue which they have
learned of their nourses, even from tiieir cradle.
But in this point (me
think) we have spoken too much. Therefore let us now
proceede in our communication of the Courtier.
Then answered Sir
Fredericke: but first I will say this litle, which is, that I deny
not but the opinions and writers of men are diverse among them
selves: neither doe I judge it comely for one that is vehement and
quicke of nature to take in hand to write of soft and quiet matters.
Nor yet for an
other that is severe and grave to write of mery conceites. For in
this point, me think, it is reason every man should apply him selfe
to his own proper inclination. And of this I believe spake Cicero,
when he said that maisters should have a consideration to the nature
of their scholars, { Officiis+} least they should do
like the ill husbandman, that sometime in a soyle that is good onely
for vines, will sowe graine.
But it will not sinke
into my heade why in a peculiar tongue, that is not so proper unto
all men, as are discourses
<306>
THE COURTIER and conceites, and
many other operations, but an invention contained under certaine
termes, a man may not with more reason followe them that speake
best, than speake at all aventure. And that, as in the Latin tongue
a man ought to apply himselfe to be in the tongue like unto Virgill+ andCicero+ rather
than Silius+ and Cornelius Tacitus+, so
in the vulgar tongue why it were not better to follow the tongue of
Petrarca and Boceaccio than any mans else: and therein expresse well
his owne conceites, and so apply himselfe as (Cicero saith) to his
own naturall inclination. {Officiis+}
And thus shall the difference which you say is betweene the good
Orators, be found to consist in the senses and not in the tongue.
Then the Count, I
feare me (quoth he) wee shall enter into a large sea, and leave our
first purpose of the courtier.
But I would knowe of
you, wherein consisteth the goodness of this tongue? Sir Fredericke
answered: in keeping well the propertie of it, and in taking it in
the signification (using the same stile and measure) that all such
have done as have written well.
I would know then,
quoth the Count, whether this stile and measure which you speake of,
arise of the sentences or of the wordes? Of the wordes, answered Sir
Fredericke. Doe you not thinke then, quoth the Count, that the
wordes of Silius and Cornelius Tacitus+, are the
verie same that Virgill+ and Cicero+ use?
and taken in the same signification? Sir Fredericke aunswered: they
are the very same in deede, but some ill applyed and diversly taken.
The Count answered:
in case a man should picke out of a booke of Cornelius and of
Silius, all the wordes placed in other signification than is in
Virgil and Cicero, (which shoulde bee very few) would you not then
say that Cornelius in the tongue were equall with Cicero, and Silius
with Virgill? Then the Ladie Emilia, me thinve (quoth she) this your
<307>
CASTIGLIONE disputation hath
lasted too lone, and hath beene very tedious, therefore it shall be
best to deferre it untill an other time.
Sir Fredericke begun
stil to make answere, but the Ladie Emilia alwais interrupted him.
At last the Count
saide, many will judge of styles and talke of numbers and measures,
and of following, but they can not doe mee to understand what manner
a thing stile and measure is, and wherein following consisteth: Nor
why thinges taken out of Homer or any other, are so well couched in
Virgill, that they appeare rather amplified than followed, and
peradventure the occasion thereof is, that I am not able to conceive
it.
But because a
great argument that a man understandeth a thing, is the
understanding that hee hath to teache it, I feare mee they
themselves have small understanding in it, and praise Virgill and
Cicero, because they heare them praysed of many, not for that they
know the difference betwene them and others, which out of
peradventure consisteth not in the observation of two or three, or
of ten wordes used after a diverse manner from other.
In Salust+,
in Cesar+, in Varro+, and in
other good writers, there are founde some termes applyed otherwise
than Cicero applyeth them, and both the one and the other doe well
inough. Because in so trifling a matter the goodnesse and perfection
of a tongue doth not consist, as Demosthenes+
answered Eschines+ well, that had taken him up,
demaunding him of certaine wordes which he had used and yet were not
auncient, what monsters, or woondrous matters they were? whereat
Demosthenes laughed and answered him, that the fortunes of Greece
dependeth not upon them.
Even so woulde I passe
full litle, if a Tuskane should reprehend mee for speaking rather
Satisfatto then Sodisfatto: and Honorevole, than Horrevole: and
Causa, than Cagione: and Populo, than Popolo, and such other
matters.
Then arose
Sir Fredericke upon his ferte and saide: I beseech ye give the
hearing of these few words.
<308>
THE COURTIER The Ladie Emilia
answered laughing, upon my displeasure I forbid any of you to talke
anye more in this matter, for I will have you to breake it of until
an other night.
But
you Count, proceede you in your communication of the Courtier, and
let us see how good a memory you have: for I believe if you can knit
it againe where you brake of, you shall not doe a litle.
Madam, answered the
Count, me thinke the threed is broken in sunder, but if I be not
deceived, I trow wee saide that pestilent curiositie+ doth alwaies give
an evill grace unto all thinges: and contrariwise simplicitie+ and Rechlesnesse+ a
marvailous good grace. In commendation whereof and in dispraise of
curiositie, manye other thinges might be saide, yet will I alledge
but one moe, and then have done.
All women generally
have a great desire to be, and when they can not be at the least to
appeare beawtifull.
Therefore where nature in some part hath not done her devoir,
therein they endevour them selves to supply it with arte. Of this
ariseth the trimming of the face, with such studie and many times
paines, the pilling of the browes and forehead, and the using of all
those manner waies, and the abyding of such lothsomnesse that you
women believe are kept very secrete from men, and yet doe all men
know them.
The
Ladie Constance Fregosa laughed at this and saide: you should doe
much better to goe forwarde in your communication, and declare how a
man may attaine a good grace, and speak of Courting, than to
discover the faultes of women without purpose.
Nay it is much to
purpose, answered the Count, because these faultes that I talke of,
take this grace from you: for they proceede of nothing els, but of
curiousnesse, whereby ye discover openly unto every man the over
great desire that yee have to be beawtifull.
Doe you not marke how
much more grace is in a woman,
<309>
CASTIGLIONE that if she doth trimme her selfe, doth it so
scarcely and so litle, that who so beholdeth her, standeth in doubt
whether she bee trimmed or no: than in an other so bedawbed, that a
man would wene she had a viser on her face, and dareth not laugh for
making it chappe: nor at any time changeth her colour, but when she
apparaileth her selfe in the morning and all the rest of the day
standeth like an image of woode without moving, shewing her selfe
onely in torche light, as craftie marchantmen doe their clothes in
their darke lights.
I How much more then doth a man delite in one, I meane not foule,
that is manifestly seene she hath nothing upon her face, though shee
bee not white nor so redde, but with her naturall colour somewhat
wan, sometime with blushing, or through other chaunce dyed with a
pure rednesse, with her haire by happe out of order and ruffled, and
with her simple and naturall gestures, without shewing her selfe to
bestow diligence or studie to make her faire? This is that not
regarded purenesse which best pleaseth the eyes and mindes of men,
that stand alwaies in awe to WO: be deceived by arte.
White teeth is a good
sight in a woman, for since they are not so in open sight as is the
face, but most commonly are hid, a man may thinke she bestoweth not
so much labour about them, to make them white, as she doth in the
face.
Yet who so
should laugh without cause purposely to shew them, shoulde discover
the arte, and for all their faire whitenesse shoulde appeare unto
all men to have a verie ill grace, as Egatius in Catullus+.
The like is in the
hands, which being delicate, smooth and faire, if they be shewed
bare at any time when occasion is to occupie them, and not of
purpose to shew the beawtie of them, they leave a very great desire
of them selves, and especially after they are covered with gloves
againe, for a man woulde judge that in putting them on again she
passeth not and litle regardeth whether they be
<310>
THE COURTIER in sight or no,
and that they are so faire rather by nature, than by any studie or
diligence.
Have ye
not had an eye otherwhile, when either in the streetes going to
Church, or in any other place, or in sporting or by any other
chaunce it happeneth that a woman lifteth up her clothes so high,
that she sheweth her foote, and sometime a litle of her pretie legge
unwittingly? And seemeth she not to you to have a verie good grace,
if ye behold her then With a certaine womanly disposition, cleanely
and precise, with her shoes of velvet, and her hose sitting cleane
to her legge? Truely it delyteth mee much, and I believe all of you:
for every man supposeth that precisenesse in so secrete a place and
so seldom seene, to be unto that woman rather naturall and proper,
than forced, and that thereby she thinketh to get her no
commendation at all.
In such sorte is
curiousnesse avoided and covered, the which you may now conceive how
contrarie it is, and taketh away the grace of everie operation and
deed, as well of the bodie as of the minde, whereof hetherto we have
spoken but litle, and yet ought it not to bee omitted, for as the
minde is much more worthie than the body, so deserveth it also to be
better decked and polished.
And how that ought to
be in our Courtier (leaving apart the precepts of so manie wise
Philosophers that write in this matter, and define the vertues of
the mind, and so subtilly dispute of the dignitie of them) we will
expresse in fewe wordes, applying to our purpose, that sufficient he
bee (as they terme it conimonly) and honest_man+ and
wel meaning: {benevolent+} for in this is comprehended the
goodnesse, the wisdom+, the manliness+, and
the temperance+ of the mind, and
all other qualities that belong to so worthie a name. And I recken
him onely a truemorall_Philosopher+ that will be good, and
to that he needeth few other precepts than that will of his.
And therefore
saide Socrates+ well, that he thought
his
<311>
CASTIGLIONE instructions had
brought forth good fruite, when by them hee had provoked any one to
apply his will to the knowledge and learning of vertue+. For
they that are come to the point that they covet nothing more than to
begood+, doe easily attaine the
understanding of all that belongeth thereto: therefore herein wil we
make no more adoe.
But beside goodnesse the true and principall ornament of the minde
in every man (I believe) are letters+,
althoutfh ye Frenchmen know onely the noblenes of armes, and passe
for nothing beside: so that they doe not onely set by letters, but
they rather abhorre them, and all learned men they doe count very
rascalles, and they thinke it a great villany when any one of them
is called a Clarke. {pedantry+} Then answered the Lord Magnifico,
you say verye true, this error in deed hath longe raigned among the
Frenchmen. But if Monseigneur de Angoulesme/10 have so good luke
that he may (as men hope) succede in the Crowne, the glory of armes
in France doth not so florish nor is had in such estimation, as
letters will be, I believe.
For it is not long sins
I was in France, and saw this Prince in the Court there, who seemed
unto mee beside the handsomnesse of person and bewtie of visage, to
have in his countenance so great a majestie accompanied
neverthelesse with a certaine lovely courtesie+, that
the realme of Fraunce shoulde ever seeme unto him a smal matter. { burden+} I understood afterwarde by
many gentlemen both French and Italian, verie much of the most noble
conditions, of the greatnesse of courage+,
prowesse and liberalitie+ that was in him: and among
other things, it was told me, that hee highly loved and
esteemed letters+, and had in verv ereat reputation
all learned men, and blamed the Frenchmen themselves that their
mindes were so far wide from this profession, especially having at
their doores so noble an universitie as Paris is, where all the
world resorteth.
Then spake the Count: It is great wonder that in these tender
yeares, onely by the provocation of nature, contrarie to the manner
of the countrie, he hath given him
<312>
THE COURTIER selfe to so good a
way. And because subjectes follow alwaies the conditions of the
higher powers, it is possible that it may come to passe (as you say)
that ye Frenchmen will yet esteeme letters to be of that dignitie
that they are in deede. The which (if they will give eare thereto)
they may soone bee perswaded. Forsomuch as men ought to covet of
nature nothing so much, and nothing is more proper for them,
than knowledge+: which thing it were a great
folly to say or to holde opinion that it is not alwaies good.
And in case I might
commune with them, or with other that were of a contrary opinion to
me, I would doe my diligence to shew them, how much letters (which
undoubtedlye have beene graunted of God unto men for a soveraigne
gift) are profitable and necessarie for our life and estimation.
Neither should I want the examples of so many excellent captaines of
old time, which all joyned the ornament of letters with prowesse of
armes.
For (as you
know) Alexander+ had Homer+ in such reverence, that hee
laide his Ilias alwaies under his beds heade: and hee applyed
diligently not these studies onely, but also the speculations of
Philosophy under the discipline of Aristotle+.
Alcibiades+
encreased his good conditions, and made them greater with letters,
and with the instructions of Socrates+.
Also what
diligence Cesar+ used in studie, those thinges which
hee had so divinelye writen him selfe, make triall.
It is saide
that Scipio_Africanus+ carried alwaies in his
hand the bookes of
Xenophon+, wherein under the name
ofCyrus+ he instructeth a perfect king.
I coulde recite unto
you Lucullus+, Sylla+,Pompeius+, Brutus+, and
many other Romanes and Grecians, but I woulde doe no more but make
mention of Hannibal+, which being so excellent a
Captaine (yet for all that of a fierce nature and voide of all
humanity, an untrue dealer, and a despiser of men and of the Gods)
had also understanding in letters, and the knowledge of the Greeke
tongue.
<313>
CASTIGLIONE And if I bee not
deceived (I trow) I have redde in my time, that he left a booke
behinde him of his own making in the Greeke tongue. But this kinde
of talke is more than needeth: for I knowe all you understand how
much the Frenchmen be deceived in holding opinion letters to doe any
hurt to armes.
You
know in great matters and adventures in wars the true provocation
is glory+: and who so for lucres sake
or for any other consideration taketh it in hande (beside that hee
never doth any thing worthie prayse) deserveth not the name of a
gentleman, but is a most vile marchant+.
And every man may
conceive it to be true glory, that is stored up in the holy treasure
of letters, except such unluckie creatures as have no taste thereof.
What minde is so
fainte, so bashfull, and of so base a courage, that in reading the
actes and greatnes of Cesar, Alexander, Scipio, Annibal, and so many
other, is not incensed with a most fervent lonqing to be like them:
and doth not preferre the getting of that perpetuall fame, before
the rotten life that lasteth two dayes? Which in despite of death
maketh him live a great deale more famous than before. {posterity+} But hee that favoureth not the
sweetnes of letters, can not know how much is the gereatnesse
of glory+, which is a long while
preserved by them and only measureth it with the age of one or two
men, for further hee beareth not in minde. Therefore can be not
esteeme this short glory so much as he would doe that, which (in a
manner) is everlasting, if by his ill happe hee were not barred from
the, knowledge of it. And not passing upon it so much, reason
forswadeth, and a man may well believe hee will never regard
himselfe so much to come by it, as hee that knoweth it.
I woulde not now some
one of the contrarie parte should alledge unto mee the contrarie
effectes to confute mine opinion with all: and tell mee how the
Italians with their
<314>
THE COURTIER knowledge of
letters have shewed small prowesse in armes from a certaine time
hetherto, the which neverthelesse is too true: but in very deed a
man may well say that the offence of a few, hath brought (beside the
great damage) an everlasting reproch unto all other, and the verie
cause of our confusion, and of the neglecting of vertue+ in our mindes (if it bee
not cleane deade) proceeded of them.
But it were a more
shamefull matter unto us to publish it, than unto the Frenchmen the
ignorance in letters.
Therefore it is better
to passe that over with silence that cannot bee rehearsed without
sorrow, and leaving this purpose into the which I am entred against
my wil, returne againe unto our Courtier, whom in letters I will
have to be more than indifferently well seene, at the least in those
studies, which they call Humanitie+ and to
have not onely the understanding of the Latin+ tongue,
but also of theGreek+, because of the many and sundrie
things that with great excellencie are written in it.
Let him much exercise
him selfe in Poets+, and no lesse in Oratours+ and Historiographers+, and also in writing both
rime and prose, and especially in this our vulgar tongue.
For beside the
contentation that hee shall receive thereby him selfe, hee shall by
this meanes never want pleasant intertainements with women which
ordinarily love such matters.
And if by reason either
of his other businesse beside, or of his slender studie hee shall
not attaine unto that perfec- tion that his writings may bee worthy
much commendation, let him bee circumspect in keeping them close,
least he make other men to laugh at him. Onely hee may shew them to
a friende whom he may trust.
For at the least wise
hee shall receive so much profit, that by that exercise hee shall be
able to give his judgement upon other mens doinges. For it happeneth
very seldome, that a man not exercised in writing, how learned
soever he be, can at any time know perfectly the labour and toile of
writers, or tast of the sweetnesse and excellency of styles,
<315>
CASTIGLIONE and those inner
observations that often times are founde in them of olde time.
And beside that, those
studies shal make him copious, and as Aristippus+
answered a Tirant+) bold to speake upon a good ground
with every man.
Notwithstanding I will have our Courtier to keepe fast in his minde
one lesson, and that is this, to bee alwaies warie both in this and
in everie other point, and rather fearefull than bolde, and beware
that hee perswade not himselfe falsly, to know the thing he knoweth
not in deede.
Because we are of nature all the sort of us much more reedy of
prayse than is requisite, and better do our eares love the melodie
of wordes sounding to our praise, than any other song or sound that
is most sweete. And therefore many times like the voyees of Marmaidens+, they are the cause of drowning
him that doth not well stoppe his eares at such deceitfull, harmony.
This daunger being
perceived, there hath beene among the auncient wise men that have
writen bookes, how a man should knowe a true friend from a flatterer+. But what availeth
it? If there bee many of them (or rather infinite) that manifestly
perceive they are flattered, and yet love him that flattereth them,
and hate him that telleth them thetroth+.
And oftentimes
(standing in opinion that he that prayseth them is too scarce in his
wordes) they them selves helpe him forwarde, and utter such matters
of themseves, that the most impudent flatterer of all is ashamed of.
Let us leave these
blinde buzzards in their owne errour, and make our Courtier of so
good a judgement, that he will not bee given to understand blacke
for white, nor presume more of him nor presumed more of himself then
he knoweth very manifostly to be true, {self_criticism+}
and especially in those thinges, which(if yee bee Well in minde) the
Lorde Cesar rehearsed in his devise of pastimes, that we have many
times used for an instrument to make many become foolish. But rather
that hee may be assured not to fall into any error, where he
<316>
THE COURTIER knoweth those
prayses that are given him to be true, let him not so openly consent
to them, nor confirme them so without resistance, but rather
with modestie+ (in a manner) deny them
cleane, shewing alwaies and counting in effect arms to be his
principall profession, and all the other good qualities for an
ornament thereof.
and principally among souldiers least he bee like unto in learning
will seeme like men of warre, and among men of warre, learned.
In this wise, for the
reasons we have said, he shall avoide curiousnesse, and the meane
thinges which he taketh in hand, shall appeare very great.
Here M. Peter Bembo
answered: I know not (Count Lewis) how you will have this Courtier,
being learned, and of so many other vertuous qualities, to count
every thing for an ornament of armes, and not armes, and the rest
for an ornament of letters. The which without other addition, are in
dignitie so much above armes, as the mind Is above the bodie:
because the practising of them belongeth properly to the minde, even
as the practising of armes doth the bodies.
The Count answered
then: nay the practising of armes belongeth as well to the minde as
to the bodie. But I would not have you (maister Peter) a judge in
this cause, for you would be too partiall to one of the partes.
And for so much as this
disputation hath alreadie beene tossed a long time by most wise men,
we need not to renue it, but I count it resolved upon armes+ side, and wil have our Courtier
(since I have the fashioning of him at my will) thinke thus also.
And if you be of a
contrarie opinion, tarrie till you heare a disputation, where it may
bee as well lawfull for him that taketh part with armes, to use his
armes, as they that defend letters, use in the defence the verie
samE letters, so that if each helpe them selves with their
instruments, you shall see that letters shall loose.
Oh (quoth maister
Peter) you rebuked the Frenchmen
<317>
CASTIGLIONE before for setting
litle by letters, and declared what a great light of glory they shew
unto men, and how they make them immortall: and now it seemeth you
are in an other opinion.
Doe you not remember
that such verses are taken out of Petrarch+.
The great Macedo, when
he proched neare Fieree Achylles famous tomb thus saide and sight: O
happie Prince that found a trumpe so cleare, And happie he that
praisde so worthie a wight.
And if Alexander
envied Achilles+, not for his deedes,
but for his fortune that gave him so great lucke to have his actes
renowmed by Homer+, a man may gather hee esteemed more
the letters of Homer, than the armes of Achilles.
What other judge then,
or what other sentence looke you for, as touchine the dignitie of
armes and letters, than that which was given by one of the greatest
Captaines that ever were? The Count answered: I blame the Frenchmen
because they think letters hurt the profession of armes: and I holde
opinion that it is not so necessary for any man to be learned, as it
is for a man of warre.
And these two points
linked together, and aided the one by the other (which is most fit)
will I have to bee in the Courtier. Neither do I thinke my selfe for
this to be in an other opinion, but (as I have said) I will not
dispute, which of them is most worthie prayse.
It sufficeth that
learned men take not in hand[ at anie time to praise any but great
men and glorious actes, which of them selves deserve praise by their
proper essential] vertues from whence they arise.
Beside that, they are a
most noble Theme for writers, which is a great ornament, and partly
the cause of continuance of writinges, that peradventure shoulde not
be so
<318>
THE COURTIER much read, and set
by, if there wanted in them noble matter, but counted vaine and of
small reputation.
And if Alexander envied Achilles, because hee was praised of him
that did it, yet doth it not consequently follow, that he esteemed
letters more than armes. Wherein he had knowne him selfe so farre
wide from Achilles, as in writing hee thought all they would be from
Homer that shoulde goe about to write of him, I am sure hee would
much sooner have desired well doing in himselfe, than well speaking
in an other.
Therefore think I that this was a close praise of him selfe, and a
wishing for that he thought he had not, namely the high excellencie
of a writer, and not for that hee thought with him selfe hee had
alreadie obtained, that is to say, the prowesse of armes, wherein
hee counted not Achilles any whit his superior, wherefore he called
him happie, as it were signifying, where his fame aforetime was not
so renowmed in the worlde, as was the fame that by so divine a Poeme
was cleare and excellent, it proceeded not for that his prowesse and
deserts were not such, and worthie so much praise: but it arose
of fortune+, that had before hand
prepared for Achilles, that miracle of nature for a glorious renowne
and trumpet of his acts.
And peradventure againe
he minded thereby to stirre up some noble witt to write of himselfe,
declaring thereby how acceptable it would be to him, forsomuch as
bee loved and reverenced the holy monuments of letters: about the
which we have spoken sufficient.
Nay more than
sufficient, answered the Lord Lodovicus Pins, for I believe there is
never a vessell in the world possible to be found so bigge, that
shall bee able to receive all the thinges that you will have in this
Courtier.
Then the
Count, abide yet a while (quoth hee) for there be many other thinges
to be had in him yet.
Peter of Naples
answered: after this manner Crassus de Medicis shall have a great
advantage of M. Peter Bembo.
<319>
CASTIGLIONE At this they all
laughed. And the Count beginning a fresh, my Lords (quoth he) you
thinke I am not pleased with ye Courtier, if he be not also a
Musition, and beside his understanding and cunning upon the book,
have skil in like manner on sundry instruments. For if wee weigh it
well, ther is no ease of the labors, and medicines of feeble mindes
to be found more honest and more praise worthie in time of leisure
than it. And principally in Courtes, where (beside the refreshing of
vexations that musike bringeth unto eche man) many things are taken
in hand to please women withall, whose tender and soft breastes are
soone pierced with melodie, and filled with sweetnesse. { Jessica+} Therefore no marvell,
that in olde times and now adayes they have alwaies beene inclined
to Musitions, and counted this a most acceptable food of the minde.
Then the L. Gasper,
I believe musick (quoth he) together with many other vanities is
meet for women, and peradventure for some also that have the
likenesse of men, but not for them that be men in deede: who ought
not with such delicacies to womanish their mindes, and bring them
selves in that sort to dread death+.
Speake it not, answered
the Count. For I shall enter in a large sea of the praise of
Musicke, and call to rehearsar how much it hath alwaies beene
renowmed among them of olde time, and counted a holy matter: and how
it hath beene the opinion of most wise Philosophers, that the world
is made of musike and the heavens in their moving make a melody, and
our soul is framedafter the very same sort and lifts up it selfe,
and (as it were) reviveth the vertuu and force of itself with
Musicke.
Wherefore
it is written that Alexander was so fervently stirred with it that
(in a manner) against his will he was forced to arise from bankets
and runne to weapon, afterward the Musition chaunging the stroke,
and his manner of tune, pacified him selfe again, and returned from
weapon to banketing.
And I shall tell you
that grave Socrates+ when he was
<320>
THE COURTIER well stricken in
yeares, learned to play upon the harpe.
And I remember I have
understoode that Plato+ and Aristotle+
will have a man that is wel brought up, to be also a Musition: and
declare with infinite reasons the force of musicke to bee to very
great purpose in us, and for many causes (that should be too long to
rehearse) ought necessarily to be learned from a mans childhood, not
onely for the superficiall melodie that is heard, but to be
sulficient to bring into us a new habite+ that is
good, and a custome inclining tovertue+, which
maketh the minde more apt to the conceiving of Felicity even as
bodely exercise refresheth the body more lusty and not only hurteth
not civil matters and warlike affaires but is a great stay to them.
{Jessica+} Also Lycurgus+ in his sharp lawes allowed
musicke. And it is read that the Lacedemonians, which were valiant
in armes, and the Cretenses used harpes, and other soft instruments:
and many most excellent Captaines of olde time (as Epaminondas+) gave themselves
to musicke: and such as had not a sight in it (as Themistocles+) the lesse set by.
Have you not reade,
that among the first instructions which the good olde man Chiron
taught Achilles in his tender age whom he had brought up from his
nurse and cradle, musicke was one? And the wise maister woulde have
those handes that should shedde so much Troyan bloud, to bee often
times occupied in playing upon the Harpe? What souldier is there
(therefore) that will thinke it a shame to follow Achilles,
omittinœr many other famous Captaines that I could alledire? Doe ye
not then deprive our Courtier of Musicke+, which
doth not onely make sweete the mindes of men, but also many times
wild beasts tame: and who so savoureth it not, a man may assuredly
thinke him not to be well in his wits. { Shylock+}
Behold I pray you what force it hath, that in times past
<321>
CASTIGLIONE allured a fish to
suffer a man to ride upon it through the tempestuous sea.
We may see it used in
the holy temples, to render laud and thankes unto God, and it is a
credible matter that it is acceptable unto him, and that he hath
given it unto us for a most sweete lightning of our travailes and
vexations.
So that
many times the boysterous labours in the fields, in the heat of the
sun, beguile their paine with rude and carterly singing.
With this the
unmannerly countrie woman, that ariseth before day out of her sleepe
to spinne and carde, defendeth her selfe and maketh her labour
pleasant.
This is
the most sweete pastime after raine, winde and tempest, unto the
miserable marriners.
With this doe the verie
Pilgrimes comfort themselves in their troublesome and long voyages.
And oftentimes pris- oners, in adversitie, fetters and in stockes.
In like manner for
a greater proofe, that the tunablenesse of musick (though it be but
rude) is a verie great refreshing of all worldlye paines and
griefes, a man woulde judge that nature hath taught it unto nurses
for a speciall remedie to the continuall waylings of suckinq babes,
which at the sound of their voice fall into a quiet and sweete
sleepe, fofgetting the teares that are so proper to them, and given
us of nature in that age, for a gesse of the rest of our life to
come.
Here the
Count pausing a while, the L. Julian said: I am not of the Lorde
Gaspers opinion, but I believe for the reasons you alledge, and for
many other, that musicke is not only an ornament, but also
necessarie for a Courtier.
But I would have you
declare, how this and the other qualities which you appoint him, are
to bee practised, and of what time, and in what sort. Because many
thinges that of themselves be worthie praise, oftentimes in
practising them out of reason seeme most foolish. And contrariewise,
some thinges that appeare to bee of small moment, in the well
applying them, are greatly esteemed.
<322>
THE COURTIER Then said the
Count: before we enter into this matter, I will talke of an other
thing, which for that it is of importance (in my judgement) I
believe our Courtier ought in no wise to leave it out. And that is
the cunning in drawing+ and the knowledge in the verie arte
of painting.
And
wonder ye not if I wish this feate in him, which now adayes
perhappes is counted an handicraft+ { amateur+} and full litle to become
a gentleman, for I remember I have reade that the men of olde time,
and especially in all Greece, would have gentlemens children in the
scholes to apply painting, as a matter both honest and necessarie.
And this was received in the first degree of liberall_artes+, afterwarde openly enacted
not to bee taught to servants and bondmen.
Among the Romanes in
like manner it was in verie great reputation, and thereof sprung the
sirname of the most noble family of Fabii+, for the
first Fabius was sirnamed Pictor, because in deed he was a most
excellent Painter, and so addicted to painting, that after hee had
painted the walles of the temple of Health, hee writte therein his
name, thinking with him selfe, that for all he was borne in so noble
a familie, which was honoured with so many titles of Consulshippes
and triumphes, and other dignities, and was learned and well seene
in the law, and reckoned among orators, to give also an increase of
brightenesse, and an ornament unto his renowne, by leaving behind
him a memorie that he had beene a Painter.
There have not in like
manner wanted many other of notable families that have beene
renowned in this arte, of the which (beside that in it selfe it is
most noble and worthie) there ensue many commodities, and especially
in warre, to draw out Countries, Platformes, Rivers, Bridges,
Castels, Holdes, Fortresses, and such other matters, the which
though a man were able to keepe in minde (and that is a hard matter
to doe) yet can he not shew them to others.
And in verie deed who
so esteemeth not this arte, is (to my seeming) farre wide from all
reason: for somuch as
<323>
CASTIGLIONE the ensigne of the
world that we behold with a large skye, so bright with shining
starres, and in the middest, the earth, environed with the seas,
severed in partes with hilles, dales, and rivers, and so decked with
such divers trees, beautifull flowers and herbes, a man may say it
to be a noble and great painting, drawne with the hand of nature and
of God: the which who so can follow, in mme opinion worthie much
commendation. Neither can a man attaine to this, without the
knowledge of many thinges, as he well knoweth that tryeth it.
Therefore had they of
old time in very great estimation, both the arte and the artificers,
so that it came to the toppe of all excellencie.
And of this may a man
gather a sufficient argument at the auncient Images of Marble and
mettall, which at this day are to bee seene. And though Painting bee
a diverse matter from carving, yet doe they both arise of one selfe
fountaine (namely) of a good patterne.
And even as, the Images
are divine and excellent, so it is to be thought paintinges were
also, and so much the more, for that they containe in them a greater
workemanship.
Then
the Ladie Emilia turning her unto John Christopher Romano, that sate
there among the rest, howe thinke you (quoth she) to this judgement,
will you graunt that painting containeth in it a greater
workemanshipe, than carving? John Christopher answered: in my minde
carving is of more travaile, of more arte, and of more dignitie than
painting.
Then
saide the Count, Because Images are more durable, perhaps a man may
say that they are of a more dignitie.
For sith they are made
for a memorie, they better satisfie the effect why they be made,
than painting.
But
beside memorie, both painting, and carving are made also to set out
a thing, and in this point hath painting a great deale the upper
hand, the which though it be not so long lasting (to tenne it so) as
carving is, yet doth it for all
<324>
THE COUIRTIER that endure a
long time, and for the while it lasteth, is much more sightly.
Then answered John
Christopher: I believe verily you think not as you speake, and all
this doe you for your Raphaelles+ sake.
And peradventure
too, you judge the excellencie you know to bee in him in painting,
to be of such perfection, that carving in Marble can not come to
that degree. But waigh with your selfe, that this is the prayse of
the artificer, and not of the arte.
Then he proceeded: and
I judge also both the one and the other, to bee an artificiall
following of nature. But yet I knowe not how you can say, that the
truth and property that nature maketh, can not bee followed better
in a figure of Marble or Mettall, wherein the members are all rounde
proporcioned and measured as nature her selfe shapeth them, than in
a Table, where men perceive nothing but the outwarde sight, and
those colours that deceive the eyes: and say not to me, that being,
is not nigher unto the truth than seeming.
Againe, I judge carving
in Marble much harder, because if yee make a faulte, it can not be
amended againe, for marble can not be joyned together, but ye must
be driven to make a hew Image.
The whiche happeneth
not in painting, for a man may alter, put to, and diminish, alwaies
making it better.
The Count saide laughing: I speake not for Raphaelles sake, neither
ought you to think me so ignorant a person, but I understand the
excellencie of Michaelangelo+,
of you your selfe, and of other men in carving of Marble, but I
speake of the arte, and not of the Artificers.
And you say weH, that,
both the one and the other is following of nature. But for all that,
it is not so, that painting appeareth and carving is: for although
images are all rounde like the lively patterne, and painting is
onely seene in outwarde apparance, yet want there many things in
images, that want not in paintinges, and especially lights
<325>
CASTIGLIONE and shadowes, for
flesh giveth one light, and Marble another, and that doth the
Painter naturally follow with cleare and darke, more and lesse, as
he seeth occasion, which the graver in marble can not doe.
And when the Painter
maketh not his figure round he maketh the muscules and members in
round wise, so that they goe to meete with the partes not seene,
after such a manner, that a man may very well gather the Painter
hath also a knowledge in them, and understandeth them.
And in this point he
must have an other craft that is greater to frame those members,
that they may seeme short, and diminish according to the proportion
of the sight by the way of prospective, which by force of measured
lines, colours, lights, and shadowes, discover unto you also in the
outwarde sight of an upright wall the painesse and fairenesse, more
and lesse as pleaseth him.
Thinke you it againe a
trifling matter to counterfeite naturall colours, flesh, cloth, and
all other coloured thinges.
This can not nowe the
graver in marble doe, ne yet expresse the grace of the sight that is
in the blacke eyes, or in azure with the shining of those amorous
beames.
Hee can not
shew the colour of yellow haire, nor the glistring of armor, nor a
darke night, nor a sea tempest, nor those twineklings and sparkes,
nor the burning of a Citie, nor the rysing of the morning in the
colour of Roses, with those beames of purple and golde. Finally hee
can not shewe the skye, the sea, the earth, hilles, woodes, medowes,
gardens, rivers, Cities, nor houses, which the Painter doth all.
For this respect (me
thinke) painting is more noble, and containeth in it a greater
workmanship than graving in Marble. And among them of olde time, I
believe it was in as high estimation as other thinges, the which
also is to be discerned by certain litle remnants that are to be
seene yet, especially in places under ground in Roome./11 But much
more evidently may a man gather it by olde wrytings, wherein is so
famous and so often mention both
<326>
THE COURTIER of the worke and
workemen, that by them a man may understande in what high reputation
they have beene I alwaies with Princes and common weales.
Therefore it is read,
that Alexander loved highly.Apelles of Ephesus, and so much, that
after he had made him draw out a woman of his naked, whome hee loved
most dearely, and understanding that this good Painter, for her
marvellous beautie was most fervently in love with her, without any
more adoe hee bestowed her upon him. Truely a worthie liberallitie+ of Alexander, not to give
onely treasure and states, but also his owne affections and desire,
and a token of verie great love towarde Appelles, not regarding (to
please him withall) the displeasure of the woman that he highly
loved, who it is to be thought was sore agreeved to chaunge so great
a king for a painter.
There bee many other
signes rehearsed also of Alexanders good will towardes Apelles, but
he shewed plainly in what estimation he had him, when hee commanded
by open Proclamation no other Painter should bee so hardie to drawe
out his picture.
Here could I repeat unto you the contentions of many noble Painters,
with the greatest commendation and marvaile (in a manner) in the
world.
I coulde
tell you with what solemnitie the Emperours of olde time decked out
their triumphes with paintinges, and dedicated them up in haunted
places, and how deare it cost them, and that there were some
painters that gave their workes freely, seeming unto them no golde
nor silver was enough to value them: And how a table of Protogenes
was of such estimation that Demetrius+ lying
encamped before Rhodes, where hee might have entred the Citie by
setting fire to the place, where hee wist this table was, for feare
of burning it, stayed to bid them battaile, and so he wunne not the
Citie at all.
And
how Metrodorus a Philosopher and a most excellent Painter, was sent
out of Athens to Lord Paulus+, to bring
up, his children, and to decke out his triumph he had to make.
<327>
CASTIGLIONE And also many noble
writers have written of this arte, which is a token great inough to
declare in what estimation it hath beene. But I will not wee
proceede any farther in this communication.
Therefore it sufficeth
onely to say that our Courtier ought also to have a knowledge in
painting since it was honest and profitable, and much set by in
those dayes when men were of more prowesse than they are now. {ancients+} And though hee never get other
profit or delite in it (beside it is a helpe to him to judge of the
excellencie of Images both olde and new, of vessels, buildings, old
coines, cameses,/12 gravings, and such other matters) it maketh him
also understand the beautie of lively bodies, and not onely in the
sweetnesse of the Phisiognomie, but in the proportion of all the
rest, as well in men as other living creatures.
See then how the
knowredge in painting is cause of verie great pleasure. And this let
them thinke that doe enjoy and view the beautie of a woman so
throughly, that they thinke themselves in Paradise, and yet have not
the feate of painting: the which if they had, they would conceive a
farre greater contentation, for then shoulde they more perfectly
understand the beauty that in their brest ingendreth such hearts
ease.
Here the
Lorde Cesar laughed and saide: I have not the arte of painting, and
yet I knowe assuredly I have a farre greater delite in beholding a
woman in the world, than Apelles himselfe that was so excellent,
whom ye named right now, coulde have if he were now in life againe.
The Count answered:
this delite of yours proceedeth not wholy of beautie, but of the
affection which you perhaps beare unto the woman. And if you will
tell the truth, the first time you beheld that woman, yet felt not
the thousandeth part of the delite which you did afterwarde, though
her beautie were the verie same.
Therefore you may
conceive,how affection beareth a greater stroke in your delite than
beautie.
I deny not
that (quoth the Lord Cesar) but as delite
<328>
THE COURTIER ariseth of
affection, so doth affection arise of beautie, therefore a man may
say for all that, that beautie is the cause of delite.
The Count answered:
there be many other thinges also, that beside beautie oftentimes
inflame our minds as manners, knowledge, speach, gestures, and a
thousand moe (which peradventure after a sorte may be called beautie
too) and above all, the knowing a mans selfe to be beloved: so that
without the beautie you reason of, a man miy bee most fervently in
love: But those loves that arise onely of the beautie which we
discerne superficially in bodies, without doubt will bring a farre
greater delite to him that hath a more skill therein, than to him
that hath but a litle.
Therefore returning to
our purpose, I believe Apelles conceived a farre greater joye in
beholding the beautie of Campaspes, than did Alexander, for a man
may easily believe, that the love of them both proceeded of that
beautie, and perhaps also for this respect Alexander determined to
bestow her upon him, that (in his mind) could know her more
perfectly than he did.
Have you not reade of
the five daughters of Croton, which a"ng the rest of that people,
Zeusis the Painter chose to make of all five one figure that was
most excellent in beautie, and were renowned of many Poets, as they
that were allowed for beautifull of him that ought to have a most
perfect judgement in beautie? Here the Lorde Cesar declaring him
selfe not satisfied, nor willing to consent by any meanes, that anie
man could tast of the delite that he felt in beholding the beautie
of a certain woman, but hee him selfe began to speake, and then was
there heard a great scraping of feet in the flore, with, a cheme of
loud speaking, and upon that every man turning him selfe about, saw
at the chamber doore appeare a light of Torches, and by and by after
entred in the Lord Generall/13 with a great and noble traine, who
was then returned from accompanying the Pope a peece of.the way.
<329>
CASTIGLIONE And at the first
entrie into the Palace, demaunding what the Dutches did, hee was
certified what kinde of pastime they had in hande that night, and
howe the charge was committed to Count Lewis, to entreat of
courting. Therefore he hasted him as much as he could to come betime
to heare somwhat.
And so soone as hee had saluted the Dutches, and setled the rest
that were risen up at his comining, he sat him downe in the circle
among them, and certaine of the chief of his traine, among which
were the Marques Phebus of Ceva and Chirardin brethren, Maister
Hector of Rome, Vincent Calmeta, Horace Floridus, and many other.
And when all was whist, the Lord Generall said.
My Lordes, my comming
should bee too hurtfull if I shoulde hinder such good communication
as I guess it was even now among you.
Therefore doe you me
not this injurie, to deprive both your selves and mee of this
pleasure.
Then
answered Count Lewis, I believe (my Lord) silence ought rather to
please all parties,ttan speaking. For seeing it hath beene my lot
this night before all other to take this travaile in hand, it hath
now wearied me in speaking, and I weene all the rest in hearing,
because my talke hath not beene worthie of this company, nor
sufficient inough for the waightinesse of the matter I have beene
charged withall, wherein since I have litle satisfied my selfe, I
recken I have much lesse satisfied others.
Therefore (my Lorde)
your lucke hath beeine good to come at the latter end, and now shall
it be well done to give the entreprise of that is behinde to an
other that may succeede in my rowme. For whosoever hee be, I knowe
well he will much better acquite him selfe than I should do, if I
went forward with it, being thus wearie as I am.
This will I in no wise
permit, answered the Lorde Julian, to be deceived of the promise ye
have made. And I know well the Lorde Cenerall will not be against
the understanding of that point. <330>
THE COURTIER And what promise
was that, quoth the Count? The Lord Julian answered: To declare unto
us in what sort the Courtier ought to use those good conditions and
qualities which you say are meete for him.
The Lorde Gencrall,
although he were but a childe in yeares, yet was hee wise and
discrete, more than a man would thinke belonged unto those tender
yeares of his, and in every gesture hee declared with a greatnesse
of mind, a certaine quicknesse of wit, which did sufficiently
prognosticate the excellent degree of honor and vertue, whercunto
afterwarde he ascended.
Wherefore he saide
incontinently: if all this be behind yet to bee spoken of (mee
thinke) I am come in good season. For understanding in what sort the
Courtier must use his good conditions and qualities, I shall know
also at they are, and thus shall I come to the knowledge of all that
have beene spoken hitherto.
Therefore sticke not
(Count) to pay thisdebt+, being lreadie discharged of one part
thereof.
I should
not have so great a debt to discharge, answered the Count, if the
paines were equally devided, but the fault hath beene in giving a
Ladie authoritie to command, that is too partiall: and so smyling he
beheld the Ladie Emilia, which said immediately.
You ought not to
complaine of my parrtialitie, yet since you doe it against reason,
we will give one part of this honour+, which
you call paines, unto an other: and turning her unto Sir Fredericke
Fergoso.
You (quoth
she) propounded this devise of the Courtier, therefore reason
willeth ye should say somewhat in it: and that shall be to fulfill
the Lord Julians request, in declaring in what sort, manner and time
the Courtier ought to pracise his good conditions and qualities, and
those other thinges which the Count hath saide are meete for him.
Then Sir
Fredericke, Madame (quoth he) where ye will sever the sort, the
time, and the manner of good conditions and qualities, and the well
practising of the Courtier,
<331>
CASTIGLIONE ye will sever that
can not be sundred: for it is these thinges that make the conditions
and qualities good, and the practising good. {active+}
Therefore since the Count hath spoken so much and so well, and also
saide somwhat of these circumstances, and prepared for the rest in
his minde that he had to say, it were but reason he should go
forwarde untill hee came to the end.
The Ladie Emilia
answered: Set the cause you were the Count your selfe, and spake
that your mind giveth you he would doe, and so shal all be well.
Then said Calmeta, my
Lordes, since it is late, least Sir Fredericke should finde a sense
to utter that hee knoweth, I believe it were well done to defere the
rest of the communication untill to morrow, and bestow the small
time that remaineth about some other pastime without ambition.
The which being agreed
utpon of all hands, the Dutchesse willed the Lady Margaret ana the
Ladie Constance Fregosa, to show them a daunce.
Wherefore Barletta
immediately, a very pleasant Musition, and an excellent dauncer, who
continually kept all the Court in mirth and joy, began to play upon
his Instruments, and they hand_in_hand+
shewed them a daunce or two, with a very good grace and great
pleasure to the lookers on.
That done, because it
was farre in night, the Dutchesse arose upon her feete, and so every
man taking his leave reverently of her, departed to his rest.
<332>
THE COURTI[ER SECOND BOOK
The Second Booke of the Courtier,
Of Count Baldesser Castilion,un
to Maister Alfonsus Ariosto
NOT without marvel
manie a time and often have I considered with my selfe, how one
errour shoulde arise, the which because it is generallye seene in
olde men, a man may beleve it is proper and naturall unto them: and
that is, how (in a manner) al of them commend the times past, and
blame the times present: dispraysinge our doings and maners, and
whatsoever they did not in their youth: Affirming moreover every
good custome and good trade of living, every vertue, finally each
thinge to decline alwaies from evil to worse.
And in good sooth it
seemeth a matter verie wide from reason, and worthie to be noted,
that ripe age which with long practise is wont to make mens
judgements more perfect in other things, should in this behalfe so
corrupt them, that they shoulde not discerne, yt if the world waxed
worse and worse, and the fathers were generally better than the
children, we shoulde long ere this time have beene come to that
utmost degree of ill that can not waxe worse.
And yet doe we see not
onely in our dayes, but also in times past that this hath alwaies
beene the peculiar vice of that age.
The which is to be
manifestly gathered by the wrytings of many most auncient authors,
and especially Comedie writers, which expresse better than the rest,
the trade of mans life.
The cause, therfore of
this false opinion in olde men I
<333>
CASTIGLIONE believe (in mine
opinion) is, for that, yeares wearing away, carry also with them
many commodities, and among other take away from the bloud a great
part of the lively spirites that altereth the complexion, and the
instruments waxe feeble, whereby the soule worketh her effects.
Therefore the sweete
flowers of delyte fade away in that season out of our harts, as the
leaves fall from the trees after harvest, and in steade of open and
cleare thoughts, there entreth cloudie and troublous heavinesse
accompanied with a thousand heart griefes: so that not onely the
bloud, but the minde is also feeble: neither of the former pleasures
receiveth it any thing els but a fast memorie, and the print of the
beloved time of tender age, which when wee have upon us, the heaven,
the earth, and each thing to our seeming rejoyceth and laugheth
alwaies about our eyes, and in thought (as in a savorie and pleasant
Garden) flourisheth the sweete spring time of mirth, so that
peradventure it were not unprofitable, when now in the colde season,
the Sunne of our life (taking away from us our delites) beginneth to
draw towarde the West, to lose in like case therewithall the
mindfulnes of them, and to finde out (as Themistoeles+
saith) an arte to teach us to forget: for the senses of our bodies
are so deceivable, that they beguile many tinges also the judgement
of the minde.
Therefore (me thinke) olde men be like unto them, that sayling in a
vessell out of an haven, beholde the ground with their eyes, and the
vessell to their seeming standeth still and the shore moveth: and
yet is it cleane contrarie, for the haven, and likewise the time and
pleasures continue still in their estate, and we with the vessel of
mortalitie fleing away, go one after another through the tempestuous
sea, that swalloweth up and devoureth all thinges, neither is it
graunted us at any time to come on shore againe, but alwaies beaten
with contrarie windes, at the ende wee breake our vessell at some
rocke.
Because
therefore the minde of old age is without order subject to many
pleasures, it can not taste them: and even
<334>
THE COURTIER as to them that
bee sicke Of a Fever, when by corrupt vapours they have lost their
taste, all wines appeare most bitter, though they be precious and
delicate in deede: so unto olde men for their unaptnesse, (wherein
notwithstanding desire faileth them not) pleasures seeme without
tast and cold, much differing from those that remember they have
proved in foretime, although the pleasures in themselves be the
selfe same.
Therefore when they feele them selves voide of them, it is a griefe,
and they blame the time present for ill, not perceiving that this
chaun[g]e proceedeth of them selves, and not of the time.
And contrariwise, when
they call to minde the pleasures past, they remember therewithall
the time they had them in, and therefore commend it for good,
because to their weening it carrieth with it a savour of it, which
they felt in them when it was present.
By reason that in
effect our mindes conceive an hatred against all thinges that have
accompanied our sorrowes, and love such as have accompanied our
pleasures.
Upon
this it commeth, that unto a lover it is most acceptable, sometime
to beholde a windowe though it be shut, because otherwhiles it may
be his chaunce to see his maistresse there: in like manner to see a
ring, a letter, a garden, or any other place, or what ever other
thing he supposeth hath beene a witting testimoniall of his
pleasures.
And
contrariwise, oftentimes a faire trimmed and well decked Chamber is
abhorred of him that hath been kept prisoner in it, or abidden
therin any other sorrow.
And in my dayes I have
knowne some that will never drinke of a cup like unto that wherein
in their sicknes they had taken a medicine. For even as that window,
ring, or letter, doth bring to the minde a sweete remembrance unto
the one, that so much pleaseth him, for that he imagineth it was a
pareell of his pleasures, so unto the other the chamber or cup
seemeth to bring with the memorie, his sicknesse or imprisoning
againe.
<335>
CASTIGLIONE The verie same
cause (I believe) moveth olde men to prayse the times past, and
discommend the present.
Therefore as they talke
of other thifiges, so doe they also of Courtes, affirming such as
have beene in their memory to be much more excellent and farre
better furnished with notable men, than we see them to bee that are
now adayes.
And
immediately when they enter into this kinde of talke, they beginne
to extoll with infinite prayses the Courtiers of Duke Philip, of
Duke Borso, and declare the sayings of Nicholas Picciniinus, and
rehearse that in those times a man shoulde verie seldome have heard
of a murther committed, and no combates, no crafts nor deceites, but
a certaine faithfull and loving good meaning amone all men, and an
upright dealing. And in Courtes at that time there raigned such good
conditions, and such honestie, that the Courtiers were (in a manner)
religious folke: and woe unto him that shoulde have spoken an evil
word of an other, or made but a signe otherwise than honestie to a
woman.
And on the
other side, they say in these dayes every thing is cleane contrary,
and not onely that brotherly love and manerly conversation is lost
among Courtiers, but also in Courtes there raineth nothing els but
envy and malice, ill manners, and a most wanton fife in every kinde
of vice: the women enticefull, past shame, and the men womanish.
They dispraise also the
apparrell to be dishonest and too soft. To be short, they speake
against infinit things, among the which many in very deede deserve
to be discommended, for it can not be excused, but there are many
evil and naughtie men among us, and this our age is much more full
of vices, than was that which they commend.
But (me thinke) they do
ful ill seanne the cause of this difference, and they be fonde
persons, because they would have all goodnesse in the world without
any ill, which is unpossible.
For since ill is
contrarie to good, and good to ill, it is (in a manner) necessarie
by contrarietie and a certaine
<336>
THE COURTIER counterpeise the
one shoulde underproppe and strengthen the other, and where the one
wanteth or encreaseth, the other to want or increase also: because
no contrarie is without his other contrarie.
Who knoweth not that
there should bee no
justice+ in the worlde, were it
not for wronge? no stoutnesse of courage+, were
there not faint harted? nor continencie+,
were there not incontinencie? nor health, were there not sicknesse?
nor truth+, were there not lyes?
nor happinesse+ were there not mischaunces?
Therefore Socrates saith well in Plato+, that hee
marvaileth that Esope+ made not an Apologus or fable, wherin
he might have fained that God, since hee coulde never couple
pleasure and sorrow together, might have knit them with an
extremitie, so that the beginning of the one should have beene the
end of the other. For wee see no pleasure can delite us at any time
if sorrow goeth not before.
Who can love rest well,
unlesse hee have first felt the griefe of wearinesse? Who favoureth
meate, drinke, and sleepe, if hee have not first felt hunger,
thirst, and watching? I believe therefore passions and diseases are
given to men of nature, not principally to make them subject to
them, for it were not meete that.she which is the mother of all
goodnesse, shoulde by her owne purposed advise give us so many,
evils, but since, nature doth make health, pleasure and other
goodnesse, consequently after these, were joyned diseases, sorrowes
and other evils.
Therefore since vertues were graunted to the world for favor and
gift of nature, by and by were vices by that linked contrarietie
necessarily accompanied with them: so that the one encreasing or
wanting, the other must in like manner encrease or want.
Therefore when our olde
men prays the Courtes of times past because there were not in them
so virtuous men, as some that are in ours, they do not know that
there were not also in them so vertuous men, as some that are in
ours.
<337>
CASTIGLIONE
The which is no wonder, for no ill
is so evil, as that which ariseth of the corrupt seede of goodnesse.
And therefore where
nature nowe bringeth forth much better wittes than she did tho, even
as they that be given to goodnesse doe much better than did those of
their time, so also they that bee given to ill doe much worse.
Therefore it is not to
bee saide, that such as abstained from doing ill, because they knewe
not how to doe it, deserve in that case any prayse: for although
they did but a litle ill, yet did they the worst they knew.
And that the wittes of
those times were generally much inferiour to these now adayes, a man
may judge by all that hath proceeded from them, as letters,
painting, statutes, buildings and all other things.
Againe these olde men
discommend many things in us which of them selves are neither good
nor badde, onely because they did them not: and say it is no good
sight to see yong men on horsebacke about the streetes, and
especially upon Mules, nor to weare furres nor side garments in
winter, nor to weare a cappe befor a man bee at the least eighteene
yeares of age, and such other matters, wherein truely they be much
deceived. For these fashions (beside tht they be commodious and
profitable) are brought up by custome, and generally men delite in
them, as at that time they were contented to goe in their jacket, in
their breechlesse hose, and in their lowe shoes with latchets, and
(to appeare fine) carry all daye long a Hauke upon their fist,
without purpose, and daunce without touching a womans hand, and used
many other fashions, the which as they are now stale, so were they
at that time much set by.
Therefore may it be
lawfull for us also to follow the custome of our times, without
controlement of these olde men, which going about to prayse
themselves, say.
When I was twentie yeares olde I lay with my mother and sisters, nor
a great while after wist I what women merit: and now children are
not so scone crept out of the
<338>
THE COURTIER shell, but they
know more naughtinesse, tham they that were come to mans state did
in those dayes.
Neither be they aware in so saying, that they confirme our children
to have more wit than their old men.
Let them leave
therefore speaking against our times, as full of vices: for in
taking away them, they take also away the vertues. And let them
remember that among the good men of auntient+ time,
when as the glorious wits florished in the world, which in very
deede were of most perfection in every vertue, and more than manly,
there were also many most mischievous, which if they had still
lived, shoulde have excelled our ill men so much in ill, as those
good men in goodnes: and of this doe all Histories make full
mention.
But unto
these olde men I weene I have made a sufficient answere. Therefore
we will leave apart this discourse, perhaps too tedious, but not
altogether out of purpose: and being sufficient to have declared
that the Courtes of our time are worthie no lesse praise than those
that old men commend so much, we will attend to our communica- tion
that was had about the Courtier, whereby a man may easily gather in
what degree the Court of Urbin was among the rest, and what manner a
Prince and Ladie they were that had such noble wittes attending upon
them, and how fortunate all they might call them selves that lived
in that familiar fellowship+.
When the day following
therefore was come, there was great and sundrie talke betweene the
gentlemen and Ladies of the Court upon the disputation of the night
before: which arose a great part of it, upon the Lorde Ceneralles
greedy desire, to understand as much as had beene said in the
matter, who had enquired it almost of every man: and (as it is
alwaies wont to come to passe) it was reported unto him sundrie
waies, for some praysed one thing, some an other.
And also among many,
there was a contention of the Countes own meaning, for every man did
not so fully beare in mind the matters that had been spoken.
Therefore almost
<339>
CASTIGLIONE the whole day was
spent about talking in this, and as soone as night drew on, the Lord
Cenerall commanded meat to bee set on the borde, and tooke all, the
Gentlemen with him.
And immediately after supper hee repayred to the Dutchesse chamber:
who, beholding so great a company assembled sooner than they had
done at other times, saide.
Me thinke, it is a
great waight, Sir Fredericke, that is laide upon your shoulders, and
a great expectation that you must satisfie.
Here not tarryinœr for
Sir Frederickes aunswere, and what great waight (I beseech ye) is
it, saide then Unico Aretino: Who is so foolish that when he can doe
a thing, wil not doe it in a fitte and due time? Reasoning in this
wise about the matter everie man sat him downe in his wonted place
and manner with very heedfull expectation of the propounded talke.
Then Sir Fredericke
turning him to Unico, doe you not thinke then M. Unico (quoth he)
that I am laden this night with a great and painefull burden, since
I must declare in what sorte, manner and time, the Courtier hath to
practise his good conditions and qualities, and use those those
other things that are alreadie saide to bee meete for him? Me thinke
it is no great matter, answered UInico: and I believe a good
judgement in the courtier is sufficient for all this, which the
Count saide well yesterday night that he ought to have: and in case
be so, without any other precepts, I suppose hee may practise wel
inough the thing that hee knoweth, in due time and a good sorte The
which to bring more particularly into rule, were too hard a matter,
and perhaps more than needeth, for I know not who is so fond to goe
about his fence, when the rest bee in their musicke: or to goe about
the streetes dancing the morisco, though he could doe it never so
well: or going about to comfort a mother that had buried her child,
to begin to talke with her of pleasant matters and merie don-
<340>
TliE COURTIER ceites. I believe
surely no gentleman will doe this, unlesse hee were cleane out of
his wits.
Me thinke
(M. Unico) quoth.sir Fredericke then, ye harpe too much upon your
extremities. For it happeneth otherwhile, a man is so fond, that hee
remembreth not him selfe so easily, and oversights are not all
alike.
And it may
be, that a man shall abstaine from a common folly which is too
manifest, as that is you speake of, to goe daunce the Morisco in the
market place, and yet shall he not refraine from praysing him selfe
but of purpose, from using a noysome sawsinesse, from casting out
otherwhile a word thinking to make men laugh, which for that it is
spoken out of time will appeare colde and without grace.
And these oversights
oftentimes are covered with a certaine veile that suffereth a man
not to forget who doth them, unlesse hee take no heede to them.
And although for many
causes our sight discerneth but litle, yet for ambitions sake it is
darkened in especiall, for every man willingly setteth forth him
selfe in that he perswadeth himselfe he knoweth whether this
perswasion of his be true or false.
Therefore the well
behaving of a mans selfe in this case (me thinke) consisteth in
certaine wisedome and judgement of choice, and to know more and
lesse what encreaseth or diminisheth in thinges to practice them in
due time, or out of season.
and for all the
courtier bee of so good a judgement that he can discerne these
differences, yet shall he the sooner compasse that he seeketh, if
this imagination+ be opened with some rule, and
the waies shewed him, and (as it were) theplaces where he should
ground himselfe uppon, than if hee should take him selfe onely to
the generallitie+.
For so much as
therefore the Count yesterday night entreated upon Courtiership so
copiously and in so good a manner, hee hath made me (truely)
conceive no small feare and doubt that I shall not so throughly
satisfie this noble audience in the matter that lyeth upon me to
discourse in, as
<341>
CASTIGLIONE he hath doone in
that was his charge. Yet to make my selfe partener in what I may of
his praise, and to be sure not to erre (at the least in this parte)
I will not contrarie him in any point.
Wherefore agreeing to
his opinions, and beside the rest, as touching noblenesse of birth,
wit and disposition of person, and grace of countenance, I say unto
you that to get him worthie prayse and a good estimation with all
men, and favour with such great men as he shal attend upon, me
thinke it is behoveful he have the understanding to frame all his
life and to set forth his good qualities generally in company with
all men without purchasing him selfe envy.
The which how hard a
matter it is of it selfe, a man may consider by the seldomnesse of
such as are seene to attaine to that point: because we are all the
sorte of us in very deede more inclined by nature to dispraise
faultes than to commend thinges well done. And a man would thinke
that many by a certaine rooted malice, although they manifestly
diseerne the goodnesse, enforce them selves with all studie and
diligence to finde in things either a fault, or at the least the
likenesse of a fault.
Therefore it behoveth
our Courtier in all his doings to be charie and heedfull, and what
so he saith or doth to aecompany it with,wisedom, and not onely to
set his delite to have in him selfe partes and excellent qualities,
but also to all order the tenor of his life after such a trade, that
the whole may be answerable unto these parts, and see the selfe same
to bee alwaies and in every thing such, that it disagree not from it
selfe, but make one bodie of these good qualities, so that every
deede of his may bee compact and framed of all the vertues+, as the Stoikes+ say the
duetie of a wise man is: thoug notwithstanding alwaies one vertue is
the principall, but all are so knit and linkeed to one another, that
they tende to one end, and all may be applyed and serve to every
purpose. {unity_of_virtues+} Therefore it behoveth hee
have the understanding to set them forth, and by comparison, and (as
it were) contrarietie
<342>
THE COURTIER of the one,
Sometime to make the other better knowne: as the good painters with
a shadow make the lights of high places to appeare, and so with
light make low the shadowes of plaines, and meddle divers colours
together, so that through that diversitie both the one and the other
are more sightly to beholde, and the placing of the figures
contrarie the one to the other is a helpe to them to doe the feate
that the painters mind is to bring to passe.
So that lowlinesse is
much to be commended in a gentleman {Chaucer's_knight+} that is of prowesse and
well seene in armies: and as that fiereenesse seemeth the greater
when it is accompanied with sober mood, even so doth sober moode
encrease and shew it selfe the more through fierceness.
Therefore litle
speaking, much doing, and not praysing a mans own selfe in
commendable deedes,dissembling them after an honest sorte doth
encrease both the one veertue and the other in a person that can
discretely use this trade: and the like is to be saide in all the
other good qualities.
Therefore will I have
our Courtier in that he doth or saith to use certaine generall
rules, the which (in my minde) containe briefly as much as belongeth
to mee to speake.
And for the first and chiefe let him avoid (as the Count saide well
in that behalfe yesternight) above all thinges curiositie.
Afterwarde let him
consider well what the thing is he doth or speaketh, the place where
it is done, in presence of whom, in what time, the cause why he doth
it, his age, his profession, the end wherto it tendeth, and the
meanes that may bring him to it: and so let him apply him selfe
discreetly with these advertisements to what soever hee mindeth to
doe or speake.
After Sir Fredericke had thus saide, he seemed to stay a while. Then
saide M. Morello of Ortona: mee thinke these your rules teach but
litle. And I for my part am as skilfull now as I was before you
spake them, although I remem-
<343>
CASTIGLIONE her I have heard
them at other times also of ye Friers with whom I have beene in
confession, and I ween they terme them circumstances.
Then laughed Sir
Fredericke and saide: if you doe well beare in minde, the Count
willed yestemight that the chiefe profession of the Courtier shoulde
bee in, armes, and spake very largely in what sort he should doe it,
therefore will we make no more rehearsall thereof.
Yet by our rule it may
bee also understood, that where the Courtier is at skirmish, or
assault, or battaile upon the lande, or in such other places of
enterprise, he ought to worke the matter wisely in separating him
selfe from the multitude, and undertake notable and bolde feates
which hee hath to doe, with as litle company as he can, and in the
sight of noble men that be of most estimation in the campe, and
especially in the presence and (if it were possible) before the very
eyes of his king or great personaee he is in service withall: for in
deede it is meete to set forth to the shew things wel done.
And I believe even as
it is an evil matter to seeke a false renowne, and in, the thing he
deserveth no prayse at all, so is it also an ill matter to defraud a
mans selfe of his due estimation, and not to seeke that prayse,
which alone is the true rewarde of vertuous enterprises.
And I remember I have
knowne of them in my time, that for all they were of prowesse, yet
in this point they have shewed them selves but grosse headed, and
put their life in as great hazarde to goe take a flocke of sheepe,
as in being the formost to scale the walles of a battered towne, the
which our Courtier will not doe if hee beare in mind the cause that
bringreth him to warre, which ought to be onely his estimation.
And if he happen
moreover to be one to shew feates of Chivalrie in open sights, at
tilt, turney, or loco di canne, or in any other exercise of the
person, remembering the place where he is, and in presence of whom,
hee shall provide before hand to be in his armour, no lesse handsom
and
<344>
THE COURTIER sightly than sure,
and feede the eyes of the lookers on with all thinges that hee shall
thinke may give a good grace, and shall doe his best to get him a
horse set out with faire harnesse and sightly trappings, and to have
proper devises, apt posies, and wittie inventions that may draw unto
him the eyes of the lookers on as the Adamant stone doth yron.
He shall never be among
the last that come forth into the listes to shew themselves,
considering the people, and especially women take much more heede to
the first than to the last: because the eyes and mindes that at the
beginning are greedv of that noveltie, note every lite matter, and
printe it: afterwarde by continuance they are not onely full, but
wearie of it.
Therefore was there a noble Stageplayer in olde time that for this
respect would alwaies be the first to come forth to play his part.
In like manner also
if our Courtier doe but talke of armes, he shall have an eye to the
profession of them hee talketh withall, and according to that frame
himselfe, and use one maner of talkie with men, and an other with
women: and in case hee will touch any thing sounding to his owne
praise, he shall doe it so dissemblingly as it were a chaunce and by
the way, and with the discretion and warinesse that Count Lewis
shewed us yesterday.
Doe you not now thinke
(M. Morello) that our rules can teach somewhat? Trow you not that
that friend of ours I tolde you of a few daies ago had cleane
forgotten with whom hee spake, and why? When to entertaine a gentle
woman whom he never saw before, at his first entring in talke with
her, he began to tell how many men he had slaine, and what a hardie
felow hee was, and how hee coulde play at two hand sword. {miles_gloriosus+} And had never done until
he had taught her how to defend certaine strokes with a Pollaxe
being armed, and how unarmed, and to shew how (in a mans defence) to
laye hand upon a dagger, so that the poore gentlewoman stood upon
thornes, and thought an houre a thousand yeare till
<345>
CASTIGLIONE she were got from
him, for feare least he would goe nigh to kill her as hee had done
those other.
Into
these errours runne they that have not an eye to the circomstances
which you say you have heard of Friers.
Therefore I say of the
exercises of the bodie, some there are that (in a manner) are never
practised but in open shew, as running at tilt, barriers, Joco de
canne, and all the rest that depende uppon Armes.
Therefore when our
Courtier taketh any of these in hand, first he must provide to bee
so well in order for Horse, harnesse, and other furnitures belonging
thereto, that he want nothing. And if he see not him selfe throughly
furnished in all pointes, let him not meddle at all. For if he, be
not well, it can not be excused that it is not his profession.
After this, he ought to
have a great coniderataion in his presence of whome hee sheweth him
selfe, and who be mis matches. For it were not meet that a gentleman
should be present in person and a doer in such a matter in the
countrey, where the lookers on and the doers were of a base sorte.
Then said the Lorde
Gasper Pallavicin. In our countrey of Lumbardy these matters are not
passed upon, for you shall see the yong gentleman upon the holy
dayes come daunce all the day long in the sunne with them of the
countrey, and passe the time with them in casting the barre, in
wrastling, running, and leaping. And I believe it is not ill done.
For no comparison is there made of noblenesse of birth, but of force
and sleight, in which thinges many times the men of the countrey are
not a whit inferiour to gentlemen, and it seemeth this familiar
conversation conteyneth in it a certaine lovely freenesse. { affable+} This dauncing in the
sunne, answered Sir Fredericke, can I in no case away with all: and
I can not see what a man shall gaine by,it.
But who so will
wrastle, runne and leape with men of the countrey, ought (in my
judgement) to doe it after a sorte:
<346>
THE COURTIER to prove himselfe
and (as they are wont to say) for courtisie+, not
to try maistry with them, and a man ought (in a manner) to be
assured to get the upper hand, else let him not meddle withall, for
it is too ill a sight and too foule a matter and without estimation,
to see a gentleman overcome by a carter, and especially in
wrastling.
Therefore I believe it is well done to abstaine from it, at the
least wise in presence of many, because if bee overcome his gaine is
small, and his losse in being overcome very great.
Also they play at
tenise (in manner) alwaies in open sight, and this is one of the
common games, which the multitude with their presence much set
forth.
I will have
our Courtier therefore to doe this and all the rest beside handling
his weapon, as a matter that is not his profession: and not to seeme
to seeke or look for any prayse in it. { amateur+} Nor
yet will I have him to be knowne that he bestoweth much studie or
time about it, although he doe it excellently well. Neither shall he
bee like unto some that have a delite in musicke, and in speaking
with whom soever alwaies when he maketh a pause in their talke,
beginne in a voice as though he would sing. Other walking in the
streetes or in the Churches, goe alwaies dansing. Other meeting in
the market place or wheresoever any friend, make a gesture as though
they would play at fence, or wrastle according as their delite is.
Here saide the Lord
Cesar Gonzaga, we have in Rome a young Cardinall that doth better
than so, which feeling him selfe lustie of person, leadeth as many
as come to visite him (though hee never saw them before) into a
garden, and is very instant uppon them to strip themselves into
their doublet to leape with him.
Sir Fredericke laughed,
afterwarde bee proceeded on.
There be some other
exercises that may be done both openly and privately, as dancing:
and in this I believe the Courtier ought to have a respect, for if
he dauneeth in the
<347>
CASTIGLIONE presence of many,
and in a place full of people, he must (in my minde) keepe a
certaine dignitie, tempered notwithstanding with a handsome and
sightly sweetenesse of gestures.
And for all he feeleth
him selfe very nimble and to have time and measure at will, yet let
him not enter into that swiftnesse of feet and doubled footinges,
that we see are very comely in our Barletta, and peradventure were
unseemely for a gentleman: although privately in a chamber together
as we be now, I will not say but hee may doe both that, and also
dance the Morisco, and braulles,/14 yet not openly unlesse hee were
in a maske. { amateur+} And though it were so
that all men knew him, it skilleth not, for there is no way to that,
if a man will shew him selfe in open sights about such matters,
whether it be in armes, or out of armes. Because to be in a maske
bringeth with it a certaine libertie and licence, that a man may
among other thinges take upon him the forme of that he hath better
skill in, and use bent studie and precisenesse about the principall
drift of the matter wherein he will shew himselfe, and a certaine
recklessnesse about that is not of importance, which augmenteth the
grace of the thing, as it were to disguise a yong man in an olde
mans attier, but so that his garments be not a hindrance to him to
shew his nimblenesse of person. And a man at armes in forme of a
wilde shepheard, or some other such kinde of disguising, but with an
excellent horse and well trimmed for the pur- pose, because the
minde of the lookers on runneth forthwith to imagin the thing that
is offered unto the eyes at the first shew, and when they behold
afterwarde a far greater matter to come of it than they looked for
under that attire, it delyteth them, and they take pleasure at it.
{cheer+} Therefore it were not meete in such
pastimes and open shewes, where they take up counterfeiting of false
visages, a prince should take upon him to bee like a prince in
deede, because in so doing, the pleasure that the lookers on receive
at the noveltie of the matter shoulde want a great deale, for
<348>
THE COURTIER
it
is no noveltie at all to any man for a prince to bee a prince. And
when it is perceyved that beside his being a prince, he will also
beare the shape of a prince, he loseth the libertie to doe all those
things that are out of dignitie of a prince.
And in case there any contention
happen especially with weapon in these pastimes, he might easily
make men believe that he keepeth the person of a prince because hee
will not be beaten but spared of the rest: beside that, doing in
sporte the verie same hee should doe in good earnest when neede
required, it would take away his authoritie in deede, and would
appeare in like case to be play also.
But in this point the
prince stripping himselfe of the person of a prince, and mingling
him selfe equally with his underlinges (yet in such wise that hee
may bee known) with refusing superioritie, let him chalenge a
greater superioritie, namely, to passe other men, not in authoritie,
but in vertue, and declare that the prowesse is not encreased by his
being a prince. {condescension+} Therefore I say that the
Courtier ought in these open sights of armes to have the selfe same
respect according to his degree.
But in vauting,
wrastling, running and leaping, I am well pleased he flee the
multitude of people, or at the least be seeme very seldome times.
For there is no thing so excellent in the world, that the ignorant
people have not their fil of, and smally regard it in often
beholding it. { Henry4+} The like judgement I have
to Musicke: but I woulde not our Courtier should doe as many doe,
that as soone as they come to any place, and also in the presence of
great men with whome they have no acquaintance at all, without much
entreating set out them selves to shew as much as they know, yea and
many times that they know not, so that a man would weene they came
purposely to shewe themselves for that, and that it is their
principall profession.
Therefore let our
Courtier come to show his musicke as a thing to pass the time
withall, and as he were enforced to
<349>
CASTIGLIONE doe it, and not in
the presence of noble men, nor of an great multitude.
And for all hee be
skilfull and doth well understand it, yet will I have him to
dissemble the studie and paines that a man must needes take in all
thinges that are well done And let him make semblance that he
esteemeth but litle himselfe that qualitie, but in doing it
excellently well, make it much esteemed of other men. { amateur+} Then saide the Lord
Gasper Pallavicin. There are many sortes of musike, as well in the
brest/15 as upon instruments therefore would I gladly learne which
is the best, and what time the Courtier ought to practise it.
Me thinke then answered
Sir Fredericke, pricksong is faire musicke, so it be done upon the
booke surely and after a good sorte. But to sing to the lute is much
better, because all the sweetnes consisteth in one alone, and a man
is much more heedfull and understandeth better the feat manner, and
the aire or veyne of it, when the eares are not busie in hearing any
moe than one voice: and beside every litle hath errour is soone
perceived, which happeneth not in sinaing with company, for one
beareth out an other. But singing to the lute with the dittie (me
thinke) is more pleasant than the rest, for it addeth to the wordes
such a grace and strength, that it is a great wonder.
Also all Instrumentes
with freats are full of harmony, because the tunes of them are very
perfect, and with ease a man may doe many thinges upon them that
fill the mind but with sweetnesse of musicke.
And the musicke with a
sette of Violes doth no lesse delite a man: for it is verie sweet
and artificiall.
A
mans brest giveth a great ornament and grace to all these
instruments, in the which I will have it sufficient that our
Courtier have an understanding. Yet the more cunninger he is upon
them, the better it is for him, without, medling much with the
instruments that Minerva and Alcibiades refused, because it seemeth
they are noysome.
Now as touching the time and season when these
<350>
THE COURTIER of musicke are to
bee practised: I believe at all times when a man is in familiar and
loving company, having nothing else adoe. But especially they are
meete to be practised in the presence of women, because those sights
sweeten the mindes of the hearers, and make them the more apt to bee
pierced with the pleasantnesse of musicke, {Jessica+} and
also they quicken the spirits of the very doers.
I am well pleased (as I
have saide) they flee the multitude, and especially of the unnoble.
But the seasoning
of the whole must be discretion, because in effect it were a matter
unpossible to imagine all cases that fall. And if the Courtier bee a
righteous judge of him selfe, hee shall apply him selfe well inough
to the time, and shall diseerne when the hearers minds are disposed
to give eare and when they are not. He shall know his age, for (to
say the truth) it were no meete matter, but an ill sight to see a
man of any estimation being old, hore-headed and toothlesse, full of
wrinkles, with a lute in his armes playing upon it, and singing in
the middest of a company of women, although he coulde doe it
reasonably well. And that because such songes containe in them
wordes of love, and in olde men love is a thing to be jested at:
although otherwhile he seemeth among other miracles of his to take
delite in spite of yeares to set a fire frosen heartes.
Then answered the Lord
Julian: doe you not barre poore olde men from this pleasure (Sir
Fredericke) for in my time I have knowne men of yeares have very
perfect brestes and most nimble fingers for instruments, much more
than some yong men.
I goe not about (quoth Sir Fredericke) to barre old men from this
pleasure, but I wil barre you and these Ladies from laughing at that
follie.
And in case
olde men will sing to the lute, let them doe it secretely, and onely
to rid their mindes of those troublesome cares and grievous
disquieting that our life is full of: and to taste of that
excellencie which I believe Pythagoras and Socrates savoured in
musicke.
<351>
CASTIGLIONE And set case they
exercise it not at all: for that they have gotten a certaine habite
and custome of it, they shall favour it much better in hearing, that
he that hath no knowledge in it: For like as the armes of a smith
that is weake in other thiinges, because they are more exercised,
bee stronger than an other bodies that is sturdie, but not exercised
to worke with his arrmes: even so the armes that bee exercised in
musicke, doe much better and sooner discerne it, and with much more
pleasure judge of it, than other, how good and quicke soever they
be, that have not beene practised in y, variety of pleasant musicke:
because those musical tunespearce+ not, but
without leaving any tast of themselves passe by ye eares not
accustomed to heare them, although the verie wilde beastes feele
some delite in melodie.
This is therefore the
pleasure meete for olde men to take in musicke.
The selfe same I say of
dauncing, for in deede these exercises ought to be left off before
age constraineth us to leave them whether we will or no.
It is better then,
answered here M. Morello halfe chafed, to except all old men, and to
say that onely yong men are to be called Courtiers.
Then laughed Sir
Fredericke and saide: Note (maister Morello) whether such as delite
in these matters, if they bee not yong men, doe not studie to
appeare young, and therefore dye their haire { PlainDealer+} and make their
bearde grow twice a weeke, and this proceedeth upon that nature
saith to them in secrete, that these matters are not comely but for
yong men.
All these
Ladies laughed, because they knewe these wordes touched maister
Morello, and he seemed somwhat out of patience at the matter. Yet
are there other entertainements with women, saide immediatly Sir
Fredericke, meete for olde men.
And what be these
(quoth maister Morello) to tell fables?
<352>
THE COURTIER
And that too, answered Sir
Fredericke. But every age (as you know) carrieth with him his
thoughts, and hath some peculiar vertue and some peculiar vice. And
olde men for all they are ordinarilye wiser than yonG men,
more continent+, and of a better foresight, yet
are they more lavish in wordes, more greedy, harder to please, more
fearefull, alwaies chafing in the house, sharpe to their children,
and wil have every man wedded to their will.
And contrariwise, yong
men are hardy, easie to be ontreated, but more apt to brawling and
chiding, wavering+ and unstedfast, that love and
unlove all at a time: given to all their delites, and enimies to
them that tell them of their profit.
But of all the other
ages, mans state is most temperate+, which
hath now done with the curst prankes of youth, and not yet growne to
auncientnes.
These
then that bee placed (as it were) in the extremities, it is
behovefull for them to know how to correct the vices with reason+, that nature hath bredde in them.
Therefore ought old
men to take heede of much praysing them selves, and of the other
vices, that wee have saide are proper to them, and suffer the
wisedom and knowledge to beare stroke in them that they have gotten
by long experience, and to be (as it were) Oracles, to the which
every man should haunt for counsaile, and have a grace in uttering
that they know, applying it aptly to the purpose, accompanying with
grace of yeares a certaine temperate and merry+
pleasantnesse.
In
this wise shall they be good Courtiers, and be well entertained with
men and women, and every man will at all times be glad of their
company, without singing or dauncing: and when need requireth they
shall shewe their prowesse in matters of waight.
The very same respect
and judlernent shall yong men have, not in keeping the fashion or
olde men (for what is meete for the one, were not in all pointes so
fit for the
<353>
CASTIGLIONE other: and it is a
common saying, To much gravitie in yong men is an ill signe) but in
correcting the naturall vices in them.
Therefore delight I in
a yong man, and especially a man at armes, if hee have a certaine
sagenesse in him and few wordes, and somewhat demure, without those
busie gestures and unquiet manners which we see so many times in
that age: for they seeme to have a certaine gift above other yong
men.
Beside that,
this milde behaviour containeth in it a kind of sightly fiereenesse,
because it appeareth to be stirred, not of wrath but of judgement,
and rather governed by reason than appetite: and this (in manner)
alwaies is knowne in all men of stomacke.
And we see it likewise
in brute beastes, that have a certaine noble courage and stoutnesse
above the rest: as the Lion and the Egle: neither is it voide of
reason, for so much as that violent and sodaine motion without
wordes or other token of choler which with all force bursteth out
together at once (as it were the shot of a gunne) from quietnes,
which is contrarie to it, is much more violent and furious, than
that which increaseth by degrees and waxeth hotte by litle and
litle.
Therefore
such going about some enterprise, are so full of wordes, they so
leape and skip and can not stand still, that it appeareth they be
ravished in those matters, and (as our maister Peter Mount saith
well) they doe like children, that going in the night sing for
feare, as though yt sinnging of theirs should make them plucke up
their spirits to bee the bolder.
Even as therefore in a
yong man a quiet and ripe youth is to be commended, because it
appeareth that lightnesse (which is the peculiar vice of that age)
is tempred and corrected: even so in an olde man a greene and lively
old man is much to be esteemed, because it appeareth that the force
of the mind is so much, that it heateth and giveth a pertaine
strength to that feeble and colde age, and main-
<354>
THE COURTIER tameth it in that
middle state, which is the better parte of our life.
But in conclusion all
these good qualities shall not suffise our Courtier to purchase him
the generall favour of great men, gentlemen and Ladies, if he have
not also a gentle and loving behaviour in his dayly conversation.
And of this I
believe verily it is a hard matter to give any manner rule, for the
infinite and sundrie matters that happen in practising one with an
other: for so much as among all men in the worlde, there are not two
to be found that in every point agree in minde together.
Therefore he that must
be plyable to bee conversant with so many, ought to guide himselfe
with his own judgement. And knowing the difference of one man and an
other, every day alter, fashion and manner according to the
disposition of them he is conversant withall.
And for my part I am
not able in this behalfe to give him other rules than the
aforesaide, which one maister Morello learned of a childe in
confessing himselfe.
Herein L. Emilia
laughed and saide, you would ridde your hands of paines taking (Sir
Fredericke) but you shall not escape: so, for it is your part to
minister talke untill it be bedtime.
And what if I have
nothing to say (madam) how then, answered Sir Fredericke? The Ladie
Emilia saide: we shall now trye your wit. And if all be true I have
hearde, there have beene men so vittie and eloquent, that they have
not wanted matter to make a booke in the prayse of a flie, other in
the praise of a quartaine Fever, an other in the prayse of
baldnesse: doth not your hart serve you to finde out somewhat to say
for one night of Courting? We have alreadie, answered Sir
Fredericke, spoken as much as will goe nigh to make two bookes. But
since no excuse shall serve, Irwill speake until you shall thinke I
have fulfilled though not my dutie, yet my power.
I suppose the
conversation which ye Courtier ought
<355>
CASTIGLIONE chiefly to bee
plyable unto, with all diligence to get him favor, is the very same
that he shall have with his prince.
And although this name of
conversation bringeth with.it a certaine equalitie, that a man would
not judge can raigne betweene the maister and the servant, yet will
we so terme it for this once.
I will have our
Courtier therefore (beside that he hath and doth dayly give men to
understand that he is of the prowesse which wee have said ought to
be in him) to turne all his thoughts and force of minde to love, and
(as it were) to reverence the prince hee serveth above all other
thinges, and in his wil, manners and fashions, to bee altogether
plyable to please him.
Here without any longer
stay, Peter of Naples said: of these Courtiers now adayes ye shall
finde ynow, for (me thinke) in few words ye have painted us out a
joly flaterer+.
You are farre deceived,
answered Sir Fredericke, for flatterers love not their Lordes, { Cordelia+} nor their friendes,
the which I say unto you I will have principally in our Courtier.
And to please him,
and to obey his commandements whom he serveth, may bee done without
flatterie, for I meane the commandements that are reasonable and
honest, { Antonio+} or such as of themselves
are neither good nor bad, as in gamming and pastime, and giving him
selfe more to some one exercise than to an other. And to this will I
have the Courtier to frame him selfe, though by nature he were not
enclined to it: so that whensoever his Lord looketh upon him, hee
may thinke in his minde that hee hath to talke with him of a matter
that he wil be glad to heare. The which shall come to passe if there
bee a good judgement in him to understande what pleaseth his
prince,and a wit and wisedom to knowe how to apply it, and a bent
will to make him pleased with the thing which perhaps by nature
should displease him.
And having these
principles, he shall never be sadde before his prince, nor
melancholy, nor so soleyn as many,
<356>
THE COURTIER that a man would
weene were at debate with,their Lordes, which is truely a hatefull
matter.
He, shal
not be ill tongued, and especially against his superiours which
happeneth oftentimes: for it appeareth that there is a storme in
courtes that carrieth this condition with it, that alwaies looke who
so receiveth most benefits+ at the Lordes hands,
and is promoted from very base degree to high estate, hee is
evermore complayning and reporteth worst of him: which is an
uncomely thing, not onely for such as these be, but even for such as
be ill handled in deed.
Our Courtier shall use
no fond saucinesse. He shall be no carrier about of tryfling newes.
He shall not be overseene in speaking otherwhile wordes that may
offend, where his intent was to please.
He shall not be
stubborne and full of contention, as some busie bodies that a man
would weene had none other delyte but to vexe and stirre men like
flies, and take upon them to contrarie every man spitefully without
respect. He shall be no babler+, not
given to lightnesse, no lyar, no boaster+, nor
fond flatterer+, but sober, and keeping him
alwaies within his boundes, use continually, and especially abroad,
the reverence and respect that becommeth the servant+ toward
the maister.
And
shall not doe as many that meeting a prince how great soever he be,
if they have once spoken with him before come towarde him with a
certaine smvling and friendlye countenance, as thougrh they would
make of one their equall, or shew favour to an inferiour of theirs.
Very seldom or (in
manner) never shall he crave any thing of his Lorde for him selfe,
{gift+} least the Lorde having respect to
deny it him for him selfe, should not graunte it him without
displeasure, which is farre worse. Againe, in suing for others, he
shall discretely observe the times, and his sute shall bee for
honest and reasonable matters, { Antonio+} and
he shal so frame his sute, in leaving out those points that he shall
knowe will trouble him, and in making easie
<357>
CASTIGLIONE after a comely sort
the lettes, that his Lorde wil evermore graunt it him and though he
deny it, hee shall not thinke to have offended him whom he meant not
to doe, for because great men oftentimes after they have denyed a
request to one that hath sued to them with great instance, think the
person that laboured to them so earnestly for it, was verie greedy
of it, and therefore in not obtaining it, hath cause to beare him
ill will that denyed him it, and upon this suspition they conceive
an hatred against that person and can never afterwarde brooke him
nor afforde him good countenance.
He shal not covet to
presse into the chamber or other secrete places where his Lord is
withdrawne, unlesse hee be bid, for all he bee of great authoritie
with him: because great men oftentimes when they are privately
gotten alone, love a certaine libertie to speake and doe what they
please, and therefore will not bee seene or heard of any person that
may lightly deeme of them, and reason willeth no lesse.
Therefore such as
speake against great men for making of their chamber persons of no
great qualitie in other thinges, but in knowing how to attend about
their person (me thinke) commit an error: because I can not see why
they should not have the libertie to refresh their mindes, which we
our selves would have to refresh ours.
But in case the
Courtier that is inured with waightie affaires, happen to be
afterwarde secretly in chamber with him, he ought to change his
coate, and to deferre grave matters till an other time and place,
and frame him selfe to pleasant communication, and such as his Lord
will be willing to give care unto, least hee hinder that good moode
of his. But herein and in all other thinges, let him have an
especiall regarde, that he bee not cumbrous to him.
And let him rather
looke to have favour and promotion offered him, than crave it so
openly in the face of the world, as many doe, that are so greedie of
it, that a man would weene, the not obtaining it greeveth them as
much
<358>
THE COURTIER as the losse of
life: and if they chaunce to enter into any displeasure, or els see
other in favour, they are in such anguish of mind, that they can by
no meanes dissemble the malice, and so make all men laugh them to
scorne, and many times they are the cause that great men favour some
one, onely to spite them withall.
And afterwarde if they
happen to enter into favor, then passing a meane, they are so
dronken in it, that they know not what to doe for joy: and a man
would weene that they wist not what were become of their feete and
handes, and (in a manner) are readie to call company to behold them,
and to rejoyee with them, as a matter they have not been accustomed
withall. Of this sorte I will not have our Courtier to be.
I woulde have him to
esteeme favour and promotion, but for all that not to love it so
much, that a man should thinke hee coulde not live without it. And
when he hath it, let him not shew him selfe new or straunge in it,
nor wonder at it when it is offered him.
Nor refuse it in such
sort as some, that for verv ignorance receive it not, and so make
men believe that they acknowledge themselves unworthie of it.
Yet ought a man alwaies
to humble him selfe somewhat under his degree, and not receive favor
and promotions so easily as they be offered him, but refuse them
modestly shewing he much esteemeth them, and after such a sort, that
he may give him an occasion that offereth them, to offer them with a
great deale more instance.
Because the more
resistance a man maketh in such manner to receive them, the more
doth he seeme to the prince that giveth them to be esteemed, and
that the benefit+ which hee bestoweth is so much the
more, as he that receiveth it, seemeth to make of it, thinking him
selfe much, honoured thereby.
And these are the true
and perfect promotions, that make men esteemed of such as see them
abroad: because when they are not craved, every man conjectureth
they
<359>
CASTIGLIONE arise of true
vertue, and so much the more, as they are accompanied with modestie+.
Then saide the Lord
Cesar Gonzaga, me thinke ye have this clause out,of the Gospel,
where it is writen: When thou art bid to a mariage, goe and sit thee
down in the lowest roome, that when he commeth that bid thee, he may
say, Friend come higher and so it shall bee an honour for thee in
the sight of the guestes.
Sir Fredericke laughed
and saide: it were too great a sacriledge to steale out of the
Gospel. But you are better learned in scripture than I was aware of:
then he proceeded.
See into what daunger they fall sometime, that rashly before a great
man enter into talke unrequired, and many times that ye Lord, to
scorne them withall, maketh no answere, and turneth his head to the
other hand: and in case hee doth make answere, every man pereeiveth
it is done full scornefully.
Therefore to purchase
favour at great mens handes, there is no better way than to deserve+ it. Neither must a man hope when he
seeth an other in favor with a prince, for whatsoever matter, in
folowing his steps to come to the same, because every thing is not
fitte for every man. And ye shall finde otherwhile some one that by
nature is so readie in his mery jestes, that what ever he speaketh,
bringeth laughter with it, and a man would weene that he were borne
onely for that: and if another that hath a grave fashion in him, of
how good a wit soever he be, attempt the like, it will be very cold
and without grace, so that hee will make a man abhore to heare him,
and in effect will be like the Asse, that to counterfeite the dogge,
would play with his maister.
Therefore it is meete
eche man know_him_selfe+, and his owne disposition,
and apply him selfe thereto, and considoer what thinges are rneete
for him to follow, and what are not.
Before you goe any
further, saide here maister Vincent
<360>
THE COURTIER Calmeta, if I have
well marked, me thought ye saide right now, that the best way to
purchase favour, is to deserve it: and the Courtier ought rather to
tarry til promotions be offred him, than presumptuouslye to crave
them.
I feare me
least this rule be litle to purpose, and mee thinke experience doth
us manifestly to understand the contrary: because now adaies very
few are in favour with princes, but such as be malapert. And I wote
well you can be a good witnesse of some, that perceiving themselves
in small credite with their princes, are come up onely with
presumption.
As for
such as come to promotion with modestie, I for my part know none,
and if I give you respite to bethinke your selfe, I believe ye will
find out but few.
And if you marke the French court which at this day is one of the
noblest in all Christendom, ye shal find that all such as are
generally in favor there, have in them a certaine malapertnesse+, and that not onely one with
an other, but with the king him selfe.
Doe you not so say,
answered Sir Fredericke, for in Fraunce there are very modest and
curteous gentlemen.
Truth it is, that they use a certaine libertie and familiaritie+ { PlainDealer+} without
ceremonies, which is proper and natural unto them, and therfore it
ought not to bee termed malapertnesse. For in that manner of theirs,
although they laugh and jeast at such as be malapert, yet doe they
set much by them that seeme to them to have any prowesse or modestie
in them.
Calmeta
answered: marke the Spaniards that seeme the very maisters of
Courtly fashions, and consider how many ye find that with women and
great men are not most malapert, and so much worse than the
Frenchmen, in that at the first shew they declare a certaine
modestie? And no doubt but they bee wise in so doing, because (as I
have said) the great men of our time doe all favour such as are of
these conditions.
Then answered Sir Fredericke: I can not abide (maister
<361>
CASTIGLIONE Vincent) that yee
should defame in this wise the great men of our time, because there
be many notwithstanding that love modestie: the which I doe not say
of it selfe is sufficient to make a man esteemed.
But I say unto you,
when it is accompanied with great prowesse, it maketh him much
esteemed that hath it.
And though of it selfe
it lye still, the worthie deedes+ speake
at large, and are much more to be wondred at, than if they were
accompanied with presumption or rashnesse.
I will not now deny,
but many Spaniards there bee full of malapertnesse: but I say unto
you, they that are best esteemed, for the most part are very modest.
Againe some other
there be also so cold, that they flee the company of men too out of
measure, and passe a certaine degree of meane: so that they make men
deeme them either too fearefull, or to high minded. And this do I in
no case aflowe, neyther would I have modestie so drie and withered,
that it should become rudenesse. But let the Courtier, when it
commeth to purpose, bee well spoken, and in discourses upon states,
wise and expert: and have such a judgement that he may frame him
selfe to the manners of the Countrey where ever hee commeth.
Then in lower matters,
let him be pleasantly disposed, and reason well upon every matter,
but in especiall tende alwaies to goodnesse. No envious person, no
carrier of an evil tongue in his head, nor at any time given to
seeke preferinent or promotion any naughtie way, nor by the meane of
any subtill practise.
Then saide Calmeta: I
will assure you all, the other waies are much more doubtfull and
harder to compasse.
than is that you discommend: because now adayes (to rehearse it
againe) great men love none but such as be of that condition.
Doe you not so say,
answered then Sir Fredericke, for that were too plaine an argument,
that the great men of our time were all vicious and naught, which is
untrue, for some there be that be good. <362>
THE COURTIER But if it fell to
our Courtiers lot to serve one that were vicious and wicked, as
soone as he knoweth it, let him forsake him, least hee tast of the
bitter paine that all good men feele that serve the wicked.
We must pray unto God,
answered Calmeta, to helpe us to good, for when we are once with
them, wee must take them with all their faultes, for infinite
respectes constraine a gentleman after he is once entred into
service with a Lord, not to forsake him. But the ill lucke is in the
beginning, and Courtiers in this case are not unlike unluckie foules
bred up in an ill vale.
Me thinke, quoth Sir
Fredericke, duetie+ ought to prevaile before
all other respects, but yet so that a gentleman forsake not his Lord
at the warre, or in any other adversitie, and be thought to doe it
to follow fortune, or because hee seemed then to want the mcane to
profitte by: {Kent+} at all other times I believe
hee may with good reason, and ought to forsake that service that
among good men shall put him to shame, for all men will imagine that
he that serveth the good, is good, and he that serveth the ill is
ill. {Gobbo+} I woulde have you to cleare me of
one doubt that I have in my head, quoth then the Lorde Lodovicus
Pius, namely whether a gentleman be bound or no, while he is in his
princes service, to obey him in all thinges which he shall commaund,
though they were dishonest and shameful matters.
In dishonest matters we
are not bound to obey any bodie, answered Sir Fredericke.
And what? (replyed the
Lord Lodovicus Pius) if I be in service with a prince who handleth
me well, and hopeth that I will doe any thing for him that may bee
done, and he happen to command me to kill a man, or any other like
matter, ought I to refuse to doe it? You ought, answered Sir
Fredericke, to obey your Lord in all thinges that tend to his profit
and honour, not in such matters as tende to his losse and shame. { Antonio+}
<363>
CASTIGLIONE Therefore if he shoulde command you to conspire
treason, ye are not onely not bound to doe it, but yee are bound not
to doe it, both for your owne sake, and for being a minister of the
shame of your Lord. {Cornwall's_servant+} Truth it is, many
things seeme at the first sight good, which are ill: and many ill,
that notwithstanding are good.
Therefore it is lawful
for a man somtime in his Lords service, to kill not one man alone,
but ten thousand, and to doe many other thinges, which if a man
waigh them not as he ought, wil appeare ill, and yet are not so in
deede.
Then
answered the Lord Gasper Pallavicin. Ah by your faith talke somewhat
in this case, and teach us howe wee may discerne things good in
deede, from such as appeare good.
I pray you pardon mee,
quoth Sir Fredericke, I wil not at this time enter into that, for
there were too much to be saide in it: but all is to be referred to
your discretion.
Cleare ye me at the least of an other doubt, replyed the Lord
Gasper. And what doubt is that, quoth Sir Fredericke? This answered
the Lorde Gasper: I woulde knowe where I am charged by my maister in
expresse wordes in an enterprise of businesse what ever it bee, what
I have to doe therein: if I, at the deed doing thinking with my
selfe in doing it more or lesse, or otheimise than my commission, to
bring it more prosperously to passe, and more for his profit that
gave mee that commission, whether oughti to governe my selfe
according to the first charge without passing the bounds of the
commission, or els doe the thing that I judge to be best? Then
answered Sir Fredericke: in this point I would give you the
judgement with the example of Manlius Torquatus, which in that case
for over much affection slue his sonne, if I thought him worthie
great praysee (which to saye the truth) I doe not: although againe I
dare not discommend him, contrarie to the opinion of so many hundred
yeares. For out of doubt, it is a daungerous matter "
<364>
THE COURTIER to swarve from the
commandements of a mans superiors, trusting more in his owne
judgement than in theirs, whom of reason he ought to obey.
Because if his
imagination faile him, and the matter take ill successe, he runneth
into the error of disobedience, and marreth that hee hath to doe,
without any manner of excuse or hope of pardon. Againe, in case the
matter come well to passe according to his desire, he must thanke
his fortune, and no more adoe. Yet in this sorte a custome is
brought up, to set litle by the commandement of the superior powers.
And by his example that bringeth the matter to good passe, which
peradventure is a wise man, and hath discoursed with reason and also
aided by fortune, afterwarde a thousande other ignorant persons, and
light headed, will take a stomacke to adventure in matters of most
importance to doe after their owne way, and to appeare wise and of
authoritie, will swarve from the commission of their heads, which is
a very ill matter, and oftentimes the cause of infinit errors.
But I believe in this
point, the person whom the matter toucheth, ought to skanne it
deepely, and (as it were) put in a balance the goodnesse and
commoditie that is like to ensue unto him in doing contrarie to that
he is charged, admitting his purpose succeed according to his hope.
And counterpeise on
the other side the hurt and discommoditie that ariseth, if in doing
otherwise than hee is c&manded, the matter chance to have ill
successe: and knowing that the hurt may bee greater and of more
importance, if it succeed ill, then the profit, if it happen well,
hee ought to refraine, and in every point to observe his commission.
And contrariwise,
if the profit be like to bee of more importance, if it succeed well,
than the hurt, if it happen amisse, I believe he may with good
reason take in hande to doe the thing that reason and judgement
shall set before him, and leave somewhat aside the a very forme of
the commission, after the example of good merchantood merchant
<365>
CASTIGLIONE
men, that to gaine much,
adventure a litle, and not much, to gaine a litle. { Bassanio+} I allow well that he
have a regarde to the nature of the Lord he serveth, and according
to that, frame himselfe.
For in case he be
rigorous (as many such there are,) I woulde never counsaile him, if
he were my friend, to vary in any pareell from the appointed order,
least it happen unto him, as a maister Inginner of Athens was
served, unto whom P. Crassus Mutianus, being in Asia, and going
about to batter a towne, sent to demaund of him one of ye two
shipmastes that he had seene in Athens to make a Ram to beat downe
the walles, and saide, hee woulde have the greater.
This Inginner, as he
that was very cunnmg in deede, knew the greater would not very well
serve for this pura pose, and because the lesser was more easie to
be carried, and also fitter to make that ordinance, he sent that to
Mutianus. And after he had understood how the matter passed, he sent
for the poore Inginner, and asked him why he obeyed him not, and not
admitting any reason he could alledge for himselfe, made him to be
stripped naked, beaten and whipped with rods, so that he dyed,
seeming to him in steade of obeying him, he would have counsailed
him: therefore with such rigorous men, a man must looke well to his
doings.
But let us
leave a part now this practise of the superiours, and come downe to
the conversation that a man hath with his equalles or somewhat
inferiors, for unto them also must a man frame himselfe, because it
is more universally frequented, and a man findeth himselfe other
among them, than among his superiors.
Although there be some
fond persons, that being in company with the greatest friende they
have in the world, if they meete with one better appparrelled, by
and by they cleave unto him: and if an other come in place better
than he, they doe the like altogether unto him.
And againe when the
prince passeth through the market
<366>
THE COURTIER place, through
Churches or other haunted places, they make all men give them roome
with their elbowes, till they come to their heeles, and though they
have nothing to say to him, yet will they talk with him, and keepe
him with a long tale, laugh, clappe the handes, and nod the heade,
to seeme to have waightie businesse, that the people may see they
are in favour.
But
because these kind of men vouchsafe not to speake but With great
men, I will not we should vouchsafe to speake of them.
Then the Lorde Julian,
Since ye have (quoth he) made mention of these that are so readie to
felowshippe themselves with the wel apparreled, I would have you to
shew us in what sort the Courtier shoulde apparrell himselfe, what
kinde of garment doth best become him, and how he should fit himself
in all his garments about his bodie: be- cause we see infinit
varietie in it.
And
some are araied after the French fashion, some after the Spanish
attyre, another Will seeme a Dutchman.
Neither want we of them
also that will clothe themselves like Turkes: Some weare beardes,
other doe not.
Therefore it were a good deed in this varietie, to shew how a man
should choose out the best.
Sir Fredericke saide:
In very deede, I am not able to give any certaine rule about
rayment, but that a man should frame himselfe to the custome of the
most. And since (as you say) this custome is so variable, and
Italians are so desirous to take up other mens fashions, I believe
every man may lawfully apparrell him selfe at his pleasure.
But I know not by what
destinie it commeth, that Italie hath not as it was wont to have, a
fashion of attire, known to be the Italian fashion: for although the
bringing up of these new fashions maketh the first to appeare very
grosse, yet were they peradventure a token of libertie, where these
have beene a prognosticate of bondage, the which (me thinke) now is
plainely inough fulfilled.
And as it is written,
when Darius, the yeare before hee
<367>
CASTIGLIONE fought with
Alexander, had altered his sword he wore by his side, which was a
Persian blade, into the fashion of Macedonie, it was interpreted by
the Soothsayers, how this signified, that they into whose fashion
Darius had altered the forme of his Persian blade, shoulde become
rulers of Persia: even so where wee have altered our Italian
fashions into straunge, me thinke it signified, that all they into
whose fashions ours were chaunged, should come in to overcome us:
the which hath beene too true: for there is not now a nation left
that hath not left us their pray, so that there remaineth litle
behinde to pray upon, and yet for all that cease they not to pray
still.
But I will
not enter into communication of sorrow: therefore it shall be well
to speake of the raiment of our Courtier, the which so it be not out
of use, nor contrary to his profession, in the rest (I thinke) it
will doe well inough, so as the wearer be satisfied withall.
Truth it is, that I
would love it the better, if it were not extreme in any part, as the
Frenchman is wont to be sometime over long, and the Dutchman over
short, but as they are both the one and the other amended and
brought into better frame by the Italians.
Moreover I will holde
alwaies with it, if it bee rather somewhat graye and auncient,/16
than garish. Therfore me thinke a blacke color hath a better grace
in garments than any other, and though not throughly blacke, yet
somewhat darke, and this I meane for his ordinarie apparrell.
For there is no doubt,
but upon armor it is more meete to have sightly and merrie colours,
and also garments for pleasure, cut pompous and rich.
Likewise in open shewes
about triumphes, games, maskenes, and such other matters, because so
appointed there is in them a certain livelinesse and mirth, which in
deede doth well set forth feates of annes and pastimes.
But in the rest I
coulde wish they should declare the solemnitie that the Spanish
nation much observeth, for
<368>
THE COURTIER outwarde matters
many times are a token of the inwarde.
Then said the Lord
Cesar Gonzaga, I would not stick much at this, for so a gentleman be
of worthinesse in other matters, his garments neither encrease nor
minish reputation.
Sir Fredericke answered: ye say true. Yet which of us is there, that
seeing a gentleman goe with a garment upon his backe quartered with
sundrie colors, or with so many pointes tied together, and all about
with laces { Malvolio+} and fringes set
overthwart, will not count him a verie dizarde, or a common jeaster?
Neither dizard, quoth maister Peter Bembo, nor a jeaster would a man
count him, that had lived any while in Lumbardy, for there they goe
all so.
Why then,
answered the Dutchesse smyling, if they doe all so, it ought not to
be objected to them for a vice, this kinde of attire being as comely
and proper to them, as it is to the Venetians, to weare their long
wyde sleeves, and to the Florentines their hoodes.
I speake no more of
Lombardy quoth sir Fredericke, than of other places, for in every
nation yee shall finde both foolish and wise.
But to speake that I
thinke is most requisite as touching apparell, I will have the
Courtier in all hys garmentes handsome and cleanely, and take a
certaine delight in modest precisenes, but not for all that after
a womanish+ or light manner,
neyther more in one poynte than in another, as wee see many so
curious about their haire, that they forget all the rest.
Other delite to have
their teeth faire: other in their beard: other in buskins: other in
caps: other in coiffes. And so it commeth to passe, that those few
things which they have clenly in them, appeare borrowed ware, and
all the rest which is most fond, is knowne to be their owne. But
this trade will I have our Courtier to flie by my counsaile, with an
addition also, that he ought to determine with him selfe what he
will appeare to be, and in such sort as he
<369>
CASTIGLIONE E desireth to be
esteemed, so to apparrel himselfe, and make his garments helpe him
to bee counted such a one, even of them that heare him not speake,
nor see him doe any manner thing.
I thinke it not meet,
quoth the Lord Pallavicin, neither is it used amongst honest men, to
judge mens conditions by their garments, and not by their wordes and
deeds, for many a man might bee deceived, and this proverbe ariseth
not without cause: The habite maketh not The Monke.
I say not, answered Sir
Fredericke, that men shoulde give a resolute judgement by this
alone, of mens conditions, and that they are not knowne by words and
deedes, more than by the garments. But I say that the garment is
withal no small argument of the fancy of him that weareth although
otherwhile it appeare not true. And not this alone, but all the
behaviour, gestures and manners, beside wordes and deeds, are in a
judgement of inclination of him in whom they are seene.
And what things be
those, answered the Lorde Gasper, that you finde we may give
judgement upon, that are neither wordes nor deeds? Then saide Sir
Fredericke: You are too subtill a Logitian, but to tell you as I
meane, some operations there are that remaine after they are done,
as building, writing, and such other: some remaine not, as these
that I meane now.
Therefore doe I not count in this purpose, going, laughing, looking,
and such matters to bee operations, and notwith- standing outwardly
doe give many times a knowledge of that in writing.
Tell me, did you not
give your judgement upon that friend of ours we communed off this
morning past, to be a foolish and light person, as soone as you saw
he wryed his head, and bowed his bodie, and invited with a
chearefull countenance the company to put olf their caps to him.
So in like manner, when
you see one gaze earnestly with his cies abashed, like one that hath
litle wit: or that laugheth so fondly as doe those dumbe men, with
the great
<370>
THE COURTIER wennes in their
throat, that dwell in the mountaines of Gergamo, though hee neither
speake ne doe any thing els, will you not count him a very foole? Ye
may see then, that these behaviours, manners, and gestures, which I
minde not for this time to terme Operations, are a great matter to
make men knowne.
But me thinke there is an other thing that giveth and diminisheth
much reputation: namely, the choise of friends, with whom a man must
have inwarde conversatiion. For undoubtedly reason willeth, that
such as are coupled in strayte amitie, and unspeakable company,
should be also alike in will, in minde, in judgement, and
inclination. { friendship+} So that who so is
conversant with the ignorant or wicked, he is also counted ignorant
and wicked. And contrariwise, he that is conversant with the good,
wise, and discrete, bee is reckened such a one. For it seemeth by
nature, that every thing doeth willingly felowshippe with his like.
{amicitia+} Therefore I believe
that a man ought to have respect in the first beginning of these
friendships, for of two neare friendes, who ever knoweth the one, by
and by he imagineth the other to bee of the same condition.
Then answered maister
Peter Bembo: To be bound in friendship with such agreement of minde
as you speake of, me thinke in deede a man ought to have great
respect, not onely for getting or loosing reputation, but because
now adayes ye finde vene few true friendes.
Neither doe I believe
that there are any more in the world, those Pylades_and_Orestes+, Theseus_and_Perithous+, nor
Scipio_and_Laellus, but rather it happeneth dayly, I wote not by
what destinie, that two friendes, which many yeares have lived
together with most hartie love, yet at the emde beguile one an
other, in one manner or other, either fof malice or envy, or for
lightnesse, or some other ill cause: and each one imputeth the fault
to his fellow, of that which perhaps both the one and the other
deserveth.
Therefore because it hath happened to mee more than once to be
deceived of him whom I loved best, and of
<371>
CASTIGLIONE whom I hoped I was
beloved above any other person, I have thought with my selfe alone
otherwhile to bee well done, never to put a mans trust in any person
in the WOrlde, nor to give him selfe so for a pray to friende how
deare and loving soever he were, that without stoppe a man should
make him partaker of all his thoughts, as he would his owne selfe:
because there are in our minds so many dennes and corners, that it
is unpossible for the wit of man to know the dissimulations that lye
lurking in them.
I
believe therefore that it is well done to love and beare with one
more than an other, according to their deserts and honestie: but not
for all that so to assure a mans selfe, with this sweete baite of
friendship, that afterward it should bee too late for us to repent.
Then Sir
Fredericke, Truely (quoth he) the losse should be much more than the
gaine, if that high degree of friend- ship should be taken from the
fellowship of man, which (in mine opmion) ministreth unto us al the
goodnesse contdined in our life: and therefore will I in no case
consent to you, that it is reasonable, but rather I can finde in my
hart to conclude, and that with most evident reasons, that without
this, perfect friendship, men were much more unIuckie thdh all other
living creatures. { amicitia+} And albeit some wicked
and prophane taste of this holy name of friendship+, yet
is it not for all that to bee so rooted out of mens mindes, and for
the trespasse of the ill, to deprive the good of so great a
felicitie. And I believe verIily for my part, there is here among us
moe than one couple of friends, whose love is indissoluble and
without any guile at all, and to endure untill death, vvith a
reement of will, no lesse than those men of old time whom you
mentioned right now. And so is it alwaies, when beside the
inclination that commeth from above, a man chooseth him a friende
like unto him selfe in conditions. And I meane the whole to consist
among the good and vertuous men, {amicitia+} and
because the friendshippe of the wicked, is no friendship.
I allow well that this
knot, which is so strayte, knit or
<362>
1THE COURTIER binde no moe than two, els were it in hazarde: for (as
you know) three Instrumentes of musicke are hardlier brought to
agree together than two.
I would have our
Courtier therefore to finde him out an especiall and hartie friend,
if it were possible, of that sorte wee have spoken off. Then
according to their deserts and honestie, love, honour and observe
all other men, and alwaies doe his best to fellowshippe himselfe
with men of estimation that are noble and knowne to bee good, more
than with the unnoble and of small reputation, so he bee also
beloved and honoured of them. And this shall come to passe, if he be
gentle, lowly freeharted, easie to bee spoken to, {affability+} and sweete in companie, humble
and diligent to serve, and to have an eye to his friendes profit and
estimation, as wel absent as present, bearing with their naturall
defaults that are to be borne withall, without breaking with them
upon a small ground, and correcting in himselfe such as lovingly
shall boe tolde him, never preferring himselfe before other men in
seeking the highest and chiefe roomes of estimation, neither in
doing as some that a man would weene despised the worlde, and with a
noysome sharpenesse will tell every man his duetie, and beside that
they are full of contention in every tryfling matter, and out of
tune, they controll whatsoever they do not themselves, and alwaies
seeke cause to complaine of their friendes, which is a most hatefull
thing.
Here when
Sir Fredericke had made a stay, the Lorde Gasper Pallavicin saide:
I, would have you to expresse some- particularly this conversation
with friends, than you doe, for in deede you keepe your selfe too
much in the general, and touch unto us things (as it were) by the
way.
How by the
way? answeryd Sir Fredericke, Would you have me to tell you also the
very wordes that a man must use? Suppose you not then we have
sufficiently communed of this? I thinke yea, answered the Lord
Gasper. Yet doe I de-
<373>
CASTIGLIONE sire to understande
also some particular point of the manner of entertainement among men
and women, which (me thinke) is very necessarie matter, considering
the most part of mans time is spent therein in Courtes, and if it
were alwaies after one manner wise, a man would scone waxe wearie of
it.
Me thinke,
answered Sir Fredericke, we have given the Courtier a knowledge in
so many thinges, that hee may well varie his conversation, and frame
himselfe according to the inclination of them he accompanieth him
selfe withall, presupposing him to be of a good judgement, and
otherwhile to guide him selfe. And according to the time otherwhile,
have an eye to great matters, and sometime to pastimes and games.
And what games,
quoth the Lord Gasper? Sir Fredericke answered: let us aske
counsaile of Frier Seraphin that dayly inventeth new.
But in good earnest,
replyed the Lorde Gasper, doe you not thinke it a vice in the
Courtier to play at Dice and Cardes? I thinke it none, quoth Sir
Fredericke, unlesse a man apply it too much, and by reason of that,
setteth aside other thinges more necessarie, or els for none other
intent but to get money and to beguile his fellow, and in his losse
fume and take on so, that it might bee thought a token of
covetousnesse.
The
Lord Gasper answered: and what say you to the game at Chests? It is
truly an honest kind of entertainment and wittie, quoth Sir
Fredericke. But me thinke it hath a faulte, which is, that a man may
be too cunning at it, for who ever will bee excellent in the play of
Chests, I believe he must bestow much time about it, and apply it
with so much studiel that a man may as soone learne some noble
science, or compasse any other matter of importance, and yet in the
ende in bestowing all that labour, bee knoweth no more but a game.
{amateur+}
<374>
THE COURTIER Therefore in this
I believe there happeneth a verie rar thing, namely, that the meane
is more commendable, than the excellencie.
The Lord Gasper
answered: there be many Spaniards excellent at it, and in many other
games, which for all that bestow not much studie upon it, nor yet
lay aside the compassing of other matters.
Believe, not the
contrarie answered Sir Fredericke, but they bestow much studle upon
it, although fainingly.
As for those other
games ye speake of beside Chestes, peradventure they are like many
which I have seene that serve to small purpose, but onely to make
the common people wonder.
Therefore (in mine
opinion) they deserve none other praise or rewarde, than the great
Alexander gave unto him, that standing a far off, did so well broch
Chiche peason upon a needle.
But because fortune, as
in many other thinges, so in the opinion of men seemeth to beare a
great stroke, it is sometime seene that a gentleman how well
conditioned soever he be, and endewed with many qualities, shall be
litle set by of a great man, and (as they say) groweth not in favour
with him, and without any cause why, that a man may discerne.
Therefore when he
commeth into his presence without any acquaintance before hand, with
the rest about him, though he be wittie and readie in his answeres,
and sheweth himselfe handsomely in his behaviors, in his conditions
and wordes, and in what ever belongeth unto him, yet will that Lord
set light by him, and rather give him an ill countenance, than
esteeme him: and of this will arise that the rest immediately will
frame themselves to their Lords minde, and it shall seeme unto every
man that he is litle worth, neither will any man regard him, or make
of him, or laugh at his pleasant sayings, or set anie thing by him,
but will begin all to serve him sluttish pranckes, and make him a
Cousin.
<375>
CASTIGLIONE Neither shall good
answeres suflise the poore soule, nor yet the taking o thinges as
spoken in jeast, for even the very Pages will bee at him, so that
were he the fairest conditioned man in the world, he can not choose
but bee thus baited+ and jeasted at.
And contrariwise, if a
prince be inclined to one that is most ignorant, that can neither do
nor say any thing, his manners and behaviors, (be they never so
fonde and foolish) are many times commended with acclamation and
wonder of all men, and it seemeth that all the Court beholdeth and
observeth him, and every man laugheth at his boording and certaine
carterly jestes, that shoulde rather move a man to vomit than to
laugh: so addicted and stiffe men be in the opinions that arise of
the favorers and disfavorers of great men.
Therefore will I have
our Courtier the best he can (beside his worthinesse) to helpe
himselfe with wit and arte, and when ever he hath to goe where he is
straunge and not knowne, let him procure that there goe first a good
opinion of him, before he come in person, and so worke that they may
may understand there how he is in other places with Lordes, Ladies,
and gentlemen in good estimation: because that fame, which seemeth
to arise of the judgements of many, engendreth a certaine assured
confidence of a man's worthiness, which afterwarde finding men's
mindes so sftled and prepared, is easily with deedes maintained and
encreased beside that a man is eased of the trouble that I feele,
when I am asked the question Who I am, and what is my name.
I can not see what this
can helpe, answered maister Bernard Bibiena, for it hath sundrie
times happened unto me, and I believe to many moe, after I had
grounded in my mind by report of many men of judgement a matter to
be of great perfection before I had seene it, when I had once seene
it, I fainted much, and I was much deceived in mine imagination, and
this proceeded of nothing els, but of giving too much credit to fame
and report, and
<376>
THE COURTIER of conceiving in
my minde so great an opinion, that measuring it afterwarde with the
truth, the. effect, though it were great and excellent, yet mi
comparison of that I had imagined of it, seemed very slender unto
me.
Even so (I
feare me) may also come to passe of that Courtier. Therefore I can
not see how it were wel done to give these expectations, and to send
that fame of a man before: because our mindes many times fashion and
shape thinges, which is unpossible afterwarde to answere to and
fulfill, and so doth a man lose more than he gaineth by it.
Here Sir Fredericke
said.. Thinges that come to you and many moe being lesse in effect
than the fame is of them, are for the most part of that sorte, that
the eye at the first sight may give a judgement of them. As if you
have never beene at Naples or at Rome, when you heare men commune of
it, you imagine much more of it, than perhaps you finde afterwarde
in sight. But in the conditions of men it is not alike, because that
you see outwardly is the least part.
Therefore in case the
first day you heare a gentleman talke, you perceive not the
worthinesse in him that you had before imagined, you doe not so
soone lose the good opinion of him, as you do in the thinges wherein
your eye is by and by a judge. But you will looke from day to day,
to have him disclose some other hid vertue, keeping notwithstanding
alwaies the stedfast imprinting which you have risen by the words of
so many.
And this
man then being (as I set case our Courtier is) of so good qualities,
hee will every houre strengthen you more and more, to give credence
to that fame, for that with his doinges+ hee
shall give you a cause, and you will ever surmise somewhat more to
be in him, than you see.
And certainly it can
not be denyed, but these first imprintinges have a very great force,
and a man ought to take much heede to them.
And that you may
understand of what waight they be I say unto you, that I have knowne
in my dayes a gentle-
<377>
CASTIGLIONE man, who albeit hee
was of sufficient mannerly behaviour and modest conditions and well
scene in armes, yet was he not in any of these qualities so
excellent, but there were many as good and better.
Notwithstanding (as
lucke served him) it befell that a gentlewoman entred most fervently
in love with him, and this love dayle encreasing through declaration
that the yong man made to agree with her in that behalfe, and
perceiving no manner meane howe they might come to speake together,
the gentlewoman provoked with too great passion opened her desire
unto another gentlewoman, by whose meane she hoped upon some
commoditie. This woman neither in bloud nor in beautie was a whit
inferior to the first.
Upon this it came to
passe, that she perceyving her talke so effectually of this yong
man, whom she never sawe, and knowing how that gentlewoman, whom she
wist well was most discrete and of a very good judgement, loved him
extremely, imagined forthwith that hee was the fairest, the wisest,
the discreetest, and finally the worthiest man to be beloved that
was in the worlde: and so without seeing him, fell so deepe in love
with him, that she practised what she coulde come by to him, not for
her friend, but for her own selfe, and to make him answerable to her
in love, the which she brought to passe without any great adoe, for
(to say the truth) she was a woman rather to be sought upon than to
seeke upon others.
Now heare a pretie chance. It happened not long time after, that a
letter which this last gentlewoman writ unto her lover, came to the
hands of an other, that was a noble woman of excellent qualities and
singular beautie, who being (as the most part of women are)
inquisitive and greedy to understande secrets, and especially of
other women, opened the letter, and in reading it, perceived it was
written with an extreme affection of love.
And the sweete words
full of fire that shee read, first moved her to take compassion on
that Gentlewoman: for
<378>
THE COURTIER she knew verye
well from whom the letter came, and to whom it went.
Afterwarde they had
such force, that scanning them in her minde, and considering what
manner a man this was like to bee, that coulde bring that woman into
such love, by and by she fell in love with him, and that letter was
more effectuall to worke in this case, than peradventure it woulde
have beene if it had beene sent her from the yong man him selfe.
And as it chanceth
sometime, poyson prepared in a dish of meate for some great man,
killeth him that tasteth first of it, so this poore gentlewoman
because she was too greedy, dranke of the amorous poison that was
ordained for another.
What shall I say to
you? the matter was verie open, and spred so abroad that many women
beside these, partly in despite of the other, and partly to doe as
the other did, bent all their studie and diligence to enjoy his
love, and for a season played as children doe at Chopcherie, and the
whole proceeded of the first opinion which that woman conceived that
heard him so praysed of an other.
Now the Lorde Gasper
Pallavicin answered her smiling.
You to confirme your
judgement with reason, alleage unto me womens doinges, which for the
most part are voide of all reason. And in case you woulde tell all,
this gogd fellow so favored of so many women was some doult, and a
man in deede not to be regarded, because the manner of them is
alwaies to cleave to the worst, and like sheepe to doe that they see
the first doe, bee it well or ill.
Beside that, they be so
spitefull among themselves, that if he had beene a monstrous
creature they would surely have stolen him one from another.
Here many beganne and
(in manner) all, to speake against the Lord Gasper, but the
Dutchesse made them all to holde their peace. Afterwarde she said
smyling.
If the ill
which you speak of women were not so farre wide from the truth, that
in speaking it, it hurteth and
<379>
CASTIGLIONE shameth rather the
speaker than them, I woulde suffer you to be answered. But I will
not have you, in speaking against you with a number of reasons,
forsake this your ill custome, because you may bee sharpely
punished, for this offence.
of yours: which shall
be with the ill opinion that all they.
will conceive of you
that heare you talke in this wise.
Then answered Sir
Fredericke: Say not, my Lord Gasper, that women are so void of
reason, though sometime they apply them selves to love more through
the judgement of, others than their owne.
For great men and many
wise men, doe often times the like. And if it be lawful to tell the
truth, you your selfe and all wee here have many times, and doe at
this present credite the opinion of others, more than our owne.
And that it is true,
not long agoe there were certain verses shewed here, that bore the
name of Senazarus, and were thought of every body very excellent,
and praysed out of reason, afterwarde when they were certainely
knowne to be an other mans doing, they lost by and by their
reputation, and seemed worse than meane.
And where there was
song in the Dutchesse presence here a certaine Antheme, it never
delyted nor was reckned good, until it was knowne to be the doing of
Josquin de Pris.
But what token wil you have more plainer of opinion? Doe you not
remember where you your selfe dranke of one selfe wine, sometime ye
said it was most perfect, and another time, without all taste? and
that because you had beene perswaded they were two sortes, the one
of the coast of Genua, and the other of this soile.
And when the error was
opened, by no meanes you would believe it: that false opinion was
grounded so stifly in your head, which arose notwithstanding of
other mens words.
Therfore ought the Courtier diligently to apply in the beginning to
give a good opinion of him selfo, and consider what a harmefull and
deadly thing it is, to run in the con-
<380>
THE COURTIER trarie. And in
this danger more than other men doe they stand, that will make
profession to bee very pleasant and with this their merry fashion,
purchase them a certaine libertie, that lawfully they may say and
doe what commeth in their minde, without thinking upon it. For such
men many times enter into certaine matters, which when they can not
get out againe, will afterwarde helpe them selves with raising
laughter, and it is done with so ill a grace, that it will in no
wise frame, whereby they bring a very great lothsomnesse upon as
many as see or heare them, and they remaine very colde and without
any grace or countenance.
Sometime thinking
therby to be subtill witted and full of jestes, in the presence of
honourable women, yea, and oftentimes to themselves, they thrust out
filthy and most dishonest wordes: and the more they see them blush
at it, the better Courtiers they recken themselves and still they
laugh at it, and rejoyee among them selves at this goodly vertue
they thinke they have gotten them.
But they practise this
beastlinesse for none other cause, but to be counted good fellowes.
This is the name
alone which they deeme worthie praise, and which they brag more of,
than of any thing els, and to get it them, they speake the foulest
and shamefullest villanies in the world.
Many times they
shoulder one an other downe the stayers, and hurle billets and
brickes, one at anothers heade.
They hurle handfuls of
dust in mens eyes. They cast horse and man into ditches, or downe on
the side of some hill.
Then at table, potage,
sauce, gelies, and what ever commeth to hand, into the face it
goeth. And afterward laugh: and who so can doe most of these tricks,
he counteth him selfe the best and gallantest Courtier, and
supposeth that he hath wonne great glory.
And in case otherwhile
they get a Gentleman in their
<381>
CASTIGLIONE pleasaunt pastimes,
that will not give himselfe to such horse play, they say by and by:
He is too wise, we shall have him a Counseller, he is no good
fellow.
But I will
tell you a worse matter. Sone there be that contend and lay wager,
who can eate and drinke more unsaverie and stinking thinges, and so
abhorring and contrarie to mans senses, that it is not possible to
name them without very great lothsomnesse.
And what thinges bee
those, quoth the Lord Lodovicus Pius? Sir Fredericke answered: Let
the Marquesse Phebus tell you, for hee hath often seene it in
Fraunce, and peradventure felt it.
The Marquesse Phebus
answered: I have seene none of these thinges done in Fraunce more
than in Italie. But looke what good things the Italians have in
their garments, in feasting, in banketing, in feates of armes and in
every other thing that belongeth to a Courtier, they have it all of
the Frenchmen.
I
deny not answered Sir Fredericke, but there are also among the
Frenchmen very honest and sober gentlemen, and for my part I have
knowne many (without peradventure) worthie all prayse. But yet some
there are of litle good manner. And to speake generally (me thinke)
the Spaniardes agree more with Italians, in conditions, than
Frenchmen: because (in my minde) the peculiar quiet gravitie of the
Spaniardes is more agreeable to our nature than the quicke
livelinesse that is perceived in the French nation almost in everie
gesture: which is not to be dis- commended in them, but is rather a
grace, for it is so naturall and proper to them, that there is no
manner affection or curiositie in it.
There are many Italians
that woulde faine counterfaite their fashion, and can doe nought els
but shake the heade in speaking, and make a legge with an ill grace,
and when they come out of their doores into the Citie, goe so fast
that good footemen can scant overtake them, and with
<382>
THE COURIIER these manners they weene them selves good Frenchmen,
and to have of that libertie: which (I wis) chauneeth very seldome
saving to such as are brought up in Fraunce, and have learned that
fashion from their childhood.
The like is to be saide
in the knowledge of sundrie tongues, which I commend much in our
Courtier, and especially Spanish and French, because the entercourse
of both the one nation and the other is much haunted in Italy, and
these two are more agreeable unto us than unto any of the rest, and
those two Princes for that they are very mightie in warre and most
royall in peace, have their Court alwaies furnished with valiant
gentlemen, which are dispersed throughout the worlde, and againe we
must needes practise with them.
I will not now proceede
to speake any more particularlye of matters too well knowne, as that
our Courtier ought not to professe to be a glutton nor a drunkard,
nor riotous and unordinate in any ill condition, nor filthie and
unclenly in his living, with certaine rude and boysterous behaviors
that smell of the plough and cart+ a thousand
mile off, for bee that is of that sorte, it is not onely not to be
hoped that he will make a good Courtier, but he can be set to no
better use than to keepe sheepe.
And to conclude, I say
that (to doe well) the Courtier ought to have a perfect
understanding in that wee have saide is meete for him, so that every
possible thing may be easie to him, and all men wonder at him, and
hee at no man: meaning notwithstanding in this point that there bee
not a certaine loftie and unmannerly stubbornesse, as some men have
that shew themselves not to wonder at the things which other men
doe, because they take upon them that they can doe them much better:
and with their silence doe commend them as unworthy to bee spoken
of, and will make a gesture (in a manner) as though none beside were
(I will not say their equal) but able to conceive the understanding
of the prowesse of their cunning.
Therfore ought the
Courtier to shunne these hatefull
<383>
CASTIGLIONE manners, and with
gentlenesse and courtesie prayse other mens good deedes.
And though hee perceive
himselfe excellent and farte above others, yet shew that he
esteemeth not himselfe for such a one.
But because these so
full Perfections are very seldome found in the nature of man, and
perhaps never, yet ought not a man that pereeiveth himselfe in some
part to want, to lay aside his hope to come to a good passe, though
he can not reach to that perfect and high excellencie which hee
aspireth unto.
Because in every arte there bee many other places beside the best,
all praise worthie, and he that striveth to come by the highest, it
is seldome seene that hee passeth not the meane.
I will have our
Courtier therefore, if he finde himselfe excellent in any thing
beside armes, to set out himselfe, and get estimation by it after an
honest sorte, and be so discrete and of so good a judgement, that he
may have the understanding after a comely manner, and with good
purpose to allure men to heare or to looke on that bee supposeth
himselfe to be excellent in, making semblant alwaies to doe it, not
for a bragge and to shewe it for vaine glory, but at a chance, and
rather prai[s]ed by others, than comming of his owne free will.
And in every thing that
he hath to doe or to speake, if it be possible, let him come alwales
provided and thinke on it before hand, shewing notwithstanding the
whole to be done ex_tempore+,and at the first sight.
As for the things he
hath but a meane skill in, let him touch them (as it were) by the
way, without grounding much upon them, yet in such wise that a man
may believe he hath a great deale more cunning therein, than he
uttereth: as certaine Poets sometime lat harped upon very subtil
pointes of Philosophie, or rather sciences, and peradventure had
small understanding in the matter.
And in that hee knoweth
himselfe altogether ignorant
<384>
THE COURTIER in, I will never
have him make any profession at all, nor seeke to purchase him any
fame by it: but rather when occasion serveth, confesse to have no
understanding in it.
This, quoth Calmeta,
woulde Nicholetto never have done, which being a very excellent
Philosopher, and no more skilfull in the lawe than in fleeing, when
a governour of Padoa, was minded to give him one of the Lectures in
ye law, he would never yeeld at the perswasion of many scholers, to
deceive the opinion which the governour had conceived of him, and
confesse that he had understanding in it: but said still that he was
not in this point of Socrates opinion, for it is not a Philosophers
part to say at any time, that he hath no understanding.
I say not, answered Sir
Fredericke, that the Courtier should of himselfe goe say hee hath no
understanding, without it be required of him: for I allow not this
fondnesse to accuse and debase him selfe. Agaiiie I remember some
otherwhile that in like sorte do willingly disclose some matters,
which although they, happened perhaps without anie fault of theirs,
yet bring they with them a shadow of slander, as did a gentleman
(whom you al know) which alwaies when he heard any mention made of
the battaile beside Perna against king Charles, he would by and by
declare how he fled away, and a man would weene that lice saw or
understood nothing els in that journey.
Aftetwarde talking of a
certaine famous justing, he rehearsed still how hee was overthrowne:
and manye times also hee seemed in his talke to seeke howe hee might
bring into purpose to declare that upon a night as hee was going to
speake with a gentlewoman, hee was well beaten with a cudgel.
Such trifling follies I
will not have our Courtier to speake cff. But me think when occasion
is offered to shew his skill in a matter he is altogether ignorant
in, it is well done to avoide it. If necessitie compel him, let him
rather confesse plainely his lacke of understanding in it, than
hazarde himselfe, and so shall he avoide a blame that many deserve
<385>
CASTIGLIONE now adayes, which I
wote not through what corrupt inwarde motion or judgement out of
reason, doe alwaies take upon them to practise the thing they know
not, and lay aside that they are skilfull in.
And for a confirmation
of this, I know a very excellent musition, which leaving his musicke
a part hath wholy given himselfe to versifying, and thinketh
himselfe a great clarke therin, but in deede he maketh every man to
laugh him to scorne, and now hath he also cleane lost his musicke.
An other, one of
the chiefest painters in the worlde,/17 neglecting his arte wherein
he was very excellent, hath applied himself to learn Philosophy,
wherein he hath such straunge conceits and monstrous fansies, that
withall the painting he hath he can not paint them.
And such as these there
be infinite. Some there be that knowing themselves to have an
excellencie in one thing, make their principall profession in an
other, in which notwithstanding they are not ignorant, but when time
serveth to shew themselves in that they are most skilfull in, they
doe it alwaies very perfectly: and otherwhile it commeth so to
passe, that the company perceiving them so cunning in that which is
not their profession, they imagine them to bee much better in that
they professe in deed.
This arte in case it
bee coupled with a good judgement, discontenteth me nothing at all.
Then answered the
Lord Gasper Pallavicin. I thinke not this an arte, but a very
deceite, and I believe it is not meet for him that will be an honest
man to deceive at any time.
This quoth Sir
Fredericke, is rather an ornament that accompanieth the thing he
doth, than a deceite: and though it be a deceite, yet it is not to
be disalowed.
Will
you not say also, that he that beateth his fellow, where there be
two playing at fence together, beguileth him, and that is because he
hath more arte than the other.
And where you have a
jewell that unset seemeth faire, afterwarde when it commeth to a
goldsmithes handes that in well setting it maketh it appeare much
more fairer, will
<386>
THE COURTIER you not say that
the goldsmith deceiveth the eyes of them that looke on it? And yet
for that deceite, deserveth he prayse, for with judgement and arte a
cunning hand doth many times adde a grace and ornament to Ivorie, or
to silver, or to a stone that is faire in sight, setting it in gold.
We say not then
that this arte or deceite (in case you will so terme it) deserveth
any manner blame.
Also it is not ill for a man that knoweth himselfe skillful in a
matter, to seeke occasion after a comely sorte to shew his feate
therein, and in like case do cover the partes hee thinketh scant
worthie prayse, yet notwithstanding after a certaine warie
dissimulation.
Doe
you not remember how king Ferdinande without making any shew to seek
it, tooke occasion, very well to strippe himselfe sometime into his
doublet? and that because he knew he was very well made and nimble
withall.
And
because his handes were not all of the fairest, he seldom plucked of
his gloves, and (in manner) never. And few there were that tooke
heede to this warinesse of his.
Me thinke also I have
reade, that Julius Caesar ware for the nonce a garland of Laurell,
to hide his baldnesse withall. But in these matters a man must be
very circumspect and of a good judgement, least he passe his
boundes: for to avoide one errour oftentimes a man falleth into an
other, and to get him prayse, purchaseth blame.
Therefore the surest
way in the world, is, for a man in his living and conversation to
governe himselfe alwaies with a certaine honest meane, which (no
doubt) is a great and most sure shield against envie, the which a
man ought to avoid in what he is able.
I will have our
Courtier also to take heede he purchaseth not the name of a lyar,
nor of a vaine person, which happeneth many times, and to them also
that deserve it not.
Therefore in his
communication let him be alwaies heedfull not to goe out of the
likelihood of truth, yea and not to speake too often those truthes
that have the face of a lye, as many do that never speake, but of
wonders, and will bee
<387>
CASTIGLIONE of such authoritie,
that every incredible matter must bee believed at their mouth.
Other, at the first
entring into friendship with a new friend, to get favor with him,
the first thing that they speake, sweare that there is not a person
in the worlde whom they love better, and they are willing to
jeoparde their life for his sake, and such other matters out of
reason, and when they part from him, make wise to weepe, and not to
speake a word for sorrow. {Antonio+} Thus
because they would be counted to be loving wormes, they make men
count them lyers, and fond flatterers.
But it were too long a
matter and tedious to recken up all vices that may happen in
conversation. Therefore, for that I desire in ye Courtier, it
sufficeth to say (beside the matters rehearsed) that he bee such a
one that shall never want good communication and fitte for them hee
talketh withall, and have a good understanding with a certaine
sweetnesse to refresh the hearers minds, and with merry+ conceites and jestes to provoke them
to solace+ and laughter, so that without being
at any time lothsome or satiate, he may evermore delite.
Now I hope my Ladie
Emilia will give me leave to holde my peace, which in case she deny
me, I shall by mine owne wordes be convicted not to be ye good
Courtier I have told you of: for not onely good communication, which
neither at this time nor perhaps at any other ye have heard in me,
but also this I have, such as it is, doth cleane faile me.
Then spake the Lord
Cenerall: I will not have this false opinion to sticke in the heade
of any of us, that you are not a very good Courtier: for (to say the
truth) this desire of yours to hold your peace proceedeth rather
because you would be ridde of your paine, than for that ye want
talke.
Therefore
that it may not appeare in so noble assembly as this is, and in so
excellent talke, any parcel be left out, say you not nay to teach us
how wee shoulde use these jestes you have made mention of, and shew
us the arte that belongeth to all this kinde of pleasant speach to
provoke
<388>
THE COURTIER laughter and
solace after an honest sorte, for (in mine opinion) it is verie
necessarie and much to purpose for a Courtier.
My Lord, answered Sir
Fredericke, jestes and merrie conceites are rather a gift, and a
grace of nature, than of arte, but yet there are some nations more
redier in it than other some, as the Tuscanes, which in deed are
very subtill.
Also
it appeareth proper to the Spaniardes to invent merry conceits. Yet
are there many notwithstanding both of this nation and other also,
that in too much babling passe sometime their boundes and were
unsavery and fond, because they have no respect to the condition of
the person they commune withal, to the place where they bee, to the
time, to the great gravitie and modesty which they ought to have in
themselves.
Then
aunsweared the L. Generall: You deny that there is any arte in
jeastes, and yet in speaking against such as observe them not with
modestie and gravitie, and have not respect to the time and to the
person they commune withall, me thinke ye declare that this may also
be taught and hath some doctrine in it.
These rules my Lord,
answered Sir Fredericke, be so generall, that they may bee applyed
to every matter, and helpe it forwarde. But I have saide there is no
arte in jeastes, because (me thinke) they are onely of two sortes:
whereof the one is enlarged in communication that is long and
without interruption: as is seene in some men that with so good an
utterance and grace and so pleasantly declare and expresse a matter
that happened unto them or that they have scene and heard, that with
their gesture and wordes they set it before a mans eyes, and (in
manner) make him feele it with hand, and this peradventure for want
of an other terme we may call Festivitie or els Civilitie+.
The other sorte of
jeastes is verie briefe, and consisteth onely in quicke and subtill
sayinges, as many times there
<389>
CASTIGLIONE are heard among us,
and in nickes: neither doth it appeare that they are of any grace,
without some litle byting, and these among them of olde time were
also called Sayinges, now some terme them Privie tauntes.
I say therefore in the
first kind, which is a merry manner of expressing, there needeth no
arte, because very nature her selfe createth and shapeth men apt to
expresse pleasantly, and giveth them a countenance, gestures, a
voice, and wordes for the purpose to counterfeite what they lust.
In the other of
Privie tauntes, what can arte doe? Since that quippe ought to be
shot out and hit the pricke before a man can discerne that he that
speaketh it can thinke upon it, els it is colde and litle worth.
Therefore (thinke I)
all is the worke of witte and nature.
Then tooke maister
Peter Bembo the matter in hand, and said: The Lord Cenerall denieth
not that you say: namely that nature and wit beare not the chiefest
stroke, especially as touching invention, but it is certaine that in
each mans minde, of how good a wit soever he be, there arise
conceites both good and bad, and more and lesse, but thenjudgement+ and arte both polish and correct
them, and chooseth the good and refuseth the bad.
Therefore laying aside
that which belongeth to wit, declare you unto us that consisteth in
arte: that is to wit of jeastes and merry conceits that move
laughter, which are meete for ye Courtier and which are not: and in
what time and manner they ought to bee used: for this is that the
Lord Generall demaundeth of you.
Then Sir Frederick
saide smiling: there is never a one of us here that I will not give
place unto in everie matter, and especially in jeasting, uniesse
perhaps follies, which make men laugh many times more than wittie
sayings, were also to be allowed for jeastes.
And so turning him to
Count Lewis and to maister Bernard Bibiena, hee saide unto them.
These bee the maisters of this facultie, of whom in case I must
speak of merry sayings, I must first learne what I have to say.
<390>
THE COURTIER Count Lewis
answered: me thinke you begin now to practise that you say yee are
not skilfull in, which is, to make these Lordes laugh in mocking
maister Bernarde and me, because every one of them woteth well that
the thing which you prayse us for, is much more perfectly in you.
Therefore in case
you be wearie, it is better for you to sue to the Dutchesse that it
would please her to deferre the remnant of our talke till to morrow,
than to goe about with craft to ridde your handes of paines taking.
Sir Fredericke
began to make answere, but the Ladie Emilia interrupted him
immediatly and saide: It is not the order that the disputation
should be consumed upon your prayse, it sufficeth yee are verie well
knowne all. But because it commeth in my minde that you (Count)
imputed to me yestemight, that I devided not ye paines taking
equally, it shall bee well done that Sir Fredericke rest him a while
and the charge of speaking of jeastes wee will commit to maister
Bernarde Bibiena, for we doe not onely know him very quicke witted
in talking without intermission, but also it is not out of our
memory that hee hath sundrie times promised to write of this matter.
And therefore we may thinke he hath very wel thought upon it all
this while, and ought the better to satisfie us in it. Afterwarde
when there shall be sufficiently spoKen of jeastes, sir Fredericke
shall proceed forwarde againe with that he hath yet behinde
concerning the Courtier.
Then saide Sir
Fredericke: Madam, I know not what I have left behinde any more, but
like a travailer on the way now wearie of the painefulnesse of my
long journey at noone tide, I will rest me in maister Bernardes
communication at the sowne of his wordes, as it were under some
faire tree that casteth a goodly shadow at the sweete roaring of a
plentifull and living spring: afterwarde (may happe) being somewhat
refreshed, I may have somewhat els to say.
Maister Bernarde
answered laughing: If I shew you the
<391>
CASTIGLIONE toppe,/18 ye shall
see what shadow may be hoped for at the leaves of my tree.
To heare the roaring of
the lively spring ye speake of, it may happen be your chance so to
doe, for I was once turned into a spring: not by anie of the Goddes
of olde time, but by our Frier Marian. And from that time hetherto I
never wanted water.
Then began they all to fall in a laughing, because this pleasant
matter which maister Bernard ment happened to him in Rome in the
presence of Galeotto Cardinall of S. Petro in Vincula, was well
knowne to them all.
After they had ceased laughing, the Ladie Emilia saide: Leave now
making us laugh with practising of jeastes, and teach us how we
should use them, and whence they are derived, and whatever els ye
know in this matter. And for losing any more time, beginne out of
hand.
I doubt me,
quoth maister Bernard, it is late, and least my talke of pleasant
matters should seeme unpleasant and tedious, perhaps it were good to
deferre it till to morrow.
Here incontinently many
made answere that it lacked yet a good deale of the houre when they
were wont to leave of reasoning.
Then maister Bernarde
turning to the Dutchesse and the Ladie Emilia. I will not refuse
this labour (quoth he) although I be wont to marvell at the
boldnesse of them that dare take upon them to sing to the Lute, when
our James Sansecondo standeth by, even so ought not I in the
presence of hearers that have much better understanding in that I
have to say, than I my selfe, take upon me to entreat of jeastes.
Neverthelesse least I should shew a president to any of these Lordes
to refuse that they shall bee charged withall, I will speake as
briefly as I can possible what commeth in my minde as touching
matters that cause laughter, which is so proper to us, that to
describe a man, the common saying is, He is a living creature that
can laughe: because this laughing is perceived onely in a man, and
(in manner) alwaies is a token of a certaine jocondnesse and
<392>
THE COURTIER merry moode that
he feeleth inwardly in his minde, which by nature is drawne to
pleasantnesse, and coveteth quietnesse and refreshing.
For which cause we see
men have invented manie matters, as sportes, games and pastimes, and
so many sundrie sortes of open shewes.
And because wee beare
good will to such as are the occasion of this recreation of ours,
the manner was among the kings of olde time, among the Romanes, the
Athenians and many other, to get the good will of the people
withall, and to feede eyes and mindes of the multitude, to make
great Theaters, and other publike buildinges, and there to shew new
devices of pastimes, running of horses and Charets, fightinges of
men together, straunge beastes, Comedies, Tragedies, and daunces of
Antique. Neither did the grave Philosophers shun these sights, for
manie times both in this manner and at bankets they refreshed their
wearisome mindes, in those high discourses and divine imaginations
of theirs.
The
which in likewise all sortes of men are willing to doe, for not
onely Ploughmen, Mariners, and all such as are inured with hard and
boysterous exercises with hand, but also holy religious men and
prisoners that from houre to houre waite for death, goe about yet to
seeke some remedie and medicine to refresh themselves.
Whatsoever therfore
causeth laughter, the same maketh the mind jocunde and giveth
pleasure, nor suffereth a man in that instant to mind the
troublesome griefes that our life is full off.
Therefore (as you see)
laughing is very acceptable to all men, and hee is much to be
commended that can cause it in due time and after a comely sort.
But what this laughing
is, and where it consisteth, and in what manner, sometime it taketh
the veines, the eyes, the mouth and the sides, and seemeth as though
it would make us burst, so that what ever resistance we make, it is
not possible to keepe it, I will leave it to be disputed of
<393>
CASTIGLIONE Democritus, the
which also in case he would promise us, hee shoulde not performe it.
Tje place therefore
and (as it were) the head spring that laughing matters arise of,
consisteth in a certaine deformitie or ill favourednesse, because a
man laugheth onely at those matters that are disagreeing in
themselves, and (to a mans seeming) are in ill plight, where it is
not so in deed. I wote not otherwise how to expound it.
But if you will
bethinke your selfe, ye shall perceive the thing that a man alwaies
laugheth at, is a matter that soundeth not well, and yet is it not
in ill sitting.
What kind of waies therefore those be that the Courtier ought to use
in causing laughter, and of what scope, I will assay in what I can
to utter unto you as farre as my judgement can give me, because to
make men laugh alwaies is not comely for the Courtier, nor yet in
such wise as frantike, dronken, foolish and fond men and in like
manner common jeasters doe: and though to a mans thinking, Courtes
can not be without such kind of persons, yet deserve they not the
name of a Courtier, but each man to be called by his name and
esteemed such as they are.
The scope and measure
to make men laugh in taunting, must also be diligently considered:
who he is that is taunted, for it provoketh no laughter to mocke and
scorne a sillie soule in miserie and calamitie, nor yet a naughtie
knave and common ribauld, because a man would thinke that these men
deserved to be otherwise punished, than in jeasting at. And mens
minds are not bent to scoffe them in miserie, unlesse such men in
their mishappe bragge and boast of themselves, and have a proud and
hautie stomacke.
Againe, a respect must be had to them that are generally favoured
and beloved of every man, and that beare stroke, because in mocking
and scoming such a one, a man may sometime purchase himselfe
daungerous enimitie. Therefore it is not amisse to scoffe and mocke
at vices that are in persons not of such miserie that it should move
compassion, { Malvolio+} nor of such
wickednesse that a man would thinke they
<394>
THE COURTIER deserved not to
goe on the ground, nor of such authoritie, that any litle
displeasure of theirs may be a great hinderance to a man.
You shall understande
moreover, that out of the places jeasting matters are derived from,
a man may in like manner picke grave sentences to praise or
dispraise. And otherwhile with the selfe same words, as to praise a
liberall man that partaketh his goods in common+ with his
friendes, the common saying is, That he hath, is none of his owne.
The like may bee
saide in dispraise of one that hath stolen or compassed that hee
hath by other ill meanes. It is also a common saying, She is a woman
of no small price, when a man will prayse her for the vertues, for
her wisedom and goodnesse. The verie same may be saide of a woman
that looketh to be kept sumptuously.
But it commeth oftner
to purpose, that a manIn this case serveth his turne with the selfe
same places, than with the selfe same wordes. As within these few
dayes three gentlemen standing at masse together in a Church where
was a gentlewoman one of the three was in love withall, there came a
poore beggar and stood before her requiring her almes, and so with
much instance and lamenting with a groning voice repeated many times
his request: yet for all that did she not give him her almes, nor
deny it him in making signe to depart in Gods name, but stood musing
with her selfe as though she minded an other matter.
Then saide the
gentleman that loved her, to his two companions, see what I may hope
for at my mistresse hands, which is so cruel, that she will neither
give the poore naked soule dead for hunger, that requireth her with
such passion and so instantly, her almes, ne yet leave to depart, so
much she rejoyeeth to behold with her eyes one that is brought lowe
with miserie, and that in vaine requireth her rewarde.
One of the two
answered: it is no crueltie, but a privie admonition for you to doe
you to wit, that your mistresse is not pleased with him that
requireth her with much instance.
<395>
CASTIGLIONE The other answered:
Nay, it is rather a lesson for him, that although she give not that
is required of her, yet she is willing inough to be sued to.
See here, because the
gentlewoman sent not the poore man away, there arose one saying of
great dispraise, one of modest praise, and another of nipping
boord./19 To returne therefore to declare the kindes of jeastes
appertaining to our purpose, I say (in mine opinion) there are of
three sortes, although Sir Fredericke hath made mention but of two.
The one a civill and pleasant declaration without interruption,
which consisteth in the effect of a thing. The other a quick and
subtil readinesse, which consisteth in one saying alone.
Therefore will we adde
a third sorte to these, which we call Boordes or merrie_Pranckes,
wherein the processe is long, and the sayings short, and some deedes
withall.
The first
therefore that consisteth in communication without interruption, are
in that sorte (in a maner) as though a man would tell a tale. And to
give you an example, when Pope Alexander ye sixt dyed and Pius the
third was created, being then in Rome, and in the Palaice, your Sir
Anthonie Agnello of Mantua, my Ladie Dutchesse, and communing of the
death of the one, and creation of the other, and therein making
sundrie discourses with certaine friends of his, he saide.
Sirs, in Catullus time,
gates began to speake without tongues, and to heare without eares,
and in that sorte discovered Advouteries.
Now although men bee
not of such worthinesse as they were in those dayes, yet perhaps the
gates that are made, a great sort of them especially here in Rome,
of auncient Marble, have the same vertue they had then.
And for my part I
believe that these two will cleare us of all our doubtes, in case
wee will aske counsaile of them.
Then those Gentlemen
mused much at the matter, and attended to see to what end it would
come, when sir Anthony following on still up and down lift up his
eies, as
<396>
THE COURTIER at a sodaine, to
one of the two gates of the Hall where they walked: and staying a
while, with his finger hee shewed his company the inscription over
it, which was Pope Alexanders name and at the end of it was V, and
I, because it should signifie (as ye know) the sixt.
And said: See here,
this gate saith Alexander Papa VI., which signifieth, he hath beene
Pope through the force he hath used, and hath prevailed more thereby
than with right and reason.
Now let us see if we
may of this other understand any thing of the new Bishop: and
turning him as at adventure to the other gate, pointed to the
inscription of one N, two P P, and one V, which signifieth Nicolaus
Papa quintus, and immediately he said.
Good Lord, ill newes,
see here this gate saith Nihil Papa valet.
See now how this kinde
of jeastes is proper and good, and how fitting it is for one in
Court, whether it be true or false a man saith, for in this case it
is lawfull to feigne what a man lusteth without blame: and in
speaking the truth, to set it forth with a feate lye, augmenting or
diminishing according to the purpose.
But the perfect grace
and very pith of this, is to set forth so well and without paine,
not onely in wordes, but in gestures, the thing a man purposeth to
expresse, that unto the hearers he may appeare to doe before their
eyes the thinces he speaketh of.
And this expressed
manner in this wise hath such force, that otherwhile it setteth
forth and maketh a matter delite very much, which of it selfe is not
very merrie nor wittie.
And although these
protestations neede gestures, and the earnestnesse that a lively
voice hath. yet is the force of them knowne also otherwhile in
writing.
Who
laugheth not when John Boceaccio in the eight journey of his
hundreth tales declareth how the Priest of Varlungo strained
himselfe to sing a Kyrie and a Sanctus, when he perceived Belcolore
was in the Church.
<397>
CASTIGLIONE There be also
pleasant declarations in his tales of Calandrino him and manie
other.
After the
same sort seemeth to be the making of a man laugh in counterfeiting
or imitating (how ever wee list to terme it) of a mans manners,
wherein hetherto I have seene none passe our maister Robert of Bari.
This were no small
praise quoth maister Robert, if it were true, for then woulde I
surely goe about to counterfeite rather the good than the bad: and
if I could liken my selfe to some I know, I would thinke my self a
happie man.
But I
feare me I can counterfeite nothing but what maketh a man laugh,
which you saide before consisteth in vice.
Maister Bernard
answered. In vice in deede, but that that standeth not in ill
plight. And weete ye well that this counterfeiting yee speake of,
can not be without wit, for beside the manner to apply his wordes
and his gestures, and to set before the hearers eyes the countenance
and manners of him he speaketh of, he must bee wise, and have great
respect to the place, to the time and to the persons with whom hee
talketh, and not like a common jeaster passe his boundes, which
thinges you wonderfully well observe, and therefore I believe yee
are skilfull in all.
For undoubtedly it is
not meete for a gentleman to make weeping and laughing faces, to
make soundes and voices, and to wrastle with him selfe alone, as
Berto doth, to apparrel himselfe like a lobbe of the Countrie, as
doth Strascino, and such other matters, which doe well become them,
because it is their profession.
But we must by the way
and privily steale this counterfeiting, alwaies keeping the estate
of a gentleman, without speaking filthie wordes, or doing uncomely
deedes, without making faces and antiques, but frame our gestures
after a certaine manner, that who so heareth and seeth us, may by
our wordes and countenances imagine much more than he seeth and
heareth, and upon that take occasion to laugh.
He must also in this
counterfeiting take heede of too
<398>
THE COURTIER much taunting in
touching a man, especially in the ill favourednesse of a visage, or
ill shape of bodie. For as the mishaps and vices of the bodie
minister many times ample matter to laugh at, if a man can
discretely handle it, even so the using of this manner too bytingly,
is a token not onely of a common jeaster, but of a plaine enimie.
Therefore must a
man observe in this point (though it be hard) the fashion of our
maister Robert, as I have saide, which counterfeiteth all men, and
not without touching them in the matters wherein they be faultie,
and in the presence of them selves, and yet no man findeth himselfe
agreeved, neither may a man thinke that he can take it in ill part.
And of this I will give you no example, because we all see infinite
in him dayly.
Also
it provoketh much laughter (which neverthelesse is contained under
declaration) when a man repeateth with a good grace certaine
defaults of other men, so they be meane and not worthie greater
correction: as foolish matters sometime simply of them selves alone,
sometime annexed with a litle readie nipping fondnesse. Likewise
certaine extreame curious matters. Otherwhile a great and well
forged lye: as few dayes agoe our maister Cesar declared a pretie
foolish matter, which was, that being with the Maior of this Citie,
hee saw a Countrieman come to him, to complaine that bee had an asse
stolen from him, and after he had tolde him of his povertie, and how
the thiefe deceived him, to make his losse the greater he saide unto
him.
Sir if you had
seene mine Asse you should have known what a cause I have to
complaine, for with his pad on his backe a man would have thought
him verie Tully+ him selfe.
And one of our traine
meeting a herde of Goates before the which was a mightie great Ram
Goate, he stayed, and with a marvellous countenance saide: Marke me
the Goate, he seemeth a SaintPaul+.
The Lord Gasper saith,
he knew an other, which for that
<399>
CASTIGLIONE he was an olde
servant to Hercules Duke of Ferrara+, did
offer him two pretie boyes which he had, to be his pages, and these
two died both band the a losing with thetoefore they came to his
service.
The which
when the Duke understood, he lamented lovingly with the father,
saying that he was verie sorie, bycause when he sawe them upon a
time, hee thought them handsome and wittie children. The father made
answered.
Nay my
Lord, you sawe nothing, for within these few daies they were become
much more handsome and of better qualities than I woulde ever have
thought: and song together like a couple of Haukes.
And one of these dayes
a Doctour of ours beholding one that was judged to bee whipped about
the market place, and taking pittie upon him, because the poore
soules shoulders bledde sore, and went so soft a pace, as though he
had walked about for his pleasure to passe the time withall, he
saide to him: Goe on a pace poore fellow, that thou maist be the
sooner out of thy paine.
Then he turning about,
and beholding him that so saide (in a manner) with a wonder, staied
a while without any word, afterwarde he saide: When thou art
whipped, goe at thy pleasure, for now will I goe as I shall thinke
good.
You may
remember also the foolish matter that not long agoe the Duke
rehearsed of the Abbot, that being present upon a day when Duke
Fredericke was talking where he shoulde bestow the great quantitie
of rubbish that was cast up to lay the foundation of this Pallace,
working dayly uppon it saide: My Lorde, I have well bethought mee
where you shall bestow it, let there be a great pitte digged, and
into that may you have it cast without any more adoe.
Duke Fredericke
answered him not without laughter: And where then shall he bestowe
the quantitie of earth that shall be cast out of that Pitte? The
Abbot saide unto him: Let it be made so large, that it may wel
receive both the one and the other. And so for all the Duke repeated
sundrie times the greater the Pitte was, the more earth
<400>
THE COURTIER should be cast out
of it, yet could he never make it sinke into his braine, but it
might be made so large, that it might receive both the one and the
other: and he answered him nothing else, but, make it so much the
larger. Now see what a good forecast this Abbot had.
Then saide maister
Peter Bembo. And why tell you not that, of your great Captaine of
Florence, that was beseeged of the Duke of Calabria within
Castellina? Where there were founde upon a day in the towne certaine
quarels poysoned, that had beene shotte out of the campe, hee wrote
unto the Duke, if the warre shoulde proceede so cruelly, he would
also put a medicine upon his Gunstones, and then he that hath the
worst, hath his mendes in his hands.
Maister Bernarde
laughed and saide.. If you holde not your peace (maister Peter) I
will tell whatsoever I have seene my selfe, and heard of your
Venetians, which is not a litle, and especially when they play the
ryders.
Doe not I
beseech ye, answered maister Peter, for I will keepe to my selfe two
other verie pretie ones that I know of your Florentines.
Maister Bernarde saide:
They are rather of the Seneses, for it often happeneth among them.
As within these few dayes one of them hearing certaine letters read
in the Councell Chamber, in which for avoiding too often repetition
of his name yt was spoken of, this tearme was many times put in, il
Prelibato, (which signifieth the aforenamed) he saide unto them that
read them: soft, stay there a litle, and tell me this Prelibato what
is he? A friende to our Communaltie? Maister Peter laughed: then he
proceeded: I speake of Florentines, and not of Seneses. Speake it
hardly, quoth the Ladie Emilia, and bash not for that matter.
Maister Peter saide,
when the Lords of Florence were in warre against the Pisanes they
were otherwhile out of money, by reason of their great charges and
laying their heades together upon a day in the councell chamber,
what
<401>
CASTIGLIONE way were best to
make provision to serve their turne with all, after manie devises
propounded, one of the auncientes Citizens saide.
I have found two waies,
whereby without much travel we may in a small while come by a good
portion of money Whereof the one is (because we have no readier rent
than the custome at the gates of Florence) where we have XI.
gates, let us with
speede make a XI moe, and so shall we double our revenue.
The other way is to set
up a Mint in Pistoia, and an other in Prato, no more nor lesse than
is here within Florence, and there doe nothing els day and night but
coine money, and all Ducats of golde: and this devise (in mine
opinion) is the speedier and lesse chargeable.
They fell a laughing a
pace at the subtil device of the Citizen, and when laughing was
ceased, the Ladie Emilia said: Will you (maister Bernarde) suffer
maister Peter thus to jeast at Florentines without a revenge?
Maister Bernarde answered smiling: I pardon him this offence, for
where hee hath displeased me in jeasting at Florentines, he hath
pleased me in obeying of you, the which I would alwaies doe my
selfe.
Then saide
the Lord Cesar: I heard a Brescian speak a joly grosse matter, which
being this yeare in Venice at the feast of the Ascension, rehearsed
in a place where I was to certaine mates of his, he goodly matters
hee had seene there, what sundrie marchandise, what plate, what
sortes of spices, and what cloth and silke there was, then how the
Signoria issued out with a great pompe in the Bucentoro to wedde the
Sea, in which were so many gentleen well apparayled, so manye sortes
of instruments and melodies, that a man would have thought it a
Paradise.
And when
one of his companions demaunded him what kinde of Musicke did please
him best of all that he had hearde there, hee saide: All were good,
yet among the rest I saw one blow on a straunge Trumpet, wich at
every
<402>
THE COURTIER push thrust it
into his throate more than two handfull, and then by and by drew it
out againe, and thrust it in a fresh, that you never saw a greater
wonder.
Then they
all laughed, understanding the fond imagination of him that thought
the blower thrust into his throat that part of ye shagbut that is
hid in putting it backe againe.
Then maister Bernarde
went forwarde: Those affectations and curiosities that are but
meane, bring a lothsomnesse with them, but when they bee done out of
measure, they much provoke laughter. As otherwhile when some men are
heard to speake of their auncientrie and noblenesse of birth: some
time women of their beautie and handsomnesse.
As not long ago a
gentlewoman did, which at a great feast being verie sad, and musing
with her selfe, it was demanded of her what she thought upon, that
should make her so sad. And she made answere, I thought upon a
matter, which as oft as it commeth into my mind doth much trouble
me, and I can not put it out of my hart: which is, where in the day
of generall judgement, all bodies must arise againe and appeare
naked before the judgement seat of Christ, I can not abide the
griefe I feele in thinking that mine must also be seene naked.
Such affectations, as
these be, because they passe the degree, doe rather provoke laughter
than lothsomnesse.
Those feate lyes now that come so well to purpose, how they provoke
laughter yee all know.
And that friend of ours
that suffereth us not to want, within these fewe dayes rehearsed one
to me that was verie excellent.
Then saide the Ladie
Julian, What ever it were, more excellenter it can not be, nor more
subtiler, than one that a Tuskane of ours, which is a merchant man
of Luca+, affirmed unto me the last day for
most certaine.
Tell
it us, quoth the Dutchesse. The Lord Julian saide sinyling: This
merchant man (as he salth) being upon a
<403>
CASTIGLIONE time in Polonia,
determined to buye a quantitie of Sables minding to bring them into
Italie, and to gaine greatly b3y them. And after much practising in
the matter, where he could not himselfe goe into Moscovia, because
of the warre betwixt the king of Polonia, and the Duke of Moscovia,
he tooke order by the meane of some of the Countrie, that upon a day
appointed, certain merchant men of Moscovia should come with their
Sables into the borders of Polonia, and he promised also to be there
himselfe to bargaine with them.
This merchant man of
Luca travailing then with his company toward Moscovia, arrived at
the river of Boristhenes, which he found hard frozen like a marble
stone, and saw the Moscovites which for suspicion of the warre were
in doubt of the Polones, were on the other side, and nearer came not
than the breadth of the river.
So after they knew the
one the other, making certain signes, the Moscovites beganne to
speake aloude, and tolde the price howe they would sell their
Sables, but the colde was so extreme, that they were not understood,
because the wordes before they came on the other side where this
merchant of Luca was and his interpreters, were congeled in the
ayre, and there remained frozen and stopped. So that the Polones
that knew the manner, made no more adoe, but kindled a great fire in
the middest of the river (for to their seeming that was the point
whereto the voyce came hote before the frost tooke it) and the river
was so thicke frozen, that it did well beare the fire.
When they had thus
done, the wordes that for space of an houre had beene frozen,
beganne to thaw, and came downe, making a noyse as doth the snow
from the mountaines in May, and so immediately they were well
understood: but the men on the other side were first departed: and
because he thought that those wordes asked too great a price for the
Sables, he woulde not bargaine, and so came away without.
Then they laughed all.
And maister Bernard, Truely
<404>
TJE COURTIER (quoth hee) this
that I will tell you is not so subtill, yet is it a pretie matter,
and this it is.
Where talke was a few dayes agoe of the Countrie or world newly
found out by the Mariners of Portugal, and of straunge beastes and
other matters brought from thence, that friende I tolde you of,
alfirmed that he had seene an Ape, very divers in shape from such as
wee are accustomed to see that plaied excellently well at Chestes.
And among other
times upon a day before the king of Portugal the geentleman that
brought her plaied at Chestes with her, where the Ape shewed some
draughtes very subtil, so that she put him to his shifts, at length
she gave him Checkemate. Upon this the gentleman being somewhat
vexed (as commonly they are all that lose at the game) toke the king
in his hand which was good and bigge (as the fashion is among the
Portugales) and reached ye Ape a great knocke on the heade. She
forthwith leaped aside complaining greatly, and seemed to require
justice at the kinges handes for the wrong done her.
The gentleman afterward
called her to play with him again, the which with signes she refused
a while, but at last was contented to playe another game, and as she
had done the other time before, so did she now drive him to a narrow
point.
In
conclusion: the Ape perceiving she could give the gentleman the
mate, thought with a new devise she would be sure to escape without
any moe knockes, and privily conveyed her right hand without making
semblant what her intent was, under the gentlemans left elbowe,
leaning for pleasure upon a litle taffata coushin, and snatching it
slightly away, at one instant gave him with her left hand a mate
with a paune, and with her right hand cast the coushing upon her
head to save her from strokes: then she made a gamboll before the
king joyfully, in token (as it were) of her victory. Now see whether
this Ape were not wise, circumspect, and of a good understanding.
Then spake the Lord
Cesar Conzaga: It must needs be
<405>
CASTIGLIONE that this Ape was a
doctour among other Apes, and of much authoritie: and I believe the
common weale of the Apes of India sent her into Portugal to get a
name in a straunge Countrie.
At this every man
laughed, both for the lye and for the addition made to it by the
Lord Cesar: so proceeding on in this talke, maister Bernard saide:
you have understood therefore what jeastes are that be of effect and
communication without interruption as much as commeth to minde:
therefore it shall be well now we speake of such as consist in one
saying alone, and have a quick sharpnesse that lyeth briefly in a
sentence or in a worde. And even as in the first kinde of merrie
talke a man must in his protestation and counterfeiting take heede
that hee be not like common jeasters and parasites, and such as with
fond matters move men to laugh, so in this briefe kinde the Courtier
must be circumspect that he appeare not malicious and venemous, and
speake tauntes and quippes onely for spite and to touch the quicke,
because such men oftentimes for offence of the tongue are chastised
in the whole bodie.
Of those readie jeastes therefore that consist in a short saying,
such are most lively that arise of doubtfulnesse, though alwaies
they provoke not laughing: for they bee rather praysed for wittie,
than for matters of laughter. As few dayes it is that our maister
Anniball Palleotto saide to one that appointed him a maister to
teach his children the Grammer, and after that hee had praysed him,
to be a man very well learned, coming to wages, saide, that besides
the money he would have a chamber furnished to dwell and sleepe in,
for that he had not letto, that is a bedde.
Then maister Anniball
answered presently: and how can he be learned, if he have not letto,
this is, read.
See
how well he tooke a vantage at the diverse signification of haver
letto (which is interpreted both to have a bedde, and to have read.)
But because those doubtfull wordes have a pretie sharpenesse of wit
in them, being
<406>
THE COURTIER taken in a
contrarie signification to that all other men take them, it
appeareth (as I have saide) that they rather provoke a man to wonder
than to laugh, except when they be joyned with other kindes of
sayinges.
The kinde
therefore of wittie sayinges that is most used to make men laugh, is
when we give eare to heare one thing, and he that maketh answere,
speaketh an other, and is allefdged contrarie to expectation, and in
case a doubt be annexe therewithall, then it is verie wittie and
pleasant.
As the
last night disputing to make a faire mattonato, that is, paviment in
the chamber of the Ladie Dutchesse, after many wordes. You maister
John Christopher saide, If we could have the bishop of Potentia, and
make him flat, it should be very fit, for that he is the fairest
matto nato, that is naturall foole, that ever I did see.
Every one laughed
greatlye for that dividing that worde nwtto nato you made the doubt,
afterwarde saying that if they had to make flat a bishop and place
him for pavement of a chamber it was farre from the opinion of the
hearers, thus the sentence came to bee verie sharpe and worthie the
laughing.
But of
doubtrull wordes there be many sortes, therefore must a man bee
circumspect, and choose out termes very artificiall, and leave out
such as make the jeast colde, and that a man would weene were haled
by the haire, or els (as wee have saide) that have too much
bitternesse in them. As certain companions being in a friends house
of theirs, who had but one eye, after he had desired the companie to
tarrie dinner with him, they departed all saving one, that saide.
And I am well
pleased to tarrie, for I see a voide roome for one, and so with his
finger pointed to the hole where his eye had beene.
See how bitter and
discourteous this is passing measure, for he nipped him without a
cause, and without being first pricked himselfe: and he saide the
thine that a man miflit speake against blinde men. Such generall
matters delite
<407>
CASTIGLIONE not, because it
appeareth they are thought upon of purpose.
And after this sorte
was the saying to one without a nose: And where dost thou fasten thy
spectacles? Or wherewithall doest thou smell Roses at the time of
the yeare? But among other merry sayings, they have a verie good
grace, that arise when a man at the nipping talke of his fellow,
taketh the verie same words in the selfe same sense, and returneth
them backe againe, pricking him with his owne weapon. As an Attorney
in the law, unto whom in the presence of the judge his adversarie
saide, what barkest thou? Forthwith he answered: Because I see a
thiefe.
And of this
sorte was also, when Galeotto of Narni passing through Siena stayed
in a streete to enquire for an Inne, and a Senese seeing him so
corpulent as he was, saide laughing: Other men carrie their
Bougettes behind them, and this good fellow carrieth his before him.
Galeotto answered immediately: So must men doe in the Countrie of
theeves.
There is
yet an other sorte called in Italian Bischizzi and that consisteth
in chauneing or increasing, or diminishing of a letter or sillable.
As he that said: Thou shouldest be better learned in the Latin
tongue than in the Greeke.
And to you (madam) was
written in the superscription of a letter, To the Ladie Emilia
Impia.
It is also a
merrie devise to mingle together a verse or moe, taking it in an
other meaning than the Author doth, or some other common saying.
Sometime in the verie same meaning, but altering a worde, as a
gentleman that had a foule and scouling wife: when he was asked the
question how hee did, he answered.
Thinke thou thy selfe,
for Furiarum maxima juxta me cubat./20 And maister Hierom Donato
going a visitin the Stations of Rome in Lent in companie with many
other gentlemen, met with a knotte of faire Romane Ladies, and when
one of these gentlemen had said:
<408>
THE COURTIER Quot ccelum
stellas, tot habet tua Roma Puellas./21 By and by he added: Pascua
quotque haedos, tot habet tua Roma cinaedos./22 Shewing a rout of
yong men that came on the other side.
And Marcantonio della
Torre said after the manner to the bishop of Padoa, Where there was
a Nunrie in Padoa, under the charge of a religious person, much
esteemed for his good life and learning, it happened that this
Father haunting much to the Nunrie very familiarly, and confessing
often the sisters, begatte five of them with childe, where there
were not passing five mo in all. And when the matter was knowne, the
Father would have fiedde, and wist not how.
The bishoppe caused him
to be apprehended, and upon that, he confessed that he had gotten
those five Nunnes with childe through ye temptations of the divel,
so that the bishoppe was fully bent to chastice him sore. And
because this man was learned, hee had made manie friendes, which
altogether assayed to helpe him, and among the rest there went also
maister Marcontonio, to entreate for him.
The bishop woulde in no
wise give eare to them. At length they being instant: upon him, and
commending the guiltie, and excusing him through the commoditie of
place, frailtie of man, and many other causes, the bishop saide.
I will doe nothing for
you, because I must make account unto God of this. And when they had
replied againe, the bishop said: what answere shall I make unto God
at the day of judgement, when he shall say unto me, Redde rationem
villicationis tUae?/23 Maister Marcantonio answered him
immediatelye: Mary my Lorde, the verie same that the Gospel saith:
Domine quinque talenta tradidisti mihi, ecce alia quinque
superlucratus sum./24
<409>
CASTIGLIONE Then could not the
bishop abstaine laughing, and hee asswaged much his anger and the
punishment that hee had ordained for the offender. It is likewise
verie pretie to allude to names and to faine somewhat, wherfore he
yt the talke is of is SO called, or els because he doth some thing:
as not long since the provost of Luca (which as you know is one
merrilie disposed) asking the bishoprik of Caglio, the Pope answered
him. Dost thou not know that Caglio, in ye Spanish tongue is as much
to say as, I holde my peace, and thou art a great prater. Therefore
it were unfitting for a bishop at any time in naming his title to
make a lye, now Calia, hold thy peace then. To this ye provost gave
an answere, the which although it were not in this SOrte, yet was it
no lesse pretie than this. For after he had often put him in
remembrance of this his sute and saw it of none effect, at last hee
saide, Holy father, in case your holinesse doe give me this
bishoprike, it shall not be without profit to you, for then will I
surrender two offices into your hands. , And what offices hast thou
to surrender into my handes quoth the Pope? the provost answered. I
shall surrender unto you officium principale and officium beatae
Mariae.
Then could
not the Pope though he were a very grave person abstaine from
laughing. An other also in Padoa saide, Calphurnius was so nanied
because he was wont to heate furnaces.
And upon a day when I
asked Phedra how it happeneth, where prayer is made in the Church
upon good Fryday not onely for Christians but also for Paganes and
for Jewes, there was no mention made of the Cardinalles, as there
was of bishops and other prelates. He answered me, that the
Cardinalles were contained in the Collect, Oremus pro hxreticis et
Schismaticis.
And
our Count Lewis saide, that I reprehended a ladie of love for
occupying a certaine kinde of lye that shined
<410>
THE COURTIER much, because when
she was turned therewithall, I might see my selfe in her face, and
for that I was ill favoured I could not abide to looke upon my
selfe.
In this
manner was that maister Camillo Paleotto said unto maister Anthonio
Porcaro, which reasoning of a companion of his that under confession
had saide unto the Priest that he fasted with all his hart, and went
to Masse and to holy service, and did all the good deedes in the
world, saide: This fellow in stead of accusing praiseth him selfe.
Unto whom maister Camillo answered nay, he rather confesseth him
selfe of these matters, because he reckoneth the doing of them great
sinne.
Doe you not
remember how well the Lord Generall saide the last day, when John
Thomas Caleotto wondred at one that demaunded two hundred Ducats for
a horse? for when John Thomas said that he was not worthie a
farthing, because among other ill properties he had, he coulde not
abide weapons, neither was it possible to make him come nigh where
he saw any, the Lord Cenerall saide (willingly to reprehend him of
cowardise) if the horse hath this propertie that hee can not abide
weapons, I marvell hee asketh not a thousand Ducates.
Also sometime a man
speaketh the very same word, but to another ende than the common use
is. As, when the Duke was passing over a verie swift river, he saide
to the trumpter: goe on. The trumpter turned him backe with his
cappe in his hand and after a reverent manner, saide: It shall bee
yours my Lord.
It
is also a pleasant manner of jeasting, when a man seemeth to take
the wordes and not the meaning of him that speaketh. As this yeare a
Dutchman in Rome meeting in an evening our maister Phillip Beroaldo
whose scholler he was, saide unto him Domine nwgister, peus det
vobis bonum sero. And Beroaldo answered incontinently Tibi malum
Cito./25 And another Spaniard sitting at the table with the great
Captaine, Diego de Chignognes saide, Vino dios (calling
<411>
CASTIGLIONE for wine) Diego
answered him againe. Vino, y no lo conocisteS,/26 to nip him for a
chesnut./27 Also maister James Sadoleto saide unto Beroaldo, that
had tolde him how hee would in any wise goe to Bolonia, what is the
cause that maketh you thus to leave Rome where there are so many
pleasures, to gpe to Bolonia, full of disquietnesse? Beroaldo
answered: I am forced to goe to Bolonia for three Counts. And now he
had lift up three fingers of his left hand to alledge three causes
of his going, when maister Janes sodainly interrupted him and saide:
The three countes that make you goe to Bolonia are, Count Lewis da
San Bonifacio, Count Hercules Rangon and the Count of Pepoli.
Then they all laughed
because these three Countes had been Beroaldoes scholers and were
proper young men and applyed their studie in Bolonia.
This kinde of merry
jeasting therfore maketh a man laugh much, because it bringeth with
it other manner answeres than a man looketh for to heare, and our
own errour doth naturally delite us in these matters, which when it
deceiveth us of that we looke for, wee laugh at it.
But the termes of
speach and figures that have any grace and grave talke, are likewise
(in a manner) alwaies comely in jeastes and merrie pleasantnesse.
See how wordes
placed contrariwise give a great ornament, when one contrarie clause
is set against an other.
The same manner is
oftentimes verie merrie and pleasant. As a Genuese that was verie
prodigall and lavish in his expences being reprehended by an usurer,
who was most covetous that saide unto him: And when wilt thou leave
casting away th substance? Then answered he: when thou leavest
steling of other mens. { Shylock+} And because (as we have
alreadie saide) of the places that wee derive jeastes from, that
touch a man, wee may many times from the very same take grave
sentences to praise and commend: It is a very comely and honest man-
<412>
THE COURTIER ner both for the
one and the other purpose, when a man consenteth to and confirmeth
the selfe same thing that the other speaketh, but interpreteth it
otherwise that he meaneth.
As within these few
daies a Priest of the countrie saying Masse to his parishioners,
after he had told them what holy dayes they should have that weeke,
he beganne the generall confession in the name of all the people,
and saide: I have sinned in ill doing, in ill speaking, in ill
thinking, and the rest that followeth, making mention of all
the deadly_sins+. Then a Gossippe of his and one
that was very familiar with the Priest to sporte with him, saide to
the standers by.
Beare recorde, Sirs, what he confesseth with his owne mouth he hath
done, for I entend to present him to the bishop for it.
The very same manner
used Sallazza della Pedrad to honour a Ladie withall, with whom
entring in talk, after he had praysed her, beside her vertuous
qualities, for her beautie also, she answered him that she deserved
not that praise, because she was now well striken in yeares. And he
then saide to her: That is in you of age, is nothing els but to
liken you unto the Angels which were first, and are the auncientest
creatures that ever God made.
Also merry sayinges are
much to the purpose to nippe a man, as well as grave sayinges to
praise one, so the metaphors be well applyed, and especially if they
be answered.
and he
that maketh answere continue in the selfe same metaphor spoken by
the other.
And in
this sorte was answered to M. PallaStrozzi+, which
banished out of Florence, and sending thither one of his about
certaine affaires, saide unto him after a threatening manner.
Tel Cosmus de Medicis+ in my name, that the henne sitteth
a brood. The messenger did the errand to him, as hee was willed. And
Cosmus without any more deliberation, answered him immediately.
<413>
CASTIGLIONE Tell maister Palla
in my name againe, that Hens can full ill sit a brood out of the
nest.
With a
metaphor also maister Camillo Parcaro commended honorably the Lord
Mareantonia Colonna, who understanding that maister Camillo in an
Oration of his had extolled certaine noble men of Italy that were
famous in marciall prowesse, and among the rest had made most
honourable mention of him, after rendring due thankes, he saide to
him: you (maister Camillo) have done by your friendes as some
marchant men play by their money, which finding a counterfeite
Ducate, to dispatch him away, cast him into a heape of cood ones and
so utter him.
Even
so you, to honour me withall, where I am litle worth, have set me in
companie with so excellent and vertuous personages, that through
their prowesse, I may peradventure passe for a good one. Then
maister Camillo made answere. {Modest+} They
that use to counterfeite Ducates, gylt them so that they seeme to
the eye much better than the good: therefore if there were to be
found counterfeiters of men, as there be of Ducates, a man might
have a just cause to suspect you were false, being (as you are) of
much more faire and brighter mettall than anie of the rest.
You may see that this
place is common both for the one and the other kinde of jeastes, and
so are many moe, of the which a man might give infinite examples,
and especially in grave sayinges. As the great captaine saide,
(which bein set at table and every roome filled) saw two Italian
gentftemen standing by that had done him verie good service in the
warre, sodainly he start up and made all the rest to arise to give
place to those two, and saide.
Make roome Sirs for the
gentlemen to sit at their meat, for had not they beene, wee shoulde
not have had now wherewithall to feede our selves. He saide also to
Diego Garzia that perswaded him to remove out of a dangerous place
that lay open upon gunshot: Since God hath not put feare into your
minde, put not you it into mine.
<414>
THE COURTIER And king Lewis,
which is now French king, where it was saide unto him soone after
his creation, that then was the time to be even with the enimies
that had done him much injurie while hee was Duke of Orleans. Hee
made answere: That the French king hath nothing adoe to revenge the
wronges done to the Duke of Orleans. {Clemency+} A man
toucheth also in jeast manie times with a certaine gravitie without
moving a man to laugh. As Cein Ottomani brother to the great Turke,
when hee was prisoner in Rome, he saide: justing (as wee used it in
Italie) seemed to him over great a daliance, and a trifle to that
should be in deede.
And he saide, when it was told him that king Ferdinande the younger
was nimble and quicke of person in running, leaping, vauting, and
such matters, in his countrey slaves used these exercises, but great
men learned from their childhood liberalitie, and were renowmed for
that.
And in a
manner after that sorte, saving it had a litle more matter to laugh
at, was that the Archbishop of Florence saide unto Cardinall
Alexandrino, That men have nothing but Substance, a bodie and a
soule. Their Substance is at Lawiers disposing, their bodie at
Phisitions, and their soule at Divines.
Then answered the Lord
Julian: A man might adde unto this ye saying of Nicholetto: which
is, that it is seldom seene a Lawier+ to goe to
law, nor a Phisition take medicin, nor a Divine a good Christian.
Maister Bernarde
laughed, then hee proceeded: Of this there bee infinite examples
spoken by great Princes and very grave men. But a man laugheth also
many times at comparisons. As our Pistoia wrote unto Seraphin: I
send thee backe againe thy great male which is like thy selfe.
If ye remember well
Seraphin was much like a male.
Againe, there be some
that have a pastime to liken men and women to horses, to dogges, to
birdes, and often times to coffers, to stooles, to cartes, to
candelsticks, which sometime hath a good grace, and otherwhile very
stale.
<415>
CASTIGLIONE Therefore in this
point a man must consider the place, the time, the persons, and the
other thinges wee have so manie times spoken of.
Then spake the Lord
Gasper Pallavicin: The comparison that the Lorde John Conzaga made
of Alexander the great to maister Alexander his sonne, was very
pleasant.
I wote
not what it was, answered maister Bernarde.
The Lord Gasper saide:
The Lord John was playing at dice (as his use is) and had lost a
number of Ducats and was still on the losing hand, and maister
Alexander his sonne, which for all hee is a childe, deliteth no
lesse in play than his Father, stoode very still to behold him, and
seemed very sad.
The Count of Pianella, that was there present with manie other
gentlemen, said: See (my Lord) maister Alexander is verie heavie for
your losse, and his hart panteth waiting when lucke wil come to u
that he may Let some of your winninges: therfore rid him of his
gride, and before yee lose the rest, give him at least one Ducate
that he may goe play him too, among his companions.
Then saide the Lord
John: You are deceived, for Alexander thinketh not upon such a
trifle, but as it is writen of Alexander the great while he was a
childe, understanding that Philip his father had discomfitted a
great armie, and conquered a certaine kingdom, he fell in weeping,
and when he was asked the question why he wept, hee answered,
because he doubted that his father woulde conquere so many
Countreyes, that he woulde have none left for him to conquere: Even
so now Alexander+ my sonne is sory and
readie to weepe in seeing me his father lose, because he doubted
that I shall lose so much, that I shall leave him nothing at all to
lose. When they had a while laughed at this, maister Bernarde went
forwarde.
A man
must take heed also his jeasting be not wicked, and that the matters
extend not to appeare quicke witted, to blaspheme, and studie
therein to invent new waies.
Least herein, where a
man deserveth not onely blame,
<416>
THE COURTIER but also sharpe
punishment, he should appeare to seeke a prayse, which is an
abhominable matter. And therefore such as these be, that goe about
to shew their pregnant witte with small reverence to Godwarde,
deserve to be excluded out of everie gentlemans company.
And no lesse, they that
be filthie and baudie in talke, and that in the presence of women
have no manner respect, and seeme to take none other delite, but to
make women blush for shame, and uppon this go seeking out merrie and
jeasting words.
As
this yeare in Ferrara at a banket in presence of many Ladies, there
was a Florentine and a Senese, which for the most part (as you know)
are enimies together. The Senese saide to nip the Florentine: We
have marryed Siena to the Emperour and given him Florence to dowrie.
And this he spake because the talke was abroad in those dayes, that
the Seneses had given a certaine quantitie of money to the Emperour,
and he tooke the protection of them upon him.
The Florentine answered
immediately: But Siena shall be first ridden (after the French
phrase, but hee spake the Italian word) and then shall the dowrie
afterwarde be pleaded for at good leasure.
You may see the taunt
was wittie, but because it was in presence of women, it appeared
bawdic and not to be spoken.
Then spake the Lord
Gasper Pallavicin: Women have none other delite but to heare of such
matters, and yet will you deprive them of it. And for my part I have
beene readie to blush for shame at wordes which women have spoken to
mee oftner than men.
I speake not of such
women as these be, quoth maister Bernard, but of the vertuous that
deserve to be reverenced and honoured of all gentlemen.
The Lorde Gasper saide:
It were good we might find out some pretie rule how to know them,
because most commonly the best in apparance are cleane contrarie in
effect.
Then saide
maister Bernard smiling: were not the Lorde
<417>
CASTIGLIONE Julian here
present, that in every place is counted the protector of women, I
would take upon me to answere you, but I will not take his office
from him.
Here the
Ladie Emilia in like manner smyling, saide: Women neede no defender
against an accuser of so small authoritie. Therefore let the Lorde
Gasper alone in this his forward opinion, risen more because he
could never finde woman that was willing to looke upon him, than for
any want that is in women, and proceed you in your communication of
jeastes.
Then
maister Bernarde, truely Madam (quoth hee) me thinke I have named
unto you many places, out of the which a man may picke pleasaunt and
wittie sayinges, which afterwarde have so much the more grace, as
they are set forth with a comelye protestation.
Yet may there bee
alleaged manie other also, as when to increase or diminish, thinges
be spoken that uncredibly passe the likelihood of truth. And of this
sorte was that Marius de Volterra saide by a prelate that thought
him selfe so tall a person, that as he went into Saint Peters, hee
stouped for hitting his heade against the great beame over the
porch.
Also the
Lord Julian here saide, that Colpino his servant was so leane and
drye, that in a morning as he was blowing the fire to kindle it, the
smoke bore him up the chimney unto the funnel, and had gone away
with him had he not stuck on the crosse at one of the holes above.
And maister
Augustine Bevazzano tolde, that a covetous man which woulde not sell
his come while it was at a high price, when he saw afterwarde it had
a great fall, for desperation hee hanged him selfe upon a beame in
his chamber, and a servant of his hearing the noise, made speede,
and seeing his maister hang, forthwith cut in sunder the rope and so
saved him from death: afterwarde when the covetous+ man
came to him selfe, hee would have had his servant to have paide him
for his haulter that he had cut.
<418>
THE COURTIER Of this appeareth
to bee also that Laurence de Medicis saide unto a colde jeaster:
thou shouldest not make me to laugh if thou tickledst me. The like
he answered unto an other foolish person, who in a morning had found
him in bed very late, and blamed him for sleeping so much, saying
unto him: I have now beene in the newe and olde market place,
afterwarde I went out at the gate of San Gallo to walke about the
walles, and have done a thousand other matters, and you are yet in
bedde. Then saide Laurence: that I have dreamed in one houre, is
more worth, than all that you have done in foure.
It is also pretie when
one reprehendeth a thing which a man would not thinke hee minded to
reprehend. As the marquesse Fredericke of Mantua+ our
Dutchesse father being at table with many gentlemen, one of them
after he had eaten up his dish of broth, saide: by your leave my
Lorde marquesse. And when he had so saide, he began to suppe up the
rest that remained in the dish. Then saide the marquesse by and by:
Aske leave of the swine, for thou doest me no wrong at all.
Also maister Nicholas
Leonicus saide, to touch a noble man that was falsly reported to be
liberall: Gesse you what liberalitie is in him, that doth not onely
give away his owne good but other mens also.
That is in like manner
an honest and comely kinde of jeasting, that consisteth in a
certaine dissimulation, when a man speaketh one thing and privily
meaneth another. I speak not off the manner that is clean contrarie,
as if one dwarfe a giant: and a blacke man, white: orone most ill
favored, beawfifull: because they be too open contraries, although
otherwhile also they stirre a man to laugh laugh. But when with a
grave and drie speach in sporting a man speaketh pleasantly that hee
hath not in his mind.
As when a gentleman
tolde maister Augustine Folietto a loud lye and earnestly did
affirme it, because he thought he scarse believed it. At last
maister Augustine saide: Gentle-
<419>
CASTIGLIONE man, if you will
ever doe me pleasure, be so good to me as to quiet your selfe in
case I doe not believe any thing you say. Yet when he replyed againe
and bound it with an oth to be true, at length hee saide: Since you
will have me, I am content to believe it for your sake, for to say
the truth I would doe a greater thing for you than this commeth too.
In a manner after
the same sorte Don Giovanni di Cardona saide of one that woulde
forsake Rome: in mine opinion this fellow is ill advised, for hee is
so wicked, that in abiding in Rome it may be his chaunce in time to
be made a Cardinall.
Of this sorte is also
that Alfonsus Santocroce saide, which a litle before having certaine
injuries done him by the Cardinall of Pavia, and walking without
Bolonia with certaine gentleman nigh unto the place of execution,
and seeing one newly haneled there, turned him that way with a
certaine heavle looke, and saide so loude that everie man might
heare him. Thou art a happie man that hast nothing adoe with the
Cardinall of Pavia.
And the kinde of jeasting that is somewhat grounded upon scoffing
seemeth verie meete for great men, because it is grave and wittie
and may be used both in sporting matters and also in grave.
Therefore did many of
olde time and men of best estimation use it: As Cato+, Scipio+ AHricanus minor. But above
all they say Socrates+ the Philosopher
excelled in it. And in our time king Alphonsus the first of Aragon+: which upon a time as he
went to dinner tooke many rich jewels from his fingers, for wetting
them in washing his handes, and so gave them to him that stood next
him as though hee had not minded who it was. This servant had
thought sure the king marked not to whom he gave them, and because
his heade was busied with more waighty affaires, woulde soone forget
them cleane, and thereof hee tooke the more assurance when hee saw
the king asked not for them againe.
And when that matter
was passed certaine dayes, weekes,
<420>
THE COURTIER and monthes
without hearing any worde of it, he thought surely he was safe.
And so about the yeares
end after this matter had happened, an other time as the king was in
like manner going to dinner, he stepped forth his hand to take the
kinges ringres. Then the king rounding him in the eare, saide: The
fiirst is well for thee, these shall be good for another. {clemency+} See this taunt how pleasant,
wittie, and grave it is, and worthie in verie deede for the noble
courage of an Alexander.
Like unto this manner
grounded upn scoffing there is also an other kinde, when with honest
wordes, a man nameth a vicious matter or a thing that deserveth
blame.
As the great
Captaine saide unto a gentleman of his, that after the journey of
Cirignola and when all things were alreadie in safetie, met him as
richly armed as might be, readie to fight. Then the great Captaine
turning him, to Don Ugo di Cardona, saide: Feare ye not now any more
Sea tempest, for S. Hermus hath appeared. And with this honest worde
hee gave him a nicke. Because you know Saint Hermus doth alwales
appeare unto Mariners after a tempest, and giveth a token of calme.
And the meaning of
the great Captaine was, that when this gentleman appeared it was a
sign the danger was alreadir cleane past.
Againe maister Octavian
Ubaldino being in Florence in companie with certaine of the best
Citizens, and reasoning together of souldiers, one of them asked him
whether he knew Antonello da Forli which was then fledde out of the
state of Florence. Maister Octavian answered: I have no great
knowledge of him, but I have heard him alwaies reported to be a
quicke souldier. Then saide an other Florentine, It appeareth he is
quicke, for he tarried not so long as to aske leave to depart.
They be also pretie
taunts when a man of the very communication of his fellow taketh
that he would not, and my
<421>
CASTIGLIONE meaning is in that
sort, as our Duke answered the Captaine that lost Saint Leo. When
this state was taken by Pope Alexander, and given to Duke Valentin.
The Duke being in
Venice at that time I speake of, many of his subjects came
continually to give him secrete information how the matters of state
passed, and among the rest, thither came also the Captaine: which
after hee had excused himselfe the best he coule, laying the fault
in his unluckinesse, hee saide.
My Lord doubt ye not,
my hart serveth mee yet to worke a mean that Saint Leo may be
recovered again. Then answered the Duke: trouble not thy self any
more about it, for in losing it thou hast wrought a meane that it
may be recovered againe.
Certaine other sayinges
there are, when a man that is knowne to be wittie speaketh a matter
that seemeth to proceede of follie. As the last day maister Camillo
Paleotto saide by one: that foole, as soone as hee began to waxe
rich, died.
There
is like unto this matter a certaine wittie and kinde dissimulation,
when a man (as I have saide) that is wise maketh semblant not to
understand that hee doth understand.
As the marquesse
Fredericke of Mantua, which being sued to by a prating felow that
complained upon a certaine of his neighbours taking the Pigions of
his Dovehouse with snares, and held one continually in his hand
hanging by the foote in a snare, which he had found so deade, hee
answered him that there would be a remedie for it.
This fellow never
satisfied, not once but many a time repeated unto him his losse,
shewing alwaies the Pigion so hanged, and saide still: But I beseech
you, how think ye (my Lorde) what shoulde a man doe in this matter?
The marquesse at length saide: By mine advise the Pigion ought in no
wise to be buried in the Church, for since he hath so hanged him
selfe, it is to be thought that he was desperate. <422>
THE COURTIER In a manner after
the same sorte was that Scipio Nasica saide untoEnnius+. For when
Scipio went unto Ennius house to speake with him and called to him
in the streete, a maiden of his made him answere that he was not at
home.
And Scipio
heard plainely Ennius him self speak unto his maiden to tell him
that he was not at home, so he departed.
Within a while after
Ennius came unto Scipioes house, and so likewise stoode beneath, and
called him. Unto whom Scipio himselfe with a loude voice made
answere, that hee was not at home.
Then saide Ennius:
What, doe not I know thy voice? Scipio answered: Thou hast small
courtesie in thee, the last day I believed thy maiden, that thou
wast not at home, and now wilt not thou believe me my selfe? It is
also pretie when one is touched in the verie same matter that he
hath first touched his fellow.
As Alonso Carillo being
in the Spanish Court, and having committed certaine youthfull
partes, that were of no great importance, was by the kings
commandement carried to prison, and there abode for one night. The
next day he was taken out againe, and when he came to the pallace in
the morning, he entred into the chamber of presence, that was full
of gentlemen and Ladies, and jeasting together at this his
imprisonment, maistresse Boadilla saide.
Maister Alonso, I tooke
great thought for this mishap of yours, for all that knew you were
in feare lest the king would have hanged you.
Then saide immediatly
Alonso: In deede maistresse, I was in doubt of the matter my selfe
too, but yet I had a good hope that you would have begged me for
your huhsband.
See
how sharpe and wittie this is. Because in Spaine (as in many other
places also) the manner is when a man is lead to execution, if a
common harlot will aske him for her husband, it saveth his life.
In this manner also
Raphaell the painter answered two Cardinals (with whom he might be
familiar) which to
<423>
CASTIGLIONE make him talke,
founde fault in his hearing with a table he had made, where S. Peter
and S. Paule were: saying, that those two pictures were too redde in
the face. Then saide Raphael by and by.
My Lordes, wonder you
not at it, for I have made them so for the nonce, because it is to
be thought that S. Peter and S. Paule are even as red in Heaven as
you see them here, for very shame, that their Church is governed by
such men as you be.
Also those jeasts are pleasant that have in them a certaine privy
semblamce of laughter. As when a husband lamented much and bewailed
his wife that had hanged her selfe upon a figge tree, an other came
to him and plucking him by the sleeve, saide.
Friende, may I receive
such pleasure as to have a graffe of that figge tree to graffe in
some stocke of mine Orchard? There be certaine of other jeastes that
bee patient and spoken softly with a kinde of gravitie. As a man of
the Countrie carrying a coffer upon his shoulders, chaunced
therewithall to give Cato+ a hard push, and afterwarde
saide: Give roome: Cato answered: hast thou any thing Upon thy
shoulders beside that coffer? It is also a matter of laughter when a
man hath committed an errour, and to amend it speaketh a matter
purposely that appeareth foolish, and yet is applyed to the end that
he hath appointed, and serveth his turne therewithal that he seeme
not out of countenance and dismayed.
As not longe since two
enemies being together in the counsel chamber of Florence, (as it
happeneth often in those Common weales) the one of them which was of
the house of Altoviti, slept, and he that satte next unto him for a
sport, where his adversarie that was of the house of Alamanni, had
saide nothing neither then nor before, stir- ring him with his elbow
made him awake, and saide unto him: Hearest thou not what such a one
saith? make answere, for the Lords aske for thine advise.
Then did Altoviti all
sleepie arise upon his feete and
<424>
THE COURTIER without any more
deliberation saide: My Lordes, I sa3y the cleane contrarie to that
Alamanni hath spoken.
Alamanni answered,
what? I have saide nothing: Altovitsaide immediatly: To that thou
wilt speake.
In
this manner also did your maister Seraphin the Phisi tion here in
Urbin say unto a man of the Countrie, which had received such a
stroke upon the eye, that in very deede it was out, yet thought he
best to goe seeke to maister Seraphin for remedie. When hee saw it,
though he knew it was past cure, yet to plucke money out of his
handes as that blow had plucked the eye out of his heade, he
promised him largely to heale it. And so he was in hand with him
every daye for money, puttinf him in comfort that within sixe or
seven dayes, he shou d beginne to see with it againe.
The poore Countrie man
gave him the litle he had, but when he saw him so prolong the
matter, he began to finde himselfe agreeved with the Phisition, and
saide that he was nothing the better, neither coulde he see any more
with that eye, than if he had none at all in his head.
At length maister
Seraphin perceiving there was no more to be gotten at his handes,
saide: Brother mine, thou must have patience, thou hast cleane lost
thine eye, and no remedie is there for it, pray God thou lose not
thine other withall.
The Countrie man seeing
this, fell in weeping, and lamented much, and saide, maister mine,
you have pilled me and robbed me of my money, I will complaine to
the Duke, and made the greatest outcries in the world.
Then saide maister
Seraphin in a rage, and to cleare himselfe: ah thou villaine knave:
thou wouldest then have two eyes as Citizens and honest men have,
wouldest thou? Get thee hence in the divels name. And those words
were thrust out with such fury, that the poore sillie man was
dismayed, and held his peace, and soft and faire departed in Gods
name, thinking that hee himselfe had beene in the wrong.
<425>
CASTIGLIONE It is also pretie
when a man declareth or interpreteth a matter merrily. As in the
Spanish Court in a morning there came into the palace a knight who
was very ill favoured, and his wife, that was verye beautifull, both
apparrelled in white Damaske, and the Queene saide unto Alonso
Carillo, How thinke yee Alonso by these two? Madam, answered Alonso,
me thinke the Ladie is the Dame, and he the Aske, which signifieth a
foule person and uglesome. Also when Raphael de Pazzi saw a letter
that the Priour of Messina had writen to a maistresse of his, the
superscription whereof was: Esta carta S'ha dar a qui en causa mi
penar, that is, This letter be given to the cause of my griefe: me
thinke(quoth he) this letter is directed to Paul Tholossa.
Imagine you howe the
standers by laughed at it, for they all knew that Paule Tholossa had
lent ten thousand Ducates to the Priour of Messina, and because he
was verie lavish in his expences, he coulde finde no way to pay his
debt.
It is like
unto this, when a man giveth familiar admonition in manner of
counsel, but dissemblingly. As Cosmus de Medicis saide unto a friend
of his that had more riches than witte, and by Cosmus meanes had
compassed an office without Florence, and at his setting forth
asking Cosmus what way he thought best for him to take to execute
this office well.
Cosmus answered him: Apparrel thy selfe in scarlet, and speake
litle. Of this sort was that Count Lewis saide unto one that woulde
passe for an unknowne person m a certaine daungerous place, and wist
not how to disguise him selfe, and the Count being demaunded of his
advise therein, answered: Apparrell thy selfe like a Doctor, or in
some other raiment that wise men use to weare.
Also Tannotti de Pazzi
saide unto one that minded to make an arming coate of as many divers
colours as might be invented: Take the wordes and deedes of
the Cardinallof_Pavia+.
<426>
THE COURTIER A man laugheth
also at certaine matters disagreeing.
As one saide the last
day unto maister Antony Rizzo of a certaine Forlivese.
Gesse whether he be a
foole or no, for his name is Bartholomew. And an other: Thou seekest
a rider and hast no horses. And this man wanteth nothing but good
and a horse.
And at
certaine other that seeme to agree. As within these few dayes where
there was a suspition that a friend of ours had caused a false
advousion of a benefice to bee drawne out, afterward when an other
Priest fell sicke, Antony Torello saide unto him: What dost thou
linger the matter? Why dost thou not send for thy Clarke and see
whether thou canst hit upon this other benefice? Likewise at
certaine that doe not agree. As the last day when the Pope had sent
for maister John Luke of Pontremolo and maister Dominick da la
Porta, which (as you know) are both crookebacked, and made them
Auditours, saying that hee intended to bring the Rota into a right
frame. Maister Latin Juvenal saide: Our holy father is deceived, if
he thinke that he can bring the Rota into a right frame with two
crooked persons.
Also it provoketh laughter, when a man graunteth the thing that is
tolde him and more, but seemeth to understand it otherwise. As
Captaine Peralta being brought into the lists to fight the combat
with Aldana, and Captaine Molart that was Aldanas patrone, requiring
Peralta to sweare, whether he had about him any Saint Johns Gospel
or charme and inchauntment, to preserve him from hurt.
Peralta swore that he
had about him neither Gospel nor inchantment, nor relike, nor any
matter of devotion wherein he had any faith.
Then saide Molart, to
touch him to be a Marrane: Well no mo wordes in this, for I believe
without swearing that you have no faith also in Christ.
It is pretie moreover
to use metaphors at a time in such purposes. As our maister
Marcantonio that saide to Botton
<427>
CASTIGLIONE de Cesena, who had
vexed him with wordes: Botton, Botton, thou shalt one day be the
button, and the haulter shall be the buttonhole.
And also when
Mareantonio had made a Comedy which was very long and of sundrie
actes, the very same Botton saide in like manner to Mareantonio: to
play your Comedie ye shall neede for preparation as much woode as is
in Selavonia. Maister Marcantonio answered, and for preparation of
thy Tragedie three trees/28 is inough.
Againe a man speaketh a
word many times wherein is a privie signification farre from that
appeareth hee would say. As the Lord Generall here being in companye
where there was a communication of a Captaine that in deede all his
life time for the more part had received the overthrow, and as then
by a chaunce wan the victorie: and when hee that ministred this
talke saide: When he made his enterie into that towne he was
apparelled in a very faire crimosin velvet coate, which he wore
alwaies after his victories. The Lord Generall saide, Belike it is
verie new.
And no
lesse doth it provoke laughter, when otherwhile a man maketh answere
unto that which the other he talketh withall hath not spoken: or els
seemeth to believe he hath done that which he hath not done, and
should have done it.
As Andrew Cosia, when
he went to visit a gentleman that discourteously suffered him to
stand on his feete and he himselfe sate, saide: Since you commande
me Sir, to obey you, I will sit, and so sate him downe.
Also a man laugheth
when one accuseth himself of some trespasse. As the last day when I
saide to the Dukes Chaplaine, that, my Lordes grace had a Chaplaine
that could say masse sooner than he: He answered me, it is not
possible.
And
rounding mee in the eare, saide. You shall understand that I say not
the third part of the secretes.
Also Biagin Crivello,
when a Priest was slaine at Millane, he required his benefice of the
Duke, the which he was minded to bestow upon another. At length
Biagin perceiving no other reason would prevaile, and what (quoth
he)
<428>
THE COURTIER if I were the
cause of his death, why will you not give me his benefice? It hath
also many times a good grace to wish those thinges that can not be.
As the last day one of our company beholding all these gentlemen
here playing at fence, and he lying upon a bedde, saide: O what a
pleasure it were, were this also a valiant mans and a good souldiers
exercise.
In like
manner it is a pretie and wittie kinde of speaking, and especially
in grave men and of authoritie, to answere contrarie to that he
woulde with whom he talketh, but drily and (as it were) with a
certaine doubting and heedfull consideration.
As in times past
Alphonsus the first king of Aragon+,
giving: unto a servant of his, horse, harnesse and apparrell,
because he told how the night before he had dreamed that his
highnesse had given him all those kinde of matters, and not long
after, the verie same servant saide againe how he dreamed that
night, that he had given him a good sorte of royalles, hee answered
him: Henceforth believe dreames no more, for they are not alwaies
true.
In this sorte
also did the Pope answere the Bishop of Cervia, that to grope his
mind saide unto him: Holy father, it is noysed all Rome over and in
the Palace too, that your holinesse maketh me governour.
Then answered the Pope:
Let the knaves speake what they lust, doubt you not, it is not true
I warrant you. I coulde (my Lordes) beside these gather many other
places, from which a man maye draw merrie and pleasant jeastes, as
matters spoken with feare, with marvaile, with threatnings out of
order, with overmuch furiousnesse: Beside this, certaine newly
happened cases provoke laughter: sometime silence with a certaine
wonder: at other times verie laughter it selfe without purpose. But
me thinke I have now spoken sufficient: for the jeastes that consist
in wordes (I believe) passe not these boundes we have reasoned of.
As for such as be
in operation, though there be infinite partes of them, yet are they
drawne into few principles.
<429>
CASTIGLIONE But in both kindes
the chiefe matter is to deceive opinion, and to answere otherwise
than the hearer looketh for: and (in case the jeast shall have any
grace) it must needs be seasoned with this deceite, or
dissimulation, or mocking, or rebuking, or comparison, or what ever
other kinde a man will use.
And although all kinde
of jeastes move a man to laugh, yet doe they also in this laughter
make diverse effects.
For some have in them a
certaine cleannesse and modest pleasantnesse. Other bite sometime
privily, otherwhile openly. Other have in them a certaine
wantonnesse. Other make one laugh as soone as he heareth them. Other
the more a man thinketh upon them. Other in laughine make a man
blush withall. Other stirre a man somewhat to anger.
But in all kindes a man
must consider the disposition of the mindes of the hearers, because
unto persons in adversity oftentimes merry to) es augment their
affliction: and some infirmities ther be, yh the more a man ccupieth
medicine about them, the worse they waxe.
In case therefore the
Courtier in jesting and speaking merry conceites have a respect to
the time, to his degree, and not use it too often (for pardye it
bringeth a lothsomnesse if a man stand evermore about it all day in
all kinde of talke and without purpose) hee may be called pleasant
and feate conceited. So bee he heedfull also that he be not so
bitter and byting, that a man might conjecture bee were an envious
person, in pricking without a cause, or for plaine malice, or men of
too great authoritie which is lacke of discretion) or of too much
miserie (which is crueltie) or too mischievous (which is vanitie) or
els in speaking matters that may offend them whom he would not
offend (which is ignorance.) For some there bee that thinke they are
bound to speake and to nip without regarde, as often as they can,
how ever the matter goe afterwarde.
And among these kinde
of persons are they, that to speake a word which should seeme to
come of a redines
<430>
THE COURTIER of wit, passe not
for staining of a worthie gentlewomans honestie+,
which is a verie naughtie matter and worthy sore punishment. Because
in this point women are in the number of sillie soules and persons
in misery, and therefore deserve not to be nipped in it, for they
have not weapon to defend themselves.
But beside these
respects, he that will be pleasant and full of jeasting, must be
shaped of a certaine nature apt to all kinde of pleasantnesse, and
unto that frame his fashions gestures, and countenance, the which
the more grave+, steadie and set it is, so much the
more maketh it the matters spoken to seeme wittie and subtil.
But you (Sir Frederick)
that ought to rest your selfe under this my tree without leaves, and
in my withered reasonings, I believe you have repented your selfe,
and you recken ye are entred into a bayting place/29 of Monteflore.
Therefore it shall
be well done for you like a wel practised Courtier (to avoid an ill
hosterie) to arise somewhat before your ordinarie houre and set
forwarde on your journey.
Nay, answered Sir
Fredericke, I am come to so good an hosterie, that I minde to tarrie
in it longer than I had thought at ye first. Therefore I will rest
mee yet a while, untill you have made an end of al the talke ye have
begun withall. Whereof ye have left out one parcel that ye named at
the beginning: which is merrie pranckes, as it were not well done to
deceive the companie of it.
But as you have taught
us many pretie matters concerning jeastes, and made us hardie to use
them through example of so many singular wittes, great men, Princes,
Kinges and Popes, I suppose ye will likewise in merie pranckes so
bolden us that we may take a courage to practise some against your
selfe.
Then saide
maister Bernarde smyling: you shall not be the first, but perhaps it
will not be your chaunce, for I have so many times beene served with
them, that it maketh me looke well about me: As dogs, after they
have
<431>
CASTIGLIONE beene once scaulded
with hote water, are afeard of the colde.
Howbeit since you will
save me to speake somewhat of this too, I believe I may rid my
handes of it in fewe wordes.
And in mine opinion a
merie_pranckeis nothing els, but a friendly deceite in matters that
offend not at al or very litle. And even as in jeasting to speake
contrarie to expectation moveth laughter, so doth in merrie
prarickes, to doe contrarie to expectation+. And
these doe so much the more delite and are, to be practised, as they
be wittie and modest. For he that will worke a merrie prancke
without respect, doth many times offend, and then arise debates and
sore hatred.
But
the places that a man may derive merrie prarickes from, are (in a
manner) the verie same that be in jeasts.
Therefore to avoid
repetition of them, I will say no more but that there bee two kindes
of merrie pranckes every one of which may afterward be devided into
moe partes.
The one
is, when any man whosoever he be, is deceived wittily, and after a
feate manner and with pleasantnesse.
The other, when a man
layeth (as it were) a nette+, and sheweth a peece of a baite so,
that a man runneth to bee deceived of himselfe.
The first is such, as
the merrie prancke was, that within these few dayes was wrought unto
a couple of great Ladies (whom I will not name) by the meane of a
Spaniarde called Castilio.
Then the Dutchesse, and
why, (quoth she) will you not name them? maister Bernarde answered:
because I would not have them to take it in ill part.
Then saide the
Dutchesse againe, smyling. it is not against good manner sometime to
use merrie pranckes with greatmen also. And I have heard of many
that have beene played to Duke Fredericke, to king Alphonsus
of Aragon+, to Queene Isabel
of Spaine+, and to many other great Princes,
and not onely they tooke it not in ill part,
<432>
THE COURTIER but rewarded verie
largely them that played them those partes.
Maister Bernarde
answered: neither upon this hope doe I entende to name them. Say as
pleaseth you, quoth the Dutchesse. Then proceeded maister Bernarde
and saide: Not manie dayes since in the Court that I meane, there
arrived a man of the Countrey about Bergamo, to be in service with a
gentleman of the Court: which was so well set out with garments and
so finely clad, that for all his bringing up was alwaies in keeping
oxen and could doe nothing els, yet a man that had not heard him
speake woulde have judged him a worthie gentleman.
And so when those two
Ladies were enformed that there was arrived a Spaniarde, servant to
Cardinall. Borgia+ whose name was Castilio, a very
wittie man, a musition, a dauncer, and the best Courtier in all
Spaine, they longed verie much to speake with him, and sent
incontinently for him, and after they had received him honourably,
they caused him to sit down, and began to entertaine him with a very
great respect in the presence of all men, and few there were present
that knew him not to be a Bergamaske Cowheard.
Therefore seeing those
Ladies entertaine him with such respect, and honour him so much,
they fell all in a laughing, the more because the sillie fellow
spake still his native ianLguage the mere Bergamaske tongue.
But the gentlemen that
devised this prancke, had first tolde those Ladies that among other
thinges he was a great dissembler, and spake all tongues excellently
well, and especially the Countrie speach of Lumbard, so that they
thought he fained, and many times they beheld the one the other with
certaine marvellings, and saide: what a wonderfull matter is this,
how he counterfaiteth this tongue? In conclusion, this communication
lasted so long, that every mans sides aked for laughing, and he
coulde not choose him selfe but utter so many tokens of his noble-
<433>
CASTIGLIONE nesse of birth,
that at len th those Ladies (but with much adoe) believed hre was
the man that he was in deed.
Such merrie pranckes we
see dayly, but among the rest they be pleasant that at the first
make a man agast, and after that, end in a matter of suretie,
because he that was deceived laugheth at himself when he perceiveth
he was afeard of nothing.
As lying upon a time in
Paglia, there chanced to be in the verie same Inne three other good
fellowes, two of Pistoia and one of Prato, which after supper (as
the manner is for the most part) fell to gaming. And not long after,
one of the Pistoians losing his rest, had not a farthing left him to
blesse him selfe, but beganne to chafe, to curse, and to banne and
to blaspheme terribly, and thus tearing of God he went to bedde. The
other two after they had played a while, agreed to worke a merrie
prancke with him that was gone to bed.
And when they perceivid
that he was fallen in sleepe, they blewe out the candels and raked
up the fire and beganne to speake aloud, and to make the greatest
hurly burly in the world, making wise to contend together about
their game. The one saide: Thou tookest the card underneath. The
other denying it saide: Thou hast vied upon flush, let us mount: and
such other matters, with such noise, that he that slept awoke, and
hearing them at play and talking even as though they had seene the
cardes, did a litle open his eyes: when hce saw there was no manner
light in the chamber, he saide: What a divel meane you to cry thus
all night? Afterwarde hee laide him downe againe to sleepe. The
other two companions gave him no manner answere: but still continued
in their purpose untill he awoke better, and much wondred, and when
he sawe for certaintie that there was neither fire nor any kinde of
light, and perceived they played still and fell in contention, he
said.
And how can
ye see the cardes without light? The one of the two answered, I
weene thou hast lost thy sight
<434>
THE COURTIER as well as thy
money. Seest thou not that wee have here two candles? He that was in
bedde lift up himselfe upon his elbowes, and in a manner angred,
saide: Either I am dronken or blinde, or els you make a lye. The two
arose and went to ye bed darkelong, laughing and making wise to
believe that he went about to mocke them. And he againe saide to
them: I tell you truth I see you not. At length the two began to
wonder much, and the one said to the other. By good Lord, I believe
he speaketh in good earnest, reach me the candle, and let us see
lest perhaps hee have some impediment in his sight.
Then thought the poore
wretch surely that hce had beene blinde, and weeping downe right,
saide: oh sirs, I am blind, and forthwith hee beganne to call upon
our Ladie of Loreto and to beseech her to pardon him his blasphemies
and cursing for the losse of his money.
But his two companions
put him in good comfort and saide: it is not possible but thou
shouldest see us. It is some fancie that thou hast conceived in
thine head. Oh good Lorde answered the other, it is no fancie, nor I
see no more than if I had never had eyes in my head. Thy sight is
cleare inough, quoth the two. And the one saide to the other.
Marke how well he
openeth his eyes: and how faire they be to looke to: and who would
believe but he coulde see? The pore soule wept faster, and cryed God
mercie.
In
conclusion they saide unto him: see thou make a vow to goe devoutly
to our Ladie of Loreto barefooted and bare legged, for that is the
best remedie that may be had.
And in the mean space
we will goe to Aquapendente and the other townes here about to seeke
for some Phisition, and will helpe thee in what we can.
Then did the sillie
soule kneele upon his knees in the bed, and with aboundance of
teares and very bitter repentance for his blaspheming, made a
solemne vow to goe naked to our Ladie of Loreto and to offer unto
her a paire
<435>
CASTIGLIONE of eyes Of silver,
and to eate no flesh upon the wednesday, nor egges upon Friday, and
to fast breade and water every Saterday in worship of our Ladie, if
she give him the grace to receive his sight againe.
The two companions
entring into an other chamber, lighted a candel, and came with the
greatest laughter in the world before this poore soule, who for all
he was rid of so great an anguish as you may thinke he had, yet was
he so astonied with his former feare, that he could not only not
laugh, but not once speake a word, and the two companions did
nothing else but stur him, saying that hee was bounde to perfourme
all those vowes, for that hee had received the grace he asked. {Malvolio+} Of the other kinde of merrie
pranckes when a man deceiveth himselfe, I will give you none other
example, but what happened unto me my selfe not long since. For this
shroftide that is past, my Lordes grace of Saint Peter ad vincula,
which knoweth full well what a delite I have when I am in maskerie
to playe merrie pranckes with Friers, having first given order as
hee devised the matter, came upPon a day with my Lorde of Aragon+ and certaine other
Cardinals to ye windowes, making wise to stand there to see maskers+ passe to and fro,,as the manner of
Rome is.
I being in
maskerie passed by, and when I behelde on the one side of the
streete a Frier standing (as it were) in a studie with himselfe, I
judged I had found that I sought for, and forthwith ranne to him,
like a greedie hauke to her pray, and when I had asked him and he
told me who hee was, I made semblant to knowe him, and with many
wordes beganne to make him believe that the marshall went about to
seeke him for certaine complaintes against him, and perswaded him to
goe with me to the Chauncerie and there I would save him.
The Frier dismaied and
all trembling seemed as though he wist not what to doe, and saide
that he doubted taking, in case he shoulde goe farre from Saint
Celso. Stil I put him in good comfort, and said so much to him, that
he
<436>
THE COURTIER leaped up behind
me, and then me thought my devise was fully accomplished. And I
beganne to ride my horse by and by up and downe the merchants
streete, which went kicking and winsing.
Imagine with your
selves now what a faire sight it was to beholde a Frier on
horsebacke behind a masker, his garments flying abroad, and his head
shaking too and fro, that a man would have thought he had been
alwaies falling.
With this faire sight, the gentlemen began to hurle egges out at the
windowes, and afterwarde all the bankers and as many as were there,
so that the haile never fell with a more violence from the skye,
than there fell egges out from ye windowes, which for the most part
came all upon me. And I for that I was in maskerie, passed not upon
the matter, and thought verily that all the laughing had beene for
the Frier and not for me, and upon this went sundrie times up and
downe the bankes, alwaies with that furie of hel behind me. And
though the Frier (in manner) weeping besought mee to let him goe
downe, and not to shew such shame to the weede, yet did the knave
afterwarde privily cause egs to be given him by certaine Lackies set
there for the nonce an making wise to gripe me hard for falling,
squised them in my bosom, and many times on my head, and otherwhile
on my forehead, so that I was foule arrayed.
Finally, when every man
was wearie both of laughing and throwing egges, he leaped downe from
behinde me, and plucking his hoode backwarde, shewed a great bush of
haire, and saide: maister Bernarde I am a horsekeeper in the stable
of Saint Peter ad vincula, and am hee that looketh to your Mulet.
Then wist I not
which prevailed most in me, griefe, anger, or shame. Yet for the
lesse hurt, I fled toward my lodging, and the next morning I durst
not shew my heade abroad. But the laughing at that merrie prancke
did not endure the day following onely, but also lasteth (in man-
<437>
CASTIGLIONE ner) untill this
day. And so when they had a while renewed the laughing at rehearsing
this againe, maister Bernard proceeded.
It is also a good and
pleasant kinde of merrie prancks, from whence in like manner jeastes
are derived, when one believeth that a man will doe a matter which
he will not in deed.
As when I was in an
after supper upon the bridge of Leo, and going together with Cesar
Beceadello sporting one with another, we beganne to take holde fast
the one of the others armes, as though we would have wrastled,
because then wee perceived no man about the bridge, and being in
this manner together, there came two French men by which seeing us
thus striving, demaunded what the matter meant, and staied to part
us, thinking we had beene at debate in good earnest.
Then said I
incontinently: Helpe sirs, for this poore gentleman at certaine
times of the Moone is frantike, and see now how he striveth to cast
himselfe off the bridge into the river.
Then did the two rume
and laide hand upon Cesar with me and held him straight. And he
(saying alwaies that I was out of my wit) struggled the more to
winde himselfe out of their handes, and they griped him so much the
harder. At this the people assembled to beholde our ruffling
together, and everie man ran, and the more poore Cesar laide about
him with his handes and feete (for he beganne now to enter into
choller) the more resort of the people there was, and for the great
strength he put, they believed verily that hee would have leaped
into the river, and therefore held they him the straiter, so that a
great throng of people carried him to the Inne above ground, all
turmoiled and without his cappe, pale for wrath and shame, that
nothing hee spake coulde prevaile, partly because those Frenchmen
understood him not, and partly because I also carrying him to the
Inne did alwaies bewaile the poore soules ill lucke, that was so
waxed out of his wit.
<438>
THE COURTIER Now (as we have
saide) of merrie prancks a man may talke at large, but it sufficeth
to repeat that the places whence they are derived bee the verie same
which wee have saide of jestes.
As for examples, we
have infinite which wee see dayly and among the rest there are many
pleasant in the tales of Boccaccio, as those that Bruno and
BufFalinacco plaied/30 to their Calandrino, and to maister Symon:
and many other of women, which in verie deede are wittie and pretie.
I remember also I
have knowne in my dayes many that have beene merrily disposed in
this manner, and among the rest a scholer in Padoca borne in
Sicilia, called Pontius, which seeing upon a time a man of the
Countrie have a couple of fat Capons, faining himselfe to buye them,
was at a point with him for the price, and bid him come with him to
his lodging, for beside his price hee woulde give him somewhat to
breake his fast withall. And so brought him to a place where was a
steeple that stood by him selfe alone severed from the Church, that
a man might goe round about him, and directly over against one of ye
foure sides of the steeple was a lane.
Here Pontius, when he
had first bethought himself what he had to doe, saide unto the man
of the Countrie: I have laide these Capons on a wager with a fellow
of mine, who saith that this Toure compasseth fortie foote, and I
say no, and even as I met with thee, I had bought this packthreed to
measure it.
Therefore before we goe to my lodging, I will trye which of us hath
wonne the wager. And in so saying, he drew the paethreed out of his
sleeve, and put the one end of it into the man of the Countries
hand, and saide: give here, and so tooke the Capons: and with the
other end he began to goe about the bell toure, as though hee would
have measured it, making first the man of the Countrie to stand
still, and to holde the pacthreed directly on the contrarie side of
the toure to that, that was at the head of the lane, where as soone
as he came, he drove a naile into the wall,
<439>
CASTIGLIONE to the which hee
tyed the packthreede, and leaving it so, went his wayes without any
more adoe downe the lane with the Capons.
The man of the countrey
stood still a good while, allwayes lookinge when hee would have done
measuring. At length after hee had sayde many times, what do you so
long? he thought hee would see, and founde that Pontius held not the
line, but a naile that was driven into the wal, which onelye
remayned for payment of his Capons.
Of this sorte Pontius
played many Merry Pranckes. And ther have bene also manye other
pleasaunt men in this maner, as Conella Meliolo in those dayes, and
now our Frier Seraphin and Frier Marian here, and many well knowen
to you all. And in very deede this kind is to bee praysed in men
that make profession of nothinge els. But the merry prankes that the
Courtier oughte to use, must (by myne advise) bee somewhat wide from
immoderate jesting.
He ought also to take heed that his mery prankes turne not to
pilferinge, as wee see many naughty packes, that wander about the
worlde with divers shifts to get money, fayninge now one matter, now
another. And that they be not yet bitter, and above all that hee
have respect and reverence, as well in this, as in all other
thinges, to women, and especially where the stayning of their
honesty shall consist.
Then the L. Gaspar,
truely, M. Bernard (quoth hee) you are too partiall to these women.
And why will you that men shoulde have more respect to women than
women to men? Set not you as much by your honestye, as they do by
theirs? Thinke you then that women ought to nip men both with wordes
and mockes, in everye matter without anye regard, and men should
stand with a flea_in_their_eare+, and thaanke them for
it? M. Bernard aunsweared: I say not the contrary, but women in
their jestes and merry pranckes, ought to have
<440>
THE COURTIER the respectes to
menne which wee have spoken of. Yet I say, with more liberty may
they touch men of small honesty, then men may them. And that
beecause wee our selves have established for a law, that in us
wanton life is no vice, nor default, nor any slaunder, and in women
it is so great a reproach and shame, that shee that hath once an ill
name, whether the reporte that goeth of her be true or false, hath
lost her credite for ever. {double_standard+}
Therefore since talking of womens honesty is so daungerous a matter
to offende them sore, I say that wee ought to touch them in other
matters, and refraine from this.
For when the jest or
merry prancke, nippeth too sore, it goeth out of ye bounds which we
have allready said is fit or a gentleman.
Here M. Bernard making
a little stop, the L. Octavian Fregoso saide smyling: My L. Gaspar
can make you an aunsweare to this law, which you alledge that wee
our selves have made, that it is not perchance so out of reason, as
you thinke. For since women are so unperfit creatures, and of litle
or no worthinesse in respect of men, it behoved for that they were
not apt to worke any vertuous deede of themselves, that they should
have a bridle put upon them with shame and feare of infamie, that
should (in manner) by force bring into them some good condition. And
continencie was thought more necessarie in them than any other, to
have assurance of children.
So that verie force
hath driven men with all inventions, pollicies, and waies possible,
to make women continent, and (in manner) graunted them in all
thinges beside to be of small worthinesse, and to doe the cleane
certrarie alwaies to that they ought to doe.
Therefore since it is
lawfull for them to swarve out of the way in al other things without
blame, if we should touch them in those defaults, wherein (as we
have saide) they are to be borne withall, and therefore are not
unseemely in them, and passe full litle upon it, we shoulde never
move laughter. For you have alreadie saide, that laugh-
<441>
CASTIGLIONE ter is provoked
with certaine thinges that are disagreeing.
Then spake the
Dutchesse: speake you (my Lord Octavian) of women thus, and then
complaine that they love you not? The Lorde Octavian answered: I
complaine not of it, but rather I thanke them for it, since in not
loving of me, they binde+ not me to love them. Neither doe I
speake after mine owne opinion, but I say that the Lorde Gaspar
might alleage these reasons.
Maister Bernarde saide:
truely women should make a good bargaine, if they could make
attonements with such two great enimies as you and the Lord Gasper
be.
I am not their
enimie answered the Lord Gasper, but you are an enimie to men. For
in case you wil not have women touched in this honestie of theirs,
you ought as well to appoint them a law not to touch men, in that
which is as much shame to us, as incontinencie to women.
And why was it not as
meete for Alonso Carillo to make the answere which hee gave
mistresse Boadilla of the hope that hee had to save his life, in
that she would take him to husband, as it was for her to say first:
All that knew him thought the king woulde have hanged him?/31 And
why was it not as lawfull for Richard Minutoli to beguile
Phillippellos wife, and to traine her to that baite, as it was for
Beatrice to make Egano her husband arise out of his bedde, and
Anichin to beswadele him with a cudgell, after she had lyen a good
space with him? And the other that tyed the packthreede to her great
toe, and made her owne husband believe that hee was not himselfe,
since you saye those merrie pranckes of women in Boceaccio are so
wittie and pretie? Then saide maister Bernarde smiling: my Lordes,
for so much as my part hath beene to entreate onely of jeastes, I
entend not to passe my boundes therein, and I suppose I have
alreadie shewed why I judge it not meete to touch women neither in
worde nor deede above their honestie,
<442>
THE COURTIER and I have also
given them a rule not to nip men where it greeveth them.
But I say, that those
merrie pranckes and jeastes which you (my Lord Gasper), aleage, as
that Alonso saide unto maister Boadilla, although it somewhat touch
honestie: yet doth it not discontent mee, because it is set farre
inough, and is so privie, that it may be seemely understood, so,
that hee might have dissembled the matter, and affirmed that he spak
it not to that end.
He spake an other (in mine opinion) verie unseemely, which was: when
the queene passed by maister Boadillas house, Alonso saw painted
with coales all the gate over such kind of dishonest beasts, as are
painted about Innes in such sundrie wise, and comming to the
Countesse of Castagneto saide unto her.
See (madam) the heads
of the wilde beasts that maister Boadilla killeth every day in
hunting. Marke you this, though it were a wittie metaphor, and
borrowed of hunters, that count it a glorie to have many wilde
beastes heades nailed at their gates, yet is it dishonest and
shamefull jeasting. Beside that, it was not in answering, for an
answere hath much more courtesie in it, because it is thought that a
man is provoked to it, and it must needes bee at a sodaine.
But to returne to our
matter of the merrie pranckes of women, I say not that they doe well
to beguile their husbands: But I say that some of the deceites which
Boccaccio reciteth of women, are pretle and wittie inough, and
especially those you have spoken of your selfe.
But in mine opinion the
prancke that Richard Minutoll wrought, doth passe the boundes, and
is much more bitterer than that Beatrice wrought. For Richard
Minutoli tooke much more from Philippellos wife, than did Beatrice
from Egano her husband: because Richard with that privie pollicie
enforced her, and made her to doe of her selfe that she woulde not
have done: And Beatrice deceived her husband to doe of her selfe
that she lusted.
<443>
CASTIGLIONE Then saide the
Lorde Gasper: for no other cause can a man excuse Beatrice but for
love, which ought to be, allowed as well in men as in women.
Then answered maister
Bernard: Truely the passions of love bring with them a great excuse
of everie faulte, yet judge I for my part) that a gentleman that is
in love, ought as well in this point as in all other thinges, to be
voide of dissimulation, and of an upright meaning. { PlainDealer+} And if it be
true that it is such an abhominable profit and trespasse to use
tradiment against a mans verie enimie. Consider you how much more
hainous that ofEence is against a person whom a man loveth. And I
believe each honest lover sustaineth such veines, such watchinges,
hazardeth him selfe in such dangers, droppeth so many teares, useth
so many meanes and waies to please the woman whom he loveth, not
chiefely to come by her body, but to win the fortresse of that
minde, to breake in peeces those most hard Diamonds, to heate that
colde yee, that lye manie times in the tender breasts of these
women. {Platonic_love+} And this doe
I believe is the true and sound pleasure, and the end whereto the
intent of a noble courage is bent.
And for my part truely
(were I in love) I would like it better to know assuredly that she
whom I loved and served, loved me againe with hart, and had bent her
minde towarde me, without receiving any other contentation, than to
enjoy her, and to have my fill of her against her owne wil, for in
that case I shoulde thinke my selfe maister of a deade carkase.
Therefore such as
compasse their desires by the meane of these merrie pracks, which
may perhaps rather be termed Tradiments/32 than merrie pranckes, doe
injurie to other, and yet receive they not for all that the
contentation which a man shoulde wish for in love, possessing the
bodie without the will.
The like I say of
certaine other that in love practise enchantments, sorceries, and
otherwhile plaine force, sometimes meanes to cast them in sleepe and
such like matters.
And know for a sooth, that gifts also diminish much the
<444>
THE COURTIER pleasures of love,
because a man may stande in doubt whether he be beloved or no, but
that the woman maketh a countenance to love him, to fare the better
by him.
Therefore
ye see that the love of Ladies and great women is esteemed, because
it appeareth that it can arise of none other cause, but of perfect
and true love: neither is it to be thought that a great Ladie will
at any time shew to beare good will to her inferiour, unlesse she
love him in verie deede.
Then answered the Lord
Gasper: I denye not that the intent, the paines and daungers of
lovers ought not prinpally to have their end directed to the
victorie rather of the minde than of the bodie of the woman beloved.
But I say, that these deceites which you in men terme Tradiments,
and in women merrie pranckes, are a verie good meane to come to this
end, because alwaies he that possesseth the bodie of women, is also
maister of the minde..
And if you bethinke you
well, Philippellos wife after her great lamentation for the deceite
wrought her by Richard, knowing how much more savorie the kisse of a
lover were than her husbands, turning her rigour into tender
affection towarde Richard, from that day rorwarde loved him most
dearely.
You may
perceive now that his continual haunting, his presents, and his so
many other tokens, which had beene so long a proofe of his good will
towards her, were not able to compasse that, that his being with her
a small while did. Now see this merrie prancke or Tradiment (how
ever you will terme it) was a good way to win the fortresse of that
minde.
Then maister
Bernarde, you (quoth he) make a surmise, which is most false, for in
case women shoulde alwaies give their minde to him that possesseth
their bodie, there shoulde bee none found that woulde not love their
husbandes more than any person in the world beside, where it is
seene not to be so. But John Boceaccio was (as you bee) without
cause an enimie to women.
The Lord Gasper
answered: I am no enimy of theirs,
<445>
CASTIGLIONE but (to confesse
the truth) few men of worthinesse there bee that generally set anie
store by women, although otherwhile, to serve their turne withall,
they make wise to the contrarie.
Then answered maister
Bernard: You doe not onely injurie to women, but to all men also
that reverece them.
Notwithstamding (as I have saide) I will not swarve from my first
purpose of merrie pranckes, and undertake such an enterprise so
hard, as is the defence of women against you that are a valiant
Champion.
Therefore
I will end this my c5munication which perhaps hath beene longer than
needed, but out of peradventure not so pleasant as you looked for.
And since I see the Ladies so quiet, and beare these injuries at our
handes so paciently as they doe, I will henceforth believe that some
part of that which the Lord Octavian hath spoke is true: namely,
That they passe not to be evil reported of in every other matter, so
their honestie be not touched.
Then a great part of
the women there, for that the Dutchesse had beckoned to them so to
doe, arose upon their feete, and ran all laughing toward the Lord
Gasper, as they would have buffeted him, and done as the wood women
did to Orpheus, saying continually: Now shall you see whether we
passe to be ill sroken off or no.
Thus partly for
laughing, and partly for the rising of every one from his seate, it
seemed the sleepe that now beganne to enter into the eyes and heade
of some of them departed, but the Lord Gasper saide.
See I pray you where
they have not reason on their side, they will prevail by plaine
force, and so end the communication, giving us leave to depart with
stripes.
Then
answered the Ladie Emilia: No (quoth she) it shall not be so: for
when you perceived maister Bernarde was wearie of his long talk, you
began to speake so much ill of women, thinking you shoulde finde
none to gainesay you. But wee will set into the field a fresher
knight that
<446>
THE COURTIER shall fight with
you, because your offence shall not bee Long unpunished. So turning
her to the Lord Julian, that had saide litle, she saide unto him.
You are counted the
protector of the honour of women, therefore it is now high time to
shew that you come not by this name for nothing, and in case yee
have not beene worthily recompensed at any time for this profession
hetherto, now must you thinke that in putting to flight so bitter an
enimie, you shall binde all women to you much more, and so much,
that where they shall doe nothing els but reward you, yet shall the
bondage still remaine fresh, and never cease to be recompensed.
Then answered the L.
Julian. me thinke (madam) you shew great honour to your enimie, and
verie litle to your defender: for undoubtedly the Lorde Gasper hath
saide nothing against women, but it hath beene fully answered by
maister Bernard. And I believe every one of us knoweth, that it is
meete the Courtier beare verie great reverence towarde women, and a
discrete and courteous person ought never to touch their honestie
neither in jeast, nor in good earnest. Therefore to dispute of this
so open a truth, were (in manner) to put a doubt in manifest
matters.
I thinke
well that the Lorde Octavian passed his boundes somewhat in sayine
that women are most unperfect creatures, and not apt to worke any
vertuous deede, and of litle, or no worthinesse in respect of men.
And because many times credite is given to men of great authoritie,
although they speake not the ful truth and when they speake in
jeast, the Lord Gasper hath suffered himselfe to be led by the Lord
Octavians words, to say that men of wisedom set no store by them,
which is most false. For I have knowne few men of worthminesse at
any time that doe not love and observe women, the vertue and
consequently the worthinesse of whom I deeme not a jotte inferiour
to mens.
Yet if we
should come to this contention, the cause of women were like to
quaile greatly, because these Lords
<447>
CASTIGLIONE have shaped a
Courtier that is so excellent and of so many devine qualities, that
who so hath the understanding to consider him to bee such a one as
he is, will imagine that the deserts of women can not attaine to
that point. But in case the matter should bee equally devided, we
shall first neede of so wittie and eloquent a person as is Count
Lewis and Sir Fredericke, to shape a gentlewoman of the Pallace with
all perfections due to a woman, as they have shaped the Courtier
with the perfections belonging to a man. And then if he that
defended their cause were an thing wittie and eloquent, I believe
(because the truth will be a helpe to him) hee may plainely shew
that women are as full of vertues as men be.
The Ladie Emilia
answered: Nay a great deale more, and that it is so, ye may see,
vertue is the female, and vice the male. The Lord Gasper then
laughed, and turning him to maister Nicholas Phrisio, what is your
judgement Phrisio (quoth he.) Phrisio answered: I am sorie for the
Lord Julian that he is so seduced with the promises and flattering
wordes of the Ladie Emilia to runne into an errour to speake the
thing which for his sake I am ashamed of.
The Ladie Emilia
answered smiling: you will surely bee ashamed for our owne sake when
you shall see the Lord Gasper after he is convicted, confesse his
owne errour, and yours too, and demaund that pardon which we will
not graunt him.
Then spake the Dutchesse: Because it is verie late, I will wee
deferre the whole untill to morrow, the more for that I think it
well done we follow the Lorde Julians counsel, that before he come
to this disputation we may have a gentlewoman of the Palace so
fashioned in all perfections, as these Lordes have fashioned the
perfect Courtier.
Madam, quoth the Ladie Emilia then, I pray God it fall not to our
lotte, to give this enterprise to any confederate with the Lord
Gasper, least he fashion us for a gentlewoman of the Court, one that
can doe naught els but looke to the kitchin and spin.
<448>
THE COURTIER Then saide
Phrisio: In deed that is an office fit for her.
Then the Dutchesse, I
have a good hope in the Lorde Julian (quoth she) who will (for the
good wit and judgement I know he is of) imagin the greatest
perfection that may be wished in a woman, and in like manner
expresse it well in wordes, and so shall we have somewhat to
confound the Lorde Gaspers false accusation withall.
Madam, answered the L.
Julian, I wot not whether your devise be good or no, to commit into
my handes an enterPrise of so great waight, for (to tell you the
truth) I thinke not my selfe able inough. {modest+} Neither
am I like the Count and Sir Fredericke, which with their eloquence
have shaped such a Courtier as never was: nor I believe ever shall
be.
Yet if your
pleasure be so, that I shall take his burden upon me, let it be at
the least with those conditions that the other have had before me:
namely that everie man, where hee shall thinke good, may reply
against mee, and this shall I reckon not overthwarting, but aide,
and perhaps in correcting mine errours wee shal finde the perfection
of a gentlewomam of the palace which we seeke for.
I trust, answered the
Dutchesse, your talke shall be such, that litle may be saide against
you. Therefore settle your minde to thinke upon onely this, and
fashion us such a gentlewoman, that these our adversaries may be
ashamed to say, that she is not equall with the Courtier in vertue:
of whom it shall be well done Sir Fredericke speake no more, for he
hath but too well set him forth, especially since we must compare a
woman to him.
I
have (madam) answered Sir Fredericke, litle or nothing now left to
speake of the Courtier, and that I did thinke upon maister Bernardes
jestes have made mee forget.
If it be so, quoth the
Dutchesse, assembling together to morrow betimes, wee shall have
leisure to accomplish both the one and the other. And when she had
so saide, they arose all upon their feet, and taking their leave
reverently of the Dutchesse, every man withdrew him to his lodging.
<449>
CASTIGLIONE
THIRD BOOK
The Thirde Booke of the Courtier,
of Count Baldesser Castilion,
unto Maister Alfonsus Ariosto
IT is read that Pythagoras verie wittily and
after a subtill manner found out the measure of Hercules bodie, in
that he knew that the space where every five yeares they kept the
games or prises of Olympus in Achaia nigh unto Elis before Jupiter
Olympicus Temple, was measured by Hercules himselfe: and appointed a
furlong of ground there of sixe hundreth and five and twentie of his
own feete: and the other furlongs which after his time were cast out
in diverse partes of Greece by his successors, were also of sixe
hundreth and five and twentie of their feete, but for all that
somewhat shorter than his. Pythagoras knew forthwith by that
proportion how much Hercules foot was biger than all e other mens
feete, and so the measure of his foote once known, he gathereth that
all Hercules bodie proportionally in greatnesse exceeded all other
mens, so much, as thA furlong, all other furlongs.
You may then (gentle
maister Alphonsus) by the verie same reason easily gather by this
least part of all the rest of the bodie how farre the Court of Urbin
excelled all the other in Italy. For if the sportes and pastimes
(that are used to none other end but to refresh the wearisom mindes
after earnest labours) farre passed all such as are commonly used in
the other Courts of Italy.
What (gesse you) were
all the other vertuous practises, whereunto all men had their mindes
bent, and were fully and wholy addicted. And of this I may be bolde
to make
<450>
THE COURTIER my vaunt, nothing
mistrusting but to be credited therin, considering I goe not about
to prayse so auncient antiquities wherein I might, if I were
disposed, faine what I lusted: but of this I speake, I am able to
bring forth many men of worthie credence, for sufficient triall,
which as yet are in life, and have themselves seene and marked well
the living and conversation of such as in times past excelled in
that Court. And I reckon my selfe bound (for that lyeth in me to
doe) to stretch forth my force with all diligence to defend this
famous memorie from mortall oblivion, and with my penne to make it
live in the mindes of our posteritie.
Whereby perhaps in time
to come, there shall not want that will envie this our time. For
there is no man that readeth of the wonderfull families of times
past, but in his mind hee conceiveth a certaine greater opinion of
them that are written upon, than it appeareth those bookes can
expresse, though they have beene written with perfection.
Even so doe wee desire,
that all the readers of this our travaile (if at the least wise it
shall deserve so much favor, that it may come to the sight of noble
men and vertuous Ladies) will cast in their minde and thinke for a
suretie, that the Court of Urbin hath beene much more excellent and
better furnished with notable men, than wee are able to expresse in
writing. And in case so much eloquence were in mee, as there was
prowesse in them, I should need none other testimonie to make such
give full credence to my wordes, as have not seene it.
When therefore the
companie was assembled in the accustomed place, the daye following
at the due houre, and set with silence, every man turned his eyes to
Sir Fredericke and to the L6rde Julian, waiting when the one of them
woulde beginne to speake his minde.
Wherefor the Dutchesse,
after she had beene still a while, my Lord Julian (quoth she) every
mans desire is to see this your gentlewoman wel set forth, and if
you shew us her not in such manner, that all her beauties may bee
<451>
CASTIGLIONE discerned, wee will
suspect that you are jealous over her.
The Lord Julian
answered: Madam, if I reckoned her beautiful, I would shew you her
without any other setting forth, and in such wise as Paris+ did beholde the three goddesses. But
in case these Ladies bee not a helpe to me to trim her (who can doe
it right well) I doubt me, that not onely the Lord Gasper and
Phrisio, but all the other Lordes here shall have a just cause to
speake ill of her.
Therefore since she is yet in some part deemed beautifull, perhaps
it shall be better to keepe her close and see what Sir Fredericke
hath yet behinde to speake of the Courtier, which (no doubt) is much
more beautifull than my woman can be.
That I had in minde,
answered Sir Fredericke, is not so necessarie for ye Courtier, but
it may be left out, and no hurt done: yea, it is a contrarie matter
almost to that hetherto hath beene reasoned of.
And what matter is it
then, quoth the Dutchesse? Sir Fredericke answered, I was purposed
in what I could, to declare the causes of these companies and orders
of knights brought up by great Princes, under divers standers, as is
that of Saint Milchael in the house of Fraunce, the order of the
Garter under the title of Saint George in the house of England, the
golden Fleece in the house of Burgony, and how these dignities be
given, and in what sorte they that deserve are disgraded from them,
how they first came up, who were the founders of them, and to what
end they were ordained, because we see that these knights in great
Courtes are alwaies highly esteemed.
I minded also, if time
had sufficed me, beside the diversitie of manners used in the
Courtes of christian Princes in feasting and a1so appearing in open
shewes, to speak somewhat also of the great Turke, but much more
particularly of the Sophy king of Persia.
For when I understood
by merchant men a long time trafficked in that countrie, the noble
men there be verie full of prowesse and well mannered, and use in
their con-
<452>
THE COURTIER versation one with
another, and in womens service, and in all their practisinges much
courtesie and great sobrietie, and when time serveth, in martiall
feates, in sportings, and undertaking enterprises, much
sumptuousnesse, great liberalitie and braverie: I delited to know
what order they take in these thinges which they set most store by,
wherein their pomps consist, and braveries of garments and armour,
wherein they differ from us, and wherein we agree, what kinde of
entertainement their women use, and with what sober moode they shew
favour to who so is in their love service, but to say the truth, it
is no fit time now to enter into this talke, especiallye since there
is other to be said, and much more to our purpose than this.
Yes, quoth the Lorde
Gasper, both this and many other things bee more to the purpose,
than to fashion this gentle- woman of the pallace, forsomuch as the
verie same rules that are given for the Courtier, serve also for the
woman, for as well ought she to have respect to times and places,
and to observe (as much as her weakenesse is able to beare) all the
other properties that have beene so much reasoned upon, as the
Courtier.
And
therefore in stead of this it were not perhaps amisse to teach to me
particular points that belong to the service about a Princes person:
for no doubt the Courtier ought to knowe them, and to have a grace
in doing them. Or els to speake of the way that hee ought to take in
the bodily exercises, how to ride, to handle weapon, and wrastle,
and wherein consisteth the hardnes of these feates.
Then spake the
Dutchesse, smiling: Princes are not served about their persons with
so excellent a Courtier as this is. As for the exercises of bodie
and strength, and slightnesse of person, we will leave them for
maister Peter Mount here to take charge to teach them when he shall
thinke most meet, for presently the Lorde Julian hath nothing els to
speake of, but of this woman, whom (me thinke) you now begin to have
a feare of, and therefore would bring us out our purpose.
<453>
CASTIGLIONE Phrisio answered:
certaine it is, that now it is needles and out of purpose to talke
of women, especiall being yet behinde somewhat to be spoken of the
Courtier, for the one matter ought not to be mingled with the other.
You are making a
great errour, answered the Lorde Cesar Conzaga: for like as no
Court, how great soever it be, can have any sightlinesse or
brightnesse in it, or mirth without women, nor any Courtier can bee
gracious, pleasant or hardie, nor at any time undertake any galant
enterprise of Chivalrie, unlesse he be stirred with the conversation
and with the love and contentation of women, even so in like case,
the Courtiers talke is most unperfect evermore, if the entercourse
of women give them not a part of the grace wherwithall they make
perfect and decke out their playing the Courtier.
The Lorde Octavian
laughed and saide: Beholde a peece of the baite that bringeth men
out of their wits. Then the Lorde Julian turning him to ye
Dutchesse, Madam (quoth he) since it is so your pleasure, I will
speak that commeth to mind, but with verie great doubt to satisfie.
And I wis a great deale lesse paine it were for mee to fashion a
Ladle that shoulde deserve to bee Queene of the world, than a
perfect gentlewoman of the Court, for of her I wot not where to
fetch any patterne, but for a Queene I shoulde not neede to seeke
farre, and sufficient it were for me onely to imagine the heavenly
conditions of a Ladle whom I know, and through seeing them, direct
all my thoughts to expresse plainelye with wordes the thing, that
many see with their eyes, and where I coulde doe no more, yet should
I fulfill my duetie in imagining her.
Then saide the
Dutchesse: Passe not your bounds (my Lord Julian) but minde the
order taken, and fashion the gentlewoman of the pallace, that this
so worthie a maistresse may have him that shall so worthily serve
her.
Then the Lord
Julian proceeded: for a proofe therefore (Madam) that your
commandement may drive me to assay to doe, yea the thing I have no
skill in, I will speake of
<454>
THE COURTIEiR this excellent
woman, as I woulde have her. And when I have fashioned her after my
minde, and can afterwarde get none other, I will take her as mine
owne, after the example of Pigmalion+.
And whereas the Lorde
Gasper hath said, that the verie same rules that are given for the
Courtier serve also for the woman. I am of a contrarie opinion. For
albeit some qualities are common and necessarie as well for the
woman as the man, yet are there some other more meete for the woman
than for the man, and some again meete for the man, that she ought
in no wise to meddle withall.
The verie same I say of
the exercises of the bodie.. But principally in her fashions,
manners, wordes, gestures and conversation (me thinke) the woman
ought to be much unlike the man. For right as it is seemely for him
to shew a certaine manlinesse full and steadie, so doth it well in a
woman to have a tendernesse, soft and milde, with a kinde of
womanlye sweetenesse in every gesture of hers, that in going,
standing, and speaking what ever she lusteth, may wal make her
appeare a woman without anye likenesse of man.
Adding therefore this
principle to the rules that these Lords have taught the Courtier, I
thinke well, she may serve her turne with manie of them, and be
endued with verie good qualities, as the Lorde Gasper saith. For
many vertues of the minde I reckon be as necessarie for a woman, as
for a man.
Likewise
noblenesse of birth, avoiding affectation or curiositie+, to have a good grace of nature
in all her doings, to be of good conditions, wittie, foreseeing, not
haughtie, not envious, not ill tongued, not light, not contentious,
not untowardly, to have the knowledge to winne and keepe the good
will of her Ladle and of all others, to doe well and with good grace
the exercises comely for a woman.
Me thinke well beautie
is more necessary in her than in the Courtier, for (to say the
truth) there is a great lacke in the woman that wanteth beautie.
<455>
CASTIGLIONE She ought also to
be more circumspect, and to take better heede that she give no
occasion to bee ill reported of, and so behave her selfe, that she
be not onely not spotted with any fault, but not so much as with
suspition. Because a woman hath not so manie waies to defend her
selfe from slanderous reportes, as hath a man.
But for somuch as Count
Lewis hath verie particularly expressed the principal profession of
the Courtier, and willeth it to bee in Martiall feates, me thinke
also behovefull to utter (according to my judgement) what the
gentlewoman of the Palace ought to be: in which point when I have
throughly saisfied, I shal thinke my selfe rid of the greatest part
of my duetie.
Leaving therefore a part the vertues of the minde that ought to be
common to her with the Courtier, as wisedom+,
noblenesse of courage+, staiednesse+, and many moe, and likewise the
conditions that are meet for all women, as to be good and discreete,
to have the understanding to order her husbands goodes and her house
and children when she is married, and all those partes that belong
to a good huswife: I say that for her that liveth in Court, me
thinke there belongeth unto her above all other thinges a certaine
sweetenesse in laneuaae that may delite, whereby she may gently
entertain arl kinde of men with talke worthie the hearing and
honest, and applyed to the time and place, and to the degree of the
person she c5muneth withal. Accompanying with sober and quiet
manners, and with the honestie that must alwaies be a stay to her
deedes, a readie livelinesse of wit+, whereby she
may declare her selfe far wide from all dulnesse: but with such a
kinde of goodnesse, that she may bee esteemed no lesse chaste, wise
and courteous, than pleasant, feate conceited and sober: and
therefore muste she keepe a certaine meane+ verie
hard, and (in a manner) derived of contrary matters, and come just
to certaine limittes, but not to passe them.
This woman ought not
therefore (to make her selfe good and honest) be so squeimish and
make wise to abhorre
<456>
THE COURTIER both the company
and the talke (though somewhat of the wantonest) if she bee present,
to get her thence by and by, for a man may lightly gesse that she
fained to be so coye to hide that in her selfe which she doubted
others might come to the knowledge of: and such nice fashions are
alwaies hatefull.
Neither ought she againe (to shew her selfe free and pleasant)
speake wordes of dishonestie, nor use a certaine familiaritie
without measure and bridle, and fashions to make men believe that of
her that perhaps is not: but being present at such kinde of talke,
she ought to give the hearing with a litle blushing and
shamefacednesse.
Likewise to eschew one vice that I have seene raigne in many:
namely, to speake and willingly to give eare to such as report ill
of other women: for such as in hearing the dishonest behaviors of
other women disclosed, are offended at the matter, and make wise not
to credit and (in manner) to thinke it a wonder that a woman should
leade an uncleane life, they make proofe that since this fault
seemeth unto them so foule a matter, they commit it not. But those
that goe alwaies harking out the loves of others and disclose them
so point by pointe, and with such joy, it seemeth that they envy the
matter, and that their desire is to have all men knowe it, that the
like may not bee imputed them for a trespace.
And so they tourne it
to certaine laughters with a kind of gesture, wherby they make men
to suspecte at the very same instant that they take great
contentation at it. And of this ariseth, that men although to their
seeminge they give diligente eare to it, for the most part conceive
an ill opinion mof them, and have them in very small reputation, and
(to their weening) with these behaviours are entised to attempt them
farther.
And many
times afterward they runne so farre at rovers+ that it
purchaseth them worthely an ill name, and in conclusion are so
little regarded, that men passe not for their company, but rather
abhorre them. And contrarywise, there
<457>
CASTIGLIONE is no man so
shamelesse and high minded, but beareth greate reverence toward them
that be counted good and honest, because that gravity tempered with
knowledge and goodnes, is (as it were) a shielde againste the wanton
pride and beastlinesse of sawsie merchants. Wherefore it is seene
that one worde, a laughter or a gesture of cood will (howe litle
soever it bee) of an honest woman, is nore set by of every man, than
all the toyes and wanton gestures of them that so lavishly shew
small shamefastnesse. And where they leade not in deede an uncleane
life, yet with those wanton countenances, babling, scornfulnes, and
such scoffing conditions, they make men to think they doe.
And forsomuch as words
that are not grounded upon some pithy foundation, are vain and
childish, the gentlewoman of the palace, beside her descretion to
understand the condition of him she talketh withall, to entertaine
him honestly, must needes have a sight in many things, and a
judgement in her communication to picke out such as be to purpose
for the condition of him she talketh withall, and be heedfull that
she speake not otherwhile where she would not, Words that may offend
him.
Let her beware
of praising her selfe undiscretely, or being too tedious, that she
make him not wearie. Let her not go mingle with pleasant and
laughing talke matters of gravitie: nor yet with grave jestes aid
feat conceites.
Let
her not foolishly take upon her to know that she knoweth not, but
soberly seeke to be esteemed for that she knoweth, avoyding (as is
saide) Curiositie+ in all thinges.
In this manner shall
she be indued with good conditions, and the exercises of the bodie
comely for a woman shall she do with an exceeding good grace, and
her talke shall bee plenteous and full of wisedom, honestie, and
pleasantnesse: and so shall she be not onely beloved but reverenced
of all men, and perhaps worthy to be compared to this great
Courtier, as well for the qualities of the minde as of the bodie
. <458>
THE COURTIER When the Lord
Julian had hetherto spoken, and he held his peace, and setled
himselfe as though bee had made an end of his talke. Then saide the
Lord Gasper, no doubt my Lord Julian but you have decked gayly out
this gentlewoman, and made her of an excellent condition: yet me
seemeth that you have gone generally inough to worke, and named in
her certaine things, so great, that I think in my mind you are
ashamed to expound them, and have rather wished them in her, after
the manner of them that sometimes wish for things unpossible and
above nature, than taught them.
Therefore would I that
you declared unto us a litle better, what exercises of the bodie are
meet for a gentlewoman of the Palace, and in what sorte she ought to
entertaine, and what those many thinges be, which you say she ought
to have a sight in: and whether wisedom, noblenesse of courage,
staiednesse, and those many other vertues that you have spoken of,
your meaning is should helpe her about the overseeing only of her
house, children and housholde (the which neverthelesse you wil not
have her principall profession) or els to entertaine, and to doe
these exercises of the bodie with a good grace: and in good
felowshippe take heede yee put not these sillie vertues to so vile
an occupation, that they may be ashamed of it.
The Lord Julian
laughed, and saide: you can not choose (my Lord Gasper) but still
you must utter your ill stomacke against women. But certes, mee
thought I had spoken sufficient, and especially before such
audience, that I believe none here, but understandeth concerning the
exercises of the bodie, that it is not comely for a woman to
practise feates of armes, ryding, playing at tenise, wrastling, and
many other thinges that belong to men.
Then said Unico
Aretino: Among them of old time the manner was, that women wrastled
naked with men, but wee have lost this good custome together with
many moe.
The Lord
Cesar Conzaga replyed to this. And in my time I have seene women
play at tenise, practise feates of
<459>
CASTIGLIONE armes, ride, hunt,
and doe (in a manner) all the exercises beside, that a gentleman can
doe.
The Lord
Julian answered: Since I may fashion this woman after my mind, I
will not only have her not to practise these manly exercises so
sturdie and boisterous, but also those that bee meete for a woman, I
will have her to doe them with heedefulnesse and with the short
mildenes that we have saide is comely for her. And therefore in
daunsing I would not have her use too swift and violent trickes, nor
yet in singling or playing upon instruments those hard and often
divislons that declare more cunning than sweetenes. Likewise the
instruments of Musicke which she useth (in mine opinion) ought to
bee fit for this purpose.
Imagin with your selfe
what an unsightly matter it were to see a woman play upon a tabour
or drum, or blow in a flute or trumpet, or any like instrument: and
this because the boistrousnesse of them doth both cover and take
away that sweete mildnesse which setteth so forth everie deede that
a woman doth.
Therefore when she commeth to daunce, or to shew any kind of
musicke, she ought to be brought to it with suffring her selfe
somewhat to be prayed, and with a certain bashfulnesse, that may
declare the noble shamefastnesse that is contrarie to headinesse.
She ought also to
frame her garments to this entent, and so to apparrell her selfe,
that she appeare not fonde and light.
But for so much as it
is lawfull and necessarie for women to set more by their beawfle
than men, and sundrie kindes of beautie there are, this woman ought
to have a judgement to know what manner garments set her best out,
and be most fitte for the exercise, that she entendeth to undertake
at that instant, and with them to aray her selfe. And where she
perceiveth in her a sightly and chearefull beautie, she ought to
farther it with gestures, words and apparrel, that all may betoken
mirth. In like case an other
<460>
THE COURTIER that feeleth her
selfe of a milde and grave disposition, she ought also to accompany
it with fashions of the like sorte, to encrease that that is the
gift of nature.
In
like manner where she is somewhat fatter or leaner than reasonable
sise, or wanner, or browner, to helpe it with garments but fainingly
as much as she can possible, and keeping her selfe clenly, and
handsom, shewing alwaiep that she bestoweth no paine nor diligence
at all about it.
And because the Lord Gasper doth also aske what these many thinges
bee she ought to have a sight in, and how to entertaine, and whether
the vertues ought to bee applyed to this entertainement, I say that
I will have her to understand that yt these Lordes have willed ye
Courtier to know: and in those exercises that wee have saide are not
comely for her: I will at the least she have that judgement, that
men can have of the thinges which they practise not, and this to
have knowledge to praise and make of Gentlemennen more and lesse
according to their deserts.
And to make a briefe
rehersall in few wordes of that is alreadic saide, I will that this
woman have a sight in letters, in musicke, in drawing, or painting,
and skilfull in dauncing, and in devising sports and pastimes,
accompanying with that discrete sober moode, and with the giving a
good opinion of her selfe, the other principles also lat have beene
taught the Courtier.
And thus in
conversation, in laughing, in sporting, in jesting, finally in
everie thing she shal be had in great price, and shall entertaine
accordingly both with jestes, and feate conceites meete for her,
every person that commeth in her company.
And albeit stayednesse,
noblenesse of courage, temperance, strength of the minde, wisedom,
and the other vertues, { virtues_list+} but a man
would thinke belonged not to entertaine, yet will I have her endowed
with them all, not so much to entertaine (although notwithstanding
they may serve thereto also) as to be vertuous: and these vertues to
make her
<461>
CASTIGLIONE such a one, that
she may deserve to bee esteemed, and all her doings framed by them.
I wonder then quoth
the Lorde Gasper smyling, since you women both letters, and
stayednesse, and nobleness courage, and temperance, ye will not have
them also to beare rule in cities, and to make lawes, and to leade
armies, and men to stand spinning in the kitchin.
The Lord Julian
answered in like manner smiling: Perhaps too this were not amisse:
then he proceeded. Do you not knowe that Plato+ (which in
deed was not verie friendly to women) giveth them the overseeing of
Cities, and all other martiall offices hee appointed to men? Thinke
you not there were many to be found that could as well skill in
ruling Cities and armies, as men can? But I have not appointed them
these offices, because I fashion a waiting gentlewoman of the Court,
not a Queene.
I see
well you would covertly have up againe the slaunderous report that
the Lord Octavian gave women yesterday: namely, that they be most
unperfect creatures and not apt to worke any vertuous deede, and of
verie litle worthinesse, and of no value in respect of men: But
surely both he and you shoulde be in verie great errour if ye
thought so.
Then
saide the Lord Gasper: I will not have up againe matters alreadie
past, but you woulde faine presse me to speake some word that might
offend these Ladies mindes, to make them my foes, as you with
flattering them falsely will purchase their good will. But they are
so wise above other, that they love truth+ better
(although it make not so much with them) than false prayses: Neither
take they it in ill part for a man to say, that men are of a more
worthines, and they will not let to confesse that you have spoken
great wonders, and appointed to the gentlewoman of the Pallace
certaine fonde unpossible matters, and so manie vertues,
that Socrates+ and Cato+ and all the
Philosophers in the world are nothing to her.
For to tell you the
plaine truth, I marvell you were not
<462>
THE COURTIER ashamed so much to
passe your bounds, where it ought to have suffised ye to make this
gentlewoman of the pallace beautifull, sober, honest, well spoken,
and to have the understanding to entertaine without running in
slaunder, with dauncing, musicke, sportes, laughing, jestes, and the
other matters that wee see dayly used in Court. But to goe about to
give her the knowledge of all thinges in the world, and to appoint
her the vertues that so seldome times are seene in men, yea and in
them of olde time, it is a matter that can neither be held withall,
nor scantly heard.
Now that women are unperfect creatures, and consequently of lesse
worthinesse than men, and not apt to conceive those vertues that
they are, I purpose not to affirme it, because the prowes of these
Ladies were inough to make me a lyar. Yet this I say unto you, that
most wise men have left in writing, that nature, because she is
alwaies set and bent to make things most perfect, if she could,
would continually bring forth men, and when a woman is borne, it is
a slackenesse or default of nature, and contrarie to that she would
doe. As it is also seene in one borne blinde, lame, or with some
other impediment, and as in trees many fruites that never ripen.
Even so may a woman bee
saide to bee a creature brought forth at a chaunce and by happe, and
that it is so, marke me the workes of the man and the woman, and by
them make your proofe of the perfection of each of them.
Howbeit since these
defaults of women are the defect of nature that hath so brought them
forth, wee ought not for this to hate them, nor faint in having
lesse respect to them than is meete: but to esteeme them above that
they are, me thinketh a plaine errour.
The Lord Julian looked
the Lord Gasper would have proceeded on still, but when he saw now
that hee held his peace, he saide.
Of the unperfectries of
women me thinke you have alleaged a verie colde reason, whereunto
(albeit may hap it were not now meete to enter into these subtil
pointes)
<463>
CASTIGLIONE I answere according
to the opinion of him that is of skill, and according to the truth,
that substance in what ever thing it be, can not receive into it
more or lesse: for as no stone can bee more perfectly a stone than
an other, as touching the being of a stone: nor one blocke more
perfectly a blocke, than an other: no more can one man be more
perfectly a man than an other: and consequently the male kinde shall
not be more perfect, than the female, as touching his formall
substance, for both the one and the other is conteined under the
Species of Homo, and that wherein they differ is an Accidentall
matter and no Essentiall.
In case you will then
tell me that the man is more perfecter than ye woman though not as
touching the Essentiall, yet in the Accidents, I answere that these
accidents must consist either in the bodie, or in the minde: if in
the bodie, because the man is more sturdier, nimbler, lighter, and
more able to endure travaile, I say that this is an argument of smal
perfection: for among men themselves such as abounde in these
qualities above other, are not for them the more esteemed: and in
warre, where the greatest part of painefull labours are and of
strength, the stoutest are not for all that the most set by.
If in the minde, I say,
what ever thinges men can understand, the selfe same can women
understand also: and where it pearceth the capacitie of the one, it
may in likewise pearce the others.
Here after the Lord
Julian had made a litle stoppe, hee proceeded smiling: Doe you not
know that this principle is helde in Philosophye, who so is tender
of flesh , is apt of minde: Therefore there is no doubt, but women
being tenderer of flesh, are also apter of mind, and of a more
inclined wit to musings and speculations, than men. Afterwarde he
folowed on.
But
leaving this apart, because you saide that I should make my proofe
of the perfection of eche of them by the workes, I say unto you, if
you consider effects of nature,
<464>
THE COURTIER you shall finde,
that she bringeth women forth as they be, not at a chaunce, but
fitly necessarie for the end. For albeit she shapeth them of bodie
not stout and of a milde mind, with manie other qualities contrarie
to mens, yet doe the conditions of each of them stretch unto one
selfe end, concerning the selfe same profit. For even as through
that weake feeblenesse, women are of a lesser courage, so are they
also by the verie same more wary. Therefore mothers nourish up
children, and fathers instruct them, and with manlines provide for
that abroad, that they with careful diligence store up in the house
which is no lesse praise.
In case you will then
consider the auncient histories (albeit men at all times have beene
verie sparing in writing the prayses of women) and them of latter
daies, ye shall finde that continually vertue hath raigned as well
among women as men: and that such there have beene also that have
made warre and obtained glorious victories, governed Realmes with
great wisedome and justice, and done what ever men have done.
As touching sciences,
doe you not remember yee have reade of so many that were well seene
in Philosophie? Other that have beene most excellent in Poetrie?
Other, that have pleaded, and both accused and defended before
judges most eloquently? Of handicrafts, long it were to rehearse,
neither is it needfull to make any rehersall thereof. If then in
Essentiall substance, the man is no more perfect than the woman, nor
yet in the Accidents (and of this beside reason, the experiences are
seene) I wot not wherein this his perfection should consist.
And because you said
that Natures entent is alwales to bring forth thinges most perfect,
and therefore if she could, would alwaies bring forth a man, and
that the bringing a woman forth is rather a default and slacknesse
of nature, than her entent. I answere you that this is full and
wholy to be denyed, neither can I see why you may say that nature
entendeth not to bring forth women, without
<465>
CASTIGLIONE whom mankinde can
not be preserved, whereof nature her selfe is more desirous than of
any thing els.
Because through ye means of this felowship of male and female she
bringeth forth children, that restore the received benefits in their
childhood to their fathers in their old dayes, in that they nourish
them: afterwarde they renue them, in begetting themselves also other
children, of whom they looke in their olde age to receive it, that
being young they bestowed upon their fathers: whereby nature (as it
were) turning her about in a circle, fulfilleth an everlastingnesse,
and in this wise giveth an immortalitie to mortall men.
Since then to this, the
woman is as needfull as the man, I can not discerne for what cause
the one is made by hap more than the other.
Truth it is, that
Nature entendeth alwaies to bring forth matters most perfect, and
therefore meaneth to bring forth the man in his kind, but not more
male than female. Yea were it so that she alwaies brought forth
male, then should it without peradventure bee an unperfectnesse: for
like as of the bodie and of the soule there ariseth a compound more
nobler than his partes, which is man: Even so of the felow- ship of
male and female there ariseth a compound preserving mankinde,
without which the partes were in decay, and therefore male and
female by nature are alwaies together, neither can the one be
without the other: right so he ought not to bee called the male,
that hath not a female (according to the definition of both the one
and the other) nor she the female that hath not a male.
And for so much as one
kinde alone betokeneth an imperfection, the Divines of olde time
referre both the one and the other to God. Wherefore Orpheus saide
that Jupiter was both male and female: And it is read in scripture
that God fashioned male and female to his like- nesse. And the Poets
many times speaking of the Gods, meddle the kindes together.
Then the Lord Gasper, I
would not (quoth hee) wee
<466>
THE COURTIER should enter into
these subtill pointes, for these women will not understand us. And
albeit I answere you with very good reasons, yet will they believe,
or at the least make wise to believe that I am in the wrong, and
forthwith will give sentence as they list. Yet since wee are entred
into them, onely this will I say, (as you know, it is the opinion of
most wise men) that man is likened to the Forme, the woman to the
Matter, and therefore as the Forme is perfecter than the Matter yea
it giveth him his being, so is the man much more perfect than the
woman.
And I
remember that I have heard (when it was) that a great Philosopher/33
in certaine Problemes of his, saith: Whence commeth it that
naturally the woman alwaies loveth the man, that hath been the first
to receive of her amorous pleasures? And contrariwise the man hateth
the woman that hath beene the first to couple in that wise with him?
And adding thereto the cause, alfirmeth it to be this: For that in
this act, the woman receiveth of the man perfection, and the man of
the woman imperfection: and therefore every man naturally loveth the
thing that maketh him perfect, and hateth that maketh him unperfect.
And beside this, a
great argument of the perfection of the man, and of the imperfection
of the woman, is, that generally every woman wisheth she were a man,
by a certain provocation of nature that teacheth her to wish for her
perfection.
The
Lorde Julian answered sodainely: The silly poore creatures wish not
to bee a man to make them more perfect, but to have libertie, and to
be rid of the rule that men have of their owne authoritie chalenged
over them.
And the
similitude which you give of the Matter and Forme, is not alike in
everie point: because the woman is not made so perfectly by the man,
as is the Matter by ye Forme, for the Matter receiveth his being of
the Forme, and can not stand without it.
Yea the more Matter
Formes have, the more imperfection they have withall, and severed
from it, are most
<467>
CASTIGLIONE perfect: but the
woman receiveth not her being of the man, yea as she is made perfect
by the man, so doth she also make him perfect: whereby both the one
and the other come together to beget children: the which thing they
can not doe any of them by themselves.
The cause then of the
continuall love of the woman toward the first that she hath beene
with, and of the hatred of the man towarde the first woman, I will
not affirme to be that your Philosopher alleageth in his Problemes,
but I impute it to the surenesse and stablenesse of the woman, and
wavering of the man, and that not without naturall reason: for since
the male is naturally hote, by that qualitie he taketh lightnesse,
stirring and unstedfastnesse: and contrariwise the woman through
colde quietnesse, steadie waightinesse, and more earnest
imprintings.
Then
the Ladie Emilia turning her to the Lorde Julian, for love of God
(quoth she) come once out of these your Matters and Formes { PlainDealer+} and males and
females, and speake so that you may bee understood: for we have
heard and verie well understood the ill that the Lord Octavian and
the Lord Gasper have spoken of us: but since wee understand not now
in what sorte you stand in our defence, me thinke therefore that
this is a straying from the purpose, and a leaving of the ill
imprinting in every mans mind that these our enimies have given of
us.
Give us not
this name answered the Lorde Gasper, for more meeter it were for the
Lord Julian, which in giving women false prayses declareth that
there are none true for them.
The Lorde Julian saide
then: doubt ye not (madam) all shall be answered to. But I will not
raile upon men so without reason, as they have done upon women. And
if perchance there were any one here that meant to pen this our
talke, I would not that in place where these Matters and Formes were
understood, the arguments and reasons which the Lord Gasper
alleageth adainst you should be seene unanswered to.
<468>
THE COURTIER I wote not, my
Lord Julian, quoth then the Lorde Gasper, how in this you can deny,
that the man is not through his naturall qualities more perfect than
the woman, which of complexion is cold and the man hote, and much
more nobler and perfecter is heate than colde, because it is active
and forth bringing: and (as you know) the element poureth downe here
among us onely heate, and not colde, which pearceth not the workes
of nature.
And
therfore because women are colde of complexion, I thinke it is the
cause of their faint-hartednesse and fearfulnesse.
Will you still,
answered the Lord Julian, enter into subtill pointes? You shall
perceive your selfe at everie time to come into a greater pecke of
troubles: and that it is so, hearken to.
I graunt you, that
heate in it selfe is more perfect thh colde, but this followeth not
in medled matters and compounded, for in case it were so, the bodie
that were most hote should be most perfect: which is false, because
temperate bodies bee most perfect.
I doe you to wete
moreover, that the woman is of complexion colde in comparison of the
mans, which for overmuch heate is farre wide from temper, but as
touching her selfe, she is temperate, or at the least nearer to
temper than the man, because she hath that moisture within her of
equall portion with the naturall heat, which in the man through
overmuch drouth doth sooner melt and consume away.
She hath also such a
kind of colde, that it resisteth, and comforteth the naturall heat,
and maketh it nearer to temper, and in the man overmuch heate doth
soone bring the naturall warmth to the last degree, the which
wanting nourishment, consumeth away: and therefore, because men in
generation sooner waxe drye than women, it happeneth oftentimes that
they are of a shorter life. Wherefore this perfection may also be
given to women, that living longer
<469>
CASTIGLIONE than men they
accomplish it, that is the entent of nature more than men.
Of the heate that the
element poureth downe upon us, we talke not now, because it is
diverse in signification to it which wee entreat upon: the which
since it is nourisher of all thinges under the sphere of ye moone,
as well hote as colde, it can not be contrarie to colde.
But the fearefullnesse
in women although it betokeneth an imperfection, yet doth it arise
of a praise worthie cause, namely the subtilnesse and readinesse of
the spirits, that convey speedely the shapes to the understanding,
and therefore are Yey soone out of patience, for outwarde matters.
Full well shall you
see many times some men that dread neither death nor any thing els,
yet are they not for all that to bee called hardie, because they
know not the daunger, and goe forth like harebraines where they see
the way open, and cast no more with themselves, and this proceedeth
of a certaine grossenes of the dulled spirites.
Therefore a fond person
can not be saide to be stoute harted, but verie courage+ in deede commeth of a
proper advisement and determined will so to doe, and to esteeme more
a mans honestie and duetie, than all the perils in the world, and
although he see none other way but death, yet to be of so quiet an
hart and minde that his senses be not to seeke nor amazed, but doe
their duetie in discoursing and bethinking, even as though they were
most in quiet.
Of
this guise and manner we have seene, and heard say many great men to
be, likewise many women, which both in old time and presently have
shewed stoutnesse of courage, and brought matters to passe in the
worlde worthie infinite prayse, no lesse than men have done.
Then said Phrisio:
these matters began, when the first woman in offending, made others
to offend also against God, and for inheritance left unto mankinde
death, affec-
<470>
THE COURTIER tions, sorrowes,
and all other miseries and calamities, that be felt now a daies in
the world.
The Lord
Julian answered: Since you will also farther your purpose with
entring into scripture, doe you not know that the same offence was
in like manner amended by a woman? which hath profited much more
than she hindred us, so that that trespasse acquited with so worthie
a deede, is counted most happie. But I purpose not now to tell you,
how much in dignitie all humane creatures bee inferiour to the
virgin our Lady for meddling holy matters with these our fond
reasonings: Nor rehearse how manie women with infinite stedfastnesse
have suffered cruel death under Tyrants+ for
the name of Christ: nor them that with learning in disputation have
confuted so many Idolaters.
And in case you will
answer mee, that this was a miracle and the grace of the holy Ghost,
I say unto you that no vertue deserveth more prayse, than that which
is approved by the testimony of God.
Many other also of whom
there is no talke, you your selfe may looke upon, especially in
reading Saint Hierom, which setteth out certaine of his time with
such wonderful prayses, that they might suffice the holiest man that
can be.
Imagin then
how many there have beene of whom there is made no mention at all:
because the sillie poore soules are kept close without the pompous
pride to seeke a name of holinesse among the people, that now a
daies many men have, accursed Hipocrites, which not minding, or
rather setting small store by the doctrine of Christ, that willeth a
man when he fasteth, to annoint his face that he may appeare not to
fast, and commandeth prayer, almes deedes+, and
other good works, to be done, not in the market place, nor
Sinagogues, but in secrete, so that the left hand know not of the
right {Wyf+}: they affirme no treasure in the world
to be greater, than to give a good example, and thus hanging their
heade aside, and fastnine their eyes upon the ground, spreading a
report about, that they will not once speake to a woman, nor eate
any thing but rawe hearbes, smoky,
<471>
CASTIGLIONE with their side
garments all to ragged and torne, they beguile the simple.
But for all that, they
abstaine not from falsifying willes, sowing mortall hatred betweene
man and wife, and otherwhile poison: using sorcerie, inchauntments,
and all kinde of ribaldrie, and afterwarde alleage a certaine
authoritie of their own head, that saith: Si non caste, tamen caute,
and with this weene to heale every great sore, and with good reason
to perswade him that is not heedfull that God forgiveth soone all
offences, how hainous soever they be, so they be kept close, and no
evil example ariseth of them.
Thus with a veile of
holinesse, and this mischievous devise, many times they turn all
their thoughtes to defile the chaste mind of some woman, oftentimes
to sow variance betweene brethren, to governe states, to set up the
one and plucke down the other, to chop off heades, to imprison and
banish men, to be the ministers of wickednesse, and (in a manner)
the storers and hoorders up of the roberies that manie Princes
commit.
Other past
shame, delight to seeme delicate and smoth, with their crowne
minionly shaven, and well clad, and in their gate lift up their
garment to shew their hose sit cleane, and the handsomnesse of
person in making curtesie.
Other use certaine
bylookes and gestures even at masse, which they hold opinion become
them well, and make men to behold them: michievous and wicked men,
and cleane voide not onely of all religion, but of all good manner.
And when their naughtie life is laide to them, they make a jest at
it, and give them a mocke that telleth them of it, and (as it were)
count their vices as praise.
Then saide the Ladie
Emilia. Such delight you have to speake ill of Friers+, that are
fallen into this talke without all purpose. But you commit a great
offence to murmure against religious persons, and without any profit
ye burden your conscience: for were it not for them, that they pray
unto God for us, we shoulde yet have farre greater plagues than we
have.
<472>
THE COURTIER Then laughed the
Lorde Julian, and saide: How gessed you so eaven (madam) that I
speake of Friers, since I named them not? But forsooth this that I
say is not called murmuring, for I speake it plaine and openly. And
I meane not the good, but the bad and wicked, of whom I have not yet
spoken the thousandeth part of that I know.
Speake you not now of
Friers, answered the Ladie Emilia: for I thinke it (for my part) a
grievous offence to give eare to you, and for hearing you any more,
I wil get me hence.
I am well pleased, quoth the Lord Julian, to speake no more of this.
But to return to the prayses of women, I say that the Lord Gasper
shal not finde me out any notable man, but I will finde his wife, or
sister or daughter of like merite, and otherwhile above him. Beside
that, many have beene occasion of infinite goodnesse to their men,
and sometime broken them of many errours.
Therefore since women
are (as wee have declared) naturally as apt for the selfe same
vertues, as men be, and the proofe thereof hath beene often seene, I
wote not why, in giving them that is possible they may have, and
sundrie times have had, and still have, I ought to bee deemed to
speake wonders, as the L. Gasper hath objected against me:
Considering that there have ever beene in the world, and still are,
women as nigh the woman of the Pallace, whom I have fashioned, as
men nigh the man whome these Lordes have fashioned.
Then saide the Lord
Gasper: those reasons that have experience against them (in my
minde) are not good. And I wis, if I should happen to aske you what
these great women are, or have beene, so worthie praise, as the
great men whose wives, sisters, or daughters they have beene, or
that have beene occasion of any goodnesse, or such as have broken
them of their errors, I believe it woulde comber you shroudly.
Surely answered the
Lord Julian, none other thing could comber me, but the multitude of
them. And if time served
<473>
CASTIGLIONE me, I would tell
you to this purpose the Historie of Octavia+ wife to
Marcus Antonius, and sister to Augustus: of Porcia+ daughter
to Cato+ and wife to Brutus+: of Caia
Cecilia wife to Tarquinius Priscus: of Cornelia+
daughter to Scipio, and of infinite other, which are most known. And
not onely these of our countrie, but also Barbarians+, as
that Alexandra, which was wife to Alexander king of the Jewes, who
after the death of her husband, seeing the people in an uproare, and
alreadie runne to weapon to slea the two children which he had left
behinde him, for a revenge of the cruel and straight bondage that
their father had alwaies kept them in, she so behaved her selfe,
that sodainly she aswaged that just furie, and in a moment, with
wisedom made those mindes favourable to the children, which the
father in many yeares with infinite injuries, had made their most
enimies.
Tell us at
the least, answered the Ladie Emilia, how she did. The Lorde Julian
saide: she perceiving her children in so great a jeopardie,
immediatly caused Alexanders bodie to be cast out into the middest
of the market place, afterwarde calling unto her the Citizens, she
saide, that she knew their mindes were set on fire with most furie
against her husband: for the cruel injuries which he wickedly had
done them, deserved it: and even as when he lived, she did her best
alwaies to withdrawe him from so wicked a life, so now she was
readie to make a tryall thereof, and to helpe them to chastice him
even dead, as much as she might, and therefore shoulde take that
bodie of his and give it to be devoured of dogs, and rent it in the
cruellest manner they coulde imagine. But she desired them to take
pittie upon the innocent children, that could not onely be in no
fault, but not so much as weeting of their fathers ill doings.
Of such force were
these words, that the raging fury once conceived in all that peoples
mindes, was sodenly aswaged, and turned into so tender an affection,
that not onely with one accord, they chose those children for their
<474>
THE COURTIER heades and rulers,
but also to the deade corps they gave a most honourable buriall.
Here the Lord Julian
made a litle pause, afterwarde hee proceeded. Know you not that
Mithridates wife and sisters shewed a farre lesse feare of death,
than Mithridates himselfe? And Asdruballes wife, than Asdrubal
himselfe? Know you not that Harmonia daughter to Hiero the
Siracusan, woulde have died in the burning of her Countrie? Then
Phrisio, where obstinacie is bent, no doubt (quoth he) but
otherwhile ye shall find some women that will never chaunge purpose,
as she that could no longer call her husband pricklouse, with her
handes made him a signe.
The Lord Julian laughed
and saide: Obstinacie that is bent to a vertuous ende, ought to bee
called stedfastnesse+, as in
Epicaria a libertine of Rome, which made privie to a great
conspiracie against Nero, was of such stedfastnesse, that being rent
with all the most cruel torments that could be invented, never
uttered any of the partners: And in like perill many noble gentlemen
and Senators, fearefully accused brethren, friendes, and the dearest
and best beloved persons to them in the world.
What say you of this
other, called Leona? In whose honour the Athenians dedicated before
the Castle gate, a Lionesse of mettall without a tongue, to betoken
in her the steadie vertue of silence. For she being in like sorte
made privie to a conspiracie against Tirants, was not agast at the
death of two great men her friendes, and for all she was torne with
infinite and most cruel torments, never disclosed any of the
conspiratours.
Then
said the Ladie Margaret Conzaga: Me seemeth that you make too briefe
rehersall of these vertuous acts done by women. For although these
our enimies have heard them and read them, yet they make wise not to
know them, and woulde faine the memorie of them were lost.
But in case ye will doe
us to understand them, they will at the least be honourable to us.
<475>
CASTIGLIONE Then answered the
Lorde Julian: With a good will. Now will I tell you of one, that did
such a deed, as I believe the Lorde Gasper himselfe will confesse
that verie few men doe. And began.
In Massilia there was
in times past an usage which is thought came out of Greece, and that
was, that openly there was poyson laide up meddled with Cicuta, and
it was lawfull for him to take it that alledged to the Senate that
he ought to bee rid of his life for some discommoditie that hee felt
therein, or els for some other just cause: to the entent that who so
had suffered too much adversitie, or tasted over great prosperitie,
hee might not continue in ye one, or change the other. In the
presence therefore of Sextus Pompeius.
Here Phrisio not
tarrying to have the Lord Julian proceede further, this mee seemeth
(quoth he) is the beginning of some long tale.
Then the Lord Julian
turning him to the Ladie Margaret said: See Phrisio will not suffer
me to speake. I would have tolde you of a woman, that after she had
shewed the Senate that she ought of right to dye, glad and without
any feare, tooke in the presence of Sextus Pompeius the poyson with
such stedfastnesse of minde, and with such wise and loving
exhortations to hers, that Pompeius, and the rest that beheld in a
woman such knowledge and steadinesse in the trembling passage of
death, remayned (not wythout teares) astonied wyth great wonder.
Then the L. Gasper
smiling, and I againe remember (quoth hee) that I have red an
Oration, wherein an unfortunate husband asketh leave of the Senate
to dye, and alledgeth that hee hath a just cause, for that he can
not abide the continuall wearysomnesse of hys wifes chatting, and
had lieffer drinke of that poyson which you say was laid up openly
for these respectes, than of his wives scoldinges.
The L. Julian
aunsweared: Howe many seely poore women shoulde have a juste cause
to aske leave to dye, for
<476>
THE COURTIER abidinge, I will
not say the ill wordes, but the most evill deedes of their
husbandes? For I know some my selfe, that in this world suffer the
paynes which are sayd to bee in hell.
Be there not againe,
trow you, aunswered the L. Gasper, many husbandes that are so
tormented wyth their wives, that every houre they wish for death?
And what displeasure, quoth the L. Julian, can women do their
husbands, that is so wythout remedye, as those are which husbands do
their wives? whiche though not for love, yet for feare are obedient
to their husbandes.
Sure it is indeede (quoth the L. Gasper) that the little they doo
well otherwhile, commeth of feare, for fewe there are in the worlde
that secretely in their minde hate not their husbandes.
Nay, cleane contrarie,
answered the Lorde Julian: and in case you will remember what you
have reade, it is to be seene in all histories, that alwaies (in a
manner) wives love their husbandes better than they their wives.
When have you ever
seene or red that a husband shewed such a token of love towarde his
wife, as did Camma towarde her husband? I wot not, answered the Lord
Gasper, what she was, nor what token she shewed. Nor I, quoth
Phrisio.
The Lorde
Julian answered. Give eare. And you (my Ladie Margaret) looke ye
beare well away. This Camma was a most beautifull young woman,
indowed with such modestie, and honest conditions, that no lesse for
them, than for her beautie she was to be wondred at: and above other
thinges, with all her hart she loved her husband, who had to name
Synattus.
It
happened that an other gentleman of greater authoritie than
Synattus, and (in a manner) heade ruler and Tyrant of the Citie
where they dwelled, fell in love with this young woman: and after
hee had long attempted by all waies and meanes to compasse her, and
all but lost labour, bethinking him selfe that the love she bore her
<477>
CASTIGLIONE husband, was the
onely cause that withstood his desires, hee caused this Synattus to
be slaine.
Thus
instant upon her afterward continually, other fruite could he never
get of her, than what hee had before.
Wherefore this love
dayly encreasing, hee was fully resolved to take her to wife, for
all in degree she was much inferiour to him.
So sute being made to
her friendes by Sinoris (for so was the lover named) they tooke in
hand to perswade her to bee contented with it: Declaring that to
agree thereto, was verie profitable, and to refuse it, perillous for
her, and them all. She after she had a while gainesayed them, at
length made answere that she was contented.
Her kinsfolke brought
this tydinges to Synoris, which passing measure glad, gave order to
have this marriage made out of hand.
After they were then
both come for this purpose solemnly into the Temple of Diana, Camma
had caused to be brought to her a certaine sweete drinke which she
had made, and so before the image of Diana, in the presence of
Sinoris she dranke the one moitie. Afterwarde with her owne hand
(for this was the usage in marriages) she gave the remaine to the
bridegroome, which dranke it cleane up.
Camma as soone as she
saw her devise take effect, kneeled her downe very joyfull before
the image of Diana, and saide.
Oh Coddesse, thou that
knowest the bottom of my hart, bee a good witnesse to me, how hardly
after my deare husband deceased, I have refrained from killing my
selfe, and what paines I have sustained to endure the griefe to live
in this bitter life, in which I have felt none other joy or
pleasure, but the hope of the revenge, which I perceive now is come
to effect.
Therefore with gladnes and contentation, I goe to finde out the
sweete company of that soule, which in life and death I have alwaies
more loved than mine owne selfe.
And thou caitife, that
weenedst to have beene my hus-
<478>
THE COURTIER band, in stead of
a marriage bed, give order to prepare thee a grave, for of thee doe
I here make a sacrifice to the shadow of Synattus.
Synoris amazed at these
wordes, and alreadie feelmig the operation of the poyson within him,
that put him to great paine, proved many remedies, but all prevailed
not.
And Camma had
fortune so favourable on her side, or what ever els, that before she
dyed, she had knowledge that SywhrJenwas dead.
she heard of that, with
verie great contentation she laid her upon her bed, with her eyes to
heaven, continually calling upon the name of Synattus and saying: 0
most sweete mate, since now I have bestowed for the last tokens upon
thy death, both teares and revenge and perceive not that I have any
thing yet behind to d for thee here, I flee the world, and this
without thee a cruel life, which for thy sake onely in times past
was deare to mee.
Come therefore and meete me (oh my Lorde) and embrace as willingly
this soule, as she willingly commeth to thee.
And speaking these
words with her armes spread, as though she would at that instant
have embraced him, dyed.
Say now Phrisio, what
thinke you by this? Phrisio answered.
Me thinke you woulde
make these Ladies weepe. But let us set case this was true, I say
unto you, that we finde no more such women in the world.
The Lord Julian said:
yes, that there be, and that it is so, give eare. In my dayes there
was in Pisa a gentleman whose name was maister Thomas, of what
house, I remember not, for all I heard my father often times tell
it, which was his great friend.
This maister Thomas
then, passing upon a day in a litle vessell from Pisa towarde
Sicilia about his affaires, was overtaken with certaine foisteS/34
of Moores, that were on the backe of him unawares, and before the
governours of the vessell had espied them: and for all the men
within, defended themselves well, yet because they were but few,
<479>
CASTIGMONE and the enimies many, the vessel with as many as were on
borde was taken by the Moores, some hurt, some whole, as fell to
their lot, and among them maister Thomas, which had plaied the man
and slaine with his owne hand a brother of one of the Captains of
those foists.
For
which matter the Captaine full of wrath, as you may conjecture by
the losse of his brother, woulde have him for his prisoner, and
beating and buffeting him dayly, brought him intoBarbary+, where
in great miserie hee determined to keepe him alive his captive and
with much drudgery.
All the rest, some one way, some another, within a space were at
libertie, and returned home, and brought tidinges to his wife,
called maistresse Argentine, and children, of the hard life and
great afliction which maister Thomas lived in, and was like without
hope to live in continually, unlesse God wonderfully helped him. The
which matter when she and they understood for a certaintie,
attempting certaine other waies for his deliverance, and where he
himselfe was fully resolved to end his life, there happened a
carefull affection and tender pittie so to quicken the witte and
courage of a sone of his called Paule, that he had respect to no
kinde of daunger, and determined either to dye, or to deliver his
father. The which matter he brought to passe, and with such privie
conveyance, that hee was first in Ligurno before it was knowne in
Barbary, that he was parted thence.
Here hence maister
Thomas (being arived in safety) writte to his wife, and did her to
weete his setting at libertie, and where hee was, and how the next
day he hoped to see her.
The honest gentlewoman
filled with so great and sodaine joy, that she should so shortly
aswell through the zeale as prowesse of her sonne, see her husband
whom she loved so much, where she once surely believed never to have
seene him againe, after she had read the letter, she lifted her eyes
to heaven, and calling upon the name of her husband, fell starke
dead to the ground, and with no remedie done to
<480>
THE COURTIER her, did the
departed soule returne to the bodie againe. A cruel sight, and
inough to temper the willes of men and to withdraw them from
coveting too fervently superfluous joyes.
Then saide Phrisio
smiling: What know you whether she dyed for sorrow or no,
understanding her husband was comming home? The Lord Julian
answered: Because the rest of her life was nothing agreeable
thereto. But I weene rather the soule could not tarry the lingring
to see him with the eyes of her body, and therefore forsooke it, and
drawne out thence with coveting, fled by and by where in reading the
letter, her thought was fled. {Gloucrsster+} The
Lorde Gasper saide: it may be that this woman was over loving,
because women in every thing cleave alwaies to the extremitie, which
is ill. And see for that she was over loving, because she did ill to
her selfe, to her husband, and to her children, in whom she turned
into bitternesse the pleasure of that dangerous and desired libertie
of his. Therefore you ought not to alleage her for one of the women
that have beene the cause of so great goodnesse. The Lorde Julian
answered.
I alleage
her for one of them that make tryall that there are wives which love
their husbands. For of such as have beene occasion of great profits
in the worlde, I could tell you of an infinit number, and rehearse
unto you so auncient, that wellnigh a man woulde judge them fables.
And of such as among men, have beene the inventers of such kinde of
matters, that they have deserved to be deemed Goddesses, as Pallas,
Ceres, the Sybilles, by whose mouth God hath so often times spoken
and discovered to the world matters to come.
And such as have taught
verie gireat men, as Aspasia and Diotima, the whiche also with
sacrifice drove of a plague tenne yeares that shoulde have fallen in
Athens.
I could
tell you of Nicostrata mother to Evander, which shewed the Latins
their letters. And of another woman
<481>
CASTIGLIONE also that was
maistresse to Pindarus Liricus. And of Corinna and Sappho which were
most excellent in Poetrie: but I will not seeke matters so far off.
I say unto you,
that leaving the rest apart, of the greatnesse of Rome perhaps women
were a no lesse cause than men.
This quoth the Lord
Gasper, were good to understand.
The Lord Julian
answered: Hearken to it then. After Troy was wonne, many Trojans,
that in so great a destruction escaped, fled some one way, some
anotTer: of which, one part, that by many Sea stormes were tossed
and tumbled, came into Italy in the coast where the Tever entreth
into the sea.
So
landing, to provide for their necessaries, began to goe a forraging
about the Countrie. The women that tarried behinde in the ships,
imagined among themselves a profitable devise, yt shoulde make an
end of their perillous and long sea-wandering, and in stead of their
lost countrie recover them a new.
And after they had
laide their heades together, in the mens absence, they set fire on
the ships, and the first that began this worke was called Roma.
Yet standing in feare
of the mens displeasure that were retyring backe againe, they went
to meete with them, and embracing, and kissing in token of good
will, some their husbandes, some their next a kin, they asswaged
that first brunt: Afterwarde they disclosed to them quietly the
cause of their wittie enterprise.
Wherefore the Trojans
on the one side, for neede, and on the other for being courteously
received of the inhabitants, were very wel pleased with that the
women had done, and there dwelled with the Latins in the place where
afterward was Rome. And of this arose the auncient custome among the
Romans, that women meeting their kinsfolke, kissed them. Now ye see
what a helpe these women were to give the beginning to Rome.
And the Sabine women
were a no lesse helpe to the
<482>
THE COURTIER encrease of it,
than were the Trojane to the first beginning: for when Romulus had
purchased him the generail hatred of all his neighbours, for the
ravin that he made of their women, hee was assailed with warre on
all sides, the which for that he was a valiant man, hee soone rid
his handes of with victorie: onely the war with the Sabines
excepted, which was verie sore, because Titus Tatius king of the
Sabines was verie puisant and wise.
Whereupon after a sore
bickering betweene the Romanes and Sabines, with verie great losse
on both sides, prepar- ing for a fresh and cruell battaile, the
Sabine women clad in blacke, with their haire scattered and haled,
weeping, comfortlesse, without feare of weapons now bent to give the
onset, came into the middest betweene their fathers and husbands,
beseeching them not to sile their hands with the bloud of their
fathers in law, and sonnes in law, and in case it were so that they
repined at this aliance, they should bend their weapons against
them: for much better it were for them to dye, than to live widowes
or fatherlesse, and brotherlesse, and to remember that their
children had beene begotten of such as had slaine their fathers, or
they themselves of such as had slaine their husbands.
With these pitifull
wailings many of them carried in their armes their young babes, of
whom some began alreadie to lose their tongue, and seemed to call
and sport with their grandfathers, unto whom the women shewing forth
their nephewes, and weeping saide.
Behold your owne bloud
that in such rage ye seeke to shed with your owne hands.
Of such force was in
this case the affection and wisedom of the women, that there was not
onely concluded betweene the two kinges enimies together, an
indissoluble friendship and league, but also (which was a more
wonderfull matter) the Sabins came to dwel in Rome, and of two
peoples was made one, and so did this accorde much encrease the
strength of Rome: thanked be the wise and couragious women which
were so rewarded of Romulus,
<483>
CASTIGLIONE that parting the
people into thirtie bandes, gave them the names of the Sabine women.
Here the Lord Julian pausing a while, and perceiving that the Lord
Gasper spake not, trow you not (quoth he) that these women were
occasion of goodnesse to their men, and helped to the greatnesse of
Rome.
The Lord
Gasper answered: No doubt, they were wOrthie much praise. But in
case you woulde as well tell the faultes of women, as their well
doing, you woulde not have kept hid, that in this warre of Titus
Tatius, a woman betrayed Rome, and taught the enimies the way to
take the Capitolium, whereby the Romans were well nigh all undone.
The Lorde Julian
answered: You mention me one ill woman, and I tell you of infinit
good. And beside the afore named, I could apply to my purpose a
thousand other examples of the profit done to Rome by women, and
tell you why there was once a temple builded to Venus armata, and an
other to Venus calva, and how the feast of handmaidens was
instituted to Juno, because the handmaidens once delivered Rome from
the guiles of the enimies.
But leaving all these
thinges apart, that couragious acte for discovering the conspiracie
of Catilina+, for whichCicero+ is so
praysed, had it not chiefely his beginning of a common woman, which
for this may be saide to have beene the occasion of all the good
that Cicero boasteth hee did the common weale of Rome? And in case I
had sufficient time, I woulde (may hap) shew you also, that women
have oftentimes corrected men of many vices: but (I feare me) my
talke hath alreadie beene overlong and combrous. Therefore since I
have according to my power fulfilled the charge that these Ladies
have given me, I meane to give place to him that shall speake more
worthier matters to bee heard, than I can.
Then the Ladie Emilia,
Doe you not deprive (quoth she) women of the true praises due unto
them? And re-
<484>
THE COURTIER member though the
Lorde Gasper and perchaunce the Lord Octavian too, heare you with
noysomnesse, yet do we, and these other Lords harken to you with
pleasure.
Notwithstanding the L. Julian would there have ended, but all the
Ladies began to entreat him to speake.
Wherefore he said
laughing: Least I should provoke my Lord Gasper to bee mine enimie
any more than he is, I will but briefly tell you of a certaine that
come into my minde, leaving many that I could recite unto you.
Afterwarde he proceeded.
When Philip, Demetrius
sonne, was about the Citie of Scio, and had laide siege to it, he
caused to be proclamed, that what ever bondmen would forsake the
Citie and fle to him, he promised them libertie and their maisters
wives.
The spite of
women for this so shamefull a proclamation was such, that they came
to the walles with weapon, and fought so fiercely, that in a small
time they drove Philip awaye with shame and losse, which the men
could not doe.
These selfe same women being with their husbands, Fathers and
brethren that went into banishment, after they came into Leuconia,
did an act no lesse glorious, than this was. For the Erythrians that
were there with their federates, made warre against these Sciotes,
which not able to hold out, came to accord, with composition to
depart onely in their doublet and shirt out of the Citie.
The women hearing of
this so shamefull a composition, were much offended, reviling them,
that leaving their weapons, they woulde issue out like naked men
among their enimies. And when they made answere that it was alreadie
so condicioned, they willed them to carrie their shield and speare,
and leave their clothes, and answere their enimies that this was
their aray.
And in
so doing, by their womens counsell, they covered a great part of the
shame, which they could not cleane avoide.
Likewise when Cirus had
discomfited in a battaile the armie of the Persians, as they ranne
away, in their fleeing
<485>
CASTIGLIONE they met with their
women without their gates, who comming to them, said: whither flee
ye you cowards? Entend ye perhaps to hide you in us, from whence ye
came? These and such like words the men hearing, and perceiving how
much in courage they were inferioito their women, were ashamed of
them selves, and returning backe againe to their enimies fought with
them a fresh, and gave them the overthrow.
When the Lorde Julian
had hetherto spoken, he stayed, and turning him to the Dutchesse,
saide: Now (madame) you will licence me to hold my peace.
The Lord Gasper
answered: it is time to holde your peace, when you know not what to
saye more. The Lorde Julian saide smyling: You provoke mee so, that
ye may chance bee occupied all night in hearing the prayses of
women. And ye shall understand of many Spartane women that much
rejoyced at the glorious death of their children: and of them that
forsooke them, or slew them with their owne hands when they heard
they used dastardlinesse.
Againe, how the
Saguntine women in the destruction of their Countrie, tooke weapon
in hand against Hanniballes souldiers. And how the armie of the
Dutchmen vanquished by Marius, their women not obtaining their sute
to live free in Rome in service with the virgins Vestalles, killed
them selves everie one with their young children. And a thousand moe
that all auncient Histories are full of.
Then saide the Lord
Gasper: tush (my Lord Julian) God wotteth how these matters passed,
for these times are so farre from us, that many lyes may be tolde,
and none there is that can reprove them.
The Lord Julian said:
In case you will measure in everie time the worthinesse of women
with mens, ye shall finde that they have never beene, nor yet
presently are any whit inferior to men.
For leaving apart those
so auncient, if ye come to the time when the Gothes raigned in
Italy, ye shall finde that there was a Queene among them Amalasunta,
that ruled
<486>
THE COURTIER a long while with
marvellous wisedom. Afterward Theodelinda queene of the Longobardes,
of singular vertue Theodora empresse of Greece. And in Italy among
many other was a most singular Ladie the Countesse Matilda, whose
prayses I leave to be told of Count Lewis, because she was of his
house.
Nay quoth
the Count, it is your part, for you know it is not meete that a man
should praise his owne. {brag+} The Lord Julian continued on. And how
many famous in times past find you of this most noble house
of Montefeltro+? How many of the house
of Gonzaga+, of Este+ and Pii? In
case wee will then speake of the time present, we shall not neede to
seeke examples far fet, for we have them in the house.
But I will not serve my
purpose with them, whom wee see in presence, lest yee should seeme
for courtesie to graunt me it, that in no wise ye can deny me. And
to goe out of Italy, remember ye, in our dayes we have seene Anne
French Queene, a verie great Ladie, no lesse in vertue than in
state: and if in justice and mildnesse, liber- alitie and holinesse
of life, ye lust to compare her to the kinges Charles and Lewis
(which had been wife to both of them) you shall not find her a jotte
inferiour to them.
Behold the Ladie Margaret, daughter to the Emperor Maximilian, which
with great wisedom and justice hetherto hath ruled, and still doth
her state.
But
omitting all other, tell me (my Lorde Gasper) what king or what
prince hath there beene in our daies, or yet many yeares before in
Christendom, that deserveth to be compared to Queene Isabel+ of
Spaine.
The Lord
Gasper answered king Ferdinande her husband. The Lorde Julian said:
This will I not deny. For since the Queene thought him a worthie
husband for her, and loved and observed him so much, it can not bee
said nay, but he deserved to be compared to her. And I thinke well
the reputation he got by her, was a no lesse dowrie than the kingdom
of Castilia.
<487>
CASTIGLIONE Nay, answered the
Lorde Gasper, I believe rather of many of king Ferdinandes actes
Queene Isabell bore the prayse.
Then saide the Lorde
Julian: In case the people of Spaine, the nobles, private persons,
both men and women, poore and rich, be not all agreed together to
lye in her prayse, there hath not beene in our time in the worlde a
more cleare example of true goodnesse, stoutnesse of courage,
wisedom, religion, honestie, courtesie, liberalitie: { virtues_list+} to be briefe,
of al vertue, than Queene Isabel. And where the renowne of that
Ladie in every place, and in all nations is very great, they that
lived with her, and were present at all her doings doe all affirme
this renowne to bee sprong of her vertue and deserts.
And who so will waigh
her actes, shall soone perceive the truth to be so. For leaving
apart infinite tinges that make tryall of this, and might be tolde,
if it were our purpose, every man knoweth that in the first
beginning of her raigne, she found ye greatest part of
Castiliapossed by great estates: yet recovered she the whole again,
so justly and in such sort, that they dispossessed themselves,
continued in a creat cood affection, and were willing to make
surrender of thAt they had in possession.
It is also a most
knowne thing with what courage and wisedome she alwaies defended her
realmes from most puissant enimies. And likewise to her alone mav be
given the honour of the glorious conquest of the kingdom of Granada,
which in so long and sharpe a warre against stubborne enimies, that
fought for their livelode, for their life, for their law, and to
their weening in Gods quarrell, declared evermore with counsell and
with her owne person so much vertue and prowesse, as perhaps in our
time few princes have had ye stomacke, not only to follow her steps,
but to envy her.
Beside this, all that knew her, report that there was in her such a
divine manner of government, that a man would have weened that her
will only was almost inough to make
<488>
THE COURTIER everle man without
any more businesse, to doe that he ought: so that scarse durst a man
in his ovme home and in secrete commit any thing that hee suspected
would displease her. And of this a great part, was cause the
wonderfull judgement which she had in knowing and choosing ministers
meete for the offices she entinded to place them in.
And so well coulde she
joine the rigour of justice with the mildenesse of mercie+ and liberallitie, that there was no
good person in her dayes that could complaine he had beene smally
rewarded, ne any ill, too sore punished.
Wherefore among her
people towarde her, there sprang a verie great reverence derived
of love_and_feare+, which in all mens mindes
remaineth still so setled, that a man woulde thinke they looked that
she shoulde beholde them from heaven, and there above either prayse
or dispraise them.
And therefore with her name, and with the waies which she ordained,
those realmes are still ruled, in wise that albeit her life wanteth,
yet her authoritie liveth, like a wheele long swinged about with
violence, keeping the same course a good while after of it selfe,
though no man move it any more.
Consider you beside
this (my Lorde Gasper) that in our time al ye men of Spaine renowmed
in what ever thing, have beene made so by Queene Isabel.
And the great Captaine
Consalve Ferdinando was more set by for it, than for all his famous
victories, and excellent and couragious actes, that in peace and war
have made him so notable and famous.
That in case fame bee
not unkinde, she will for ever spread abroad to the worlde his
immortall prayses, and make proofe that in our age we have had few
kinges or great Princes, that by him have not beene surmounted in
noble courage, knowledge, and all vertue.
To returne therefore to
Italy, I say unto you that we have not wanted here most excellent
Ladies. For in Naples
<489>
CASTIGLIONE wee have two
Queenes, and not long agoe in Naples likewise dyed the other Queene
of Hungarie, as excellent a Ladie as you know any, and to bee
compared well inough to the mightie and glorious king Mathew Covin
her husband.
Likewise the Dutchesse Isabel of Aragon+ most
worthie sister to king Ferdinande+ of
Naples which as gold in the fire, so in the stormes of fortune hath
she shewed her vertue and prowesse.
If you will come into
Lumbardie, you shall marke the Ladie Isabel marquesse of Mantua+, whose most excellent
vertues shoulde receive great wrong in speaking of them so
temperately, as who so will speake of them in this place, must be
driven to doe.
I
am sory morever that you all knew not the Dutchesse Beatrice of
Millane her sister, that you might never againe wonder at a womans
wit.
And the
Dutchesse Elionor of Aragon, Dutchesse of Ferrara+, and
mother to both these Ladies whom I have named, was such a one, that
her most excellent vertues gave a good tryall to all the world, that
she was not onely a worthy daughter to a king, but also deserved to
be a Queene over far greater state than all her auncestors
possessed.
And to
tell you of an other. How many men know you in the world, woulde
abide the bitter strokes of fortune so patiently, as Queene Isabel
of Naples hath done? Which for all the losse of her kingdome,
banishment and death of king Fredericke her husband, and two sonnes,
and imprisonment of the Duke of Calabria her eldest, yet still
sheweth her selfe a Queene: and so beareth out the miserable
inconveniences of wretched poverty, that every man may see, though
she hath chaunged fortune, yet hath she not altered condition.
I omit the naming unto
you of infinit other great Ladies, and also women of low degree, as
many Pisanes that in defence of their countrie against the
Florentines, have de-
<490>
THE COURTIER clared that noble
courage without any feare of death, that the most invincible
courages could doe that ever were in the world: Wherefore certaine
of them have beene renowned by many noble Poets.
I could tell you of
certain most excellent in letters, in musIcke, in painting, in
carving' but I will not anie more oe searching out among these
examples, which are most nowne to you all.
It sufficeth, that if
in your minds you thinke upon women whom you your selves know, it
shal be no hard matter for you to understand, that they are not most
commonly in prowesse or worthinesse inferiour to their fathers,
brethren, and husbands, and that many have beene occasion of
goodnesse to men, and many times broen them of many of their vices.
And where presently there are not found in the world those great
Queenes that goe to conquere farre Countries, and make great
buildinges, Piramides and Cities, as Thomiris Queene of Scithia,
Artemisia, Zenobia, Semiramis or Cleopatra, no more are there also
men like unto Caesar, Alexander, Scipio, and the other noble Romane
Captaines.
Say not
so, answered then Phrisio laughing, for presently there are more
found like Cleopatra or Semiramis, than ever there were. And though
they have not so manye states, powers and riches, yet there wanteth
not in them good will to counterfeite them at the least in giving
themselves to pleasure, and satisfying all their lusts as much as
they may.
The
Lorde Julian saide: You will ever Phrisio passe your boundes. But in
case there be found some Cleopatres, there want not for them
infinite Sardanapalles, which is much worse.
Make not this
comparison quoth the Lorde Gasper then, and believe not that men are
so incontinent as women be: and where they were so, yet shoulde it
not be worse. For of the incontinencie of women arise infinite
inconveniences, that doe not of mens. And therefore (as it was well
saide yesterday) they have wisely ordained that it may bee law-
<491>
CASTIGLIONE full for them to
be out of the way without blame in all other thinges, that the I
themselves in this one vertue of chastitie, without the which
children were uncertain, and the bond+ that
knitteth all the worlde together by bloud, and by the love that
naturally each man hath to that is borne him, shoulde be loosed. { ring+} Therefore a wanton life in
women is lesse to be borne withall than in men, that carrie not
their children nine monthes in their bodie.
Then answered the
Lorde Julian: Doubtlesse these be pretie arguments that yee make, I
marvel you put them not in writing. But tell me, for what cause is
it ordained that a wanton life should not be so shamefull a matter
in men, as in women? Considering if they bee by nature more vertuous
and of greater prowesse, they may also the easier keepe them selves
in this vertue of continencie, and children shoulde be no more or
lesse certaine: for if women were given to wanton living, so men
were continent, and consented not to the wantonnesse of women, they
among themselves and without any other helpe could not beare
children.
But if
you will tell the truth, you your selfe know, that wee have of our
owne authoritie claimed a libertie, whereby wee will have the selfe
same offences in us very light, and otherwhile worthic prayse, and
in women not sufficiently to bee punished, but with a shamefull
death, or at the least everlasting slaunder.
Therefore since this
opinion hath taken roote, me thinketh it a meete matter to punish
them in like manner sharpely, that with lies bring up a slaunder
upon women.
And I
believe that every worthie gentleman is bound to defend alwaies with
weapon, where neede requireth, the truth, and especiallye when he
knoweth any woman falsely reported of to be of litle honestie.
And I, answered the
Lord Gasper smiling, doe not onely affirm it to bee every worthie
gentlemans duetie,
<492>
THE COURTIER that you say, but
also take it for great courtesie and honestie to cover some offence
that by mishap or overmuch love a woman is runne into. And thus you
may see that I am more on womens side, where reason beareth me out,
than you be.
I
deny not that men have taken a litle libertie, and that because they
know by the common opinion, that to them wanton living is not so
slanderous as to women, which through the weaknesse of their kinde,
are much more enclined to appetites, than men: and in case they
abstaine otherwhile from satisfying their lusts, they doe It for
shame, not that will is not most readie in them.
And therefore have men
laide upon them feare of slaunder for a bridle, to keepe them (in a
manner) whether they will or no in this vertue, without the which
(to say the truth) they were litle to be set by: for the worlde hath
no profit by women, but for getting of children.
But the like is not of
men, which governe Cities, armies, and doe so many other waightie
matters, the which (since you will so have it) I will not dispute
how women could doe, it sufficeth they doe it not. And when it was
meet for men to make tryall of their continencie, as well how they
passed women in this vertue as in the rest, although you graunt it
not. And about this, will not I rehearse unto you so many Histories
or fables, as you have done, I remit you to the continencie onely of
two most mightle personages, youthful and upon their victory, which
is wont to make hautie men of lowest degree.
And one is, the
gireat Alexander+ toward the most
beautifull women of Darius his enimie and discomfited. The other
Scipio, unto whom being twentie and foure yeares of age, and having
wonne by force a Citie in Spaine, there was brought a most
beautifull and noble Damsel taken among many other. And when Scipio
understood that she was affianced to a Lorde of the Countrie, he did
not onely abstaine from al dishonest acte toward her, but un-
<493>
CASTIGLIONE defiled restored
her to her husband, and a large gift withall.
I could tell you of
Xenocrates, which was so continent, that a most beautiful woman
lying naked by his side and dallying with him, and using all the
waies she could (in which matters she was very well practised) she
had never the power to make him once shew the least signe of
wantonnesse, for all she bestowed a whole night about it.
And of Pericles that
did no more but heare one praise with overmuch earnestnesse the well
favourednesse of a boye, and he tooke him up sharpely for it. And of
many other most continent of their owne free will, and not for shame
or feare of punishment, that compelleth the greatest part of women
to keepe themselves upright in this vertue, Which notwithstanding
deserve much praise withall: and who so falsely bringeth up of them
a slaunderous report of uncleannesse of living, is worthie (as you
have saide) very sore punishment.
Then spake the Lord
Coesar which had held his peace a good while: judge you in what sort
the Lorde Gaspar speaketh in the dispraise of women, when these are
the matters that hee speaketh in their prayse.
But if the Lorde
Julian will give mee leave, that I may in his stead answere him
certaine few matters, as touching where (in mine opinion) he hath
falsely spoken against women, it shall be good for him and mee both.
For he shall rest him a while, and shall afterwarde the better goe
forwarde to speake of some other perfection of the gentlewoman of
the pallace, and I shall have a good_turne+
there all that I have occasion to execute jointly with him this
duety of a good knight, which is to defend the truth+.
Mary I beseech ye,
answered the Lord Julian: for me thinke I have alreadie fulfilled
according to my power, that I ought, and this communication now is
out of the purpose that I went about.
The Lorde Cesar then
began: I will not now speake of
<494>
THE COURTIER the profit that
the worlde hath by women beside the bearing of children: for it is
well inough declared how necessarie they be, not onely to our being,
but also to our well being. But I say (my Lorde Gasper) that in case
they be as you affirme, more enclined to appetities, than men, and
notwithstanding abstaine more than men (which you your selfe grant)
they are so much the more worthie praise, as their kind is lesse
able to withstand naturall appetites.
And if you saye they
doe it for shame, I can not see but for one vertue you give them
two. For in case shame can doe more in them than appetite, and
through it refraine from ill doing, I esteeme this shame (which in
conclusion is nothing els but feare of slaunder) a most seldome
vertue and raigning in verie fewe men. And if I coulde without
infinite reproch to men, tell how many of them bee drowned in
unshamefastnes, and impudencie+
(which is the vice contrarie to this vertue) I should infect these
devoute eares that heare me. And for most part these kinde of
injurious persons both to God and nature, are men well striken in
yeares, which professe some priesthood, some Philosophie, some
divinitie, and rule common weales with such Catoes_gravitie+ in countenance, that it
maketh an outwarde shew of all the honestie in the world, and
alwaies alleage womenkinde to be most incontinent, where they at no
time finde themselves more agreeved, than at the want of their
naturall lustinesse, that they may satisfie their abhominable
desires, which still abide in the minde after nature hath taken them
from their bodie, and therefore manye tymes finde out waies, where
force prevaileth not.
But I will not tell
farther. It sufficeth for my purpose ye graunt that women abstaine
more from uncleane living.
than men. And sure it
is, that they are not kept short with any other bridle, than what
they put upon themselves.
And that it is true,
the most part of them that be kept under with over straight looking
to, or beaten of their hus-
<495>
CASTIGLIONE bands or fathers,
are lesse chaste, than they that have some libertie.
But generally a great
bridle to women, is the zeale of true vertue, and the desire
of good_name+, which many that I have knowne
in my dayes more esteeme, than their owne life. And in case you will
tell the truth, every one of us have seene most noble yong men,
discreete, wise, of prowesse, and well favoured spend many yeares in
loving, sparing for nothing that might entice, tokens, sutes,
teares: to bee short whatsoever may bee imagined, and all but lost
labour.
And if it
might not bee tolde me that my conditions never deserved I shoulde
be beloved, I would alleage my selfe for a witnesse, which more than
once through the unchaungeablenes and over stedfast honestie of a
woman, was nighe deathes doore.
The Lord Gasper
answered: marvell you not thereat, for women that are sued to,
alwaies refuse to fulfil his request, that sueth to them, but those
that are not sued to, sue to others.
The Lord Caesar saide:
I never knew them that have beene sued to by women, but many there
bee that perceiving they have attempted in vaine, and spent their
time fondly, runne to this noble revenge, and say that they had
plentie of ye thing which they did but cast in their minde.
And to their weening,
to report ill, and to studie for inventions how to bring up
slaunderous tales of some worthie gentlewoman, is a kinde of
Courtiers trade+.
But these kinde of
persons that knavishly make their vaunt of any woman of price, be it
true or false, deserve very sore correction and punishment. And if
it be otherwhile bestowed upon them it can not be saide, how much
they are to be commended that doe this office.
For in case they tell
lyes, what mischiefe can be greater than to take from a worthie
woman with guile the thing Which she more esteemeth than her life?
And no other cause but that ought to make her renowmed with infinite
<496>
THE COURTIER prayses. If
againe it bee true they say, what paine can suffise so traiterous a
person, that rendreth such ingratitude+ in
recompence to a gentlewoman, which wonne with his false flatterings,
fained teares, continuall sutes, bewailings, crafts, deceites, and
perjuries, hath suffered her selfe to be led to love overmuch,
afterwarde without respect, hath given her selfe unheedfully for a
pray to so wicked a spirite? But to answere you beside this
wonderfull continencie of Alexander and Scipio which you have
alleaged, I say, that I will not deny, but each of them did a deede
worthie much praise. Notwithstanding least yee should say, that in
rehearsing to you auncient matters, I tolde you fables, I will
alleage a woman of our time of base degree, who notwithstanding
shewed a far greater contineneie than any of these two great
estates.
I say
unto you therefore, that I knew once a well favored and tender yong
woman, whose name I tell you not, for giving matter to many lewd
persons to reporte ill, which as soone as they understand a woman to
be in love, make an ill descanting upon it.
She therefore beloved
of a worthie and faire condicioned yong gentleman, was bent with
heart and minde to love him. And of this not I alone, unto whom of
her own accord she uttered trustfully the whole matter, no otherwise
than if I had beene, I will not say a brother, but an inwarde sister
of hers: but all that beheld her in company of the beloved yong man,
were well weeting of her Passion.
She thus fervently
loving, as a most loving mind could love, continued two yeares in
such continencie, that she never made any token to this yone man of
the love that she bore him, but such as she coilde not hide from
him.
At no time
she would speake with him, nor receive any letters from him, or
tokens, where there never passed day but she was tempted with both
the one and the other.
And how she longed for
it, that wot I well, for if otherwhile she could privily get any
thing that had beene the
<497>
CASTIGLIONE yong mans, she was
so tender over it, that a man would have thought that of it had
sprong her life and all her joy.
Yet would she never in
so long a time content him with other, than to behold him, and be
seene of him againe, and sometime happening to bee at open feastes,
daunce with him as she did with others.
And because there was
no great difference in their degree, she and the young man coveted
that so great a love might have a luckie ende, and be man and wife
together.
All the
men and women in the Citie desired the same, saving her cruel
father, which of a weywarde and straunge opinion, minded to bestow
her upon another more welthie.
And this was not by
the unluckie maiden otherwise gainestood, than with most bitter
teares.
And after
this unfortunate marriage was concluded with great compassion of the
people there, and despairing of the poore lovers, yet did not this
stroke of Fortune serve to root uppe so grounded a love in the heart
of each other, but lasted afterwarde the terme of three yeares,
albeit she full wisely dissembled it, and sought every way to cut in
sunder those desires, which now were past hope. And in this while
she followed on still in her set purpose of continencie, and
perceiving she could not honestly have him, whom she worshipped in
the world, she chose not to have him at all, and continued in her
wont not to accept messages, tokens nor yet his lookes.
And in this resolved
determination the seely soule vanquished with most cruell
affliction, and waxed through long passion very fainte, at the three
yeares ende, died.
Rather would she forgo her contentations and pleasures so much
longed for, finally her life, than her honestie.
And yet wantede she no
meanes nor waies to fulfill her desire most secretly, and without
perill either of slander or any other losse. And for all that,
refrained she from the thing of her selfe that she so much coveted,
and for the which she was so continually attempted by the person
whom
<498>
THE COURTIER alone in the
worlde her desire was to please. And to this was she not driven for
feare or any other respect, but onely for the zeale of true vertue.
What will you say
of an other that for sixe monthes almost nightly laye with a most
deare lover of his, yet in a garden full of most savorie fruites,
tempted with her owne most fervent longing and with the petitions
and teares of him that was more deare to her than her owne selfe,
refrained from tasting of them. And for all she was wrapped and tyed
in the straight chaine of those beloved armes, yet never yeelded she
her selfe as vanquished, but preserved undefiled the floure of her
honestie.
Trow ye
not (my Lorde Gasper) that these bee deedes of continencie alike to
Alexanders? Which most fervently inamored, not with the women of
Darius, but with this renowne and greatnesse, that pricked him
forwarde with the spurres of glory+ abide
paines and daungers to make himselfe immortall, set at nought not
onely other thinges, but his owne life, to get a name above all men?
And doe we marvel with such thoughts in his hart that he refrained
from a thing which he coveted not greatly? for since he never saw
those women before, it is not possible that he should be in love
with them at a blush, but rather perhaps abhorred them for Darius,
his enimies sake.
And in this case everie wanton acte of his towarde them, had beene
an injune and not love. And therefore no greater matter if Alexander
which no lesse with noblenes of courage than martiall prowesse
subdued the world, abstained from doing injurie to women.
The continencie in
like case of Scipio is doubtlesse much to bee commended, yet if ye
consider well, not to be compared to these two womens: for he in
like manner also refrained from a thing that he coveted not, being
in his enimies countrie, a fresh Captaine, in the beginning of a
most waightie enterprise, leaving behinde him in his countrie, such
expectation of himself, and having beside to give account to
rigorous judges, that oftentimes chastised
<499>
CASTIGLIONE not onely the
great but the least offences of all, and among them hee wist well
hee had enimies, knowing also if he had otherwise done, because she
was a noble damsell and espoused to a noble man, hee shoulde have
purchased him so many eninnes and in such sorte, that many woulde
have driven off, and perchance have set him cleane besides his
victorie.
Thus for
so many respects and so waightie, hee abstained from a light and
hurtfull appetite+, in shewmig continencie
and freeharted well meaning, the which (as it is written) got him
all the hartes of that people: and stood him in stead of another
army with favor to vanquish mens harts, which perhaps by force of
armes had beene invincible. So that this may rather be termed a
warlike pollicie, than pure continencie: albeit beside, the report
of this matter is not all of the purest: for some writers of
authoritie affirme, that this Darnsell was enjoyed of Scipio in the
pleasures of love: and of this I tell you, yee may depose upon.
Phrisio saide: Perhaps
ye have found it in the Cospell.
I have seene it my
selfe, answered the Lord Cesar, and therefore I have a much more
certaintie of this, than you or any man els can have.
That Alcibiades arose
no otherwise from Socrates bed than children doe from their fathers
beds: for to say the truth, a straunge place and time was bed and
night to view with fixed minde the pure beautie which is saide
Socrates loved without any unhonest desire, especially loving better
the beautie of the minde, than of the bodie: { Platonic_love+} but in
boyes, not in old men, for all they were wiser.
And in good sooth a
better example could not have beene picked out to praise the
continencie of men, than this is of Xenocrates, which occupied in
his studie, fastned and bounde by his profession, which is
Philosophie, that consisteth in good manners and not in words, old,
cleane spent of his naturall lustinesse, nothing able, no not in
making proffer to bee able, refrained from a common
<500>
THE COURTIER haunted woman,
which for the names sake might abhorre him.
I would sooner have
believed he had beene continent, if he had declared any token to
have beene come to his right sense a aine, and in that case have
used continencie: or els abstained from the thing which olde men
covete more than the battailes of Venus, namely from wine.
But to establish wel
continencie in old age, it is written, that hee was full and laden
with it. And what can be saide to bee more wider from the
continencie of an olde man, than dronkennesse? And in case the
shunning of Venus matters in that slow and cold age deserveth so
much praise, how much shoulde it deserve in a tender maiden, as
those two I have told you of? Of which the one most straightly
bridling all her senses, not onely denyed her eyes their light, but
also tooke from the hart those thoughts, which alone had beene a
most sweete foode a long time to keepe her in life.
The other fervently in
love, being so oftentimes alone in the armes of him whom she loved
more a great deale than all the world beside, fighting against her
own selfe and against him that was more deare to her than her owne
selfe, overcame that fervent desire that many times hath and doth
overcome so many wise men.
Trow ye not now (my
Lorde Gasper) that writers may bee ashamed to make mention of
Xenocrates in this case, and to reckon him for chaste? where if a
man could come by the knowledge of it, I would lay a wager that he
slept all that night untill the next day dinner time, like a dead
bodie buried in wine: and for all the stirring that woman made,
could not once open his eyes, as though he had beene cast into a
deade sleepe.
Lord
Gasper (quoth she) if you will bethinke your selfe a litle better, I
believe you shall finde out some other pretie example of continencie
alike unto this.
The Lorde Cesar answered: Is not this other, think ye (Madam) a good
example of continencie which he hath
<501>
CASTIGLIONE alleaged of
Pericles? I muse much that hee hath not a well called to rehearsall
the continencie and pretie saying that is written of him, that a
woman asked too great summe for one night, and he answered her, that
he mineded not to buye repentance so deare.
They ceased not
laughing and the Lord Cesar after he had stayed a while, my Lord
Gaspar (quoth he) pardon me, if I tell truth. For in conclusion
these be the wonderful continencies that men write of themselves,
accusing women for incontinent, in whome are dayly seene infinite
tokens of continencle.
And certes if ye
ponder it aright, there is no fortresse so impregnable, nor so well
fensed that being assaulted with the thousandeth part of the ingins
and guiles that are practised to conquere the steadie minde of a
woman, would not yeelde up at the first assault.
How many trained up by
great estates and enriched through them and advanced to great
promotion, having in their hands their fortresses, holdes, and
castles, whereupon depended their whole state, their life, and all
their goods, without shame or care to be named Traitors, have
disloyally given them to whom they ought not? And would God in our
dayes there were such scarcitie of these kinde of persons, that we
might not have much more adoe to finde out some one that in this
case hath done that hee ought, than to name such as have failed
therein.
See you
not so many other that dayly wander about to kill men in thickets,
and roving by sea, onely to robbe mens money? How many Prelates+ make marchandise with the goodes
of the Church of God? How many Lawiers+ falsify testaments? What
perjuries make they? how many false evidences, onely to get money?
How many Phisitions+ poyson the diseased, onely for
it? How many again for feare of death doe most vile matters? And yet
all these so stiffe and hard battailes doth a tender and delicate
yong woman gainestand many times: for sundrie there have beene, that
have chosen rather to dye than to lose their honestle.
<502>
THE COURTIER Then saide the
Lord Gasper: These (my Lord Cesar) be not I believe, in ye world
nowadaies.
The
Lord Cesar answered: And I will not alleage unto you them of olde
time. But this I say, that many might be found out, and are dayly,
that in this case passe not for death. And now it commeth into my
minde that when Capua was sacked by the Frenchmen (which is not yet
so long since but you may full well beare it in mind) a well favored
young gentlewoman of Capua, being lead out of her house where she
had been taken by a company of Cascoignes, when she came to the
river that runneth by Capua, she fained to plucke on her shoe, in so
much that her leader let her goe a litle, and she straight way threw
her selfe into the river.
What will you say of a
poore countrie wench, that not many monthes agoe at Gazuolo beside
Mantua, gone into the field a leazing with a sister of hers, sore a
thirst entred into a house to drink water, where the good man of the
house, that was yong, seeing her meetely well favoured and alone,
taking her in his annes, first with faire words, afterward with
threateninges attempted to frame her to doe his pleasure, and where
she strived stil more obstinatly, at length with many blowes and by
force overcame her.
She thus tossed and
sobbing, returned into the fielde to her sister: and for all the
instance that she made upon her, would never disclose to her what
outrage she received in that house, but still drawing homewarde, and
shewing her selfe appeased by litle and litle, and to speak without
disturbance, she gave her certaine instructions. Afterwarde when she
came to the Olio, which is the river that runneth by Gazuolo,
keeping her somewhat aloofe from her sister, that knew not, nor
imagined that she minded to doe, sodainly cast her selfe into it.
Her sister
sorrowfull and weeping, followed downe by the rivers side as fast as
she coulde, which carried her a good pace away, and everie time the
poore soule ap-
<503>
CASTIGLIONE peared above
water, her sister threw into her a corde that she had brought with
her to bind the corne withall. And for all the corde came to her
handes more than once (for she was yet nigh inough the banke) the
stedfast and resolved girle alwaies refused it, and pushed it from
her.
And thus
shunning all succour that might save her life, in a short space
died. She was neither stirred by noblenesse of bloude, nor by feare
of death or slander, but only by the griefe of her lost maidenheade.
Now by this you
may gather, how many other women doe deedes most worthie memorie,
since (as a man may say) three dayes agoe this hath made such a
triall of her vertue, and is not spoken of, ne yet her name knowne.
But had not the
death folowed at that time of the bishop of Mantua uncle to our
Dutchesse, the banke of the Olio in the place where she cast her
selfe in, had now beene garnished with a verie faire sepulture, for
a memorie of so glorious a soule, that deserved so much the more
cleare renowne after death, as in life it dwelled in an unnoble
body.
Here the
Lord Cesar tooke respit a while, afterward hee set forwarde: In my
dayes also in Rome there happened a like chaunce, and it was, that a
fell favoured and well borne yong gentlewoman of Rome, being long
followed after of one that shewed to love her greatly, would never
please him with any thing, no not so much as a look, So that this
fellow by force of money corrupted a waiting woman of hers, who
desirous to please him to finger more money, was in hande with her
mistresse upon a day, no great holy day, to go visite Saint
Sebastianes Church.
And giving the lover
intelligence of the whole, and instructing him what he had to doe,
lead the yong gentlewoman into one of the dark caves under grounde,
that who so goe to Saint Sebastianes are wont to visite. And in it
was the yong man first closely hid, which perceiving himselfe alone
with her whom hee loved so much, beganne every way to exhort her
with as faire language as he
<504>
THE COURTIER coulde, to have
compassion upon him, and to chaunge her former rigor into love. But
when he saw all his prayers could take none effect, he turned him to
threatnings.
And
when they prevailed not, he all to beat her. In the ende hee was
full and wholy bent to have his purpose, if not otherwise, by force,
and therein used the helpe of the naughtle woman that had brought
her thither. Yet could he never doe so much as make her graunt to
him, but in words and deedes (although her force was but small)
alwaies the seely yong woman defended her selfe in what she could
possible. So that what for the spite hee conceived when he saw hee
coulde not get his will, and what for feare least the matter shoulde
come to her kinsfolkes eare, and make him punished for it, this
mischievous person with the aide of the woman that doubted ye same,
strangled the unluckie yong woman, and there left her, and running
his way provided for him selfe for being found out againe.
The waiting woman
blinded with her owne offence, wist not to flee, and being taken
upon certaine suspitions, confessed the whole matter, and was
therefore punished according to her deserts.
The body of the
constant and noble gentlewoma with great honour was taken out of the
cave and carried to buriall within Rome with a garland of Laurell
about her heade, accompanied with an infinite number of men and
women: among which was not one that brought his eyes to his home
againe without teares. And thus generally of all the people was this
rare soule no lesse bewailed than commended.
But to tell you of
them that you your selfe know, remember you not that ye have heard
tell, as the Ladie Foelix della Rovere was on her journey to Saona
doubting lest certaines sailes that were descried a farre off, had
beene Pope Alexanders vessels, that pursued her, was utterly
resolved, if they had made toward her, and no remedie to escape, to
cast her selfe into the Sea.
And this is not to bee
thought that she did upon any
<505>
CASTIGLIONE lightnesse, for
you as well as any man, doe know with what a wit and wisedom the
singular beautie of that Ladic is accompanied.
I can no longer keepe
in silence a word of our Dutchesse, who living fifteene yeares in
company with her husband, like a widow, hath not onely beene
stedfast in not uttering this to any person in the world, but also
when she was Perswaded by her owne friendes to forsake this
widowhead,/35 she chose rather to suffer banishment, povertie, and
all other kinde of miserie, than to agree to that, which all other
men thought great favour and prosperity of fortune. And as he still
proceeded in talking of this, the Duchesse saide.
Speake of somewhat
els, and no more adoe in this matter, for yee have other thinges
inough to talke of.
The Lord Cesar
followed on. Full well I know that you will not deny mee this (my
Lorde Gasper) nor you Phrisio.
No doubtlesse,
answered Phrisio: but one maketh no number.
Then saide the Lord
Cesar: Truth it is that these so great effectes and rare vertues ale
seene in few women: Yet are they also that resist the battailes of
love, all to be wondred at, and such as otherwhile bee overcome
deserve much compassion. For surely the provocations of lovers, the
crafts that they use, the snares that they lay in waite are such,
and so applyed, that it is too great a wonder, that a tender girle
should escape them.
What day, what houre
passeth any time that the yong woman thus laide at is not tempted by
her lover with money, tokens: and all thinges that he can imagine
may please her? At what time can she ever looke out at a window, but
she seeth continually the earnest lover passe by? With silence in
wordes, but with a paire of eyes that talke.
With a vexed and faint
countenance. With those kinled sighes. Oftentimes with most
aboundant teares.
When doth she at any time issue out at her doores to
<506>
THE COURTIER Church or any
other place, but he is alwaies in the face of her? And at every
turning of a lane meeteth her in the teeth, with such heavie passion
painted in his eyes, that a man woulde weene that even at the
instant hee were readie to dye? I omit his precisenesse in sundrie
thinges, inventions, merrie conceites, undertaking enterprises,
sportes, daunces, games, maskeries, justes, tournaments, the which
thinges she knoweth all to be taken in hande for her sake.
Againe, in the night
time she can never awake, but she heareth musick, or at the least
that unquiet spirite about the walles of her house, casting forth
sighes and lamentable voices.
If by happe she
talketh with one of her waiting women about her, she (being alreadie
corrupted with money) hath straight way in a readinesse some pretie
token, a letter, a rime, or some such matter, to present in her
lovers behalfe and here entring to purpose, maketh her to understand
how this seely soule burneth, how he setteth litle by his owne life,
to doe her service, and how hee seeketh nothing of her but honestie,
and that onely his desire is to speake with her.
Here then for all hard
matters are found out remedies, counterfeite keyes, ladders of
ropes, waies to cast into sleepe, a trifling matter is painted out,
examples are alleaged of others that doe much worse: so that every
matter is made so easie, that she hath no more trouble but to say, I
am content. And in case the poore soule make resistance but a while,
they ply her with such provocations, and finde such meanes, that
with continuall beating at, they breake in sunder that is a let to
her.
And many
there be, that perceiving they can not prevaile with faire wordes,
fall to threatnings, and say that they wil tell their husbands, they
are that they be not.
Other bargaine boldly
with their fathers, and many times with ye husbands, which for
promotions sake give their owne daughters and wives for a pray
against their Will.
<507>
CASTIGLIONE Other seeke by
inchauntments, and witchcraftes, to take ftom them the libertie that
God hath graunted to soules, wherein are seene wonderful
conclusions. But in a thousand yeare I coulde not repeat all the
crafts that men use to frame women to their willes, which bee
infinite.
And
beside them which every man of him selfe findeth out, there hath not
also wanted that have wittily made bookes,/36 and bestowed great
studie to teach how in this behalfe women are to be deceived.
Now judge you how from
so many nets these simple dooves can be safe, tempted with so sweete
a baite. And what great matter is it then, in case a woman knowing
her selfe so much beloved and worshipped many yeares together, of a
noble and faire condicioned yong man, which a thousand times a
day hazard+eth his life to serve her, and never
thinketh upon other but to please her. How with the continuall
beating which the water maketh when it pearceth the most hard marble
stone, at length is it brought to love it? And so she being
vanquished by passions, yeeldeth to that whereof you spake, by
reason of the imbecillitie of that sexe, she being by nature more
desirous of that matter than the man that is in love.
Is this (thinke you)
so hainous a trespasse, that the seely poore creature taken with so
many entisements, deserveth not, if the worst should fall, the
pardon that many times murtherers, theeves, fellons and traitors
have? Will you have this vice so uncomparable great, that because
one woman is founde to runne into it, all women kinde should be
cleane dispised for it, and generally counted void of continencie?
Not regarding that many are found most invincible, that against the
continuall flickering provocations of love are made of Diamonds, and
stiffe in their infinit stedinesse, more than the rocks, against the
surges of the sea.
Then the Lorde Gasper when the L. Cesar stayed talking, began to
make him answere, but the Lord Octavian smyling: Tush for love of
God (quoth he) graunt him the
<508>
THE COURTIER victory, for I
know ye shall doe small good, and me thinke I see you shall not
onely make all the women your enimies, but also the more part of the
men.
The Lord
Gasper laughed and said: Nay, the women have rather great cause to
thanke me. For had not I contraried the Lorde Julian and the Lorde
Cesar, they should not have come to the knowledge of so many prayses
as they have given them.
Then saide the Lord
Cesar: The prayses which my Lorde Julian and I have given women, and
many mo beside, were most knowne, therefore they have beene but
superfluous.
Who
woteth not that without women no contentation or delite can be felt
in all this life of ours? which (set them aside) were rude, and
without all sweetenesse, and rougher than the life of forrest wilde
beastes? Who knoweth not that women rid our harts of all vile and
dastardl imaginations, vexations, miseries, and the troublesom
heavines that so oftentimes accompanieth them? And in case we will
consider the truth, we shal know moreover, as touching the
understanding of great matters, that they doe not stay our wits, but
rather quicken them, and in warre make them [past] feare, and hardie
passing measure.
And certes it is not possible, that in the hart of man, where once
is entred the flame of love, there shoulde at any time raigne
cowardlinesse. For he that loveth, alwaies coveteth to make him
selfe as lovely as he can, and evermore dreadeth that hee take no
[s]oile, that shoulde make him litle set by: and passeth not to goe
a thousand times in a day to his death, to declare him selfe worthie
of that love. {chivalry+} Therefore who so coulde gather
an armie of lovers that should fight in the presence of the Ladies
they loved, should subdue the whole world, unlesse against it on the
contrarie part there were an other armie likewise in love.
<509>
CASTIGLIONE And to abide by,
the holding out of Troy tenne yeares against all Greece, proceeded
of nothing els but of certaine lovers, which when they entended to
issue out abroad to fight, armed them selves in the presence of
their Ladies, and many times they helped them, themselves, and at
their setting forth rounded them some certaine word, yt set them on
fire and made them more than men.
Afterwarde in fighting
they wist well that they were beheld from the walles and towers by
the Ladies, wherefore they deemed everie bold enterprise that they
undertooke, was commended of them, which was the greatest rewarde to
them that they coulde have in the world.
Many there be that
holde opinion that the victorie of king Ferdinande and Isabell of
Spaine, against the king of Granada was chiefely occasioned by
women: for the most times when the armie of Spaine marched to
encounter with the enimies, Queene Isabel+ set
forth also with all her Damsels: and there were many noble gentlemen
that were in love, who till they came within sight of the enimies,
alwaies went communing with their Ladies. Afterwarde echone taking
his leave of his, in their presence marched on to encounter with the
enimies, with that fiercenesse of courage, that love and desire to
shew their Ladies that they were served with valiant men, gave them.
Whereupon it
befell many times that a very few gentlemen of Spaine put to flight
and slew an infinite number of Moores, thanked be the courteous and
beloved women.
Therefore I wot not (my Lorde Gasper) what waywarde judgement hath
leade you to dispraise women.
Doe you not see that
of all comely exercises and which delight the world, the cause is to
be referred to no earthly thing, but to women? Who learneth to
daunce featly for other, but to please women? Who applyeth the
sweetnesse of musicke for other cause, but for this? Who to write in
meeter, at the least in the Mother tongue, but to expresse the
afffttions caused by women?
<510>
THE COURTIER Judge you how
many most noble Poemes we had beene without both in Greek and Latin
had women beene smally regarded of Poets.
But in leaving all
other apart, had it not beene a very great losse, in case maister
Francis Petrarca, that writte so divinely his loves in this our
tongue, had applyed his minde onely to Latin matters: as he would
have done had not the love of ye Damsell Laura sometime staied him
from it? I name not unto you the fine wits that are now in the
world, and here present, which dayly bring, forth some noble fruite,
and notwithstanding take their ground only of the vertue and beautie
of women. See whether Salomon+
minding to write mystically verie high and heavenly matters, to
cover them with a gracious vaile, did not faine a fervent Dialogue
full of the affection of a lover with his woman, seeming to him that
he coulde not finde here beneath among us any likenesse more meete
and agreeing with heavenly matters, than the love towarde women: and
in that wise, and manner, minded to give us a litle of the smacke of
that divinitie, which he both for his understanding and for the
grace above others, had knowledge of.
Therefore this needed
no disputation (my Lorde Gasper) or at the least so many wordes in
the matter. But you in gainesayinir the truth, have hindred the
understanding of a thousand other pretie matters, and necessarie for
the perfection of the gentlewoman of the Pallace.
The Lord Gasper
answered: I believe there can no more be saide: Yet if you suppose
that the Lorde Julian hath not garnished her throughly with good
conditions, the fault is not in him, but in him that hath so wrought
that there are no moe vertues in the worlde, for all that there be,
he hath bestowed upon her.
The Dutchesse saide
smiling: Well, you shall see that the Lord Julian wil yet finde out
moe beside.
The
Lord Julian answered: in good sooth (Madam) me seemeth I have
sufficiently spoken. And for my part, I am
<511>
CASTIGLIONE well pleased with
this my woman. And in case these Lordes will not have her as she is,
let them leave her to me.
Here when all was
whist, Sir Fredericke saide: My Lord Julian, to give you occasion to
say somewhat els, I will but aske you a question, as touching that
you have willed to bee the principall profession of the gentlewoman
of the Pallace. And this it is, that I long to know how she should
behave her selfe in a point that (to my seeming) is most necessarie.
For albeit the
excellent qualities which you have given her, containe in them
discretion, knowledge, jugement, sleight, sober mood, and so nany
other vertues, { virtues_list+} whereby of
reason she ought to have the understanding to entertane every man,
and in all kind of purpose, yet think I notwithstanding above any
other thing, that it is requisite for her to know what belongeth to
communication of love.
For even as every
honest gentleman for an instrument to obtaine the good will of
women, practiseth those noble exercises, precise fashions and good
manners which we have named, even so to this purpose applyeth he
also his wordes, and not onely when he is stirred thereto by some
passion, but oftentimes also to doe honour to the woman he talketh
withal, seeming to him that to declare to love her, is a witnesse
that she is worthie of it, and that her beawfie and worthinesse is
such, that it enforeeth everie man to serve her.
Therefore would I
know, how this woman in such a case shoulde behave her selfe
uprightly, and how to answere him that loveth her in deed, and how
him that maketh false semblant: {Portia+} and
whether she ought to dissemble the understanding of it, or be
answerable, or shun the matter, and how to handle her selfe.
Then said the Lord
Julian: It were first needfull to teach her to know them that make
semblant to love, and them that love in deede+.
Afterwarde for being answerable in love or no, I believe she ought
not to be guided by any other mans will, but by her owne selfe.
<512>
THE COURTIER Sir Frederick
said. Teach you her then what are the most certaine and surest
tokens to discerne false love from true, and what tryall she shall
thinke sufficient to content her selfe withall, to be out of doubt
of the love shewed her.
The Lord Julian
answered smiling: That wote not I, because men bee now a daies so
craftie, that they make infinite false semblants, and sometime
weepe, when they have in deede a greater lust to laugh: therefore
they should be sent to the constant Ile under the Arch of faithfull
lovers. But lest this woman of mine (which is my charge and no mans
els, because she is my creature) should runne into these errours
which I have seene many other runne into, I woulde say that she
shoulde not be light of credence that she is beloved: nor bee like
unto some, that not onely make [not] wise they understande him not
that comuneth with them of love, be it never so farre of, but also
at the first word accept all the prayses that be given them: or els
deny them after such a sorte, that is rather an alluring for them to
love them they commune withall, than a withdrawing of themselves.
Therefore the
manner of entertainment in reasoning of love that I will have my
woman of the Pallace to use, shal be alwales to shunne believing
that who so talketh of love, loveth her any whit the more. And in
case the gentleman be (as many such there are abroad) malaperte, and
hath small respect to her in his talke, she shall shape him such an
answere, that he shall plainely understand she is not pleased
withall. Againe, if he be demure and useth sober fashions and wordes
of love covertly, in such honest manner, as I believe the Courtier
whom these Lordes have fashioned will doe, the woman shall make wise
not to understand him, and shall draw his wordes to another sense,
seeking alwaies soberly with the discretion and wisedom that is
alreadie saide becommeth her, to stray from that purpose.
But in case the
communication bee such that she can not faine not to understand it,
she shall take the whole
<513>
CASTIGLIONE (as it were) for a
merrie devise, and make wise that she knoweth it is spoken to her
rather to honour her withal, than that it is so in deede, debasing
her deserts, and acknowledging at the gentlemans courtesie the
prayses which he giveth her: and in this sort she shall be counted
discreete, and shall bee on the surer hande for being deceived.
Thus me seemeth the
gentlewoman of the Pallace ought to behave her selfe in
communication of love.
Then Sir Fredericke.
You debate this matter, my Lord Julian (quoth he) as though it were
requisite, that a Such as speake with women of love, should tell
lyes, and seeke to deceive them, the which in case it were so, I
woulde say your lessons were good. But if this gentleman that
entertaineth, loveth in very deede, and feeleth the passion that so
tormenteth mens hearts sometime, consider you not in what paine, in
what calamitie and death ye put him in, when at no time you will
that the woman shall believe him in any thing hee saith about this
purpose? Shall othes+, teares, and so many other tokens
then, have no force at all? Take heede (my Lord Julian) least a man
may thinke that beside ye naturall crueltie which many of these
women have in them, you teach them yet more.
The Lorde Julian
answered: I have spoken, not of him that loveth, but of him that
entertaineth with communication of love, wherein one of the
necessariest points is, that wordes be never to seeke: and true
lovers as they have a burning heart so have they a colde tongue,
with broken talke and sodaine silence. { PlainDealer+} Therefore (may
hap) it were no false principle to say, He that loveth much,
speaketh litle. {Cordelia+} Howbeit in this I
believe there can bee given no certaine rule, by reason of the
diversitie of mens manners. And I wot not what I should say, but
that the woman be good and heedfull, and alwaies beare in minde,
that men may with a great deale lesse daunger declare them selves to
love, than women.
The Lorde Gaspar saide laughing: Why (my Lorde
<514>
THE COURTIER Julian) will not
you that this your so excellent a woman shall love againe, at the
least when she knoweth certainely she is beloved, considering if the
Courtier were not loved againe, it is not likely he would continue
in loving her: and so should she want many favours, and chieflye the
homage and reverence wherewithall lovers obey, and (in a manner)
worship the vertue of the woman beloved.
In this, answered the
L. Julian, I will not counsell her.
But I say perdee to
love, as you now understand, I judge it not meet, but for unmarried
women. For when this love can not ende in matrimonie, the woman must
needs have alwaies the remorse and pricking that is had of unlawfull
matters, and she putteth in hazard to staine the renowne of
honestie, that standeth her so much upon.
Then answered Sir
Fredericke sinyling: Me thinke (my Lord Julian) this opinion of
yours is verie soure and crabbed, and I believe you have learned it
of some Frier Preacher, of them that rebuke women in love with lay
men, that their part may be the more. And me seemeth you set over
hard lawes to married women, for many there be that their husbands
beare very sore hatred unto without cause and nippe them at the
hart, sometime in loving other women, otherwhile in working them all
the displeasures they can imagine.
Some are compelled by
their fathers to take olde men full of diseases, uglesome and
waywarde that make them leade their life in continuall miserie. And
in case it were lawfull for such to bee devorced and severed from
them they bee ill coupled withall, perhaps it were not to be allowed
that they shoulde love any other than their hus- band. But when
either through the starres, their enimies, or through the diversitie
of complexion, or any other casualtie, it befalleth that in bed,
which ought to be the nest of agreement and love, the cursed furie
of hell soweth the seede of his venome, which afterwarde bringeth
forth disdaine, suspition, and the pricking thornes of hatred, that
tormenteth those unluckie soules bound cruelly together
<515>
CASTIGLIONE in the fast
lineked chaine that can not be broken but by death, why will not you
have it lawfull for this woman to seeke some easement for so hard a
scourge, and give unto another that which her husband not onely
regardeth not, but rather cleane abhorreth? I hold well, that such
as have meete husbands and bee beloved of them, ought not to doe
them injurie: but the other in not loving him that loveth them doe
themselves injurie.
Nay, they doe
themselves injurie in loving other beside their husband, answered
the Lord Julian. Yet since not loving is not many times in our will,
if this mishappe chaunce to the woman of the Pallace, that the
hatred of her husband or the love of an other bendeth her to love I
will have her to graunt her lover nothing els but the minde: { Platonic_love+} not at any
time to make him any certaine token of love, neither in worde nor
gesture, nor any other way that he may be fully assured of it. {Platonic_love+} Then saide maister Robert
of Bari smiling, I appeale (my Lord Julian) from this judgement of
yours, and I believe I shall have many fellowes. But since you will
teach this currishnesse (that I may terme it so) to married women,
will ye also have the unmarried to bee so cruel and discourteous?
and not please their lovers at the least in somewhat? In case my
woman of the Pallace, answered the Lorde Julian, be not married,
minding to love, I will have her to love one she may marrie, neither
will I thinke it an offence if she shew him some token of love. In
which matter I will teach her one generall rule in few wordes, and
that is, That she shew him whom she loveth all tokens of love, but
such as may bring into the lovers minde a hope to obtaine of her any
dishonest matter. And to this she must have a great respect, because
it is an errour that infinite women runne into, which ordinarily
covet nothing so much as to bee beautifull.
And because to have
many lovers they suppose is a
<516>
THE COURTIER testimony of
their beautie, they doe their best to winne them as many as they
can. Therefore oftentimes they run at rovers in behaviours of small
modesty, and leaving the temperate sober moode that is so sightly in
them, use certaine wanton countenances, with baudie words and
gestures full of unshamefastnesse, holding opinion that men marke
them and give eare to them willingly for it, and with these fashions
make themselves beloved, which is false. { coquette+} Because the signes and
tokens that bee made them, spring of an apetite moved by an opinion
of easinesse, not of love. Therefore will not I that my woman of the
Pallace with dishonest behaviours shoulde appeare as though she
woulde offer her selfe unto who so will have her, and allure what
she can the eyes and affection of who so beholdeth her: but with her
deserts and vertuous conditions, with amiablenesse and grace drive
into the minde of who so seeth her, the very love that is due unto
everie thing worthie to bee beloved, and the respect that alwaies
taketh away hope from who so mindeth any dishonest matter.
He then that shall be
beloved of such a woman, ought of reason to holde himselfe contented
with every litle token, and more to esteeme a looke of hers with
affection of love, than to be altogether maister of an other. And to
such a woman I wot not what to adde more, but that she be beloved of
so excellent a Courtier, as these Lordes have fashioned, and she
likewise to love him, that both the one and the other may have full
and wholy his perfection.
After the Lord Julian
had thus spokon he held his peace, when the L. Gaspar laughing, now
(quoth he) you can not complaine that the Lord Julian hath not
fashioned this woman of the Pallace most excellent. And if perdee
there bee any such to bee found, I say that she deserveth well to
bee esteemed equall with the Courtier.
The Ladie Emilia
answered: I will at all times be bound to find her, when you finde
the Courtier.
<517>
CASTIGLIONE Maister Robert
said then: Doubtlesse it can not be said nay, but the Lorde Julians
woman which he hath fashioned is most perfect. Yet in these her last
properties as touching love, mee seemeth notwithstanding that he
hath made her somewhat over crabbed, and especially where he will
have her in wordes, gestures and countenance to take cleane away all
hope from the lover, and settle him as nigh as she can in dispaire.
For (as all men
know) the desires of man stretch not to such kinde of matters,
whereof there is no hope to bee had. And although at times some
women there have beene that perhaps bearing them selves loftie of
their beautie and worthinesse: the first worde they have saide to
them that communed with them of love hath beene, that they shoulde
never looke to come by any thing of them that liked them: yet in
countenance, and dalliance together they have beene afterwarde more
favourable to them, so that with their gentle deedes+ they
have tempred in part their proude wordes.
But if this woman both
in wordes, deedes, and behaviours take hope quite away, I believe
our Courtier, if he be wise, will never love her, and so shall she
have this imperfection, that she shall be without a lover.
Then the Lord Julian,
I will not (quoth he) have my woman of the Pallace to take away the
hope of every thing, but of dishonest matters, the which, in case
the Courtier bee so courteous and discreete, as these Lordes have
fashioned him, he will not onely not hope for, but not once motion.
For if beautie,
manners, wit, goodnesse, knowledge, sober moode, and so many other
vertuous conditions {
virtues_list+} which wee have
given the woman, be the cause of the Courtiers love toward her, the
end also of this love must needes be vertuous, and if noblenesse of
birth, skilfulnesse in martiall feates, in letters, in musicke,
gentlenesse, being both in speech and behaviour indowed with so many
graces, {virtues_list+} be ye meanes
wherewithall the Courtier compasseth ye womans
<518>
THE COURTIER love, the ende of
that love must needes be of the same condition that the meanes are
by the which hee commeth to it. Beside that, as there bee in the
world sundrie kindes of beautie, so are there also sundrie desires
of men: and therfore it is seene that many, perceiving a woman of so
grave a beautie, that going, standing, jeasting, dallying, and doing
what she lusteth, so tempreth all her gestures, that it driveth a
certaine reverence into who so beholdeth her, are agast and afeard
to serve her.
And
rather drawne with hope, love those garish and enticefull women, so
delicate and tender, that in their wordes, gestures and countenance,
declare a certaine passion somewhat feeble, that promiseth to be
easily brought and turned into love.
Some to be sure from
deceites, love certaine other so lavish both of their eyes, wordes
and gestures, that they doe what ever first commeth to minde, with a
certaine plainenesse that hideth not their thoughts.
There want not also
many other noble courages, that seeming to them that vertue
consisteth about hard matters (for it is over sweet a victory to
overcome that seemeth to another impregnable) are soone bent to love
the beauties of those women, that in their eyes, wordes and
gestures, declare a more churlish gravitie than the rest, for a
tryall that their prowesse can enforce an obstinate minde, and bend
also stubborne willes and rebels against love, to love.
Therefore such as have
so great affiance in themselves because they reckon themselves sure
from deceite, love also willingly certaine women, that with a
sharpenesse of wit, and with arte it seemeth in their beautie that
they hide a thousand craftes. Or els some other, that have
accompanied with beautie a certaine scornefull fashion, in few
wordes, litle laughing, after a sort as though (in a manner) they
smally regarded who so ever beholdeth or serveth them.
Againe ther are found
certaine other, that vouchsafe not
<519>
CASTIGLIONE to love but women
that in their countenance, in their speach and in all their gestures
have about them all hansomnesse, all faire conditions, all
knowledge, and all graces heaped together like one floure made of
all the excellencies in the world.
Therefore in case my
woman of the Pallace have scarcitie of their loves proceeding of an
ill hope, she shal not for this be without a lover: because she
shall not want them that shall be provoked through hir desertes and
through the afflaunce of the prowesse in themselves, whereby they
shall knowe themselves worthie to be loved of her.
Maister Robert still
spake against him, but the Dutchesse tolde him that he was in the
wrong, confirming the Lord Julians opinion: after that she added: We
have no cause to complaine of the L. Julian, for doubtlesse I think
that the woman of the Pallace whom hee hath fashioned, may be
compared to the Courtier, and that with some advantage: for he hath
taught her to love which these Lordes have not done their Courtier.
Then spake Unico
Aretino: It is meete to teach women to love, because I never saw any
that coulde doe it, for almost continually all of them accompanye
their beautie with cruelty and unkindnesse towarde such as serve
them most faithfully, and which for noblenesse of birth, honestie
and vertue deserved a rewarde for their good wil: { Bassanio+} and yet many times
give themselves for a pray to most blockish and cowardly men and
very Asseheades, and which not onely love them not, but abhorre
them.
Therefore to
shunne these so foule oversights, perhaps it had beene well done
first to have taught them to make a choise of him that should
deserve to be beloved, and afterwarde to love him. The which is not
necessarie in men, for they know it too wel of themselves: and I my
selfe can be a good witnesse of it, because love was never taught
me, but by the divine beauty and most divine manners of a Ladie, so
that it was not in my will not to worship her: and therefore needed
I therein no arte nor
<520>
THE COURTIER teacher at all.
And I believe that the like happeneth to as many as love truely.
Therefore the Courtier
hath more neede to be taught to make him beloved than to love.
Then saide the Ladie
Emilia: Doe you now reason of this then, maister Unico? Unico
answered: me think reason woulde that the good will of women shoulde
be gotten in serving and pleasing of them. But it, wherein they
reckon themselves served and pleased, I believe must bee learned of
women themselves, which oftfntimes covet such straunge matters, that
there is no man that would imagin them, and otherwhile they
themselves wot not what they shoulde long for.
Therefore it were good
you (madam) that are a woman, and of right ought to know what
pleaseth women, should take this paine, to doe the world so great a
profit.
Then saide
the Ladie Emilia: For so much as you are generally most acceptable
to women, it is a good likelyhood that you know all the waies how
their good will is to be gotten. Therefore is it perdee meete for
you to teach it.
Madam, answered Unico, I can give a lover no profitable advise than
to procure that you beare no stroke with ye woman whose good will
hee seeketh. For the small qualities which yet seemed to the worlde
sometime to be in me, with as faithfull a love as ever was, were not
of such force to make me beloved, as you to make mee be hated.
Then answered the
Ladie Emilia: God save me (maister Unico) for once thinking, and
much more for working any thing that should make you be hated. For
beside that I shoulde doe that I ought not, I shoulde bee thought of
a slender judgement to attempt a matter unpossible. But since ye
provoke me in this sort to speak of that pleaseth women, I will
speake of it, and if it displease you, lay the fault in your selfe.
I judge therefore,
that who so entendeth to be beloved, ought to love and to be lovely:
and these two pointes are inough to obtaine the good will of women.
<521>
CASTIGLIONE Now to answere to
that which you lay to iny charge, I say that every man knoweth and
seeth that you are most lovely: Mary whether ye love so faithfully,
as you say ye doe, I am verie doubtful and perhaps others too. For,
your being over lovely, hath beene the cause that you have beene
beloved of many women: and great rivers divided into many armes
become small brookes: so love likewise scattred into mo than one
body hath small force.
But these your
continuall complaintes and accusing of the women whom you have
served, of unkindnesse (which is not likely, considering so
many deserts+ of yours) is a certaine kinde of
discretion, to cloke the favours, contentations and pleasures which
you have received in love, and an assurance for the women that love
you and that have given themselves for a pray to you, that you will
not disclose them. And therefore are they also well pleased, that
you should thus openly shew false love to others, to cloke their
true.
Wherefore if
happly those women that you now make wise to love, are not so light
of beliefe, as you would they were, it happeneth because this your
arte in love beginneth to bee discovered, and not because I make you
to be hated.
Then
said maister Unico: I entend not to attempt to confute your words,
because me seemeth it is as well my destinie not to be believed in
truth, as it is yours to be believed in untruth.
Say hardly maister
Unico, answered the Ladie Emilia, that you love not so, as you would
have believed ye did.
For if you did love,
all your desires shoulde bee to please the woman beloved, and to
will the selfe same thing that she willeth, for this is the law of
love. But your complaining so much of her, betokeneth some deceite
(as I have saide) or els it is a signe that you will that, that she
willeth not.
Nay
(quoth maister Unico) there is no doubt but I will that that she
willeth, which is a signe I love her: but it
<522>
THE COURTIER greeveth mee
because she willeth not that, that I will, which is a token she
loveth not me, according to the very same law that you have
alleaged.
The
Ladie Emilia answered: he that taketh in hande to love, must also
please and apply himselfe full and wholy to the appetites of the
wight beloved, and according to them frame his own: and make his
owne desires, servants: and his verie soule, like an obedient
handmaiden: nor at any time to think upon other, but to chaunge his,
if it were possible, into the beloved wightes, and reckon this his
chiefe joy and hapinesse, for so doe they that love truely. {Bassanio+} My chiefe happinesse were jumpe,
answered maister Unico, if one will alone ruled her soule and mine
both.
It lyeth in
you to doe it, answered the Ladie Emilia.
Then spake maister
Bernarde interrupting them: Doubtlesse, who so loveth truely,
directeth all his thoughtes, without other mens teaching, to serve
and please the woman beloved. But because these services of love are
not otherwhile well knowne, I believe that beside loving and
serving, it is necessarie also to make some other shew of this love,
so manifest, that the woman may not dissemble to knowe that she is
beloved: yet with such modestie, that it may not appeare that hee
beareth her litle reverence.
And therefore you
(Madam) that have begun to declare how the soule of the lover ought
to be an obedient handmaiden to the beloved, teach us withall, I
beseech you, this secrete matter, which mee thinke is most
needefull.
The
Lorde Cesar laughed and saide: If the lover be so bashfull, that he
is ashamed to tell it her, let him write it her.
To this the Ladie
Emilia saide: Nay, if he be descreete, as is meete, before he maketh
the woman to understande it, hee ought to bee out of doubt, not to
offend her.
Then
saide the Lorde Gasper: All women have a delite
<523>
CASTIGLIONE to be sued to in
love, although they were minded to deny that which they are sued
unto for.
The
Lorde Julian saide, you are much deceived. For I woulde not counsell
the Courtier at any time to use this way, except he were sure not to
have a repulse.
What should he then doe? quoth the Lord Gasper. The Lorde Julian
answered: In case you will needs write or speake to her, doe it with
such sober moode, and so warily, at the wordes may first attempt the
minde, and so doubtfully touch her entent and will, that they may
leave her a way and a certain issue to faine the understanding that
those wordes containe love: to the entent if he finde any daunger,
hee may draw backe and make wise to have spoken or written it to
another ende, to enjoy these familiar cherishinges and daliances
with assurance that oftentimes W0men shew to such as should take
them for friendship, afterwarde denye them as soone as they perceive
they are taken for tokens of love.
Wherefore such as bee
too rash, and venture so sawcily with certaine furies and plunges,
oftentimes lose them, and worthily: for it displeaseth alwaies
everye honest gentlewoman, to bee litle regarded of who so without
respect seeketh for love at her before he hath served her.
Therefore (in my
minde) the way which the Courtier ought to take, to make his love
knowne to the woman me think should be to declare them in signes and
tokens more than in wordes. For assuredly there is otherwhile a
greater affection of love perceived in a sigh, in a respect, in a
feare, than in a thousand wordes+.
Arterwarde, to make the eyes the trustie messengers, that may carrie
the ambassades of the hart.
Because they
oftentimes declare with a more force what passion there is inwardly,
than can the tongue, or letters, or messages, so that they not onely
disclose the thoughtes, but also manie times kindle love in the hart
of the person beloved. For those lively spirits that issue out at
the eyes, because they are engendred nigh the hart, entring in like
case into the eyes that they are levelled at, like a shaft
<524>
THE COURTIER to the pricke,
naturally pearce to the hart, as to their resting place and there
are at rest with those other spirits: and with the most subtill and
fine nature of bloud which they carrie with them, infect the bloude
about the hart, where they are come to, and warme it: and make it
like unto themselves, and apt to receive the imprinting of the
image, which they have carried away with them. Wherefore by litle
and litle comming and going the way through the eyes to the hart,
and bringing backe with them the tunder and striking yron of beautle
and grace, these messengers kindle with the puffing, of desire the
fire that so burneth, and never ceaseth consuming, for alwaies they
bring some matter of hope to nourish it.
Therefore it may full
wel be saide, that the eyes are a guide in love, especially if they
have a good grace and sweetnesse in them, blacke, of a cleare and
sightly blackenesse, or els gray, merrie and laughing, and so comely
and pearcing in beholding, as some, in which a man thinketh verily
that the waies that give an issue to the spirits are so deepe, that
by them he may see as farre as the hart.
The eyes therefore lye
lurking like souldiers in war, lying in waite in bushment, and if
the forme of all the bodie be well favoured and of good proportion,
it draweth unto it and allureth who so beholdeth it a farre off:
untill he come nigh: and as soone as he is at hand, the eyes shoote,
and like sorcerers bewitch, and especially when by a right line they
send their glistering beames into the eyes of the wight beloved, at
the time when they doe the like, because the spirites meete
together, and in that sweete encounter the one taketh the others
nature {Miranda+} and qualitie: as it is seene in a
sore eye, that beholding stedfastly a sound one, giveth him his
disease. Therefore me thinke our Courtier may in this wise open a
great parcell of the love to his woman.
Truth it is, that in
case the eyes bee not governed with arte, they discover many times
the amorous desires more unto whom a man would least: for through
them, (in a manner) visibly shine forth those burning passions,
which the lover minding to disclose onely to the wight beloved,
<525>
CASTIGLIONE openeth them many
times also unto whom he would most soonest hide them from.
Therefore hee that
hath not lost the bridle of reason, handleth himselfe heedfully, and
observeth the times and places: and when it needeth, refraineth from
so stedfast beholding, for all it be a most savorie foode, because
an open love is too hard a matter.
Count Lewis answered:
Yet otherwhile to bee open it hurteth not: because in this case many
times men suppose that those loves tend not to the end which every
lover coveteth, when they see there is litle heede taken to hide
them, and passe not whether they be knowne or no: and therefore with
denyall a man chalengeth him a certaine libertie to talke openly,
and to stand without suspition with the wight beloved. Which is not
so in them that seeke to be secrete, because it appeareth that they
stand in hope off, and are nigh some great rewarde, which they would
not have other men to know.
I have also seene a
most fervent love spring in the heart of a woman, towarde one that
seemed at the first not to beare him the least affection in the
worlde, onely for that she heard say that the opinion of many was,
that they loved together. {Beatrice_Benedict+} And the cause of this
(I believe) was that so generall a judgement seemed a sufficient
witnesse, that he was worthie of her love. And it seemed (in a
manner) that report brought the ambassade on the lovers behalfe much
more truer and worthier to be believed, than he himselfe could have
done with letters or wordes, or any other person for him: therefore
sometime this common voice not onely hurteth not, but farthereth a
mans purpose.
The
Lord Julian answered: Loves that have reporte for their messenger,
are verie perillous to make a man pointed to with a finger. And
therefore who ever entendeth to walke this race warily, needes must
he make countenance to have a great deale lesse fire in his stomack,
than in deede he hath, and content himselfe with that, that he
thinketh a trifle, and dissemble his desires, jealosies, afflictions
and
<526>
THE COURTIER pleasures and
many times laugh with mouth when the hart weepeth, and shew himselfe
lavish of that he is most covetous of: and these thinges are so hard
to be done, that (in a manner) they are unpossible.
Therefore if our
Courtier would follow my counsell, I woulde exhort him to keepe his
loves secrete.
Then saide maister Bernarde: You must then teach it him, and mee
thinke it is much to purpose: for beside privie signes that some
make otherwhile so closely, that (in a manner) without any gesture,
the person whom they covet, in their countenance and eyes reade what
they have in the hart.
I have sometime heard
betweene two lovers a long and a large discourse of love, where of
yet the standers by could not plainely understand any particular
point, nor be out of doubt that it was of love. Such was their
discretion and heedfulnesse of the talker: for without making any
manner shew that they were not willing to bee heard, they rounded
privily the words onely that were most to purpose, and all the rest
they spake aloud, which might bee applyed to divers meaninges.
Then spake Sir
Frederick: To reason thus in peecemeale of these rules of
secretnesse, were a taking of an infinit matter in hand: therefore
would I that we speake somewhat rather how the lover should keepe
and maintaine his Ladies good will, which mee thinke is much more
necessarie.
The
Lord Julian answered: I believe, the meanes that serve him to
compasse it, serve him also to keepe it: and all this consisteth in
pleasing the woman beloved, without offending her at anye time.
Therefore it were a hard matter to give any certaine rule, because
who so is not discrete, infinite waies committeth oversights, which
otherwhile seeme matters of nothing, and yet offend they much the
womans minde. And this happeneth more than to other, to such as be
maistred with passion: as some that whensoever they have oportunitie
to speake with the woman they love, la-
<527>
CASTIGLIONE ment and bewaile
so bitterly, and covet many times thinges so unpossible, that
through their unreasonablenesse they are lothed of them.
Other, if they bee
pricked with any jealousie, stomack ye matter so grievously, that
without stop they burst out in railing upon him they suspect, and
otherwhile it is without trespasse either of him, or yet of the
woman.
And will
not have her speake with him, nor once turne her eyes on that side
where he is. And with these fashions many times they doe not onely
offend the woman, but also they are the cause that she bendeth her
selfe to love him. Because the feare that a lover declareth to have
otherwhile lest his Ladie forsake him for the other, betokeneth that
he acknowledgeth himselfe inferiour in deserts and prowes to the
other, and with opinion the woman is moved to love him. And
perceiving that to put him out of favour he reporteth ill of him,
although it be true. yet she believeth it not, and notwithstanding
loveth him the more.
Then saide the Lorde
Cesar: I confesse that I am not so wise that I coulde refraine
speaking ill of my fellow lover, except you could teach me some
other better way to dispatch him.
The Lord Julian
answered smyling: it is saide in a proverbe, When a mans enimie is
in the water up to the middle, let him reach him his hande, and
helpe him from daunger: but when he is up to the chinne, set his
foote on his head, and drowne him out of hande. Therefore certaine
there bee that play so with their fellow lovers, and untill they
have a sure meane to dispatch them, goe dissembling the matter, and
rather shew themselves friendes than otherwise. Afterwarde when
occasion serveth so fitlie, that they know they may overthrowe them
with a sure riddance, reporting all evill of them, be it true or
false, they doe it without sparing, with arte, deceite, and all
waies that they can imagin.
But because I would
not like that our courtier should at any time use any deceite, {PlainDealer+} I would have him to withdraw
the good will of his mistresse from his fellow lover with
<528>
THE COURTIER none other arte,
but with loving, with serving and with being vertuous, of prowesse,
discrete, sober, in conclusion with deserving more than he, and with
being in every thing heedfull and wise, refraining from certaine
lewd folies, { virtues_list+} into the which
oftentimes many ignorant runne, and by sundrie wayes.
For in times past I
have knowne some that in writing and speaking to women, used
evermore the wordes of Poliphilus, { Polonius+} and ruffled so in
their subtill pointes of Rethoricke, that the women were out of
conceite with their owne selves, and reckoned themselves most
ignorant, and an houre seemed a thousand yeare to them, to end that
talke and to be rid of them. Other bragge+ and
boast too beyond all measure.
Other speake things
many times that redound to the blame and damage of themselves, as
some that I am wont to laugh at, which make profession to be lovers
and otherwhile say in the companie of women.
I never founde woman
that ever loved me, and are not witting, that the hearers by and by
judge that it can arise of none other cause, but that they deserve
neither to be beloved, nor yet so much as the water they drinke, and
count them Asseheades, and would not love them for all the good in
the worlde: seeming to them that in case they should love them, they
were less worthie, than all the rest that have not loved them.
Other, to purchase
hatred to some felow lover of theirs, are so fond that in like
manner in the company of women they say: Such a one is the luckiest
man in ye world, for once, hee is neither well favoured, nor sober,
nor of prowes, neither can hee doe or say more than other men, and
yet all women love him, and rune after him, and thus uttering the
spite they beare him for this good lucke, althou h neither in
countenance nor deedes hee appeareth lovely, yet make they them
believe that hee hath some hid matter in him, for the which hee
deserveth the love of so many women.
Wherfore the women
that heare them talke of him in
<529>
CASTIGLIONE this wise, they
also upon this beliefe are moved to love him much more.
Then Count Lewis
laughed and saide: I assure you our Courtier if he be discret, will
never use this blockishnesse, to get the good will of women.
The Lord Caesar
Conzaga answered: nor yet another that a gentleman of reputation
used in my dayes, who shall be namelesse for the honour of men.
The Dutchesse
answered: tell us at the least what hee did. The Lord Cesar saide:
this man being beloved of a great Ladie, at her request came privily
to the towne where she lay. And after he had seene her and communed
with her, as long as they thought meete and had time and leasure
thereto, at his leave-taking, with many biter teares and sighes in
witnesse of the extreame griefe he felt for this departing, he
required her to bee alwaies mindfull of him. And afterwarde hee
added withall, That she would discharge his Inne, for since hee came
thither at her request, he thoght meete that hee shoulde not stand
to the charges of his being here, himselfe.
Then beganne all the
Ladies to laugh, and saide that he was most unworthie of the name of
a gentleman: and manie were ashamed with the selfe shame that he
himselfe shoulde worthily have felt, if any time he had gotten so
much understanding, that he might have perceived so shamefull an
oversight.
Then
turned the Lord Gasper to the Lorde Cesar and saide: Better it had
beene to have omitted the rehersall of this matter for the honour of
women, than the naming of him for the honour of men. For you may
well imagine what a judgement that great Ladie had in loving so
unreasonable a creature. And perhaps too, of many that served she
chose him for the most discretest, leaving behind and shewing ill
will unto them that bee was not worthie to waite upon.
Count Lewis laughed
and saide: Who woteth whether hee was discrete in other thinges or
no, and was out of ye
<530>
THE COURTIER way only about
Innes? But many times for overmuch love men commit great follies.
And if you will tell the truth, perhaps it hath beene your chaunce
to commit moe than one.
The L. Cesar answeared
smiling: Of good fellowship let us not discover our oWne
oversightes. Yet we must discover them, aunsweared the Lord Gaspar,
that wee may know how to amende them: then he proceeded. Now that
the Courtier knoweth howe to winne and keepe the good will of his
Lady, and take it from his fellow lover, you (my L. Julian) are
dettour to teache her to keepe her loves secrete.
The L. Julian
answeared: Me thinke I have sufficiently spoken, therefore get you
now an other to talke of this secrete matter.
Then M. Bernard and
all the rest began a fresh to be in hand with him instantly, and the
Lorde Julian saide: you will tempt me. Ye are all the sort of you
too great Clarkes in loves. Yet if ye desire to know further, goe
and reade Ovid+.
And how, quoth maister
Bernarde, shall I hope that his lessons are any thing worth in love,
when he counselleth and saith that it is very good for a man in the
company of his mistresse To faine the drunkarde? See what a goodlv
way it is to get good will withall. And he alleageth for a pretie
devise to make a woman understande that he is in love with her,
being at a banket, To dip his finger in wine and write it upon the
table.
The Lorde
Julian saide smiling: In those dayes it was no fault. And therefore
(quoth maister Bernarde) seeing so sluttish a matter was not
disalowed of men in those dayes, it is to bee thought that they had
not so courtely behaviours to serve women in love, as we have. But
let us not omit our first purpose, to teach to kepe love secrete.
Then saide the
Lorde Julian: In mine advise to keepe love secrete, the causes are
to be shunned that utter it, which are many: yet one principall,
namely, To be over
<531>
CASTIGLIONE secrete and to put
no person in trust+. Because every lover coveteth to
make his passions knowne to be beloved, and being alone, hee is
driven to make many moe signes and more evident, than if hee were
aided by some loving and faithfull friend. For the signes that the
lover himselfe maketh, give a farre greater suspition, than those
that he maketh by them that goe in message betweene.
And for so much as men
naturally are greedie to understand, as soone as a stranger
beginneth to suspect the matter, hee so applyeth it, that he commeth
to the knowledge of the truth, and when he once knoweth it, he
passeth not for disclosing it, yea sometime he hath a delite to doe
it.
Which
happeneth not to a friend, who beside that hee is a helpe to him
with favour and counsel, doth many times remedie the oversights
committed by the blinde lover, and alwaies procureth secretenesse,
and preventeth manye matters which hee him selfe can not foresee:
beside the great comfort that he feeleth, when he may utter his
passions and griefes to a hartie friende+, and
the partening of them likewise encreaseth his contentations.
Then saide the Lord
Gasper: there is an other cause that discovereth loves much more
than this. What is that, answered the Lord Julian: The Lorde Gasper
saide: Vaine greedinesse joyned with the fondnesse and crueltie of
women, which (as you your selfe have saide) procure as much as they
can to get them a great number of lovers, and (if it were possible)
they would have them all to burne and make ashes, and after death to
returne to life, to dye againe. And though they love withall, yet
rejoyce they at the torment of lovers, because they suppose the
griefe, afflictions, and the calling every houre for death, is a
true witnesse that they are beloved, and that with their beautie
they can make men miserable and happie, and give them life and
death, as pleaseth them. Wherefore they feede onely upon this foode,
and are so greedy over it, that for wanting it they never throughly
content lovers, nor yet put them out of hope. { coquette+}
<532>
THE COURTIER But to keepe them
still in afflictions and in desire, they use a certaine loftie
sowernesse of threatnings mingled with hope, and would have them to
esteeme a worde, a countenance or a becke of theirs for a chiefe
blisse.
And to
make men count them chast and honest as wel others as their lovers,
they find meanes that these sharp and discourteous manners of
theirs, may bee in open sight, for every man to think that they will
much worse handle the unworthie, since they handle them so, that
deserve to be beloved. And under this beliefe, thinking themselves
with this craft safe from slander, oftentimes they lye nightly with
most vile men and whom they scarce know.
So that to rejoyce at
the calamitie and continuall complaintes of some worthie Gentleman,
and beloved of them, they barre themselves from those pleasures,
which perhaps with some excuse they might come by, and are the cause
that the poore lover by very debating of the matter is driven to use
waies by the which the thing commeth to light, that with all
diligence should have beene kept most secrete. {coquette+}
Certaine other there are, which if with deceite they can bring many
in beliefe that they are beloved of them, nourish among them
jealousies, with cherishing and making of the one in the others
presence. And when they see that he also whom they love best, is now
assured and out of doubt that hee is beloved through the signes and
tokens that bee made him, many times with doubtfull words and fained
disdaines they put him in uncertaintie.
And nip him at the
very hart, making wise not to passe for him, and to give them selves
full and wholy to the other.
Whereupon arise
malice, enimities, and infinite occasions of strife and utter
confusion. For needes must a man shew in that case the extreame
passion which he feeleth, although it redound to the blame and
slander of the woman.
Other, not satisfied
with this only torment of jealosie, after the lover hath declared
all his tokens of love and
<533>
CASTIGLIONE faithfull service,
and they received the same with some signe to bee answerable in good
will, without purpose and when it is least looked for, they beginne
to bethinke themselves, and make wise to believe that he is slacked,
and faining new suspitions that they are not beloved, they make a
countenance that they will in any wise put him out of their favour.
Wherefore through
these inconveniences the poore soule is constrained of verle force
to beginne a fresh, and to Make her signes, as though he beganne his
service but then, and all the day long passe up and downe through
the streete, and when the woman goeth forth of her doores to
accompany her to Church and to every place where she goeth, and
never to turne his eyes to other place.
And here he returneth
to weeping, to sighes, to heavie countenances, and when he can talke
with her, to swearing to blapheming, to desperation, and to all
rages which unhappie lovers are led to by these wilde beastes, that
have greater thirst of bloud than the verie Tygres.
Such sorrowfull tokens
as these bee, are too often seene and known, and manie times more of
others than of the causer of them: and thus are they in few daies so
published, that a step can not be made, nor the least signe that is,
but it is noted with a thousand eyes. It happeneth then, that long
before there be any pleasures of love betwixt them, they are gessed
and judged of all the worlde. For when they see yet their lover now
nigh deathes doore, cleane vanquished with the crueltie and torments
they put him to, determineth advisedly and in good earnest to draw
back, then begin they to make signe that they love him hartily, and
do him all pleasures and give themselves to him, least if that
fervent desire should aile in him, the fruite of love should withall
be the lesse acceptable to him, and he ken them the lesse thanke for
doing all thinges contrarily.
And in case this love
bee alreadie knowne abroad, at this same time are all the eflects
knowne in like manner
<534>
THE COURTIER abroad that come
of it, and so lose they their reputatio and the lover findeth that
he hath lost time and labour and shortned his life in afflictions
without any fruit o pleasure.
Because he came by his
desires, not when they should have beene so acceptable to him that
they woulde have made him a most happie creature, but when hee set
litle or nothing by them. For his hart was now so mortified with
those bitter passions, that he had no more sense to tast the delite
or contentation offred him.
Then saide the Lord
Octavian smyling: you held your peace a while and refrained from
speaking ill of women but now you have so well hit them home, that
it appeared ye waited a time to plucke up your strength, like them
that retire backwarde to give a greater push at the enconter. And to
say the truth, it is ill done of you, for now mee thinke ye may have
done and bee pacified.
The Ladie Emilia
laughed, and turninge her to the Dutches she said: See Madam, our
enemies beginne to breake and to square one with an other.
Geve me not thys name
aunswered the L. Octavian, for I am not your adversary, but this
contention hath displeased me, not because I am sory to see the
victory upon womens side, but because it hath lead the L. Gaspar to
revile them more than hee ought, and the L. Julian and the L. Cesar
to praise them perhaps somwhat more than due: beside that through
the length of the talke wee have lost the understandinge of many
other pretie matters that. are yet behind to be said of the
Courtier.
See
quoth the Ladie Emilia, whether you bee not our adversarie, for the
talke that is past greeveth you, and you would not that this so
excellent a gentlewoman of the Pallace had beene fashioned: not for
that you have any more to say of the Courtier (for these Lordes have
spoken alreadie what they know, and I believe neither you, ne any
man els can adde ought thereto) but for the malice you beare to the
honour of women.
<535>
CASTIGLIONE It is out of
doubt, answered the Lorde Octavian, beside that is alreadie spoken
of the Courtier, I coulde wish much more in him. But since every man
is pleased that he shall be as he is, I am well pleased too, and
would not have him altered in any point, saving in making him
somewhat more friendly to women, than the Lorde Gaspar is, yet not
perhaps, so much as some of these other Lords are.
Then spake the
Dutchesse: In any case we must see whether your witte bee such that
it can give the Courtier a greater perfection, than these Lordes
have alreadie done.
Therefore dispose your
selfe to utter that you have in your minde, els will wee thinke that
you also can not adde unto him more than hath alreadie beene saide,
but that you minded to diminish the prayses and worthinesse of the
gentlewoman of the Pallace, seeing ye judge she is equall with the
Courtier, whom by this meane you woulde have believed might be much
more perfect than these Lordes have fashioned him.
The Lord Octavian
laughed and saide: The prayses and dispraises given women more than
due, have so filled the cares and minde of the hearers, that they
have left no voide roome for any thing els to stand in: beside that
(in mine opinion) it is verie late.
Then said the
Dutchesse: If we tarrie till to morrow, we shall have the more time,
and the prayses and disprayses, which (you say) are given women on
both sides passing measure, in the mean season will we be cleane out
of these Lordes mindes, and so shall they bee apt to conceive the
truth that you will tell us.
When the Dutchesse had
thus spoken, she arose upon her feet, and courteously dismissing
them all, withdrew her to her bedchamber, and every man gotte him to
his rest.
<536>
THE COURTIER
FOURTH
The Fourth Booke
of
the Courtierof Count Baldesser Castilion,
unto Maister Alfonsus Ariosto
Thinking to write out the communication that
was had the fourth night after the other mentioned in the former
bookes, I feele among sundry discourses a bitter thought that
gripeth me in my mind, and maketh me to call to remembrance worldly
miseries and our deceitful hopes, and how fortune+ many times in the verie
middest of our race, otherwhile nigh the ende disapointeth our
fraile and vaine purposes, sometime drowneth them before they can
once come to have a sight of the Haven a farre olf.
It causeth me
therefore to remember that not long after these reasoninges were
had, cruell death bereaved our house of three most rare gentlemen,
when in their prosperous age and forwardnesse of honour they most
flourished.
And of
them the first was the Lord Gaspar Pallavicine, who assaulted with a
sharpe disease, and more than once brought to the last cast,
although his minde was of such courage that for a time in spite of
death hee kept the soule and bodie together, yet did he end his
natural course long before he came to his ripe age./37 A very great
losse, not in our house onely, and to his friendes and kinsfolke,
but to his Countrie and to all Lumbardie.
Not long after dyed
the Lord Cesar Conzaga, which to all that were acquainted with him,
left a bitter and sorrowfull remembrance of his death. For since
nature so seldom
<537>
CASTIGLIONE times bringeth
forth such kinde of men, as she doth, meete it seemed that she
should not so soone have bereaved us of him. For undoubtedly a man
may say that the Lord Cesar was taken from us even at the time when
hee began to shew more than a hope of himselfe, and to bee esteemed
as his excellent qualities deserved. For with many vertuous acts he
alreadie gave a good testimonie of his worthinesse.
and beside his
noblenesse of birth, he excelled also in the ornament of letters, of
marciall prowesse, and of every worthie qualitie. So that for his
goodnesse, wit, nature, and knowledge, there was nothing so high,
that might not have beene hoped for at his hands. Within a short
while after the death of maister Robert of Bary was also a great
heavinesse to ye whole house: for reason seemed to perswade every
man to take heavily the death of a yong man of good behaviour,
pleasant and most rare in the beautie of physnomie, and in the
making of his person, with a luckie and lively towardnes, as a man
coulde have wished.
These men therefore,
had they lived, I believe woulde have come to passe, that unto who
so had knowne them, they woulde have shewed a manifest proofe, how
much the Court of Urbin was worthie to bee commended, and how
furnished it was with noble knights, which (in a manner) all ye rest
have done that were brought up in it.
For truely there never
issued oit of the horse of Troy+ so many
great men and Captains, as there have come men out of this house for
vertue verie singular and in great estimation with all men.
For as you know Sir
Frederick Fregoso was made Archbishoppe of Salerno, Count Lewis,
bishop of Baious. The Lorde Octavian Fregoso, Duke of Cenua: maister
Bernarde Bibiena, Cardinall of Sancta Maria in Portico: maister
Peter Bembo, Secretarie to Pope Leo. The Lord Julian was exalted to
the Dukedome of Nemours, and to the great estate he is presently in.
The Lord Francesco Maria della Rovere generall of Rome, he was also
made Duke of
<538>
THE COURTIER Urbin: although a
much more prayse may be given to the house where hee was brought up,
that in it he hath proved so rare and excellent a Lord in all
vertuous qualities, (as a man may behold) than that hee attained
unto the Dukedom of Urbin.
And no small cause
thereof (I thinke) was the noble companie where in dayly
conversation he alwaies heard and saw commendable nourture.
Therefore (mee thinke)
whether it bee by happe+, or through the favour of the
starres, the same cause that so long a time hath graunted unto
Urbiin very good governours, doth still continue and bringeth forth
the like effects.
And therefore it is to be hoped that prosperous fortune+ will still encrease these
so vertuous doinges, that the happinesse of the house, and of the
state shall not onely not diminish, but rather dayly encrease: And
thereof we see alreadie many evident tokens, among which I reckon
the chiefest to bee, that the heaven hath graunted such a Ladie as
is the Ladie Eleonor Gonzaga the new Dutchesse.
For if ever there were
coupled in one bodie alone, knowledge, wit, grace, beautie, sober
conversation, gentlenesse, and every other honest qualitie, { virtues_list+} in her they
are so linked together, that there is made thereof a chaine, which
frameth and setteth forth everie gesture of hers, with all these
conditions together.
Let us therefore
proceede in our reasoninges upon the Courtier, with hope that after
us there shall not wante such as shal take notable and worthy
examples of vertue at the present Court of Urbin, as wee now doe at
the former.
It was
thought therfore (as the L. Gaspar Pallavicin was wont to rehearse)
that the next day after the reasoninges conteyned in the last booke,
the L. Octavian was not muche seene: for manye deemed that hee had
gotten himselfe out of company to thinke well upon that he had to
say without trouble.
Therefore when the
company was assembled at the accustomed houre where the Dutchesse
was, they made the
<539>
CASTIGLIONE L. Octavian to bee
diligently sought for, which in a good while appeared not, so that
many of the Gentlemen and Damosels of the Court fell to dauncing and
to mind other pastimes, supposing for that night they shoulde have
no more talke of the Courtier. And now were they all setled about
one thing or an other, when the Lorde Octavian came in (almost) no
more looked for.
And beholding the Lorde Cesar Conzaga and the L.
Gasper dauncing, after
hee had made his reverence to the Dutchesse, he saide smyling: I had
well hoped wee should have heard the Lorde Gaspar speak some ill of
women this night too, but since I see him daunce with one, I imagine
he is agreed withall. And I am glad that the controversie, or (to
terme it better) the reasoning of the Courtier is thus ended.
Not ended, I warrant
you, answered the Dutchesse, for I am not such an enimie to men, as
you be to women, and therefore I will not have the Courtier bereaved
from his due honour and the ornaments which you your selfe promised
him yesternight.
And when that she had thus spoken, she commanded them all after that
dance was ended, to place themselves after the wonted manner, the
which was done. And as they stood all with heedfull expectation, the
Lord Octavian saide.
Madam, since for that
I wished many other good qualities in the Courtier, it followeth by
promise that I must entreat upon them, I am well willing to utter my
minde: not with opinion that I can speake all that may be saide in
the matter, but onely so much as shall suffice to roote that out of
your minde, which yesternight was objected to mee: namely that I
speak it more to withdraw the prayses from the gentlewoman of the
Pallace, in doing you falsely to believe, that other excellent
qualities might be added to the Courtier, and with that pollicie
preferre him before her, than for that it is so in deede.
Therefore to frame my
selfe also to the houre, which is
<540>
THE COURTIER later than it was
wont to be, when wee beganne our reasonings at other times. I will
be briefe.
Thus
continuing in the talke that these Lordes have ministred, which I
full and wholy allow and confirme, I say, that of thinges which we
call good, some there bee that simply and of themselves are alwaies
good, as temperance, valiant courage, health, and all vertues that
bring quietnesse+ to mens mindes. Other be good
for divers respects and for the end they be applied unto, as the
lawes, liberallitie, riches, and other like. {virtues_list} I thinke
therefore that the Courtier (if he be of the perfection that Count
Lewis and Sir Frederick have described him) may indeede bee a good
thing and worthy praise, but for all that not simply, nor of himself
but for respect of that whereto he may be applied+. { action+} For doubtlesse, if the
Courtier with his noblenes of birth, comely behaviour, pleasantnesse
and practise in so manye exercises, shoulde bring foorth no other
fruite, but to be such a one for himselfe, I would not thinke to
come by this perfect trade of Courtiershippe, that a man should of
reason bestow so much studie and paines about it, as who so will
compasse it must do. But I would say rather that many of the
qualities appointed him, as dauncing, singing, and sporting, were
lightnes and vanitie, and in a man of estimation rather to be
dispraised than commended.
Because those precise
fashions, the setting forth of ones selfe, merry talke and such
other matters belonging to enter- tainement of women and love
(although perhaps many other be of a contrarie opinion) doe many
times nothing els but womanish+ the
mindes, corrupt youth, and bring them to a most wanton trade of
living: whereupon afterwarde ensue these effects, that the name of
Italy is brought into slaunder: and few there bee that have
the courage+, I will not say to
jeopard their life, but to enter once into a daunger.
And without
peradventure there bee infinite other thinges, that if a man bestow
his labour and studie about
<541>
CASTIGLIONE them, woulde bring
forth much more profit+ both in peace and warre, {Officiis+} than this trade of Courtiership
of it selfe alone.
But in case the Courtiers doings be directed to the good ende they
ought to be, and which I meane: mee thinke then they should not only
not be hurtful or vaine, but most profitable+,
and deserve infinite prayse.
The ende+ therefore
of a perfect Courtier (whereof hetherto nothing hath beene spoken) I
believe is to purchase him, by the meane of the qualities which
these Lordes have given him, in such wise the good will and favour
of the Prince he is in service withall, that he may breake his minde
to him, and alwaies enforme him franckly of the truth of every
matter meete for him to understand, without fear or perill to
displease him. { Cordelia+} And when hee knoweth
his minde is bent to commit any thing unseemely for him, to be bold
to stand with him in it, and to take courage after an honest sorte
at the favor which he hath gotten him through his good qualities, to
disswade him {Kent+} from every ill purpose, and to set
him in the way of vertue.
And so shall the
Courtier, if he have the goodnesse in him that these Lordes have
given him accompanied with readinesse of wit, pleasantnesse,
wisedom, knowledge in letters, and so many other thinges, { virtues_list+} understand how
to behave himselfe readily in all occurrents to drive into his
Princes heade what honour and profit shall ensue to him and to his
by justice, liberallitie, valiantnesse of courage, meekenesse, {virtues_list+} and by the
other vertues that belong to a good prince, and contrariwise what
slander, and damage c-ommeth of the vices contrarie to them.
And therefore in mine
opinion, as musicke, sportes, pastimes, and other pleasant fashions,
are (as a man woulde say) the floure of Courtlinesse, even so is the
training and helping forwarde of the Prince to goodnesse, and the
fearing him from evil, the fruite of it.
And because the
prayses of well doing, consisteth chiefly in two pointes, whereof
the one is, in choosing out an end
<542>
THE COURTIER that our purpose
is directed unto, that is good in deede, the other, the knowledge to
finde out apt and meete meanes to bring it to the appointed good
ende: sure it is that the minde of him which thinketh to worke so,
that his Prince shall not bee deceived, nor lead with flatterers+, railers, and
lyers, but shall know both the good and the bad, and beare love to
the one, and hatred to the other, is directed to a verie good end.
Me thinke againe,
that the qualities which these Lords have given the Courtier, may
bee a good meanes to compasse it: and that, because among many vices
that we see now a dayes in many of our Princes, the greatest are
ignorance and selfe liking. {
Lear+} And the roote of these two
mischiefes is nothing els but lying+, which
vice is worthely abhorred of God and man, and more hurtfull to
Princes than any other, because they have more scarcitie than of any
thing els, of that which they neede to have more plentie of, than of
any other thing: namely, of such as should tell them the truth, {Seneca+} and put them in mind of
goodnesse: for enimies bee not driven of love to doe these offices,
but they delight rather to have them live wickedly and never to
amend: on the other side, they dare not rebuke them openly for feare
they be punished.
As for friendes, few of them have free passage to them, and those
few have a respect to reprehend their vices so freely as they doe
private mens. And many times to currie favour and to purchase good
will, they give themselves to nothing els but to feede them with
matters that may delight and content their minde, though they be
foule and dishonest. So that of friendes they become flatterers+.
And to make a hand/38
by that straight familiaritie, they speake and worke alwaies to
please, and for the most part open the way with lyes, which in the
Princes minde engender ignorance, not of outwarde matters onely, but
also of his owne selfe. { Lear+} And this may be saide to be
the greatest and foulest lye of all other, because the ignorant
minde deceiveth himselfe, and inwardly maketh lies of himselfe.
<543>
CASTIGLIONE Of this it
commeth, that great men, beside that they never understand the truth
of any thing, drunken with the licentious libertie that rule
bringeth with it, and with aboundance of delicats drowned in
pleasures, are so farre out of the way, and their minde is so
corrupted in seeing themselvesh alwaies obeied, and (as it were)
worshipped with so much reverence and praise, without not onely any
reproofe at all, but also gainsaying, that through this ignorance
they wade to an extreame selfe liking, so that afterwarde they admit
no counsell nor advise of others. {Lear+} And
because they believe that the understanding how to rule is a most
easie matter, and to compasse it, there needeth neither arte nor
learning, but onely stoutnesse, they bend their mind and all their
thoughts to the maintenance of that porte {dog_obeyed_in_ofice+} they keepe, thinking
it the true happinesse to o what a man lusteth.
Therefore doe some
abhorre reason and justice, because they weene it a bridle and a
certain meane to bring them in bondage+ and to
minish in them the contentation and hearts ease that they have to
beare rule, if they should observe it: and their rule were not
perfect nor whole, if they should be compelled to obey unto duetie+andhonestie+
because they have opinion, that Who so obeyeth, is no right Lorde in
deede.
Therefore
taking these principles for a president, and suffering themselves to
bee leade with selfe liking, they waxe lofty, and with a stately
countenance, with sharpe and cruell conditions, with pompous garments+ golde and jewels, and
with comming (in a manner) never abroad to be scene, {Henry4+} they thinke to get estimation and
authoritie among men and to bee counted (almost) Gods. {Caligula+} But they are (in my judgement)
like the Colosses that were made in Rome the last year upon the
feast daye of the place of Agone, which outwardly declared a
likenesse of great men and horses of triumph, and inwardly were full
of towe and ragges. {Duessa+}
<544>
THE COURTIER But the Princes
of this sorte are so much worse, as the Colosses by their owne
waighty poise stand upright of themselves, and they because they be
ill counterpeised, and without line and levell placed upon unequall
ground, through their owne waightines overthrow them selves, and
from one errour runne into infinite. Because their ignorance being
annexed with this false opinion, that they can not erre, and that
the port they keepe commeth of their knowledge leadeth them every
way by right or by wrong to lay hands upon possessions boldly, so
they may come by them. But in case they would take advisement to
know and to worke that that they ought, they would as well strive
not to raigne, as they doe to raigne.
Because they should
perceive what a naughtie and dangerous matter it were for subjects
that ought to be govemed, to be wiser than the Princes that should
governe.
You may
see that ignorance in musicke, in dancing, in riding, hurteth no
man, yet he that is no musition is ashamed and afraide to sing in
the presence of others, or to daunce, he that can not, or he that
sitteth not well a horse to ride.
But of the
unskilfulnesse to governe people arise so many evils, deathes,
destructions, mischiefes, and confusions, that it may bee called the
deadlyest plague upon the earth. {Seneca+} And
yet some Princes most ignorant in governement, are not bashfull nor
ashamed to take upon them to governe, I wil not say in the presence
of foure, or halfe a dosen persons.
but in the face of the
world: for their degree is burdened so on loft, that all eyes
beholde them, and therefore not their great vices onely, but their
least faults of all are continually noted. { burden+} As it
is written, that Cimon was ill spoken of because he loved
wine, Scipio+, sleepe, Lucullus, banquets. But
would God the Princes of these our times would couple their vices
with so many vertues as did they of olde time: which if they were
out of the way in any point, yet refused they not the exhortations
and lessons of such as they deemed meete.
<545>
CASTIGLIONE to correct those
faultes: Yea they sought with great instance to frame their life by
the rule of notable personages: As Epaminondas+ by
Lysias of Pythagoras sect: Agesilaus+
by Xenophon+: Scipio by Panetius+, and
infinite others.
But in case a grave Philosopher shoulde come before any of our
Princes, or who ever beside, that would shew them plainly and
without anie circumstance the horrible face of true vertue, and
teach them good manners, and what the life of a good Prince ought to
be, I am assured they woulde abhorre him at the first sight, as a
most venemous serpent, or els they woulde make him a laughing
stocke, as a most vile matter.
I say therefore, that
since now a days Princes are so corrupt through ill usages,
ignorance and false selfe liking, and that it is so harde a matter
to give them the knowledge of the truth, and to bend them to vertue,
and men with lyes and flatterie+, and
such naughtie meanes seeke to currie favour with them, the Courtier
by the meane of those honest qualities that Count Lewis and Sir
Fredericke have given him, may soone, and ought to goe about so to
purchase him the good will, and allure unto him ye mind of his
Prince, that he may make him a free and safe passage to commune with
him in every matter without troubling him.
And if he be such a
one as is saide, hee shall compasse it with small paine, and so may
he alwaies open unto him the trueth of every matter at ease.
Beside this, by litle
and litle distil into his mind goodnesse, and teach him continencie,
stoutnesse of courage, justice, temperance, {virtues_list+}
making him to tast what sweetnesse is hid under that litle
bitternesse, which at the first sight appeareth unto him that
withstandeth vices, which are alwaies hurtfull, displeasant and
accompanied with ill report and shame, even as vertues are
profitable, pleasant and prayseable, and enflame him to them with
examples of manye famous captaines, and of other notable personages,
{Plutarch+} unto whome they of olde time
used to make images of mettall and marble, and sometime of golde,
and to set them
<546>
THE COURTIER up in common
haunted places, as well for the honour of them, as for an
encouraging of others, that with an honest envie they might also
endevor themselves to reach unto that glorie+.
In this wise may bee
leade him through the rough way of vertue (as it were) decking it
abo the boughes to shadow it, and strowing it over wit ye flowers,
to ease the griefe of the painefull jorney that is but of a weake
force. And sometime with musicke, sometime with armes, and horses,
sometime with rymes, and meeter, otherwhile with communication of
love, and with all those waies that these Lords have spoken of,
continually keepe that minde of his occupied in honest pleasure:
imprinting notwithstanding therein alwaies beside (as I have saide)
in company with these flickering provocations some vertuous
condition, and beguiling him with a holesom craft, as the warie
Phisitions doe, who many times when they minister to yong and tender
children in their sicknesse, a medicine of a bitter taste, annoint
the cup about the brimme with some sweete licour. His {dulce_utile+} The Courtier therefore
applying to such a purpose this veile of pleasure, in every time, in
every place, and in everie exercise he shall attain to his end, and
deserve much more praise and recompence, than for any other good
worke that he can doe in the world.
Because there is no
treasure that doth so universally profit, as doth a good prince, nor
any mischiefe so universally hurt, as an ill Prince. Therefore is
there also no paine so bitter and cruel that were a sufficient
punishment for those naughtie and wicked Courtiers, that make their
honest and pleasant manners, and their good qualities a cloake for
an ill end, and by meane of them seeke to come in favour with their
Princes for to corupt them, and to cause them to stray from the way
of vertue, and to lead them to vice.
For a man may say,
that such as these be, doe infect with deadly poyson, not one vessel
whereof one man alone
<547>
CASTIGLIONE drinketh, but the
common fountaine that all the people resorteth to. { burden+} The
Lord Octavian helde his peace, as though hee woulde have saide no
more, but the Lord Gaspar, I can not see my Lorde Octavian (saide
he) that this goodnesse of mind and continencie, and the other
vertues which you will have the Courtier to shew his Lord, may bee
learned: but I suppose that they are given the men that have them,
by nature and of God.
And that it is so, you
may see that there is no man so wicked and of so ill conditions in
the world, nor so untemperate and unjust, which if he be asked the
question, will confesse himselfe such a one. But every man be he
never so wicked, is glad to be counted just, continent and good: { Shylock+} which should not be so,
in case these vertues might be learned.
Because it is no shame
not to know the thing that a man hath not studied, but a rebuke, it
is not to have that which wee ought to be endowed withall of nature.
Therefore doth
each man seeke to cover the defaultes of nature, as well in the
mind, as also in ye bodie: the which is to bee seene in the blinde,
lame, crooked and other maimed and deformed creatures. For although
these imperfections may be laide to nature, yet doth it greeve each
man to have them in himself: because it seemeth by the testimonie of
the selfe same nature that a man hath that default or blemish (as it
were) for a patent and token of his ill inclination. {Richard3+} The fable that is reported of
Epimetheus doth also confirme mine opinion, which was so unskilfull
in dividing the giftes of nature unto men, that hee left them much
more needy of every thing, than all other living creatures.
Whereupon Prometheus+ stole the politike wisedome
from Minerva and Vulcan that men have to get their living withall.
Yet had they not for all that, civil wisedom to gather themselves
together into Cities, and the knowledge to live with civilitie+, because it was kept in the
Castle of
<548>
THE COURTIER Jupiter by most
circumspect overseers, which put Prometheus in such feare that hee
durst not approch nigh them.
Whereupon Jupiter
taking pitie upon the miserie of men, that coulde not fellowship+ together for lacke of civill
vertue, but were torne in peeces by wilde beastes, he sent Mercurie
to the earth to carrie justice+ and shame+, that
these two things might furnish cities, and gather citizens together.
And willed that
they should be given them, not as other artes were, wherein one
cunning man sufficeth for many ignorant, as Phisicke, but that they
shoulde be imprinted in every man. And ordeined a law, that all such
as were without justice and shame, shoulde be banished and put to
death as contagious to the Citie.
Behold then (my Lorde
Octavian) God hath graunted these vertues to men, and they are not
to be learned, but be naturall.
Then the Lord Octavian
somewhat smiling: will you then my Lord Gaspar (quoth he) have men
to be so unfortunate and of so peevish a judgement, that with
policie they have founde out an arte to tame the natures of wilde
beastes and beares, wolves, Lions, and may with the same teach a
pretie bird to flie as a man list, and returne backe from the wood
and from his naturall libertie of his owne accorde to snares and
bondage, and with the same policie can not or wil not find out artes
wherby they may profit themselves, and with studie and diligence
make their minde more perfect? This (in mine opinion) were like as
if Phisitions should studie with all diligence to have the arte
onely to heale fellons in fingers, and the red gumme in yong
children, and laye aside the cure of fevers, pleurisie and other
sore diseases, the which how out of reason it war every man may
consider.
I
believe therefore that the morall vertues are not in us altogether
by nature, because nothing can at any time be accustomed unto it,
that is naturally his contrarie: as it is seene in a stone, the
which though it bee cast upward ten
<549>
CASTIGLIONE thousand times,
yet will he never accustome to goe up of it selfe.
Therefore in case
vertues were as naturall to us, as heavinesse to the stone, wee
should never accustome our selves to vice.
Nor yet are vices
natural in this sorte, for then should we never be vertuous: and a
great wickednesse and folly it were, to punish men for their faults,
that came of nature without our offence.
And this errour
shoulde the lawes commit, which appoint not punishment to the
offenders for the trespasse that is past, because it can not be
brought to passe, that the thing that is done, may not be done, but
they have a respect to the time to come, that who so hath offended
may offend no more, or els with ill president give not a cause for
others to offend. And thus yet they are in opinion, that ver- tues
may be learned, which is most true, because we are borne apt to
receive them, and in like manner vices.
And therefore there
groweth a custome in us of both the one and ye other through long
use, so that first we practise vertue or vice, after that, we are
vertuous or vitious.
The contrarie is known
in the thinges that bee given us of nature, for first wee have the
power to practise them, after that wee doe practise: as it is in the
senses, for first we can see, heare, feele, after that, we do see,
heare and feele: although notwithstanding many of these doinges bee
also set out more sightly with teaching.
Whereupon good
schoolemaisters doe not onely instruct their children in letters,
but also in good nurture, in eating, drinking, talking, and going,
with certaine gestures meete for the purpose.
Therefore even as in
the other artes, so also in the vertues it is behofefull to have a
teacher, that with lessons and good exhortations may stirre up and
quicken in us those moral vertues, {virtue_education+} whereof wee have the
seede inclosed and buried in the soule, and like the good husbandman
till them and open the way for them, weeding from about them the
<550>
THE COURTIER briers and
darnell of appetites+, which many times so shadow and
choke our mindes, that they suffer them not to budde nor to bring
forth the happie fruites, which alone ought to be wished to growe in
the harts of men.
In this sorte then is naturally in every one of us justice and
shame, which you say Jupiter sent to the earth for all men. But even
as a bodie without eyes, how sturdie soever he be, if he remove to
any certaine place, ofttimes faileth: so the roote of these vertues
that be potentially engendred in our mindes, if it bee not aided
with teaching, {virtue_teaching+} doth often come to
nought. Because if it shoulde bee brought into doing, and to his
perfect custome, it is not satisfied (as is saide) with nature
alone: but hath neede of a politike usage and of reason, which may
clense and scoure that soule, taking away the dim vale of ignorance,
whereof arise (in a manner) all the errours of men.
For in case good and
ill were well knowne and perceived, every man woulde alwaies choose
the good, and shunne the ill. Therefore may vertue be saide to be
(as it were) a wisedom+ and understanding to
choose the good: and vice, a lacke of foresight and an ignorance
that leadeth to judge falsely. Because men never choose the ill with
opinion that it is ill, {Shylock+} but
they are deceived through a certaine likenesse of good.
Then answered the
Lorde Gaspar: yet are there many that know plainely they doe ill,
and doe it notwithstanding, and that because they more esteeme the
present pleasure which they feele, than the punishment that they
doubt shall fall upon them, as theeves, murtherers and such other.
The Lord Octavian
saide: true pleasure is alwaies good+, and true
sorrow, evil: therefore these be deceived in taking false pleasure
for true, and true sorrow for false: whereupon manye times through
false pleasures, they run into true displeasures.
The arte therefore
that teacheth to discerne this truth from falshood, may in like case
be learned: {virtue_learned+} and the vertue by the
which wee choose this good in deede, and not that
<551>
CASTIGLIONE which falsely
appeareth to be, may bee called true knowledge, and more available
for mans life, than any other, because it expelleth ignorance+, of the which (as I have saide)
spring all evil.
Then maister Peter Bembo, I wot not my Lord Octavian (quoth hee) how
the Lorde Gaspar should graunt you, that of ignorance should spring
all evils, and that there be not many which in offending know for
certaintie that they doe offend, neither are they any deale deceived
in the true pleasure, nor yet in the true sorrow, because it is sure
that such as be incontinent, judge with reason and uprightly, and
knowe it, whereunto they are provoked by lust contrarie to due, to
be ill, and therefore they make resistance and set reason to match
greedie desire, whereupon ariseth the battaile of pleasure and
sorrow against judgement.
Finally reason
overcome by greedy desire, farre the mightier, is cleane without
succour, like a ship, that for a time defendeth her selfe from the
tempestuous sea-stormes, at the end beaten with the too raging
violence of windes, her gables and tacklinges broken, yeeldeth up to
be driven at the will of fortune, without occupying helme or any
manner helpe of Pilot+ for her safegarde.
Forthwith therefore
commit they the offences with a certaine doubtfull remorse of
conscience, and (in a manner) whether they will or no, the which
they woulde not doe, unlesse they knewe the thing that they doe to
be ill, but without striving of reason would runne wholy headlong
after greedie desire, and then should they not be incon- tinent,
but untemperate+, which is much worse.
Therefore is
incontinencie saide to bee a diminished vice, because it hath in it
a part of reason, and likewise continencie an unperfect vertue,
because it hath in it part of affection: therefore mee thinke that
it can not be said that the offences of the incontinent come of
ignorance, or that they bee deceived and offend not, when they know
for a truth that they doe offend.
The Lord Octavian
answered: Certesse (maister Peter)
<552>
THE COURTIER your argument is
good, yet (in my minde) it is more apparant than true. For although
the incontinent offend with that doubtfulnesse, and reason in their
minde striveth against greedie desire, and that that is ill seemeth
unto them to be ill in deed, yet have they no perfect knowledge of
it, nor understand it so throughly as need requireth.
Therefore of this, it
is rather a feeble opinion in them, than certaine knowledge, whereby
they agree to have reason overcome by affection: but if they had in
them true knowledge, there is no doubt, but they woulde not offend:
because evermore the thing whereby greedy desire overcommeth reason
is ignorance, neither can true knowledge bee ever overcome by
affection, that proceedeth from the bodie and not from the minde,
and in case that it be well ruled and governed by reason, it
becommeth a vertue: if not, it becommeth a vice.
But such force reason
hath, that she maketh the sense alwaies to obey, and by wondrous
meanes and waies perceth, lest ignorance should possesse that which
she ought to have: so that although the spirits and the sinewes and
the bones have no reason in them, yet when there springeth in us the
motion of minde, that the imagination (as it were) pricketh
forwarde, and shaketh the bridle to the spirits, all the members are
in a readinesse, the feete to runne, the handes to take or to doe
that which the mind thinketh upon.
And this is also
manifestly knowne in many, which unwittingly otherwhile eate some
lothsom and abhorring meate, so wel dressed that to their taste it
appeareth most delicate: afterward understanding what manner thing
it was, it doth not onely greeve them and loath them in their mind,
but the bodie also agreeth with the judgement of the minde, that of
force they cast that meat up againe.
The Lord Octavian
followed on still in his talke, but the Lorde Julian interrupting
him. My Lord Octavian (quoth he) if I have well understood, you have
saide that Continencie is an unperfect vertue, because it hath in it
part
<553>
CASTIGLIONE of affection: and
me seemeth that the vertue (where there is in our mind a variance
betwen reason and greedie desire) which fighteth and giveth the
victory to reason, ought to be reckoned more perfect, than that
which overcommeth, having neither greedie desire nor any affection
to withstand it.
Because (it seemeth) that that minde abstaineth not from ill for
vertues sake, but refraineth the doing it, because he hath no will
to it.
Then the
Lord Octavian, which (quoth he) woulde you esteeme the valianter
Captaine, either he that hazardeth himselfe in open fight, and
notwithstanding vanquisheth his enimies, or hee that by his vertue
and knowledge weakeneth them in bringing them in case not able to
fight, and so without battaile or any jeopardie discomfit them? He
(quoth the Lorde Julian) that overcommeth with most suretie, is out
of doubt most to bee praised, so that this assured victorie of his
proceede not through the slacknesse of the enimies.
The Lorde Octavian
answered: you have judged aright.
And therefore I say
unto you, that continencie may be compared to a Captaine that
fighteth manly, and though his enimies bee strong and well
appointed, yet giveth he them the overthrow, but for all that not
without much ado and danger. But temperance free from all
disquieting, is like the Captaine that without resistance
overcommeth and raigneth. And having in the mind where she is, not
onely aswaged, but cleane quenched the fire of greedy desire, even
as a good prince in civil warre dispatcheth the seditious inward
enimies, and giveth the scepter and whole rule to reason.
So in like case this
vertue not enforcing the mind, but pouring thereinto through most
quiet waies a vehement perswasion that may incline him to honestie,
maketh him quiet+ and full of rest, in every part
equall and of good proportion: and on every side framed of a
certaine agreement with himself, that filleth him with such a
cleare calmenesse+,
<554>
THE COURTIER that hee is never
out of patience; and becommeth wholy and most obedient to reason,
and readie to turne unto her all his motions, and follow her where
she lust to leade him, without any resistance, like a tender lambe
that runneth, standeth and goeth alwaies by the Ewes side, and
moveth onely as he seeth her doe.
This vertue therefore
is most perfect, and is chiefely requisite in Princes, because of it
arise many other.
Then the Lorde Cesar Conzaga, I wot not (quoth he) what vertues
requisit for princes may arise of this temperance+, if
it be she that riddeth the minde of affections+ (as
you say) which perhaps were meete for some Monke, or Heremite, but I
can not see how it shoulde be requisite for a Prince that is
couragious, freeharted, and of prowesse in martiall feats, for
whatsoever is done to him, never to have anger, hatred, good will,
disdaine, lust, nor any affection in him: nor how without this he
can get him authoritie among the people and souldiers.
The Lorde Octavian
answered: I have not said that temperance should throughly rid and
root out of mens mindes affections: neither should it bee well so to
doe, because there bee yet in affections some parts good: but that
which in affections is corrupt and striving against honestie, she
bringeth to obey unto reason.
Therefore it is not
meete, to ridde the troublesorn disquietnesse of the minde, to roote
up affections cleane, for this were as if to avoide dronkennesse,
there shoulde be an acte established, that no man should drinke
wine: or because otherwhile in running a man taketh a fall, every
man shoulde bee forbid running.
Marke them that breake
horses, they breake them not from their running and comming on loft,
but they will have them to doe it at the time and obedience of the
rider.
The
affections therefore that be cleansed and tried by temperance are
assistant to vertue, as anger+, that
helpeth manlinesse: hatred against the wicked helpeth justice, and
likewise the other vertues are aided by affections, which
<555>
CASTIGLIONE in case they were
clean taken away, they woulde leave reason very feeble and faint, so
that it shoulde litle prevaile, like a shipmaister that is without
winde in a great calme. { Aristotle+} Marvell ye not then
(my Lorde Cesar) if I have saide, that of temperance arise many
other vertues: for when a minde is in tune with this harmony, {Belmont+} by the meane of reason he easily
received afterwarde true manlinesse, which maketh him bold and safe
from all daunger, and (in a manner) above worldlye passions+. Likewisejustice+ an undefiled virgin,
friende to sober mood and goodnesse, Queene {Cordelia+} of
all other vertues, because she teacheth to doe that which a man
ought to doe, and to shun that a man ought to shunne, and therefore
is the most perfect, because through her the works of the other
vertues are brought to passe, and she is a helpe to him that hath
her both for himselfe and for others: without the which (as it is
commonly saide) Jupiter himselfe could not well governe his kingdom.
Stoutnesse
of courage+ doth also follow after these, and
maketh them all the greater, but she can not stand alone, because
who so hath not other vertues, can not be of a stout courage.
Of these then wisedom+ is guide, which
consisteth in a certaine judgement to choose well. And in this
happie chaine are aIso lincked liberallitie, sumpteousnesse, the
desire to save a mans estimation, meekenesse, pleasantnesse,
courtesie in talke, and many other which is now no time to speake
of. {virtues_list} But in case our Courtier will doe as we have
saide, he shall finde them all in his Princes minde: and dayly he
shall see spring such beautifull floures and fruites, as all the
delicious gardens in the world have not the like: and he shall feele
very great contentation within himself, when he remembreth that he
hath given him, not ye things which foolish persons give, which is,
golde, or silver, plate, garments+, and
such matters, whereof he that giveth them hath himselfe very great
scarcitie, and he that receiveth them
<556>
THE COURTIER exceeding great
store: but that vertue, which perhaps among all the matters that
belong unto man is the chiefest and rarest, that is to say, the
manner and way to rule and to raigne in the right kinde. Which alone
were sulficient to make men happie, and to bring once againe into
the world the golden_age+, which is written to have beene
when Saturnus raigned in the olde time.
Here, when the Lord
Octavian had paused a litle as though he woulde have taken respite,
the Lorde Gaspar saide: which reckon you (my Lord Octavian) the
happiest government and that were most to purpose to bring into the
world againe that golden age which you have made mention of, either
the raigne of so good a Prince, or the government of so good a
common weale? The Lorde Octavian answered, I woulde alwaies preferre
the raigne of a good Prince, because it is a good governement more
agreeable to nature, and if it bee lawfull to compare small matters
with infinite, more like unto Gods, which one and alone governeth
the universall. {Monarchy+} But leaving this, ye see that in
whatsoever is broght to passe with the pollicie of man, as armies,
great sayling vessels, buildinges and other like matters, the whole
is committed to one alone, to dispose thereof at his will.
Likewise in our bodie
all the members {body_members+} travaile and are occupied as
the hart thinketh good. Beside this, it seemeth meete that people
should as well bee governed by one Prince, as many other living
creatures bee, whom nature teacheth this obedience, as a most
soveraigne matter.
Marke ye whether Deere, Cranes, and many other foules.
when they take their
flight doe not alwaies set a Prince before, whom they follow and
obey. And Bees+ (as it were) with discourse of
reason, and with such reverence honour their King, as the most
obedientest people in the world can do.
And therefore all this
is a verie great argument that the soveraigntie of a Prince is more
according to nature, than a common_weales+.
Then maister Peter
Bembo: and me thinke (quoth he)
<557>
CASTIGLIONE that since God
hath given libertie+ for a soveraigne gift,
it is not reason that it should be taken from us: nor that one man
should be partner of it more than another, which happeneth under the
rule of Princes, who for the most part keepe their people in most
straight bondage. But in common weales wel in order this libertie is
well kept.
Beside
that, both in judgements and in advisements it happeneth oftener
that the opinion of one alone is false, than the opinion of many,
because troublous affection either through anger+, or
through spite, or through lust+, sooner
entreth into the minde of one alone than into the multitudes, which
(in a manner) like a great quantitie of water, is less subject to
corruption, than a small deale.
I say againe, that the
example of the beastes and foules doth not make to purpose, for both
Deere and Cranes and the rest doe not alwaies set one and the selfe
formost for them to follow and obey, but they stil change and varie,
giving this preferment sometime to one, otherwhile to another, and
in this manner it becommeth rather the forme of a common weale, than
of a kingdom, and this may be called a true and equall libertie,
when they that sometime Command, obey againe an otherwhile.
The example likewise
of the Bees+ (me thinke) is not alike, because
that king of theirs is not of their owne kinde: And therefore he
that will give unto men a worthy head in deede, must bee faine to
finde him of another kind, and of a more noble nature than mans, if
men (of reason) shoulde obey him, as flockes and heardes of cattell
that obey, not a beast their like, but a shepeheard and a heardman,
which is a man and of a more worthic kinde, than theirs.
For these respects, I
think (my Lord Octavian) the government of a common weale is more to
be coveted, than of a king.
Then the Lord
Octavian, against your opinion, maister Peter (quoth he) I will
alleage but one reason: which is, that of waies to rule people well,
there be onely three
<558>
THE COURTIER kindes. The one a
kingdome. The other, the rule of god men, which they of olde time
called Optimates. The third, the government of the people.
And the transgressing
(to terme it so) and contrarie vice that every one of these is
changed into being appaired and corrupted, is when the kingdome
becommeth a Tyranny+: and when the governance of good
men is chaunged into the handes of a few great men and not good: and
when the rule of the people is at the disposition of the communalty,
which making a meddlie of the orders, suffereth the governance of
the whole at the will of the multitude. { Plato+} Of
these three ill governments (it is sure) the tyranny is the worst of
all, as it may be proved by many reasons. It followeth then, that of
the three good, the kingdom is the best, because it is contrarie to
the worst, for (as you know) the effects of contrarie causes, they
be also contrarie among themselves.
Now as touching it,
that you have spoken of libertie, I answere, that true libertie+ ought not to be saide, to live as
a man will, but to live according to good lawes. And to obey is no
lesse naturall, profitabre and necessary, than to command. And some
thinges are borne and so appointed and ordained by nature to
command, as some other to obeysance.
Truth it is, that
there bee two kinds of bearing rule, the one Lordly and forcible, as
maisters over slaves, {
Prospero+} and in this doth the
soule command the bodie. The other more milde and tractable, as good
Princes by way of the lawes over their subjectes, and in this reason
commandeth greedy desire. And eche of these two waies is profitable:
because the bodie is created of nature apt to obey the soule, and so
is desire, reason.
There be also many men whose doinges bee applyed onely about the use
of the bodie: and such as these bee are so farre wide from the
vertues, as the soule from the bodie, and yet because they be
reasonable creatures, they be so
<559>
CASTIGLIONE much partners of
reason, as they doe no more but know it, for they possesse it not,
ne yet have they the use of it.
These therefore be
naturally bondmen, and better it is for them, and more profitable to
obey, than to beare sway. {slavery+} Then
saide the Lord Gaspar: In what manner wise be they then to bee
commanded that be discret and vertuous, and not by nature bound? The
Lorde Octavian answeared: With that tractable commaundement kingly
and civill. And to such it is well done otherwhile to committe the
bearing of such offices as be meete for them, that they may likewise
beare sway and rule over others of lesse wit than they bee, yet so
that the principall governement may full and wholy depend upon the
chiefe Prince.
And
because you have said, that it is an easier matter to corrupt the
mind of one, then of a great sort, I say, that it is also an easier
matter to find one good and wise, than a great sort. Both good and
wise ought a man to suppose a king may be of a noble progeny,
inclined to vertue of hys owne naturall motion, and through the
famous memorie of his auncestors+,
and brought up in right good conditions.
And though he be not
of an other kinde than man, as you have saide is among the Bees, yet
if he be helped forwarde, with the instructions, bringing up, and
arte of the Courtier, whom these Lordes have fashioned so wise and
good, he shall bee most wise, most continent, most temperate, most
manly, and most just, full of liberallitie, majestie, holinesse, and
mercy: finally, hee shall be most glorious and most dearely beloved
to God and man: through whose grace hee shall attaine unto that
heroicall and noble vertue, that shall make him passe the boundes of
the nature of man, and shall rather be called a demy God, than a man
mortall. {virtues_list} For God deliteth in and is the defender not
of those Princes that will follow and counterfeit him in shewing
great power, and make themselves to be worshipped of men, but of
such as beside power, whereby they are mightie, endevour themselves
to resemble him also in
<560>
THE COURTIER goodnesse and
wisedom, wherby they may have a will and a knowledge to doe well and
to bee his ministers, {Hamlet+} distributing for the behoufe of
man the benefits and gifts that they receive of him.
Therefore even as in
the firmament the sunne and the moone and the other starres shew to
the worlde (as it were) in a glasse, a certaine likenesse of God: So
upon the earth a much more liker image of God are those good Princes
that love and worship him, and shew unto the people the cleare light
of his justice, accompanied with a shadow of the heavenly reason and
understanding.
And
such as these he doth God make partners of his true dealing,
righteousnesse, justice and goodnesse, and of those other happie
benefits which I can not name, that disclose unto the worlde a much
more evident proofe of the Godhead, than doth the light of the
sunne, or the continuall turning of the firmament with the sundrie
course of the starres. {divine_right+}
It is God therefore that hath appointed the people under the custody
of princes, which ought to have a diligent care over them, that they
may make him account of it, as good stewardes doe their Lorde, and
love them, and thinke their owne, all the profit and losse that
happeneth to them, and principally above all things provide for
their good estate and welfare. { burden+}
Therfore ought the prince not onely to be good, but also to make
others good, like the Carpenters square, that is not onely straight
and just it selfe, but also maketh straight and just whatsoever it
is occupied about.
And the greatest proofe that the Prince is good, is when the people
are good: because the life of the prince is a law and ringleader of
Citizens, and upon the conditions of him must needes all others
depend: neither is it meete for one that is ignorant, to teach: nor
for him that is out of order, to give order: nor for him that
falleth, to helpe up an other. { burden+}
Therefore if the Prince will execute these offices aright,
<561>
CASTIGLIONE it is requisite
that hee apply all his studie and diligence to get knowledge,
afterwarde to fashion within hirnselfe and observe unchangeably in
every thing the law of reason, not written in papers or in mettall,
but graven in his owne minde, that it may be to him alwaies not
onely familiar, but inwarde, and live with him as a parcell of him:
to the intent it may night and day, in every time and place,
admonish him, and speake to him within his hart, ridding him of
those troublous affections that untemperate mindes feele, which
because on the one side they be (as it were) cast into a most deepe
sleepe of ignorance, on the other overwhelmed with the unquietnesse
which they feele through their wayward and blinde desires, they are
stirred with an unquiet rage, as he that sleepeth otherwhile with
straunge and horrible visions.
Heaping then a great
power upon their naughtie desire, there is heaped also a great
trouble withall. And when the Prince can doe what he will, then is
it great jeopardie lest hee will the thing that he ought not.
Therefore said Bias
well, that promotions declare what men be: for even as vessels while
they are empty, though they have some chincke in them it can ill bee
perceived, but if they be filled with licour, they shew by and by on
what side the fault is, so corrupted and ill disposed mindes seldom
discover their vices, but when they be filled with authoritie. For
then they are not able to carrie the heavie burden+ of
power, but forsake themselves, and scatter on every side greedy
desire, pride, wrath, solemnesse, and such tyrannicall+
fashions as they have within them.
Whereupon without
regard they persecute the good and wise, and promote the wicked. And
they can not abide to have friendship, assemblies and conferences
among Citizens in Cities. But maintainespies+, {Claudius+} promoters, murtherers and
cutthroates to put men in feare and make them to become faint
harted. And they sow debate and strife to keepe them in division and
weake.
And of
these manners insue infinite damages and the
<562>
THE COURTIER utter undoing of
the poore people, and oftentimes cruel slaughter, or at the least
continuall feare to the Tyrants+
themselves. For good Princes feare not for themselves, but for their
sakes whome they rule over: and Tyrants feare very them whom they
rule over.
Therefor the more number of people they rule over, and the mightier
they are, the more is their feare, and the more enimies they have.
How fearefull
(thinke ye) and of what unquiet minde was Clearcus Tiranne of Pontus
every time he went into the market place, or into the theater, or to
any banket, or other haunted place? For (as it is written) hee slept
shut into a chest. Or Aristodemus of Argos, which of his bed had
made to himselfe a prison (or litle better) for in his pallace hee
had a litle roome hanging in the aire, and so high that hee should
climbe to it with a ladder, and there slept hee with a woman of his,
whose mother overnight tooke away the ladder, and in the morning set
it to againe.
Cleane contrarie to this therefore ought the life of a good Prince
to bee free and safe and as deare to his subjects as their owne: and
so framed, that he may have a part of both the doing and beholding
life, as much as shall be behoveful for the benefit of the people.
{affable+} Then the Lorde Gaspar: And which
of the two lives, my Lorde Octavian (quoth he) doe you thinke most
meete for a Prince? The Lorde Octavian answered snyling: ye thinke
perhaps that I stand in mine owne conceite to be the excellent
courtier that ought to know so many matters, and to apply them to
the good end I have spoken of. But remember your selfe, that these
Lordes have fashioned him with many qualities that be not in me:
therefore let us first doe our best to finde him out, for I remit me
to him both in this and in all other thinges that belong to a good
Prince.
Then the
Lorde Gaspar: I thinke (quoth he) that if any of the qualities given
the Courtier want in you, it is rather musicke and daunsing and the
rest of small account,
<563>
CASTIGLIONE than such as
belong to the instructing of a prince, and to this end of
Courtlinesse.
The
Lord Octavian answered: They are not of small account all of them
that helpe to purchase a man the favour of a prince, which is
necessarie (as wee have saide) before the Courtier aventure to teach
him vertue, the which (I trow) I have shewed you may bee learned,
and profiteth as much as ignorance hurteth, whereof spring all
vices, and especially that false liking a man hath of himselfe.
Therefore (in mine opinion) I have sufficiently saide, and perhaps
more than my promise was.
Then the Dutchesse,
wee shall bee so much the more bound (quoth she) to your
gentlenesse, as ye shall satisfie us more than promise. Therfore
sticke not to speak your fansie concerning the Lord Gaspars request.
And of good felowship+ shew us beside whatsoever you
would teach your Prince, if he had neede of instructions.
And set the case that
you have throughly gotten his favour, so as it may be lawful for you
to tell him frankly what ever commeth in your minde.
The L. Octavian
laughed and saide: If I had the favour of some Prince that I know,
and should tell him franckly mine opinion (I doubt me) I shoulde
soone loose it: Beside that, to teach him, I shoulde neede first to
learne my selfe. Notwithstanding, since it is your pleasure that I
shall answere the Lorde Gaspar in this point also, I say, that (in
my minde) princes ought to give themselves both to the one and the
other of the two lives, but yet somewhat more to the beholding:
Because this in them is devided into two partes, whereof the one
consisteth in knowing well and judging: the other in commanding
aright, and in such wise as it shoulde be done, and reasonable
matters, and such as they have authoritie in, commanding them to
him, that of reason ought to obey, and in time and place
accordingly.
And
of this spake Duke Fredericke, when he saide, He that can command,
is alwaies obeyed. And to commande is evermore the principall office
of princes,
<564>
THE COURTIER which
notwithstanding ought many times also to see with their eyes, and to
be present at the deede doing, and according to e time and the
businesse otherwhile also be doing them ves, and yet hath all this a
part with action+ or practise+.
But the end of
the active_or_doing_life+ ought to be the
beholding, as of war, peace, and of paines, rest. Therefore is it
also the office of a good Prince so to trade his people and with
such lawes and statutes, that they may live in rest and in peace,
without daunger and with increase of wealth, and injoy peaceably
this ende of their practises and actions, which ought to be
quietnesse. Because there have beene oftentimes many common weales
and Princes, that in warre were alwaies most florishing and mightie,
and immediately after they have had peace, fell in decay and lost
their puissance and brightnesse, like iron unoccupied. And this came
of nothing els, but because they had no good trade of living in
peace, nor the knowledge to injoy the benefit of ease.
And it is not a matter
lawful to be alwaies in war, without seeking at the ende to come to
a peace: although some Princes suppose that their drift ought
principally to be, to bring in subjection their borders, and
therefore to traine up their people in a warlike wildenesse of
spoile and murther, and such matters: they wage them to exercise it,
and call it vertue.
Whereupon in the olde
time it was an usage among the Scythes, that who so had not slaine
one enimie of his, coulde not drinke in solemne bankets of the
goblet that was carried about to his companions.
In other places the
manner was to reare about ones sepulture so many Obeliskes, as he
that lay there buried had slaine of his enimies. And all these
thinges and many moe, were invented to make men warlike, onely to
bring others in subjection, which was a matter (almost) unpossible,
because it is an infinite peece of worke, untill all the worlde be
brought under obeysance: and not very reason-
<565>
CASTIGLIONE able, according to
the law of nature which will not have, that in others thing shoulde
please us, which in our selves is a griefe to us.
Therefore ought
Princes to make their people warlike, not for a greedie desire to
rule, but to defend themselves the better and their owne people from
who so would attempt to bring them in bondage, or to doe them wrong
in any point: or els to drive out Tyrants, and to governe the people
well that were ill handled. Or els to bring into bondage them that
of nature were such, that they deserved to bee made bondmen, with
intent to governe them well, and to give them ease, rest, and peace.
And to this ende
also ought to be applied ye lawes, and all statutes of justice, in
punishing the ill, not for malice, but because there should be no
ill, and lest they should bee a hindrance to the quiet living of the
good.
Because in
very deede it is an uncomely matter and worthie of blame, that in
warre (which of it selfe is nought) men shoulde shew themselves
stout and wise, and in peace, and rest (which is good) ignorant, and
so blockish that they wist not how to enjoy a benefit.
Even as therefore in
war they ought to bend their people to the profitable and necessarie
vertues to come by the end (which is, peace) so in peace, to come by
the end thereof also (which is, quietnesse) they ought to bend them
to honest vertues, which be the end of the profitable. And in this
wise shall the subjects be good, and the Prince shall have many moe
to commend and to rewarde+, than to chastise. And the rule
both for the subjects and for the prince shalbe most happie, not
Lordly, as the maister over his bondman, but soft and meeke, as a
good father+ over his good childe.
Then the Lorde Gaspar:
gladly (quoth he) woulde I understand what manner vertues these are,
that bee profitable and necessarie in warre, and what honest in
peace.
The Lorde
Octavian answered: All be good and helpe the turne, because they
tend to a good end. Yet chiefly in
<566>
THE COURTIER warre is much set
by that true manlinesse, which maketh the mind voide from
all passions+, so that he not onely feareth not
perils, but passeth not upon them. Likewise stedfastnesse+, and patience+,
abiding with a quiet and untroubled mind all the strokes of fortune+.
It is behovefull
likewise in war and at all other times to have all the vertues that
belong to honestie, as justice, stayednesse, sober mood: but much
more in peace and rest, because oftentimes men in prosperitie and
rest, when favourable Fortune fauneth upon them, waxe unrighteous,
untemperate, and suffer themselves to bee corrupted with pleasures.
Therefore such as
bee in this state have verie greate neede of these vertues, because
rest bringeth ill conditions too soone into mens mindes. In the {peace_corrupts+} to Whereupon arose a
Proverbe in olde time, that Rest is not to bee given to bondmen: And
it is thought that the Pyramides of Egipt were made to keepe the
people occupied, because Unto every man, use to abide paines is most
profitable. There be moreover many other vertues, all helpfull, but
sufficeth for this time to have spoken thus much: for if I could
teach my prince and traine him in this manner and so vertuous a
bringing up (as wee have set forth) in doing it without any more (I
would believe) that I had sufficiently well compassed the ende of a
good Courtier.
Then the Lorde Gaspar, My Lord Octavian (quoth he) because you have
much praysed good bringing up, and seemed (in a manner) to believe
that it is the chiefe cause to make a man vertuous and good, I would
know whether the Courtiers instructing of his prince, ought to
beginne first of use and (as it were) dayly fashions, that unawares
to him may make him to accustome himselfe to well doing: or els
whether he ought to begin it himselfe in opening unto him with
reason the propertie of good and ill, and in making him to perceive
before hee take the matter in hand, which is the good way, and to be
followed: and
<567>
CASTIGLIONE which is the ill,
and to be shunned: finally, whether into the mind of his, the
vertues ought to bee driven and grounded with reason and
understanding first, or with custome.
The Lord Octavian
said: you bring me into overlong a discourse: yet because you shall
not thinke that I will slacke, for that I am not willing to make
answere to your requestes, I say, that like as the soule and the
bodie in us are two thinges, so is the soule devided into two parts:
whereof the one hath in it reason, and the otherappetite+.
Even as therefore in
generation the body goeth before the soule, so doth the unreasonable
part of the soule goe before the reasonable: the which is plainely
to bee discerned in yong babes, who (in a manner) immediatly after
their birth utter anger and fervent appetite, but afterwarde in
processe of time reason appeareth.
Therefore first must
the bodie bee cherished before the soule: after that, the appetite
before reason: but the cherishing of the bodie for a respect to the
soule, and of the appetite for a respect to reason. For, as the
vertue of the minde is made perfect with learning, so is the civill
with custome.
Therefore ought there to be a ground made first with custome+, which may goveme the appetites
not yet apt to conceive reason: and with that good use leade them to
goodnesse: afterwarde settle them with understanding the which
although she be last to shew her light, yet doth she the more
perfectly make the vertues to be injoyed of who so hath his minde
well instructed with manners, wherein (in mine opinion) consisteth
ye whole.
The
Lorde Gaspar saide: Before ye proceede any further, I woulde know
how the bodie should be cherished: because you have saide that we
must cherish it before the soule.
The Lorde Octavian
answered smyling: know of these men that make much of it and are
faire and round, as for mine (as you see) it is not halfe well
cherished. Yet may
<568>
THE COURTIER there also be
much saide in this behalfe: As, the time meete for marriage, that
children be neither too nigh nor too farre off from the fathers age:
Exercises, and bringing up soone after their birth, and in the rest
of their life, to make them handsome, towardly, and lively.
The Lord Gaspar
answered: The thing that woulde best please women to make their
children handsome and wellfavoured (in my minde) were the fellowship
that Plato+ will have of them in his
common weale, and in that wise.
Then the Ladie Emilia
smyling: It is not in the covenant (quoth she) that ye should a
fresh fall to speake ill of women. I suppose answered the Lord
Gaspar, that I give them a great prayse, in saying that they shoulde
desire to have a custome brought up, which is alowed of so worthie a
man.
The Lorde
Cesar Conzaga saide laughing: Let us see whether among the Lorde
Octavians lessons (yet I wot not whether hee have spoken all or no)
this may take place: and whether it were well done the Prince should
establish it for a law or no.
The few that I have
spoken, answered the Lord Octavian, may perhaps bee inough to make a
good prince as princes goe now a dayes. Although if a man woulde go
more narrowly to worke in the matter, there were much more for him
yet to say.
Then
said the Dutchesse: Since it costeth us nothing but wordes, shew us
of good fellowship that, that woulde come in your minde to teach
your Prince.
The
Lorde Octavian answered: Many other matters I woulde teach him
(madam) if I knew them my selfe: and among the rest, that hee
shoulde picke out a certaine number o gentlemen among his subjects,
of the noblest and wisest, with whom he shoulde debate all matters,
and give them authoritie and free leave to utter their minde
franckly unto him without respect: and to take such order with them
that they may well perceive, that in every thing he would know the
truth and abhorre lying.
<569>
CASTIGLIONE And beside this
Counsell of the nobilitie, I woulde perswade him to choose out
others among the people of a baser degree, of whom hee should make
an honest substantial Councel, that should debate with the Councel
of the nobilitie the affaires of the Citie, belonging to the common
and private estate. And in this wise should bee made, of the Prince,
as of the heade, of the nobilitie and commons, {Parliament+} as
of the members, one bodie alone knitte together, the governance
whereof should chiefly depend upon the Prince, yet should the rest
beare a stroke also in it: and so should this state have the forme
and manner of the three good governments, which is, a kingdom, men
of the best sorte, and the people.
Afterwarde I woulde
shew him, that of cares belonging to a Prince, the chiefest is
of justice+ for maintenance whereof wise and
well.tryed men shoulde bee chosen out for officers, whose wisedom
were very wisedome in deed, accompanied with goodnesse, for els is
it no wisedom, but craft. And where there is a want of this
goodnesse, alwaies the arte and subtiltie of Lawiers+ is
nothing els but the utter decay and destruction of the lawes and
judgements: and the fault of every offence of theirs is to bee laide
in him that put them in office.
I woulde tell him how
that of justice also dependeth the zeale toward God, which belongeth
unto all men, and especially to Princes, who ought to love him above
all things, and to direct all their doings unto him, as unto the
true end: And (as Xenophon saith) to honour and love him alwaies,
but much more in prosperitie, because they may afterwarde lawfully
with a more confidence call to him for assistance when they be in
any adversitie: for it is not possible to governe either himselfe or
others well, without the help of God, who unto the good sendeth
otherwhile good fortune+ for his minister, to helpe them
out of great dangers, sometime adversitie, lest they shoulde slumber
so much in prosperitie, that they might happen to forget him, or the
wisedom of man, which many times redresseth
<570>
THE COUIRTIER ill fortune, as a good player the ill chaunces of the
dice, with cunning play at tables.
I would not forget
also to put the Prince in minde to be devoute in deede, not superstitious+, nor given to the vanitie of
ignorance and prophecies: for in case hee have accompanied with the
wisedom of man, a godly zeale of true religion, he shall also have
goodlucke+, and God his defendor, who will
alwaies increase his prosperitie both in peace and war.
Beside, I would
declare unto him how he should love his Countrie and his people,
keeping them not in too much bondage for being hated of them,
whereof arise seditions, conspiracies, and a thousand mischiefes
beside: nor yet in too much libertie, least he bee set at nought,
whereof proceedeth the licentious and riotous living of the people,
{Measure_for_Measure+} theft, roberie and
murther without anie feare of lawes, oftentimes the decay and utter
destruction of Cities and kingdomes.
Moreover how he should
love them that bee nighest to him, from one degree to another,
observing among them all in certaine matters a like equalitie, as in
justice, and liberallitie, and in some matters a reasonable
partialitie, as in being liberall, in recompensing, in bestowing
promotions and honours according to the unequalnesse of deserts,
which ought not alwaies to exceede, but to bee exceeded with
recompences. { ring+} And that in thus doing hee
should not onely not be beloved, but (in a manner) worshipped of his
subjects, neither shoulde he neede to commit the guarde of his
person to straungers, for his owne ( for the better safegard and
profitte of themselves) would guarde him in their owne person: and
each man woulde willingly obey the lawes, when they should see him
to obey them himselfe, {example+} and be (as it were) an
uncorrupted keeper and minister of them.
And so shall he make
all men to conceive such an assured confidence of him, that if he
should happen otherwhile to goe beyond them in anie point, every one
woulde know it
<571>
CASTIGLIONE were done for a
good intent: the selfe same respect and reverence they woulde have
to his will, as they have to the lawes. And thus should the Citizens
mindes bee tempered in such sorte, that the good would not seeke for
more than is requisite, and the bad shoulde not bee able.
Because many times
aboundance of wealth is cause of great destruction, as in poore
Italy, which hath been and still is, a pray and bootie in the teeth
of straunge nations, as well for the ill government, as for the
aboundance of riches that is in it.
Therefore the best way
were, to have the greater part of the Citizens, neither verie
wealthie, nor verye poore: because the overwealthie many time waxe
stiffe necked and recklesse, the poore, desperate and picking. But
the meane sorte lye not in waite for others, and live with a quiet
mind that none lye in waite for them. And where this meane sorte are
the greater number, they are withall the mightier. And therfore
neither the poore nor rich can worke any conspiracie against the
Prince, or against others, nor move, sedition.
Wherefore to avoide
this evill, the most surest way is universally to maintaine a meane.
I woulde counsell
him therefore to use these and many other remedies for the purpose,
that in the minde of the subjects there spring not a longing after
new matters and alteration of state, which most commonly they doe,
either for gaine, or els for promotion that they hope upon, or for
losse, or els for some toile that they be afearde of. And these
sturres in their mindes be engendred sometime of hatred and despite
that maketh them desperate for the wronges and unshamefull dealing
that they receive through the covetousnesse, pride and crueltie, or
unlawfull lust of the higher powers: otherwhile of a contempt and
litle regarde that ariseth in them through negligence and ill
handling and lacke of foresight in Princes.
And these two faults
must be prevented with purchasing him the love of the people, and
authority, which is done
<572>
THE COURTIER in rewarding+ and prompting the good, and in
flnding wisely a remedie, and sometime with rigour, that the evill
and seditions waxe not great: the which thing is easier to be
stopped before they come to it, than to plucke them down againe
after they are once on loft.
And I would say, to
restraine the people from running into those inconveniences, there
is no better way than to keepe them from ill customes, and
especially such as be put in use, and creepe in unawares by litle
and litle, because they be secrete infections that corrupt cities
before a man can not onely remedie them, but spye them out.
With such meanes I
would counsel the Prince to doe his best to preserve his subjects in
quiet estate, and to give them the goods of the mind, and of the
bodie, and of fortune: but them of the bodie and of fortune, that
they exercise them of the minde: which the greater and plentier they
be, so much the more profitable be they: that happeneth not in them
of the bodie, nor of fortune.
In case therefore the
subjects be good and of worthinesse, and well bent to the end of
happinesse, that prince shall be a verie great Lorde: for that is a
true and a great government, under the which the subjects be good,
well ruled, and well commanded.
Then the Lord Gaspar,
I suppose (quoth hee) that he should be but a small Lorde, under
whom the subjectes were all good. For in every place there be few
good.
The Lorde
Octavian answered: In case some certain Circe should turn into wilde
beastes all the French kings subjects, woulde not you thinke him a
small Lord for all he raigned over so many thousand beastes? And
contrariwise, if onely the Cattel that scatter abroad feeding about
our mountaines here, might become wise men, and valiant gentlemen,
woulde not you thinke that ye heardmen that shoulde governe them and
have them obedient to them, of heardmen were become great Lords.
You may see then, that
not the multitude of subjectes, but the worthinesse of them maketh
princes great.
<573>
CASTIGLIONE The Dutchesse, the
Ladie Emilia, and all the rest gave verv diligent care to the L.
Octavians talke for a good while together, but after hee had here
made a litle stoppe, as though hee had made an end of his talke, the
Lorde Cesar Conzaga said.
Certesse (my Lord
Octavian) it can not be saide, but your lessons be good and
profitable: yet should I believe, that if yee instructed your Prince
with them, yee deserve rather the name of a good scholemaister than
of a good Courtier: and hee of a good governour rather than of a
good Prince.
Yet
my meaning is not, but that the care of Princes should be to have
their people well ruled with justice and good usages,
notwithstanding it may be sufficient for them (in my minde) to
choose out good ministers to execute these kinde of matters, but the
verie office of them is farre higher.
Therfore if I thought
my selfe to be the excellent courtier that these Lordes have
fashioned, and in my Princes favour, without peradventure I would
never encline him to any vitious matter: but to attaine unto the
good end you speake of, and the which I confirme ought to be the
fruite of the Courtiers travailes and doinges, I would endevour to
put into his heade a certaine greatnesse, with that princely
sumptuousnesse and readinesse of courage, and unconquered prowesse
in armes, that should make him beloved and reverenced of all men, in
such wise, that for this in especiall he should be famous and
notable to the world.
I would shew him also,
that hee ought to accompany with his greatnesse, a familiar gentle
behavior, with a soft and lovely kindnesse, and good cast to make
much of his subjects and straungers discreetly more and lesse
according to their deserts, observing alwaies notwithstanding the
majestie meete for his degree, that shoulde not in any point suffer
him to diminish his authoritie through overmuch abasing, nor yet
purchase him hatred through overmuch ngorousnesse.
<574>
THE COURTIER That hee ought to
be full of liberality and sumptuous, and give unto every man without
stint, for God (as they say) is the treasurer of freeharted Princes:
make gorgeous banquets, feastes, games, people pleasing shewes,
keepe a great number of faire horses for profit in warre, and for
pleasure in peace: Haukes, houndes, and all other matters that
belong to the contentation of great Princes and the people. As in
our dayes we have seene the Lorde Francis Conzaga marquesse
of Mantua+ do, which in these things
seemeth rather king of all Italy, than Lord over one Citie.
I would assay also to
bring him to make great buildings both for his honour in life, and
to give a memorie of him to his posteritie+, as
did duke Fredericke in this noble pallace, and now doeth Pope July
in the temple of Saint Peter, and the way that goeth from the
pallace to his house of pleasure Belvedere, and many other
buildings, as also the old auncient Romanes did, whereof so many
remnants are to be seene about Rome, Naples, Pozzolo, Baie, Civita
vecchia, Porto, and also out of Italy, and so many other places,
which be a great witnesse of the prowesse of those divine courages.
{Romolatry+} So did Alexander the reat in
like manner, which not satisfied with the fame that he got him
worthily for subduing the worlde with martiall prowesse, built
Alexandria in Egypt, Bucephalia in India, and other Cities in other
Countries: and entended to bring the mountaine Athos into the shape
of a man, and in the left hand of him to builde a very large Citie,
and in the right a great bolle, into the which should gather all the
rivers that ranne from it, and thence should fall downe towarde the
sea, a purpose in very deed princely and meete for the great
Alexander.
These
thinges (thinke I) my Lord Octavian, become a noble and a right
Prince, and shall make him both in peace and warre most triumphant,
and not put him in the head of such particular and small matters,
and have a respect to take weapon in hand onely to conquere and
vanquish such as deserve to be conquered, or to profit his subjects
<575>
CASTIGLIONE withall, or to
dispossesse them that governe not as they ought.
For in case that the
Romanes, Alexander, Hannibal and the rest had had these respects,
they shoulde never have reached to the toppe of the glory they did.
The Lorde Octavian
answered them smiling: such as had not these respects should have
done the better in case they had had them: although if ye consider
well, ye shall finde that many had them: especially those
auncientest of olde time, as Theseus and Hercules.
And thinke not that
Procustes, Scyron, Caccus, Diomides, Antheus, and Gerion were any
other than cruell and wicked tyrants, against whom these noble
couraged Demigods kept continuall and mortall warre.
And therefore for
ridding the world of such intollerable monsters (for tyrants+ ought not to bee called by other
name) unto Hercules were made temples, and sacrifices, and goodly
honours given him, because the benefit to roote up tyrants is so
profitable to the worlde, that who so doth it, deserveth a farre
greater rewarde, than whatsoever is meete for a mortall man.
And of them you have
named. Doe you not thinke that Alexander did profitte with his
victories the vanquished? since he so traded those barbarous Nations
which hee overcame with such good manners, that of wilde beastes he
made them men? He built many beautifull Cities in Countries ill
inhabited, planting therein civil kinde of living, and (as it were)
coupled Asia and Europe together wil the bond of amitie and holy
lawes, so that the vanquished by him were more happie than the rest.
Because among some
hee brought in matrimonie: among other, husbandrie: among other,
Religion: among other, not to slay, but to make much of their
parents in their old age: among other. the refraining from bedding
with their mothers, and a thousand other matters, that might be
saide for a witnesse of the profit which his victories brought unto
the world.
<576>
THE COURTIER But leaving aside
them of olde time, what enterprise were more noble, more glorious,
and also more profflable, than if Christians would bende their force
to conquere the infidels+: would you not thinke that this
war prosperously atchieved, and being the cause of so many a
thousand to be brought from the false sect of Mahumet+ to the
light of the Christian truth, it should be a proflt as well to the
vanquished, as to the subduers? And undoubtedly, as Themistocles in
times past being banished out of his countrie, and embraced of the
king of Persia, and much made of, and honoured with infinite and
most rich gifts, said unto his traine: Oh sirs, we had beene undone,
had wee not beene undone, even so might then the Turkes and the
Moores speak the verie same with good cause, for that in their losse
should consist their welfare.
This happinesse
therefore (I hope) we shall come to the sight of, if God graunt so
long life to Monseigneur d'Angoulesme, that he may come to ye croune
of Fraunce, who sheweth such a hope of himselfe, as foure nights
agoe the Lorde Julian spake of. And to the crowne of England the
Lorde Henry+ prince of Wales, who presently
groweth under his most noble father, in all kind of vertue, like a
tender Impe under the shadow of an excellent tree, and laden with
fruite to renue him much more beautifull and plenteous when the time
shall come.
For as
our Castilio writeth from thence,/39 and promiseth at his returne to
tell us more at the full, a man can judge no lesse, but that nature
was willing in this prince to shew her cunning, in one bodie alone
so many excellent vertues, as were sufficient to decke out infinit.
Then saide maister
Bernard Bibiena: A very great hope of himselfe promiseth also the
Lord Charles prince of Spaine, who not yet fully ten yeares of age,
declareth now such a wit, and so certaine tokens of gooodnesse,
wisedom, modestie, noble courage and of every vertue, that if the
Empire of Christendom (as it is thought) come to his handes, it is
to be reckened upon, that hee will darken the
<577>
CASTIGLIONE name of many
Emperors of olde time, and in renowne be compared to the most famous
that ever were in the world.
The Lorde Octavian
proceeded, I believe therefore that God hath sent such and so
heavenly Princes upon the earth, and made them one like another in
youth, in mightinesse of armes, in state, in handsomnesse and
disposition of person, that they may also bee minded alike in this
good purpose: and in case any manner envie or strife of matching
others arise at anye time among them, it shall be, who shall be the
first, and most enclined and most couragious in so glorious an
enterprise.
But
let us leave this kind of talke, and returne unto our owne. Unto you
therefore (my Lord Cesar) I say, that such thinges as you would have
the Prince to doe, be very great and worthie much praise. But you
must understand that if hee be not skilfull in that I have saide hee
ought to have a knowledg in, and have not framed his minde in this
wise, and bent it to the way of vertue, it shall be hard for him to
have the knowledge to be noble couraged, liberal, just, quicke
spirited, wise, or to have any other of those qualities that belong
unto him: nefther woulde I have him to be such a one for any other
thing, but to have the understanding to put in use these conditions.
For as they that
builde bee not all good workemen: so they that give+, be not
all liberall: for vertue never hurteth any man: and many there be,
that lay hand on other mens goods to give, and so are lavish of an
other mans substance.
Some give to them they
ought not, and leave in wretchednesse and misery such as they be
bound to. Other give with a certaine ill will, and (as it were) with
a despite, so that it is knowne they doe it, because they can doe
none other.
Other
doe not onely not keepe it secrete, but they call witnesse of it,
and (in a manner) cause their liberalities to bee cryed. Other
foolishly at a sodaine empty the fountaine of liberalitie, so that
afterwarde they can use it no more. {ring+}
Therefore in this point (as in all other matters) hee must
<578>
THE COURTIER have a knowledge,
and governe himselfe with the wisedom+ that
is a companion unto all the other vertues, which for that they are
in the middle, be nigh unto the two extremities, that be vices. { Aristotle+} Wherefore hee that
hath not knowledge runneth soone into them. For as it is a hard
matter in a circle to find out the pricke in the centre, which is
the middle, so is it hard to find out the pricke of vertue placed in
the middle between two extreeme vices, the one for the overmuch, and
the other for the over litle.
And unto these we are
enclined, sometime to the one, sometime to the other: and this is
knowne by the pleasure and griefe that is felt within us, for
through the one wee doe the thing that we ought not, and through the
other wee leave undone that which we ought to doe: although pleasure
bee much more dangerous, because our judgement is soone led by it to
be corrupted. But because the perseverance how farre a man is wide
from the centre of vertue, is a hard matter, we ought by litle and
litle to draw backe of our selves to the contrary parte of this
extremitie, which wee know we be enclined unto, as they doe, that
make straight crooked staves, for by that means we shall draw nigh
unto vertue, which is placed (as I have saide) in that pricke of
the meane+.
Whereby it commeth
that by many waies we be wide, and by one alone we doe our office+ and duetie+: like
as Archers by one way alone hitte the marke, and by many misse the
pricke. Therefore oftentimes a Prince to be gentle and lowly, doth
many thinges contrarie to comelinesse, and so humbleth himselfe that
he is nought set by.
Some other to shew a
grave majestle with authoritie according, becommeth cruel and
untollerable.
Some
one, to be counted eloquent, entreth into a thousand straunge
matters and long processes, with curious wordes giving eare to him
selfe, so that other men can not for lothsomnesse heare him. {Polonius+} Therefore my (Lord Cesar) doe
you not call a small
<579>
CASTIGLIONE matter any thing
that may better a Prince, how small so ever it be. Nor thinke that I
judge it to bee in the reproofe of my lessons, where you say, that a
good governour might better thus bee formed, than a good Prince.
For perhaps there can
not be a greater praise nor more comely for a Prince, than to call
him a good governour.
Therefore if it should
fall to my lotte to instruct him, he shoulde have a care not onely
to governe the matters alreadie spoken of, but also farre lesser,
and understand in peecemeale whatsoever belongeth to his people, as
much as were possible: and never credit nor trust any officer so
much, as to give him the bridle wholy into his hands, and the
disposing of the whole government. {Prospero+} For
no man is most apt to all things. And much more hurt commeth of the
light beliefe of Princes, than of mistrusting, which otherwhile doth
not onely not hurt, but oftentimes profiteth exceedingly. Yet in
this point a good Judgement is very necessarie in a Prince, to
discerne who deserveth to bee put in trust, and who not.
I would he shoulde
have a care to understand the doings, and to bee an overseer of his
officers and ministers.
To breake and to ende
controversies among his subjects.
To take up matters
betweene them, and to knitte them together in allyance by marriage.
To provide so, that the citie may be all Joyned together and
agreeing in amitie+, like a privat house, well
peipled, not poore, quiet, and full of good artificers. To shew
favour to marchant men, and to helpe them also with stockes. To be
liberall and honourable in house keeping toward straungers and
relegious persons. To temper all superfluous matters, because
through the offences committed in these thinges, albeit they appeare
but small, Cities many times fall in decay.
Therefore it is reason
that the Prince set a stint to the over sumptuous buildinges of
private men, banquetings, unmeasurable dowries of women, their
riotous excesse, their pompe in jewels and apparell, which is
nothing els but a token of their follie.
<580>
THE COURTIER For (beside that
through ambition and malice that one of them beareth another, they
many times lavish out their livelode and husbandes substance,
otherwhile for some Pretie jewell or other matter of fancie)
sometime they sell their honestie to him that will buye it.
Then saide maister
Bernard Bibiena smiling: You beginne (my Lord Octavian) to take the
Lord Gaspars and Phrisios parte.
Then the Lord Octavian
answered in like manner, smiling. The controversie is ended, and I
entend not now to renue it. Therefore will I speake no more of
women, but returne to my Prince.
Phrisio answered: You
may now leave him hardly, and bee contented to have him such a one
as you have instructed him. For doubtlesse it were an easier matter
to find out a woman of the qualities the Lorde Julian hath spoken
of, than a prince of the qualities you woulde have in him.
Therefore (I feare me)
he is like the common weale of Plato+, and wee
shall never see such a one, unlesse it bee perhaps in heaven.
The Lorde Octavian
answered: thinges possible, though they be hard, yet is it to bee
hoped that they may be: therefore may we yet perhaps see him upon
the earth in our time.
For althouah the
heavens be so scant in bringing forth excellent princes, that in so
many hundred yeares wee doe scantly see one, yet may this good lucke
happen to us.
Then
saide Count Lewis: I have a good hope of it. For beside the three
great ones that wee have named, of whom may be hoped it that
belongeth to the high degree of a perfect Prince, there be also now
a daies in Italy certaine Princes children, which although they be
not like to have such power, may hap will supply it with vertue: and
he that among them all declareth a more towardnesse, and promiseth
of him selfe a greater hope than any of the rest (me thinke) is the
L. Fredericke Gonzaga+ sonne and heire
<581>
CASTIGLIONE to the Marquesse
of Mantua+, and Nephew to our Dutchesse here.
For beside the
honest inclination to good nourture, and the discretion that he
declareth in those tender yeares, they that have the bringing up of
him, reporte such wonderous thinges, as touching his being wittie,
desirous of glorie, stoutharted, courteous, freeharted, friendly to
justice, so that of so good a beginning, there can not be looked for
but a very good ende.
Then Phrisio, well, no
more of this (quoth he) we will pray unto God that we may see this
your hope fulfilled.
Here the Lorde
Octavian turning him towarde the Dutchesse, after a sort as though
hee had ended as much as he had to say. You have now heard Madam
(quoth he) what I am able to say of the end of ye Courtier, wherein
though I have not satisfied in all pointes, it shall suffice me yet,
that I have shewed, that some other perfection may be given him
beside the matters which these Lordes have spoken of, who (I
believe) have left out both this and whatsoever I am able to say,
not because they knew it not better than I, but because they were
loth to take the paines.
Therefore will I give
them leave to goe forwarde, if they have anye thing els left behinde
to bee saide.
Then
said the Dutchesse: Beside that it is late (for within a while it
will bee time for us to make an ende for this night) me thinke, we
ought not to mingle any other talke with this, wherein you have
gathered together such sundrie and goodly matters, that concerning
the end of Courtlinesse, it may be saide, that you are not onely the
perfect Courtier whom we seeke for, and able to instruct your Prince
well, but also (if fortune be so favourable on your side) ye may be
the good prince your selfe, which should not be without great profit
to your Countrie.
Then laughed the Lorde Octavian, and said: perhaps (madam) were I in
that estate, it would be with me as it is with many others that can
better say well, than doe well. { deeds+}
<582>
THE COURTIER Here after a
little debating of the matter to and from among the company, with
ceitaine contentions tending to the commendation of that that had
beene spoken, and agreeing on all hands not yet to be bed time, the
Lord Julian saide smyling.
Madam, I am so very an
enimie to craft and guile, that needes must I speake against the
Lord Octavian: who for that hee is (as I much doubt him) a secret
conspiratour with the Lord Gaspar against women, hath overshot him
selfe in committing two errors (in mine opinion) very great: whereof
the one is, that meaning to prefer the Courtier before the
gentlewoman of the pallace, and to make him to passe these bounds,
that she is not able to reach to, he hath also preferred him before
the Prince, which is most unseemely. The other, that he hath given
him such an ende, that it is evermore hard and otherwhile unpossible
for him to come by it: and yet when he doth come by it, he ought not
to have the name of a Courtier.
I can not see, quoth
the Ladie Emilia, how it is hard or unpossible for the Courtier to
come by this his end, nor yet how the Lord Octavian hath preferred
him before the Prince.
Graunt it him not,
answered the Lord Octavian: for I have not preferred ye Courtier
before the Prince. And as touching the end of courtlinesse, I dare
undertake that I am not overseene in any point.
Then answered the
Lorde Julian: You can not say (my L. Octavian) that alwaies the
cause, by the which the effect is such as it is, is no more such as
the effect is. Therefore needes must the Courtier, by whose
instruction the Prince must bee of such an excellencie, bee more
excellent than the Prince, and in this wise shall hee be also of a
more worthinesse than the Prince himselfe, which is most unfitting.
Then concerning
the ende of Courtlinesse, that which you have spoken may follow when
there is litle betweene the age of the Prince and the Courtiers: yet
very hardly,
<583>
CASTIGLIONE for where there is
small difference of age, it is likely there is also small difference
of knowledge. But in case the Prince be olde and the Courtier yong:
it is meete that the olde Prince know more than the yong Courtier,
and where this followeth not alwaies, it followeth sometime, and
then is the end which you have appointed to the Courtier unpossible.
In case againe the
Prince be yong, and the Courtier aged, much adoe shall the Courtier
have to win him the good will of the Prince with those qualities
that you have given him. For (to say the truth) feates of armes and
the other exercises belong unto yong men, and be not comely in age:
and musicke, daunciing, feastings, sportings, and love, be matters
to be laughed at in olde men, and (me thinke) to an instructer of
the life and manners of a Prince, who ought to bee a grave person
and of authoritie, ripe in years and experience, and if it were
possible, a good Philosopher, a good Captaine, and to have the
knowledge almost of every thing, it is most seemely.
Wherfore he that
instructeth a Prince (I believe) ought not to bee called a Courtier,
but deserveth a farre greater and a more honourable name.
Therefore (my Lord
Octavian) pardon me, in case I have opened this your craftie
conveyance, which I thinke my selfe bound to do for the honour cif
my woman, whom Vou would have to bee of lesse worthinesse than this
courtier of yours, and I will none of that.
The L. Octavian
laughed and saide: I more prayse it were for the gentlewoman of the
pallace (my Lorde Julian) to exalt her so much that she may bee
equall with the Courtier, than so much to debase the Courtier that
hee shoulde bee equall with the gentlewoman of the pallace: for it
were not unfit for the woman also to instruct her Ladie, and with
her to draw to the same end of Courtlinesse, which I have said is
meete for the Courtier with his Prince. But you seeke more to
dispraise the Courtier, than to praise the gentlewoman of the
pallace.
<584>
THE C0URTIER Therefore shall
it become me also to take parte with the Courtier. Nowe to make you
aunswere to your objections, you shall understand that I have not
sayde, that the instruction of the Courtier ought to be the only
cause why the Prince should bee such a one, for in case he be not
inclined of nature and apt to be such a one, all diligence and
exhortation of ye Courtier were in vaine. As in like maner every
good husbandman should labor in vaine, that woulde take in hande to
till and sowe wyth good graine the barraine sand of the Sea, because
this barrennesse in that place is naturall. But when to the good
seede in a fruitfull soyle with the temperatenes of ayre and raine
meete for the season of the yere, there is also applied the
diligence of mans husbandinge the grounde, alwayes great aboundaunce
of corne is seene to spring plenteously: yet for all this, is it to
be said that the husbandman alone is the cause of it, although
without hym all the other thinges doe little or nothing helpe the
purpose.
There bee
therefore many Princes, that would bee good in case their minds were
wel tilled, and of them speak I, not of such as be like the barraine
Countrey, and of nature so farre wide from good conditions, that no
teaching were able to frame their mind to a right trade.
And forsomuch as (as
we have already sayde) such customes and properties be ingendred in
us, as our doings are, and vertue consisteth in doing and practise,
it is not unpossible nor any marvel, that the Courtier shoulde
traine his Prince in many vertues, as justice, liberalitie, noble
courage, the practising whereof hee through his greatnesse may
lightly put in use, and make it custome, which the Courtier can not
doe, because he hath no meanes to practise them.
And thus the Prince
inclined to vertue by yo Courtier, may become more vertuous than the
Courtier: beside that, you must conceive that the whetstone which
cutteth not a whit, doth yet make a toole sharpe: therefore although
the Courtier instructeth his Prince, yet (me thinke) it is not to
<585>
CASTIGLIONE be saide that he
is of a more worthinesse than his Prince.
That the ende of this
Courtier is hard, and sometime unpossible, and that when the
Courtier doth come, he ought not to be named a Courtier, but
deserveth a greater name, I tell you plainely, that I deny not this
hardnesse, because it is no lesse hard to find out so excellent a
Courtier, than to come by such an end.
Yet by reason (me
thinke) the unpossiblenesse of the matter lyeth not in the point
that you have alleaged. For in case the Courtier bee so yong that he
hath not understanding in the thing, which he ought to have a
knowledge in, it is not to the purpose to speake of him, because he
is not the Courtier that we entreat upon, neither is it possible for
him that must have a sight in so manye things to be very yong. And
if it happen moreover the Prince to bee so wise and good of
himselfe, that he needeth no exhortations or councell of others
(although it be so hard a matter as every man knoweth) it sufficeth
that the Courtier be such a one, as if his prince had need, he
coulde make him vertuous: and then may he in effect fulfill the
other part, not to suffer him to be deceived, and to worke that
evermore he may understand the truth of every thing, and bolster him
against flatterers+, and railers, and al such as
should endevour to corrupt his minde with honest delights.
And in this wise shall
he yet come by a part of his ende though hee can not practise the
whole.
Which can
not bee justly laide to him for a fault, since he refraineth the
doing of it upon so good a ground. For were an excellent Phisition
in place where al were found and in health, a man ought not
therefore to say, that the Phisition (although he cured no diseased)
wanted of his end.
Wherefore as the Phisitions respect ought to bee the health of men,
even so the Courtiers, the vertue of his Prince: and it sufficeth
them both to have this ende inwardly graft in them, when the want of
uttering it out-
<586>
THE COURTIER wardly in
practise is occasioned by the subject, to the which this end is
directed.
But in
case the Courtier were so olde, that it became him not to bee doing
in musicke, feastings, sportinges, martiall feates, and the other
sleiehts of the bodie, yet can it not be saide notwithstanding, tent
it were unpossible for him to enter that way in favour with his
Prince: for where his age taketh away the practising of those
thiriges, it taketh not away the understanding of them, and if he
have practised them in his youth, it maketh him to have so much the
more perfect judgement in them, and giveth a knowledg to teach them
his Prince so much the more perfectly, as yeares and experience
bring knowledge of all thinges with them.
And thus shall the
aged Courtier, although hee exercise not the qualities that he is
endowed withall, come by his end at length, to instruct well his
prince. And in case you will not call him a Courtier, it shall
nothing offend me: for nature hath not appointed such narrow boundes
to the dignities of men, that one may not come up from one to
another.
Therefore
many times meane souldiers arise to bee Captaines. private men,
Kinges: priests, Popes: and scholers, maisters: and so with their
degree or dignitie, they take their name accordingly, wherefore
perhaps a man may say, that to become the instructer of a Prince,
were the ende of a Courtier, although I perceive not who should
refuse this name of a perfect Courtier, which (in my minde) is
worthie very great praise.
And I can not see but
Homer, as hee fashioned two most excellent personages for example of
mans life, the one in practises, which was Achilles+, the
other in passions and sufferances, which was Ulisses+: even
so in like manner minded to fashion a perfect courtier (which was
Phoenix) who after rehersall of his loves and many other matters of
youth, declareth that he was sent to Achilles by his father Peleus,
to be in his company, and to teach him
<587>
CASTIGLIONE to speake, and to
doe: {deeds+} which is nothing els but the end
that we have appointed for our Courtier.
Neither can I thinke
that Aristotle+ andPlato+ tooke
scorne of the name of a perfect Courtier, because it is plainely to
be seene that they practised the deeds of Courtiership, and gave
themselves to this end, the one with the great Alexander+, the other with the kinges of
Sicilia.
And
because it is the office of a good Courtier to know the nature and
inclination of his Prince, and so according to the businesse, and as
occasion serveth with slightnesse to enter in favour with him (as we
have saide) by those waies that make him a sure entrie, and
afterwarde bend him to vertue. Aristotle so well knew the nature of
Alexander, and with slightnesse framed him selfe so well thereafter
that he was beloved and honoured of him more than a father.
Wherefore among many
other tokens that Alexander shewed him for a witnesse of his good
will, he caused Stagira+ the citie where hee was borne,
once destroyed, to bee builded new againe. And Aristotle, beside the
directing him to that glorious ende, that was to make the world
onely a general countrie, and all men as one people, that should
live in amitie+ and agreement together, under one
government and one law, that like the sunne, should generally give
light to all, hee instructed him in the natural sciences, and in the
vertues of the mind full and wholy, that he made him most wise, most
manly, most continent, and a true morall Philosopher, not in wordes
onely, but in deedes+. {virtues_list} For there can not
be imagined a more noble Philosophie, than to bring to a civill
trade of living such wilde people as were the inhabitants of Bactria
and Caucasus, India, and Scythia, and to teach them matrimony,
husbandrie, to honour their fathers, to abstaine from robbing and
killing, and from other naughtie conditions, and to builde so many
noble cities in strange countries, so that infinite through
<588>
THE COURTIER those lawes were
brought from a wilde life to live like men.
And of these thinges
in Alexander, the author was Aristotle+, in practising the
waies of a good Courtier: the which Calisthenes coulde not do, for
all Aristotle shewed him the way of it, who because he was a right
philosopher, and so sharpe a minister of the bare truth without
mingling it with courtlinesse, hee lost his life and profited not
but rather gave a slaunder to Alexander.
With the very same way
of Courtlinesse Plato framed Dion the Syracusan. But when he met
afterward with Dionysius the tyrant+, like a
booke all full of faultes and errors, and rather needfull to be
cleane blotted out, {tyrannicide+}
than altered or corrected, because it was not possible to scrape out
of him that blot of tyranny wherewithall he was stained so long
together, he would not practise therein the waies of Courtiership,
for he thought they shoulde be all in vaine.
The which our Courtier
ought to doe also, if his chaunce be to serve a prince of so ill a
nature, that by long cus- tome is growne in use with vices, as they
that have the consumption of the lunges with their disease. For in
this case he ought to forsake his service, lest hee beare the blame
of his Lords ill practises, or feele the hartgriefe that all good
men have which serve the wicked.
Here when the Lord
Octavian had made a stay, the Lorde Gaspar saide: I had not thought
our Courtier had beene so worthie a personage. But since Aristotle+ and Plato+ be his
mates, I judge no man ought to disdaine this name any more.
Yet wote I not whether
I may believe that Aristotle and Plato ever daunced, or were
Musitions in all their life time, or practised other feates of
chivalrie.
The
Lorde Octavian answered: almost it is not lawful to thinke that
these two divine wits were not skilful in everything, and therefore
it is to be presupposed, that they practised what ever belonged to
Courtlinesse.
For
where it commeth to purpose, they so penne the
<589>
CASTIGLIONE matter, that the
verie crafts masters themselves know by their writinges, that they
understood the whole, even the pith and innermost roots.
Wherefore to a
Courtier or instructer of a prince (how ever ye lust to terme him)
that tendeth to the good ende which we have spoken of, it is not to
be saide, but that all the good qualities which these Lordes have
given him doe belong, though he were never so grave a Philosopher or
holy in his manners: because they strive not against goodnesse,
discretion, knowledge and will, in all age, and in all time and
place.
Then the
Lorde Gaspar, I remember (quoth he) that these Lordes, yesternight
reasoning of the Courtiers qualities, did allow him to be a lover,
and in making a rehersall of as much as hetherto hath beene spoken,
a man may picke out a conclusion, That the Courtier (which with his
worthinesse and credit must encline his prince to vertue) must in
manner of necessitie bee aged, for knowledge commeth verye seldom
times before yeares, and especially in matters that be learned with
experience: I can not see, when he is well drawne in yeares, how it
will stand well with him to be a lover, considering (as it hath
beene saide the other night) Love frameth not with olde men, and the
trickes that in yong men be galantnesse, courtesie and precisenesse
so acceptable to women, in them are mere follies, and fondnesse to
bee laughed at, and purchase him that useth them hatred of women,
and mockes of others.
Therefore in case this
your Aristotle an olde Courtier were a lover, and practised the
feates that yong lovers doe (as some that we have seene in our
dayes) I feare me, he would forget to teach his Prince: and
peradventure boyes would mocke him behinde his backe, and women
would have none other delight in him, but to make him a jesting
stocke.
Then saide
the Lord Octavian: Since all the other qualities appointed to the
Courtier are meete for him, although
<590>
THE COURTIER hee be olde, Mce
thinke we shoulde not then barre him from his happinesse to love.
Nay rather, quoth
the Lorde Gaspar, to take his love from him, is a perfection over
and above, and making him to live happily out of miserie and
wretchednesse.
Maister Peter Bembo said: remember you not (my Lord Gaspar) that the
Lord Octavian declared the other night in his devise of pastimes,
although he be not skilfull in love, to know yet that there be some
Lovers, which reckon the disdaines, the angers, the debates and
torments which they receive of their Ladies, sweete? Whereupon hee
required to bee taught ye cause of this sweetnesse.
Therefore in case our
Courtier (though he bee olde) were kindled with those loves that bee
sweete without any bitter smacke, he should feele no miserie nor
wretchednesse at all. And being wise, as we set case he is, he
should not be deceived in thinking to be meete for him whatsoever
were meete for yong men.
But in loving should
perhaps love after a sorte, that might not onely bring him in
slaunder, but to much praise an happinesse, without any lothsomnesse
at all, the which very seldom or (in a manner) never happeneth to
yong men: and so should he neither lay aside the teaching of his
Prince, nor yet commit any thing that should deserve the mocking of
boyes.
Then spake
the Dutchesse: I am glad (maister Peter) that you have not beene
much troubled in our reasonings this night, for now we may be the
bolder to give you in charge to speake, and to teach the Courtier
this so happie a love, which bringeth with it neither slaunder, nor
any inconveniencie: for perhaps it shall be one of the necessariest
and profitablest qualities that hetherto hath beene given him,
therefore speake of good felowship as much as you know therein.
Maister Peter laughed
and saide: I would be loath (madam) where I say that it is lawfull
for old men to love, it should be an occasion for these Ladies to
thinke mee
<591>
CASTIGLIONE olde: therefore
hardly give ye this enterprise to an other.
The Dutchesse
answered: you ought not to refuse to be counted old in knowledge,
though ye be yong in yeares.
Therefore say on, and
excuse your selfe no more.
Maister Peter saide:
surely ( madam) if I must entreate upon this matter, I must first
goe aske counsell of my Hermit Lavinello./40 The Ladic Emilia saide
then halfe in anger: There is never a one in all the company so
disobedient as you be (maister Peter) therefore shoulde the
Dutchesse doe well to chastice you somewhat for it.
Maister Peter saide
smiling: for love of God (madam) be not angry with me, for I will
say what ever you will have me. Goe to, say on then, answered the
Ladie Emilia.
Then. maister Peter after a whiles silence, somewhat setling
himselfe as though he should entreat upon a waightie matter, saide
thus: My Lordes, to shew that olde men may love not onely without
slaunder, but otherwhile more hanpily than yong men, I must be
enforced to make a litle discourse to declare what love is, and
wherein consisteth the happinesse that lovers may have. Therfore I
beseech you give the hearing with heedefulnesse, for I hope to make
you understand, that it were not unfitting for anie man here to bee
a lover, in case he were fifteene or twentie yeares elder than M.
Morello.
And here
after they had laughed a while, M. Peter proceeded. I say therefore
that according as it is defined of the wise men of olde time, Love
is nothing else but a certaine coveting to enjoy beautie: and for
somuch as coveting longeth for nothing, but for things known, it is
requisite and that knowledge goe evermore before coveting, which of
his owne nature Willeth the good, but of himselfe is blind, and
knoweth it not. Therefore hath nature so ordained that to every
vertue of knowledge there is annexed a vertue of longing. And
because in our soule there be three manner waiis to know, namely, by
sense, reason,
<592>
THE COURTIER and
understanding: of sense there ariseth appetite or longing, which is
common to us with brute beastes: of reason ariseth election or
choice, which is proper to man: of understanding, by the which man
may be partner with Angels, ariseth will.
Even as therefore the
sense knoweth not but sensible matters, and that which may be felt,
so the appetite or coveting onely deserveth the same: and even as
the understanding is bent but to behold things that may bee
understood, so is that will onely fedde with spirituall goods.
Man of nature indowed
with reason, placed (as it were) in the middle betweene these two
extremities, may through his choice inclining to sense, or reaching
to understanding, come nigh to the coveting sometime of the one,
sometime of the other part.
In these sortes
therefore mav beautie be coveted, the generall name wherfore may be
applyed to all thinges, either naturall or artificiall, that are
framed in good proportion, and due temper, as their nature beareth.
But speaking of
the beautie that we meane, which is onely it, that appeareth in
bodies, and especially in the face of man, and moveth this fervent
coveting which wee call Love, we will terme it an influence of the
heavenly bountifulnesse, the which for all it stretcheth over all
thinges that be created (like the light of the sunne) yet when it
findeth out a face well proportioned, and framed with a certaine
lively agreement of several colours, and set forth with lights and
sladowes, and with an orderly distance and limits of lines,
thereinto it distilleth it selfe and appeareth most welfavored, and
decketh out and lightneth the subject where it shineth with a
marvellous grace and glistering (like the sunne beames that strike
against beautifull plate of fine golde wrought and set with precious
jewels).
So that
it draweth unto it mens eyes with pleasure, and pearcing through
them, imprinteth himselfe in the soule, and with an unwonted
sweetnesse all to stirreth her and
<593>
CASTIGLIONE deliteth, and
setting her on fire maketh her to covet him.
When the soule then is
taken with coveting to enjoy this beautie as a good thing, in case
she suffer her selfe to be guided with the judgement of sense, she
falleth into most deepe errours, and judgeth the bodie in which
beauty is discerned to be the principall cause thereof: whereupon to
enjoy it she reckoneth it necessarie to joine as inwardly as she
can, with that bodie, which is false.
And therfore who so
thinketh in possessing the bodie to enjoy Beautie, he is farre
deceived, and is moved to it, not with true knowledge by the choice
of reason, but with false opinion by the longing of sense. Whereupon
the pleasure that fofloweth it, is also false and of necesitie full
of errors.
And
therefore into one of the two vices runne all those lovers that
satisfie their unhonest lusts with ye women whom they love: For
either as soone as they be come to the coveted ende, they not only
feele a fulnesse and lothsomnesse, but also conceive a hatred
against the wight beloved, as though longing repented him of his
offence, and knowledged the deceite wrought him by the false
judgement of sense, that made him believe the ill to be good: or els
they continue in the very same coveting and greedinesse, as though
they were not in deed come to the end which they sought for. And
albeit throueh the blind opinion that hath made them dronken (to
their seeming) in that instant they feele a contentation, as the
diseased otherwhile, that dreame they drinke of some cleare spring,
yet be they not satisfied, nor leave of so.
And because of
possessing coveted goodnesse, there ariseth alwaies quietnesse and
satisfaction in the possessors minde, in case this were the true and
right ende of their coveting, when they possesse it they would be at
quietnes and throughly satisfied which they be not: but rather
deceived through that likenesse, they forthwith returne again to
unbridled coveting, and with the very same trouble
<594>
THE COURTIER which they felt
at the first, they fall againe into the raging and most burning
thirst of the thing, that they hope in Vaine to possesse perfectly.
These kinde of
lovers therefore love most unluckily, for either they never come by
their covetings, which is a great unluckinesse: or els if they doe
come by them, they come by their hurt, and ende their miseries with
other greater miseries: for both in the beginning and middle of this
love, there is never other thing felt, but afflictions, torments,
griefes, pining, travaile, so that to be wan, vexed with con-
tinuall teares and sighes, to live with a discontented minde, to be
alwaies dumbe, or to lament, to covet death, in conclusion most
unluckie are the properties which (they say) belong to lovers.
The cause therefore of
this wretchednesse in mens mindes, is principally Sense, which in
youthfull age beareth most sway, because the lustinesse of the flesh
and of the bloud, in that season addeth unto him even so much force,
as it withdraweth from reason.
Therefore doth it
easily traine the soule to follow appetite or longing, for when she
seeth her selfe drowned in the earthly prison, because she is set in
the office to governe the bodie. she can not of her selfe understand
plainly at the first the truth of spirituall beholding. Wherefore to
compasse the understanding of thinges, she must goe begge the
beginning at the senses, and therefore she believeth them, and
giveth eare to them, and is contented to be lead by them, especially
when they have so much courage, that (in a manner) they enforce her.
And because they
bee deceitfull, they fill her with errours and false opinions.
Whereupon most commonly it happeneth, that yong men be wrapped in
this sensuall love, which is a very rebel against reason, and
therefore they make themselves unworthie to enjoy the favors
and benefits+ which love bestoweth upon his
true subjects, neither in love feele they any other pleasures, than
what beastes without reason doe, but much more grievous afflictions.
<595>
CASTIGLIONE Setting case
therefore this to be so, which is most true, I say, that the
contrarie chaunceth to them of a more ripe age. For in case they,
when the soule is not now so much wayed downe with the bodily
burden, and when the naturall burninig aswageth and draweth to a
warmth, if they be inflamed with beautie, and to it bend their
coveting, guided by reasonable choice, they bee not deceived, and
possesse beautie perfectly, and therefore through the possessing of
it, alwaies goodnesse ensueth to them: because beautie is good, and
consequently the true love of it is most good and holy, and evermore
bringeth forth good fruites in the soules of them, that with the
rule of raason restraine the ill disposition of sense, the which
olde men can much sooner do than yong.
It is not therefore
out of reason to say, that olde men may also love without slander,
and more happily, than yong men: taking notwithstanding this name
Old, not for the age at the pits brinke, nor when the cannelles of
the bodie be so feeble, that the soule can not through them worke
her feates, but when knowledge in us is in his right streneth.
And I wil not also
hide this from you: namely, that I suppose, where sensuall love in
every age is naught, yet in yong men it deserveth excuse, and
perlhaps in some case lawfull: for although it putteth them in
afflictions, dangers, travels, and the unfortunatnesse that is said,
yet are there many that to winne them the good will of their Ladies
practise vertuous thinges, which for all they be not bent to a good
end, yet are they good of them selves.
And so of that much
bitternesse they picke out a litle sweetnesse, and through the
adversities which they sustaine, in the ende they acknowledge their
errour.
As I judge
therefore, those yong men that bridle their appetites, and love with
reason, to be odly: so doe I hold excused such as yeelde to sensuall
loVe, whereunto they be so enclined through the weakenesse and
frailtie of man: so they show therein meekenes, courtesie, and prow-
<596>
THE COURTIER esse, and the
other worthie conditions that these Lords have spoken of, and when
these youthfull yeares bee gone and past, leave it off cleane,
keeping aloofe from this sensuall coveting as from the lowest step
of the stayres, by the which a man may ascend to true love.
But in case after they
draw in yeares once, they reserve still in their colde hart the fire
of appetites, and bring stoute reason in subjection to feeble sense,
it can not be said how much they are to be blamed: for like men
without sense they deserve with an everlasting shame to be put in
the number of unreasonable living creatures, because the thoughts
and wales of sensuall love bee farre unfitting for ripe age.
Here Bembo paused a
while as though he woulde breath him, and when all thinges were
whist, maister Morello of Ortona saide: And in case there were some
olde man more fresh and lustie and of a better complexion than many
yong men, why would you not have it lawfull for him to love with the
love that yong men love? The Dutchesse laughed and said: If the love
of yong men bee so unluckie, why would you (maister Morello) that
olde men should also love with the unluckinesse? But in case you
were olde (as these men say you bee) you would not thus procure the
hurt of olde men.
Maister Morello answered: the hurt of olde men (me seemeth) maister
Peter Bembo procureth, who will have them to love after a sorte,
that I for my part understand not: and (me think) the possessing of
this beautie which he prayseth so much, without the bodie, is a
dreame.
Doe vou
believe maister Morello, quoth then Count Lewis, that beautie is
alwaies so good a thing as maister Peter Bembo speaketh of? Not I in
good sooth, answered maister Morello: But I remember rather that I
have seene many beautifull women of a most ill inclination, cruell,
and spitefull, and it seemeth that (in a manner) it happeneth
alwaies so, for beautie maketh them proud: and pride, cruel.
<597>
CASTIGLIONE Count Lewis saide
smiling: To you perhaps they seeme cruell, because they content you
not with it, that you would have. But cause maister Peter Bembo to
teach you in what sorte olde men ought to covet beautie, and what to
seeke at their Ladies handes, and what to content themselves
withall: and in not passing out of these boundes, ye shall see that
they shall bee neither proude nor cruel: and will satisfie you with
what you shall require.
Maister Morello seemed
then somewhat out of patience, and saide: I will not know the thing
that toucheth me not.
But cause you to be
taught how the yong men ought to covet this beautie, that are not so
fresh and lustie as old men be.
Here Sir Fredericke to
pacify maister Morello, and to breake their talke, would not suffer
Count Lewis to make answere, but interrupting him, saide.
Perhaps maister
Morello is not altogether out of the way in saying that beautie is
not alwaies good, for the beautie of women is many times cause of
infinite evils in the world, hatred, warre, mortalitie, and
destruction, whereof the rasing of Troye can be a good witnesse. And
beautifull women for the most part bee either proude and cruell (as
is saide) or unchast, but maister Morello would finde no fault with
that.
There be
also many wicked men that have the comlinesse of a beautifull
countenance, and it seemeth nature hath so shaped them, because they
may bee the readier to deceive, and that this amiable looke were
like a baite that covereth the hooke.
Then maister Peter
Bembo, believe not (quoth hee) but beautie is alwaies good. Here
Count Lewis because he would returne againe to his former purpose,
interrupted him and saide.
Since maister Morello
passeth not to understand that, which is so necessarie for him,
teach it me, and shew me how olde men may come by this happinesse of
love, for I will not care to be counted olde, so it may profit me.
<598>
THE COURTIER Maister Peter
Bembo laughed and saide: first will I take the error out of these
gentlemens minde: and afterwarde will I satisfie you also. So
beginning a fresh: My Lordes (quoth hee) I would not that with
speaking ill of beautie, Which is a holy thing, any of us as
prophane and wicked should purchase him the wrath of God. Therefore
to glve maister Morello and Sir Frederick warning, that they lose
not their sight, as Stesichorus did, a paine most meete for who so
dispraiseth beautie. I say that beautie commeth of God, and is like
a circle, the goodnesse whereof is the Centre. And therefore, as
there can be no circle without centre, no more can beautie be
without goodnesse.
Whereupon doth very seldom an ill soule dwell in a beautifull bodie.
And therefore is the outwarde beautie a true signe of the inwarde
goodnesse, and in bodies this comelines is imprinted more and lesse
(as it were) for a marke of the soule, whereby she is outwardly
knowne: as in trees, in which the beautie of the buddes giveth a
testimonie of the goodnesse of the fruite. And the very same
happeneth in bodies, as it is seene, that Palmestrers by the visage
knowe manie times the conditions, and otherwhile the thoughts of
men. And which is more, in beastes also a man may discerne by the
face the qualitie of the courage, which in the body declareth it
selfe as much as it can.
Judge you how plainely
in the face of a Lyon, a horse, and an Eagle, a man shall discerne
anger, fiercenesse, and stoutnesse: in lambes and doves simplenesse
and verie innocencie: the craftie suttletie in foxes and wolves, and
the like (in a manner) in all other living creatures.
The soule therefore
for the most part bee also evil, and ye beautifull good. Therefore
it may be said that beautie is a face pleasant, merrie, comely, and
to be desired for goodnesse: and foulenesse a face darke, uglesome,
unpleasant, and to bee shunned for ill. And in case you will
consider all thinges, ye shall find, that whatsoever is good
<599>
CASTIGLIONE and profitable,
hath also evermore the comelinesse of beautie.
Behold the state of
this great Ingin of the worlde, which God created for the health and
perservation of every thing that was made. The heaven rounde besette
with so many heav&ly lights: and in the middle, the earth
environed with the Elements, and upheld with the waight of it selfe:
the sunne, that compassing about giveth light to the whole, and in
winter season draweth to the lowermost signe, after- warde by litle
and litle climbeth againe to the other part: The moone, that of him
taketh her light, according as she draweth nigh, or goeth farther
from him: And the other five starres, that diverslye keepe the very
same course.
These
thinges among themselves have such force by the knitting together of
an order so necessarily framed, that with altering them any one
jotte, they should be all lowsed, and the world would decay. They
have also such beautie and comelinesse, that all the wits men have,
can not imagin more beautifull matter.
Thinke now of the
shape of man, which may be called a litle world: in whom every
parcell of his bodie is seene to be necessarily framed by arte and
not by happe, and then the forme altogether most beautifull, so that
it were a hard matter to judge, whether the members, as the eyes,
the nose, the mouth, the eares, the armes, ye breast, and in like
manner the other partes, give either more profit to the countenance
and the rest of the bodie, or comelinesse. The like may bee saide of
all other living creatures.
Beholde the feathers
of foules, the leaves and boughes of trees, which be given them of
nature to keepe them in their being, and yet have they withall a
very great slightnesse.
Leave nature, and come
to arte. What thing is so necessarie in sayling vessels, as the fore
part, the sides, the mainyardes, the maste, the sailes, the sterne,
oares, ankers, and tacklinges? All these thinges notwithstanding are
so well favoured in the eye, that unto who so beholdeth them,
<600>
THE COURTIER they seeme to
have beene found out as wel for pleasure, as for profit.
Pillers, and great
beames upholde high buildings and pallaces, and yet are they no
lesse pleasurefull unto the eyes of the beholders, than profitable
to the buildings.
When men began first to builde, in the middle of the temples and
houses, they reared the ridge of the roofe, not to make the workes
to have a better shew, but because the water might the more
commodiously avoide on both sides: yet unto profit there was
forthwith adjoyned a faire sightlinesse, so that if under ye skye
where there falleth neither haile nor raine a man should builde a
Temple without a reared ridge, it is to bee thought, that it coulde
have neither a sightly shew nor any beautie.
Beside other things
therfore it giveth a great praise to the world, in saying that it is
beautifull. It is praysed, in saying, the beautifull heaven,
beautifull earth, beautifull sea, beautifull rivers, beautiful
woodes, trees, gardens, beautifull cities, beautifull churches,
houses, armies. In conclusion this comely and holy beautie is a
wondrous setting out of everie thing. And it may bee saide, that
Good and beautifull be after a sorte one selfe thing, especially in
the bodies of men: of the beautie whereof the nighest cause (I
suppose) is the beautie of the soule: the which as a partner of the
right and heavenly beauty, maketh sightly and beautiful what ever
she toucheth, and most of all, if the bodie, where she dwelleth, be
not of so vile a matter, that she can not imprint in it her
propertie.
Therefore Beautie is the true monument and spoile of the victory of
the soule, when she with heavenly influence beareth rule over
martiall and grosse nature, and with her light overcommeth the
darkenesse of the bodie.
It is not then to bee
spoken that beauty maketh women proude or cruel, although it seeme
so to maister Morello.
Neither yet ought
beautifull women to beare the blame of that hatred, mortalitie, and
destruction, which the unbridled appetites of men are the cause of.
{Adam's_to_blame+}
<601>
CASTIGLIONE I will not now
deny, but it is possible also to finde in the world beautifull women
unchaste, yet not because beautie inclineth them to unchaste living,
for it rather plucketh them from it, and leadeth them into the way
of vertuous conditions, through the affinitie that beautie hath with
goodnesse.
But
otherwhile ill bringing up, the continuall provocations of lovers,
tokens, povertie, hope, deceites, feare, and a thousand othet
matters overcome the stedfastnesse, yea of beautifull and good
women: and for these and like causes may also beautifull men become
wicked.
Then saide
the Lord Cesar: In case the Lord Gaspars saying be true of
yesternight, there is no doubt, but the faire women be more chaste
than the foule.
And what was my saying quoth the Lorde Gaspar? The Lorde Cesar
answered. If I do well beare in mind, your saying was, that the
women that are sued to, alwaies refuse to satisfie him that sueth to
them, but those that are not sued to, sue to others.
There is no doubt but
the beautifull women have alwaies more suters, and be more instantly
laide at in love, than the foule. Therefore the beautifull alwaies
deny, and conSCquently bee more chaste than the foule, which not
being sued to, sue to others.
Maister Peter Bembo
laughed and saide: This argument can not be answered to. Afterwarde
he proceeded. it chanceth also oftentimes, that as to other senses,
so the sight is deceived, and judgeth a face beautifull, which in
deed is not beautifull. And because in the eyes, and in the whole
countenance of some women, a man beholdeth otherwhile a certaine
lavish wantonnesse painted with dishonest flickeringes, many whom
that manner delighteth, because it promiseth them an easinesse to
come by the thing that they covet, call it beautie: but in deede it
is a cloked unshamefastnesse unworthie of so honourable and holy a
name.
Maister
Peter Bembo held his peace, and those Lordes
<602>
THE COURTIER still were
earnest upon him to speake somewhat more of this love, and of the
way to enjoy beautie aright, and at the last.
Me thinke (quoth he) I
have shewed plainly inough, that old men may love more happily than
yong, which was my drift, therefore it becometh not me to enter any
farther.
Count
Lewis answered: You have better declared the unluckinesse of yong
men, than the happinesse of olde men, whom you have not as yet
taught what they must follow in this love of theirs: onely you have
saide, that they must suffer themselves to bee guided by reason, and
the opinion of many is, that it is impossible for love to stand with
reason.
Bembo
notwithstanding sought to make an ende of reasoning, but the
Dutchesse desired him to say on, and he beganne thus a fresh.
Too unluckie were the
nature of man, if our soule (in the which this so fervent coveting
may lightly arise) should bee driven to nourish it with that onely,
which is common to her with beasts, and could not turne it to the
other noble parte, which is proper to her.
Therefore since it is
so your pleasure: I will not refuse to reason upon this noble
matter. And because I know my selfe unworthie to talke of the most
holy mysteries of love, I beseech him to leade my thought and my
tongue so, that I may shew this excellent Courtier how to love
contrary to the wonted manner of the common ignorant sorte.
And even as from my
childhood I have dedicated all my whole life unto him, so also now
that my wordes may bee answerable to the same intent, and to the
praise of him.
I
say therefore, that since the nature of man in youthfull age is so
much enclined to sense, it may be graunted the Courtier, while hee
is yong, to love sensually. But in case afterwarde also in his ripe
yeares, he chaunce to be set on fire with this coveting of love, hee
ought to bee good and circumspect and heedfull, that he beguile not
himselfe, to bee lead willfully into the wretchednesse, that in yong
<603>
CASTIGLIONE men deserveth more
to bee pittied than blamed: and contrariwise in old men, more to be
blamed than pittied.
Therefore when an
amiable countenance of a beautifull woman commeth in his sight, that
is accompanied with noble conditions and honest behaviours, so that
as one practised in love, hee woteth well that his hew hath an
agreement with hers, as soone as hee is aware that his eyes snatch
that image and carrie it to the hart, and that the soUle beginneth
to beholde it with pleasure, and feeleth within her selfe the
influence that stirreth her, and by litle and litle setteth her in
heate, and that those lively spirits, that twinckle out through the
eyes, put continuall fresh nourishment to the fire: hee ought in
this beiginning to seeke a speedy remedie and to raise up reason,
and with her to sense the fortresse of his hart, and to shut in such
wise the passages against sense and appetites, that they may enter
neither with force nor subtil practise.
Thus if the flame bee
quenched, the jeopardie is also quenched. But in case it continue or
encrease, then must the Courtier determine (when he perceiveth hee
is taken) to shunne throughly al filthinesse of common love, and so
enter into the high way of love, with the guide of reason.
And first consider
that the body, where that beautie shineth, is not the fountaine from
whence beautie springeth, but rather because beautie is bodilesse,
and (as wee have saide) an heavenly shining beame, she loseth much
of her honour when she is coupled with that vile subject and full of
corruption, because the lesse she is partner thereof, the more
perfect she is, and clean sundred from it, is most perfect.
And as a man heareth
not with his mouth, nor smelleth with his eares: no more can he also
in any manner wise enjoy beautie, nor satisfie the desire that she
stirreth up in our mindes, with feeling, but with the sense, unto
whom beautie is the very butte to level at: namely, the vertue of
seeing.
Let him
lay aside therefore the blinde judgement of the
<604>
THE COURTIER sense, and enjoy
with his eyes ye brightnesse, the comelinesse, the loving sparkels,
laughters, gestures, and all the other pleasant furnitures of
beautie: especially with hearing the sweetnesse of her voice, the
tunablenesse of her wordes, the melody of her singing and playing on
instruments (in case the woman he loved bee a musitian) and so shall
he with most daintie foode feede the soule through the meanes of
these two senses, which have litle bodily substance in them, and be
the ministers of reason, without entring farther towarde the bodie,
with coveting unto any longing otherwise than honest.
Afterwarde let him
obey, please, and honour with all reverence his woman, and recken
her more deare to him than his owne life, and preferre all her
commodities and pleasures before his owne, and love no lesse in her
the beautie of minde, than of the bodie.
Therefore let him have
a care not to suffer her to run into an errour, but with lessons and
good exhortations seeke alwaies to frame her to modestie, to
temperance, to true honestie, and so to worke that there may never
take place in her other than pure thoughts, and farre wide from all
filthinesse of vices. And thus in sowing of vertue in the garden of
that minde, he shall also gather the fruites of most beautiful
conditions, and savour them with a marvellous good relise.
And this shal be the
right engendring and imprinting of beautie in beautie, the which
some holde opinion to be the end of love. In this manner shall our
Courtier bee most acceptable to his Ladie, and she will alwaies shew
her selfe towarde him tractable, lowly and sweete in language, and
as willing to please him, as to be beloved of him: and the willes of
them both shall bee most honest and agreeable, and they consequently
shall bee most happie.
Here maister Morello.
The engendring (quoth he) of beautie in beautie aright, were the
engendring of a beautifull childe in a beautifull woman, and I
woulde thinke it a more manifest token a great deale that shee loved
her
<605>
CASTIGLIONE lover, if she
pleased him with this, than with the sweetnesse of language that you
s eake of.
Maister
Peter Bernbo laughed, and saide: You must not (maister Morello)
passe your boundes. I may tell you, it is not a small token that a
woman loveth, when she giveth unto her lover her beautie, which is
so precious a matter: and by the wayes that be a passage to the
soule, that is to say, the sight and the hearing, sendeth the lookes
of her eyes, the image of her countenance, and the voice of her
wordes, that pearce into the lovers hart, and give a witnesse of her
love.
Maister
Morello saide: Lookes and wordes may be, and oftentimes are false
witnesses. Therefore who so hath not a better pledge of love (in my
judgement) he is in an ill assurance. And surely I looked still that
you would have made this woman of yours somewhat more courteous and
free towarde the Courtier, than my Lorde Julian hath made his: but
(me seemeth) ye be both of the propertie of those judges, that (to
appeare wise) give sentence against their owne.
Bembo saide: I am well
pleased to have this woman much more courteous towarde my Courtier
not yong, than the Lorde Julians is to the yong: and that with good
reason, because mine coveteth but honest matters, and therefore may
ye woman graunt him them all without blame. But my Lorde Julians
woman that is not so assured of the modestie of the vong man, ought
to graunt him the honest matters onely, and deny him the dishonest.
Therefore more
happie is mine, that hath graunted him whatsoever hee requireth,
than the other, that hath part graunted, and part denyed.
And because you may
moreover the better understand, that reasonable love is more happy
than sensuall, I say unto you that selfe same thinges in sensuall
ought to be dertyed otherwhile, and in reasonable, graunted: because
in the one, they bee honest, and in the other dishonest.
Therefore the woman to
please her good lover, beside
<606>
THE COURTIER the graunting him
mery countenance, familiar and secret talke, jeasting, dalying, hand
in hand, may also lawfully and without blame come to kissing: which
in sensual love according to the Lord Julians rules, is not lawfull.
For since a kisse is a knitting together both of bodie and soule, it
is to bee feared, lest the sensuall lover will be more enclined to
the part of the bodie, than of the soule: but the reasonable lover
woteth well, that although the mouth be a parcell of the bodie, yet
is it an issue for the wordes, that be the interpreters of the
soule, and for the inwarde breath, which is also called the soule.
And therefore hath
a delite to joyne his mouth with the womans beloved with a kisse:
not to stirre him to any dishonest desire, but because hee feeleth
that that bonde is the opening of an entrie to the soules, which
drawne with a coveting the one of the other, poure them selves by
turne the one into the others bodie, and bee so mingled together,
that each of thern hath two soules.
And one alone so
framed of them both ruleth (in a manner) two bodies. Whereupon, a
kisse may be saide to be rather a coupling together of the soule,
than of the body, because it hath such force in her, that it draweth
her unto it, and (as it were) separateth her from the bodie.
For this doe all
chaste lovers covet a kisse, as a couplingr of soules together. And
therefore Plato+ the devine lover saith, that
in kissing, his soule came as farre as his lippes to depart out of
the bodie.
And
because the separating of the soule from the matters of the sense,
and the through coupling her with matters of understanding may be
betokened by a kisse, Salomon saith in his heavenly booke of
Balates, 0 that he would kisse me with a kisse of his mouth, to
expresse the desire he had that his soule might be ravished through
heavenly love to the beholding of heavenly beautie, in such manner,
that coupling her selfe inwardly with it, she might forsake the
bodie.
They stood
all harkening heedfully to Bembo, reasoning,
<607>
CASTIGLIONE and after he had
staied a while, and saw that none spake, he saide: Since you have
made me to beginne to shew our not yong Courtier this happie love, I
will leade him yet somewhat farther forwards, because to stand still
at this stay were somewhat perillous for him, considering (as we
have oftentimes saide) the soule is most inclined to the senses.
And for all reason
with discourse chooseth well, and knoweth that beautie not to spring
of the bodie, and therefore setteth a bridle to the unhonest
desires, yet to behold it alwaies in that bodie, doth oftentimes
corrupt the right judgement. And where no other inconvenience
insueth upon it, once absence from the wight beloved carrieth a
great passion with it.
Because the influence
of that beautie when it is present, giveth a wonderous delite to the
lover, and setting his hart on fire, quickeneth and melteth certaine
vertues in a traunce and congeled in the soule, the which nourished
with the heate of love, flow about and goe bubbling nigh the hart,
and thrust out through the eyes those spirits which bee most fine
vapours made of the purest and clearest part of the blond, which
receive the image of beautie, and decke it with a thousande sundrie
furnitures.
Whereupon the soule taketh a delite, and with a certaine wonder is
agast, and yet enjoyeth she it, and (as it were) astonied together
with the pleasure, feeleth the feare and reverence that men
accustomably have towarde holy matters and thinketh her selfe to be
in Paradise.
The
lover therefore that considereth onely the beautie in the bodie,
loseth this treasure and happinesse, as soone as the woman beloved
with her departure leaveth the eies without their brightnesse, and
consequently the soule as a widdow without her joy. {Donne+} For
since beautie is farre off, that influence of love setteth not the
hart on fire, as it did in presence.
Whereupon the poares
be dryed up and withered, and yet doth the remembrance of beautie
somewhat stirre those
<608>
THE COURTIER vertues of the
soule in such wise, that they seeke to scatter abroade the spirits,
and they finding the wayes closed up, have no issue, and still they
seeke to get out, and so with those shootings inclosed, pricke the
soule, and torment her bitterly, as yong children, when in their
tender gummes they beginne to breed teeth.
And hence come the
teares, sighes. vexations and torments of lovers: because the soule
is alwaies in affliction and travell and (in a manner) waxeth woode,
until the beloved beautie commeth before her once againe. and then
is she immediatly pacified and taketh breath, and throughly bent to
it, is nourished with most daintie food, and by her will, would
never depart from so sweet a sight.
To avoide therefore
the torment of his absence, and to enjoy beautie without passion,
the Courtier by the helpe of reason must full and wholy call backe
againe the coveting of the bodie to beautie alone, and (in what he
can) beholde it in it selfe simple and pure, and frame it within in
his imagination sundred from all matter, and so make it friendly and
loving to his soule, and there enjoy it, and have it with him day
and night, in every time and place, without mistrust ever to lose
it: keeping alwaies fast in minde, that the bodie is a most diverse
thing from beautie, and not onely not encreaseth, but diminisheth
the perfec- tion of it.
In this wise shall our
not yong Courtier bee out of all bitternesse and wretchednesse that
yong men feele (in a manner) continually, as jelousies, suspitions,
disdaines, angers, desperations and certaine rages full of madnesse.
whereby many times
they be ledde into so great errour, that some doe not onely beat ye
woman whom they love.
but ridde themselves
out of their life.
He shall doe no wrong to the husband, father, brethren or kinsfolke
of ye woman beloved. He shall not bring her in slander. He shall not
be in case, with much a doe otherwhile to refraine his eyes and
tongue from discovering his
<609>
CASTIGLIONE desires to others.
He shal not take thought at departure or in absence, because he
shall evermore carrie his precious treasure about with him shutte
fast within his hart.
And beside, through
the vertue of imagination, hee shall fashion with himselfe that
beautie much more faire than it is in deede. But among these
commodities, the lover shall find another yet farre greater, in case
hee will take this love for a stayre (as it were) to climbe up to
another farre higher than it. The which he shall bring to passe, if
he will goe and consider with himselfe, what a straight bond it is
to bee alwaies in the trouble to behold the beautie of one bodie
alone. And therefore to come out of this so narrowe a roome, hee
shall gather in his thought by litle and litle so many ornaments,
that meddling all beautie together, he shal make an universall
conceite, and bring the multitude of them to the unitie of one
alone, that is generally spred over all the nature of man. And thus
shall he beholde no more the particular beautie of one woman, but an
universall, that decketh out all bodies.
Whereupon being made
dimme with this greater light, he shall not passe upon the lesser,
and burning in a more excellent flame, he shall litle esteeme it,
that hee set great store by at the first.
This stayre of love,
though it be very noble and such as few arive at it, yet is it not
in this sorte to be called perfect, forsomuch as where the
imagination is of force to make conveyance, and hath no knowledge,
but through those beginninges that ye senses helpe her withall, she
is not cleane purged from grosse darknesse: and therefore though she
do consider that universall beautie in sunder and in it selfe alone,
yet doth she not well and clearely discerne it, nor without some
doubtfulnesse, by reason of the agreement that the fancies have with
the bodie.
Wherefore such as come to this love, are like to yong birdes almost
flush, which for all they flitter a litle their tender winges, yet
dare they not stray farre from the nest, nor commit themselves to
the winde and open weather.
<610>
THE COURTIER When our Courtier
therfore shall bee come to this point, although hee may bee called a
good and happie lover, in respect of them that be drowned in the
miserie of sensuall love, yet will I not have him to set his hart at
rest, but boldly proceede farther, following the high way after his
guide, that leadeth him to the proffit of true happinesse.
And thus in steade of
going out of his wit with thought, as he must doe that will consider
the bodily beautie, hee may come into his wit, to beholde the
beautie that is seene with the eyes of the minde, which then begin
to be sharpe and throughly seeing, when the eyes of the bodie lose
the floure of their sightlinesse.
Therefore the soule
ridde of vices, purged with the studies of true Philosophie,
occupied in spirituall, and exercised in matters of understanding,
turning her to the beholding of her owne substance, as it were
raised out of a most deepe sleepe, openeth the eyes that all men
have, and few occupie, and seeth in her selfe a shining beame of
that light, which is the true image of the Angelike beautie partened
with her, whereof she also partneth with the bodie a feeble shadow.
Therefore waxed
blinde about earthly matters, is made most quicke of sight about
heavenly. And otherwhile when the stirring vertues of the bodie are
withdrawne alone through earnest beholding, either fast bound
through sleepe, when she is not hindred by them, she feeleth a
certaine privie smell of the right Angelike beautie, and ravished
with the shining of that light, beginneth to be inflamed, and so
greedely followeth after, that (in a manner) she waxeth dronken and
beside her selfe, for coveting to couple her self with it, having
found (to her weening) the footesteps of God, in the beholding of
whom (as I her happie ende) she seeketh to settle her selfe.
And therefore burning
in this most happie flame, she ariseth to the noblest part of her
which is the understand- ing, and there no more shadowed with the
darke night of earthly matters, seeth the heavenly beautie: but yet
doth
<611>
CASTIGLIONE she not for all
that enjoy it altogether perfectly, because she beholdeth it onely
in her particular understanding, which can not conceive the passing
great universall beautie.
Whereupon not
throughly satisfied with this benefit, love giveth unto the soule a
greater happinesse. For like as throueh the particular beautie of
one bodie hee guideth her to the universall beautie of all bodies:
Even so in the least degree of perfection through particular
understanding hee guideth her to the universall understanding.
Thus the soule kindled
in the most holy fire of true heavenly love, fleeth to couple her
selfe with the nature of Angels, and not onely cleane forsaketh
sense, but hath no more neede of the discourse of reason, for being
chaunged into an Angell, she understandeth all thinges that may be
understood: and without any veil or cloud, she seeth the maine sea
of the pure heavenly beautie and receiveth it into her, and enjoyeth
the soveraigne happinesse, that can not be comprehended of the
senses.
Since
therefore the beauties, which we dayly see with these our dimme eyes
in bodies subject to corruption, that neverthelesse be nothing els
but dreames and most thinne shadowes of beautie, seeme unto us so
well favored and comely, that oftentimes they kindle in us a most
burning fire, and with such delight, that we reckon no happinesse
may bee compared to it, that wee feele otherwhile throughe the onely
love which the beloved countenance of a woman casteth at us.
What happie wonder,
what blessed abashment may we reckon that to bee, that taketh the
soules, which come to have a sight of the heavenly beauty? what
sweet flame? What sweete incense may a man believe that to be, which
ariseth of the fountaine of the soveraigne and right beautie? Which
is the originall of all other beautie which never encreaseth nor
diminisheth, alwaies beautifull, and of it selfe, as well on the one
part as on the other, most simply, onely like it selfe, and partner
of non other, but in such wise beautifull, that all other beautifull
thinges be beautifull, because they be partners of the beautie of
it.
<612>
THE COURTIER This is the
beautie unseperable from ye high bountie, and not onely to the
indowed with understaning giveth understanding, to the reasonable
reason, to the sensuall which with her voice calleth and draweth to
her al thinges: sense and appetite to live, but also partaketh with
plantes and stones (as a print of her self) stirring, and the
natural provocation of their properties.
So much therefore is
this love greater and happier than others, as the cause that
stirreth it, is more excellent. And therefore, as common fire tryeth
cold and maketh it fine, so this most holy fire in soules distroyeth
and consumeth whatsoever there is mortall in them, and relieveth and
maketh beautifull the heavenly part, which at the first by reason of
the sense was deade and buried in them.
This is the great fire
in the which (the Poets write) that Hercules was buried on the toppe
of the mountaine Oeta: and through that consuming with fire, after
his death was holy and immortall.
This is the fiery bush
of Moses: The devided tongues of fire: the inflamed Chariot of
Helias: which doubleth grace and happinesse in their soules that be
worthie to see it, when they forsake this earthly basenesse, and
flee up unto heaven.
Let us therefore bend
all our force and thoughtes of soule to this most holy light, that
sheweth us the way which leadeth to heaven: and after it, putting
off the affections we were clad at our coming downe, let us climbe
up the staires, which at the lowermost steppe have the shadow of
sensuall beautie, to the high mansion place where the heavenly,
amiable and right beautie dwelleth, which lyeth hidden in the
innermost secretes of God, lest unhalowed eyes shoulde come to the
sight of it: and there shall wee finde a most happie end for our
desires, true rest for our travels, certaine remedie for miseries, a
most healthfull.
medicine for sicknesse, a most sure haven in ye troublesome stormes
of the tempestuous sea of this life.
What tongue mortall is
there then (0 most holy love) that can sufficiently prayse thy
worthines? Thou most
<613>
CASTIGLIONE beautifull, most
good, most wise, art derived of the unitie of the heavenly beautie,
goodnesse and wisedom, and therein dost thou abide, and unto it
through it, (as in a circle) turnest about.
Thou the most sweete
bond of the world, a meane betwixt heavenly and earthly thinges.
with a bountifull temper bendest the high vertues to 'the government
of the lower, and turning backe the mindes of mortall men to their
beginning, couplest them with it.
Thou with agreement
bringest the Elements in one, stirrest nature to bring forth, and
that which ariseth and is borne for the succession of the life. Thou
bringest severed matters into one, to the unperfect givest
perfection, to the unlike likenesse, to enimitie amitie, to the
earth fruites, to the Sea calmnesse, to the heaven, lively light.
Thou art the
father of true pleasures, of grace, peace, lowlinesse, and good
will, enimy to rude wildnesse, and sluggishnesse: to be short, the
beginning, and end of all goodnesse.
And forsomuch as thou
delightest to dwell in the floure of beautifull bodies and
beautifull soules, I suppose that thy abiding place is now here
among us, and from above otherwhile shewest thy selfe a litle to the
eyes and mindes of them that bee not worthie to see thee.
Therefore vouchsafe
(Lorde) to hearken to our prayers, pour thy selfe into our harts,
and with the brightnesse of thy most holy fire lighten our
darkenesse, and like a trustie guide in this blinde mase shew us the
right way: correct the falshood of the senses, and after long
wandring in vanitie, give us the right and sound joy. Make us to
smell those spirituall savours that relieve the vertues of the
understanding, and to heare the heavenly harmony+ so
tunable, that no discorde of passion take place any more in us. Make
us dronken with the bottomlesse fountaine of contentation, that
alwaies doth delight, and never giveth fill, and that giveth a
smacke of the right blisse unto who so drinketh of the renuing and
cleare water therof. Purge
<614>
THE COURTIER with the shining
beames of thy light our eyes from mistie ignorance, that they may no
more set by mortall beautie, and well perceive that the thinges
which at the first they thought them selves to see, be not in deede,
and those that they saw not, to be in effect. Accept our soules,
that bee offered unto thee for a sacrifice. Burne them in the lively
flame that wasteth all grosse filthinesse, that after they be cleane
sundred from the bodie, they may bee coupled with an everlasting and
most sweete bond to the heavenly beautie. And wee severed from
ourselves, may bee changed like right lovers into the beloved, and
after we be drawn from the earth, admitted to the feast of the
angels, where fed with immortall ambrosia and nectar, in the end we
may dye a most happie and lively death, as in times past died the
fathers of olde time, whose soules with most fervent zeale of
beholding, thou didst hale from the bodie, and coupledst them with
God.
When Bembo
had hetherto spoken with such vehemencie, that a man woulde have
thought him (as it were) ravished and beside himselfe, hee stood
still without once moving.
holding his eyes
towarde heaven as astonied: when the Ladie Emilia, which together
with the rest gave most diligent eare to this talke, tooke him by
the plaite of his garment, and plucking him a little said.
Take heede (maister
Peter) that these thoughts make not your soule also to forsake the
bodie.
Madam,
answered maister Peter, it should not be the first miracle that love
hath wrought in me. Then the Dutchesse and all the rest began a
fresh to bee instant upon maister Bembo that he would proceede once
more in his talke. and every one thought he felt in his minde (as it
were) a certaine sparkell of that godly love that pricked him, and
they all coveted to heare farther: but maister Bembo, My Lords
(quoth hee) I have spoken what the holy furie of love hath (unsought
for) indited to me: now that (it seemeth) he inspireth mee no more,
I wot not what to say. And I thinke verily that love will not have
his secretes
<615>
CASTIGLIONE discovered any
farther, nor that the Courtier should passe the degree that his
pleasure is I should shew him, and therefore it is not perhaps
lawfull to speake any more of this matter.
Surely, quoth the
Dutchesse, if the not yong Courtier be such a one, that he can
follow this way which you have shewed him, of right he ought to be
satisfied with so great a happinesse, and not to envie the yonger.
Then the Lord
Cesar Conzaga, the way (quoth he) that leadeth to this happinesse is
so steepe (in my mind) that (I believe) it will be much adoe to get
to it.
The Lord
Gaspar saide: I believe it be hard to get up for men, but unpossible
for women.
The
Ladie Emilia laughed and saide: If ye fall so often to offend us, I
promise you, ye shall be no more forgiven.
The Lorde Gaspar
answered: It is no offence to you, in saying, that womens soules be
not so purged from passions as mens be, nor so accustomed in
beholding, as maister Peter hath saide, it is necessary for them to
be, that will taste of the heavenly love.
Therefore it is not
read that ever woman hath had this grace: but many men have had it,
as Plato+, Socrates+, Plotinus+ and
many other: and a number of our holy fathers, as Saint_Francis+, in whom a fervent spirite
of love imprinted the most holy seale of five woundes.
And nothing but the
vertue of love coulde hale up Saint Paule+ the
Apostle to the sight of those secretes. which is not lawfull for man
to speake of, nor shewe S. Stephen the heavens open.
Here answered the Lord
Julian. In this point men shall nothing passe women, for Socrates
himselfe doth confesse that all mysteries of love which he knew,
were opened unto him by a woman, which was Diotima. And the Angell
that with the fire of love imprinted the five woundes in Saint
Francis, hath also made some women worthie of the same print in our
age.
You must
remember moreover that Saint Marie Magdalen+
<616>
THE COURTIER had many faultes
forgiven her, because she loved much: and perhaps with no lesse
grace than Saint Paule, was she many times through Angelike love
haled up to the third heaven. And many other (as I shewed you
yesterday more at large) that for love of the name of Christ have
not passed upon life, nor feared torments, nor any other kind of
death how terrible and cruel so ever it were. And they were not (as
maister Peter will have his Courtier to be) aged, but soft and
tender maidens, and in the age, when he saith that sensuall love
ought to be borne withall in men.
The Lord Gaspar began
to prepare himselfe to speake to the Duchesse. Of this (quoth shee)
let maister Peter be judge, and the matter shall stand to his
verdite, Whether women be not as meete for heavenlie love as men.
But because the plea betweene you may happen be too long, it shall
be amis to defer it until to morrow.
Nay, to night, quoth
the Lord Cesar Gonzaga. And how can it be to night, quoth the
Dutchesse? The Lord Cesar answered: Because it is day alredy, and
shewed her the light that began to enter in at the clifts of the
windowes.
Then
every man arose upon his feete with much wonder, because they had
not thought that the reasonings had lasted longer than the
accustomed wont, saving only that they were begon much later, and
with their pleasantnesse had deceived so the Lordes mindes, that
they wist not of the going away of the houres. And not one of them
felt any hevinesse of sleepe in his eies, the which often happeneth
when a man is up after his accustomed houre to goe to bed.
When the windowes then
were opened on the side of the Pallaice that hath his prospect
towarde the high top of Mount Catri, they sawe already in the East a
faire morning like unto the colour of roses, and all starres voyded,
saving only the sweete Governesse of heaven, Venus which keepeth the
boundes of the night and day, from which appeared to blowe a sweete
blast, that filling the aire with a biting colde, began to quicken
the tunable notes of the
<617>
CASTIGLIONE prettie birdes,
among the hushing woodes of the hils at hand.
Whereupon they all
taking their leave with reverence of the Dutchesse, departed toward
their lodgings without torche, the light of the day suffising. And
as they were nowe passing out of the great Chamber doore, the Lord
Generall turned him to the Dutchesse, and said: Madam, to take up
the variance betweene the Lord Gasper and the Lord Julian, wee will
asemble this night with the judge sooner than we did yesterday. The
Lady Emilia answered, upon condition, that in case my Lorde Gasper
will accuse women, and give them (as his wont is) some false report,
he will also put us in suretie to stand to triall, for I recken him
a wavering starter.
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* * * * *
NOTES ON
THE
COURTIER
1 Castiglione's claim
that the writing of The Courtier was "accomplished in a fewe days"
is not likely to be accepted as literally true by anybody. It is a
good example of the sort of modest and even nonchalant attitude
toward one's achievements that was recommended to the courtier.
2 Actually,
Castiglione was at the court of Urbino in early March,
1507, at the time when the dialogues of The
Courtier took place. He had just returned from an embassy to
England. The pretence of not having been present is impelled by
courtly modesty.
3
Duke Federico di Montefeltro (1422-1482) seems to have been indeed
"the light of Italy." He was an able military leader, a man of the
highest probity, the head of a polished court, and a scholar who
built a distinguished library.
4 The meaning of
"making antiques" is devising mimes or dances.
5 Berto was one of the
buffoons at the papal court.
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NOTES ON
THE COURTIER
6 loco di canne was
stick-throwing, an equestrian game introduced into Italy by the
Spaniards.
7
"Vauting" was vaulting on a horse, somewhat in the manner of circus
riders in modern times.
8 Castiglione's "after
the Venetian phrase" is an obvious joke.
9 Naturally the people
of Venice, who had no opportunity in their city to ride horseback,
might be expected to ride badly, 9 The "three noble writers" are
Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio.
10 Monseigneur
D'Angouleme was afterwards King Francis I of France, admirer of the
Italian Renaissance and patron of the French Renaissance.
11 The "Places under
ground in Roorne" are, of course, the Roman Catacombs.
12 cameses = cameos
13 The "Lord
Generall" was Francesco Maria della Rovere, a nephew of Pope Julius
II. A young hothead, then seventeen years old, he had just lost the
city of Bologna to the French and been reprimanded by his uncle for
the defeat.
14
"Braulles" were dances similar to a modem cotillon.
15 Here "brest" means
voice.
16 The
meaning of "auncient" in this phrase is sober, rather than old.
17 The reference,
Opdycke points out in his edition of The Courtier (New York, 1903),
is to Leonardo da Vinci, whose remarkable inventions and plans for
devices like steam cannons, paddle-wheel boats, and airplanes were
regarded by his contemporaries as absurd.
18 The reference is to
Bibbiena's baldness.
19 nipping boord =
sharp satire
20
"The greatest of the furies is my bedfellow," an adaptation of
Virgil's "Furiarum maxima juxta accubat"-Aeneid, V, 605-606.
21 "As many stars as
heaven has, so many girls has your Rome."
22 "As many kids as
the pasture has, so many sodomites has your Rome."
28 "Give an account of
thy stewardship.' St. Luke xvi, 2.
24 "Lord, thou
deliveredst unto me five talents: behold,I have gained beside them
five talents more." -St. Matthew xxv, 20.
<623>
NOTES ON
THE COURTIER
25 "The pupil
obviously used the phrase in its low Latin meaning, 'Master, God
give you good evening.' Beroaldo jocosely accepted it in its
classical meaning, 'Master, God give you good, late.' "-Opdycke's
note.
26 In this
case also, a play on the possible meanings of words is involved. The
other Spaniard used "vino" in the sense of "wine," but Diego de
Chignognes jestingly took "vino" to mean "he came." Thus, the
dialogue becomes: "Christ came." "He came, and thou knewest him
not."
27 The
reading should be "nip him for a heretic." Hoby mistook marrano, a
heretic, for marrone, a chestnut.
28 The reference is to
a gallows.
29 A
"bayting place" refers to a bad inn.
30 The characters
mentioned are in the third, sixth, and ninth tales of the Eighth Day
of the Decameron, and in the fifth tale of the Ninth Day.
31 The characters and
situations alluded to here are found in the sixth tale of the Third
Day of the Decameron and in the seventh and eighth tales of the
Seventh Day.
32
tradiments = treacheries
33 Aristotle, Physics,
I, xviii
34
foistes = galleys 35 The allusion is to the impotence of Duke
Guidobaldo, which was the reason for the proposed divorce.
36 The reference is to
Ovid's Ars Amandi.
37 Lord Gaspar Pallavicino died at the age of twenty-five, in 1511.
38 "to make a
hand" = to gain an advantage
39 Castiglione
actually had returned from England at the time of the conversations
described in The Courtier, but here he keeps up the pretence of
having been absent.
40 "In Book III of
Bembo's Gli Asolani (1505), a hermit discourses to Lavinello on the
beauty of mystical Christian love
. . . .
Much of the following disquisition seems to be drawn from Plato and
from Bembo's Gli Asolani. As Bembo is known to have revised The
Courtier before publication, we may assume that he was content with
the form and substance of the discourse attributed to him."
(Opdycke's note)
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This page last updated January 5,
2003
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