The Book of the Courtier
“Certainly they are the same,” replied messer Federico, “but some of
them wrongly applied and turned awry.”
The Count replied:
“And if from a book of Cornelius and from one of Silius, all those words
were removed that are used in a sense different from that of Virgil and
Cicero, which would be very few,—would you not then say that Cornelius
was the equal of Cicero in language, and Silius of Virgil, and that it
would be well to imitate their manner of speech?”
39.—Then my lady Emilia said:
“Methinks this debate of yours is far too long and tedious; therefore it
were well to postpone it to another time.”
Messer Federico was about to reply none the less, but my lady Emilia
always interrupted him. At last the Count said:
“Many men like to pass judgment upon style and to talk about rhythms and
imitation; but they cannot make it at all clear to me what manner of
thing style or rhythm is, or in what imitation consists, or why things
taken from Homer or from someone else are so becoming in Virgil that
they seem illumined rather than imitated. Perhaps this is because I am
not capable of understanding them; but since a good sign that a man
knows a thing, is his ability to teach it, I suspect that they too
understand it but little, and that they praise both Virgil and Cicero
because they hear such praise from many, not because they perceive the
difference that exists between these two and others: for in truth it
does not consist in preserving two or three or ten words used in a way
different from the others.
“In Sallust, Cæsar, Varro[109] and the other good writers, some terms
are found used differently from the way Cicero uses them; and yet both
ways are proper, for the excellence and force of a language lie in no
such trifling matter: as Demosthenes well said to Æschines, who
tauntingly asked him whether certain words that he had used (although
not Attic) were prodigies or portents; and Demosthenes laughed and
replied that the fortunes of Greece did not hang on such a trifle. So I
too should care little if I were reproved by a Tuscan for having said
_satisfatto_ rather than _sodisfatto_, _honorevole_ for _horrevole_,
_causa_ for _cagione_, _populo_ for _popolo_, and the like.”
Then messer Federico rose to his feet and said:
“Hear me these few words, I pray.”
“The pain of my displeasure,” replied my lady Emilia, laughing, “be upon
him who speaks more of this matter now, for I wish to postpone it to
another evening. But do you, Count, go on with the discussion about the
Courtier,—and show us what a fine memory you have, which I think you
will do in no small measure, if you are able to take up the discussion
where you left it.”
40.—“My Lady,” replied the Count, “I fear the thread is broken; yet if I
am not wrong, methinks we were saying that the pest of affectation
imparts extreme ungracefulness to everything, while on the other hand
simplicity and nonchalance produce the height of grace: in praise of
which, and in blame of affectation, we might cite many other arguments;
but of these I wish to add only one, and no more. Women are always very
eager to be—and when they cannot be, at least to seem—beautiful. So
where nature is somewhat at fault in this regard, they try to piece it
out by artifice; whence arise that painting of the face with so much
care and sometimes pains, that plucking of the eyebrows and forehead,
and the use of all those devices and the endurance of that trouble,
which you ladies think to keep very secret from men, but which are all
well known.”
Here madonna Costanza Fregosa laughed and said:
“It would be far more courteous for you to keep to your discussion, and
tell us of what grace is born, and talk about Courtiership,—than to try
to unveil the weaknesses of women, which are not to the purpose.”
“Nay, much to the purpose,” replied the Count: “for these weaknesses of
yours I am speaking of, deprive you of grace because they spring from
nothing but affectation, wherein you openly make known to everyone your
over-eagerness to be beautiful.
“Do you not see how much more grace a lady has who paints (if at all) so
sparingly and so little, that whoever sees her is in doubt whether she
be painted or not; than another lady so plastered that she seems to have
put a mask upon her face and dares not laugh for fear of cracking it,
nor ever changes colour but when she dresses in the morning, and then
stands motionless all the rest of the day like a wooden image, showing
herself only by candle-light, like wily merchants who display their
cloths in a dark place? Again, how much more pleasing than all others is
one (I mean not ill-favoured) who is plainly seen to have nothing on her
face, although it be neither very white nor very red, but by nature a
little pale and sometimes tinged with an honest flush from shame or
other accident,—with hair artlessly unadorned and hardly confined, her
gestures simple and free, without showing care or wish to be beautiful!
This is that nonchalant simplicity most pleasing to the eyes and minds
of men, who are ever fearful of being deceived by art.
“Beautiful teeth are very charming in a woman, for since they are not so
much in view as the face is, but lie hidden most of the time, we may
believe that less care is taken to make them beautiful than with the
face. Yet if one were to laugh without cause and solely to display the
teeth, he would betray his art, and however beautiful they were, would
seem most ungraceful to all, like Catullus’s Egnatius.[110] It is the
same with the hands; which, if they are delicate and beautiful, and
occasionally left bare when there is need to use them, and not in order
to display their beauty, they leave a very great desire to see more of
them, and especially if covered with gloves again; for whoever covers
them seems to have little care or thought whether they be seen or not,
and to have them thus beautiful more by nature than by any effort or
pains.
“Have you ever noticed when a woman, in passing through the street to
church or elsewhere, thoughtlessly happens (either in frolic or from
other cause) to lift her dress high enough to show the foot and often a
little of the leg? Does this not seem to you full of grace, when you see
her tricked out with a touch of feminine daintiness in velvet shoes and
neat stockings? I for one delight in it and believe you all do, for
everyone is persuaded that elegance, in matters thus hidden and rarely
seen, is natural and instinctive to the lady rather than forced, and
that she does not think to win any praise by it.
41.—“In this way we avoid and hide affectation, and you can now see how
opposed and destructive it is to grace in every office as well of the
body as the mind: whereof we have thus far spoken little, and yet we
must not omit it, for since the mind is of far more worth than the body,
it deserves to be more cultivated and adorned. And as to what ought to
be done in the case of our Courtier, we will lay aside the precepts of
the many sage philosophers who write of this matter and define the
properties of the mind and discuss so subtly about their rank,—and
keeping to our subject, we will in a few words declare it to be enough
that he be (as we say) an honest and upright man; for in this are
included prudence, goodness, strength and temperance of mind, and all
the other qualities that are proper to a name so honoured. And I esteem
him alone to be a true moral philosopher, who wishes to be good; and in
this regard he needs few other precepts than that wish. And therefore
Socrates was right in saying that he thought his teachings bore good
fruit indeed whenever they incited anyone to understand and teach
virtue: for they who have reached the goal of desiring nothing more
ardently than to be good, easily acquire knowledge of everything needful
therefor; so we will discuss this no further.
42.—“Yet besides goodness, I think that letters are for everyone the
true and principal ornament of the mind: although the French recognize
only the nobility of arms and esteem all else as naught. Thus they not
only fail to prize but they abhor letters, and hold all men of letters
most base, and think they speak very basely of any man when they call
him a clerk.”
Enlarged from a negative, specially made by Alinari through the courtesy
of Professor I. B. Supino, of an anonymous medal in the National
Museum at Florence.
Then the Magnifico Giuliano replied:
“You say truly, that this fault has long been prevalent among the
French. But if kind fate decrees that Monseigneur d’Angoulême[111] shall
succeed to the crown, as is hoped, I think that just as the glory of
arms flourishes and shines in France, so too ought that of letters to
flourish in highest state; for it is not long since I, being at the
court, saw this prince, and it seemed to me that besides the grace of
his person and the beauty of his face, he had in his aspect such
loftiness, joined however with a certain gracious humanity, that the
realm of France must always seem small for him. I heard afterwards from
many gentlemen, both French and Italian, of his very noble manner of
life, of his loftiness of mind, of his valour and liberality. And among
other things I was told that he loved and esteemed letters especially
and held all men of letters in greatest honour; and he condemned the
French themselves for being so hostile to this profession, especially as
they have within their borders such a noble school as that of Paris,
frequented by all the world.”[112]
Then the Count said:
“It is a great marvel that in such tender youth, solely by natural
instinct and against the usage of his country, he has of himself chosen
so worthy a path. And as subjects always copy the customs of their
superiours, it may be that, as you say, the French will yet come to
esteem letters at their true worth: whereto they may easily be
persuaded, if they will but listen to reason; since nothing is by nature
more desirable for men, or more proper to them, than knowledge, which it
is great folly to say or believe is not always a good thing.
43.—“And if I were speaking with them, or with others who had an opinion
contrary to mine, I should strive to show them how useful and necessary
letters are to our life and dignity, having indeed been granted by God
to men as a crowning gift. Nor should I lack instances of many excellent
commanders of antiquity, who all added the ornament of letters to the
valour of their arms.
“Thus you know Alexander held Homer in such veneration that he always
kept the Iliad by his bedside; and he devoted the greatest attention not
only to these studies but to philosophical speculation under Aristotle’s
guidance. Alcibiades enlarged his natural aptitudes and made them
greater by means of letters and the teachings of Socrates. The care that
Cæsar gave to study is also attested by the surviving works that he
divinely wrote. It is said that Scipio Africanus always kept in his hand
the works of Xenophon, wherein the perfect king is portrayed under the
name of Cyrus. I could tell you of Lucullus, Sulla, Pompey, Brutus,[113]
and many other Romans and Greeks; but I will merely remind you that
Hannibal, the illustrious commander,—although fierce by nature and a
stranger to all humanity, faithless and a despiser of both men and
gods,—yet had knowledge of letters and was conversant with the Greek
language; and if I mistake not, I once read that he even left a book
composed by him in Greek.
“However it is superfluous to tell you this, for I well know that you
all see how wrong the French are in thinking that letters are injurious
to arms. You know that glory is the true stimulus to great and hazardous