The Book of the Courtier
passionately, that he was forced almost against his will to leave the
banquet table and rush to arms; and when the musician changed the temper
of the tune, he grew calm again, lay aside his arms, and returned to the
banquet table. Moreover I will tell you that grave Socrates learned to
play the cithern[122] at a very advanced age. And I remember having once
heard that Plato and Aristotle would have the man of culture a musician
also; and they show by a host of arguments that the power of music over
us is very great, and (for many reasons which would be too long to tell
now) that it must needs be taught from childhood, not so much for the
mere melody that we hear, but for the power it has to induce in us a
fresh and good habit of mind and an habitual tendency to virtue, which
renders the soul more capable of happiness, just as bodily exercise
renders the body more robust;[123] and that music is not only no
hindrance in the pursuits of peace and war, but is very helpful therein.
“Again, Lycurgus[124] approved of music in his harsh laws. And we read
that in their battles the very warlike Lacedemonians and Cretans used
the cithern and other dulcet instruments; that many very excellent
commanders of antiquity, like Epaminondas,[125] practised music; and
that those who were ignorant of it, like Themistocles,[126] were far
less esteemed. Have you not read that music was among the first
accomplishments which the worthy old Chiron taught Achilles in tender
youth,[127] whom he reared from the age of nurse and cradle? and that
the sage preceptor insisted that the hands which were to shed so much
Trojan blood, should be often busied with the cithern? Where is the
soldier who would be ashamed to imitate Achilles,—to say nothing of many
other famous commanders whom I could cite?
“Therefore seek not to deprive our Courtier of music, which not only
soothes men’s minds, but often tames wild beasts;[128] and he who enjoys
it not, may be sure that his spirit is ill attuned. See what power it
has, to make (as once it did) a fish submit to be ridden by a man upon
the boisterous sea.[129] We find it used in holy temples to render
praise and thanks to God; and we must believe that it is pleasing to Him
and that He has given it to us as most sweet alleviation for our
fatigues and troubles. Wherefore rough toilers of the field under a
burning sun often cheat their weariness with crude and rustic song. With
music the rude peasant lass, who is up before the day to spin or weave,
wards off her drowsiness and makes her toil a pleasure; music is very
cheering pastime for poor sailors after rain, wind and tempest: a solace
to tired pilgrims on their long and weary journeys, and often to
sorrowing captives in their chains and fetters. Thus, as stronger proof
that melody even if rude is very great relief from every human toil and
care, nature seems to have taught it to the nurse as chief remedy for
the continual wailing of frail children, who by the sound of her voice
are brought restful and placid sleep, forgetful of the tears so proper
to them and given us in that age by nature as a presage of our after
life.”
48.—As the Count now remained silent for a little, the Magnifico
Giuliano said:
“I do not at all agree with my lord Gaspar. Nay I think, for the reasons
you give and for many others, that music is not only an ornament but a
necessity to the Courtier. Yet I would have you declare in what way this
and the other accomplishments that you prescribe for him, are to be
practised, and at what time and in what manner.[130] For many things
that are praiseworthy in themselves often become very inappropriate when
practised out of season, and on the other hand, some that seem of little
moment are highly esteemed when made use of opportunely.”
49.—Then the Count said:
“Before we enter upon that subject, I wish to discuss another matter,
which I deem of great importance and therefore think our Courtier ought
by no means to omit: and this is to know how to draw and to have
acquaintance with the very art of painting.
“And do not marvel that I desire this art, which to-day may seem to
savour of the artisan and little to befit a gentleman; for I remember
having read that the ancients, especially throughout Greece, had their
boys of gentle birth study painting in school as an honourable and
necessary thing, and it was admitted to the first rank of liberal arts;
while by public edict they forbade that it be taught to slaves. Among
the Romans too, it was held in highest honour, and the very noble family
of the Fabii took their name from it; for the first Fabius was given the
name _Pictor_, because,—being indeed a most excellent painter, and so
devoted to painting that when he painted the walls of the temple of
Health,—he inscribed his own name thereon;[131] for although he was born
of a family thus renowned and honoured with so many consular titles,
triumphs and other dignities, and although he was a man of letters and
learned in the law, and numbered among the orators,—yet he thought to
add splendour and ornament to his fame by leaving a memorial that he had
been a painter. Nor is there lack of many other men of illustrious
family, celebrated in this art; which besides being very noble and
worthy in itself, is of great utility, and especially in war for drawing
places, sites, rivers, bridges, rocks, fortresses, and the like; since
however well we may keep them in memory (which is very difficult), we
cannot show them to others.
“And truly he who does not esteem this art, seems to me very
unreasonable; for this universal fabric that we see,—with the vast
heaven so richly adorned with shining stars, and in the midst the earth
girdled by the seas, varied with mountains, valleys and rivers, and
bedecked with so many divers trees, beautiful flowers and grasses,—may
be said to be a great and noble picture, composed by the hand of nature
and of God; and whoever is able to imitate it, seems to me deserving of
great praise: nor can it be imitated without knowledge of many things,
as he knows well who tries. Hence the ancients greatly prized both the
art and the artist, which thus attained the summit of highest
excellence; very sure proof of which may be found in the antique marble
and bronze statues that yet are seen.[132] And although painting is
different from sculpture, both the one and the other spring from the
same source, which is good design. Therefore, as the statues are divine,
so we may believe the pictures were also; the more indeed because they
are susceptible of greater skill.”
50.—Then my lady Emilia turned to Giancristoforo Romano, who was sitting
with the others there, and said:
“What think you of this opinion? Do you admit that painting is
susceptible of greater skill than sculpture?”[133]
Giancristoforo replied:
“I, my Lady, think that sculpture needs more pains, more skill, and is
of greater dignity than painting.”
The Count rejoined:
“In that statues are more enduring, perhaps we might say they are of
greater dignity; for being made as memorials, they fulfil better than
painting the purpose for which they are made. But besides serving as
memorials, both painting and sculpture serve also to beautify, and in
this respect painting is much superior; for if less diuturnal (so to
speak) than sculpture, yet it is of very long life, and is far more
charming so long as it endures.”
Then Giancristoforo replied:
“I really think that you are speaking against your convictions and that
you are doing so solely for the sake of your friend Raphael; and perhaps
too the excellence you find in his painting seems to you so consummate
that sculpture cannot rival it: but consider that this is praise of an
artist and not of his art.”
Reduced from a photograph, specially made by Soame, of an anonymous and
hitherto unpublished bronze head at Oxford. From a death-mask,
Michelangelo’s pupil Daniele Ricciarelli da Volterra (1500-1566)
prepared a mould, of which this and the similar “Piot” head in the
Louvre are believed to be unchased castings. See C. Drury E.
Fortnum’s article “On the Bronze Portrait Busts of Michelangelo,”
etc., in the Archæological Journal.
Then he continued:
“It seems clear to me that both the one and the other are artificial
imitations of nature; but I do not see how you can say that truth, such
as nature makes it, is not better imitated in a marble or bronze
statue,—wherein the members are round, formed and measured, as nature
makes them,—than in a painting, where we see nothing but the surface and
those colours that cheat the eyes; nor will you tell me, surely, that
being is not nearer truth than seeming. Moreover I think sculpture is
more difficult, because if a slip is made, it cannot be corrected (since
marble cannot be patched again), but another statue must be made anew;
which does not happen with painting, for one may change a thousand
times, and add and take away, improving always.”
51.—The Count said, laughing:
“I am not speaking for Raphael’s sake; nor ought you to repute me so
ignorant as not to know the excellence of Michelangelo in sculpture,
your own, and others’. But I am speaking of the art, and not of the
artists.
“You say very truly that both the one and the other are imitations of
nature; but it is not true that painting seems, and sculpture is. For
while statues are round as in life and painting is seen only on the
surface, statues lack many things that paintings do not lack, and
especially light and shade. Thus flesh has one tone and marble another;
and this the painter imitates to the life by chiaroscuro, greater or
less according to the need,—which the sculptor cannot do. And although
the painter does not make his figure round, he presents the muscles and
members rounded in such fashion as so to join the parts which are not
seen, that we can discern very well that the painter knows and
understands these also. And in this, another and greater skill is needed
to represent those members that are foreshortened and grow smaller in
proportion to the distance by reason of perspective; which, by means of
measured lines, colours, lights and shades, shows you foreground and
distance all on the single surface of an upright wall, in such
proportion as he chooses.[134] Do you really think it of small moment to
imitate the natural colours, in representing flesh or stuffs or any
other coloured thing? The sculptor certainly cannot do this, or express
the grace of black eyes or blue, with the splendour of their amourous
beams. He cannot show the colour of fair hair, or the gleam of weapons,
or a dark night, or a storm at sea, or its lightnings and thunderbolts,
or the burning of a city, or the birth of rosy dawn with its rays of
gold and purple. In short, he cannot show sky, sea, earth, mountains,
woods, meadows, gardens, rivers, cities, or houses,—all of which the
painter shows.
52.—“Therefore painting seems to me nobler and more susceptible of
skill, than sculpture. And I think that it, like other things, reached
the summit of excellence among the ancients: which still is seen in the
few slight remains that are left, especially in the grottoes of
Rome;[135] but much more clearly may it be perceived in the ancient
authors, wherein is such honoured and frequent mention both of works and
of masters, and whereby we learn how highly they were always honoured by
great lords and by commonwealths.
“Thus we read that Alexander loved Apelles of Ephesus dearly,—so dearly,
that having caused the artist to paint a portrait of his favourite slave
undraped, and hearing that the worthy painter had become most ardently
enamoured of her by reason of her marvellous beauty, he gave her to