The Book of the Courtier
exerts its powers.[148] Thus in old age the sweet flowers of contentment
fall from our hearts, like leaves from a tree in autumn, and in place of
serene and sunny thoughts, comes cloudy and turbid sadness with its
train of thousand ills. So that not the body only but the mind also is
infirm; of bygone pleasures naught is left but a lingering memory and
the image of that precious time of tender youth, in which (when it is
with us) sky and earth and all things seem to us ever making merry and
laughing before our eyes, and the sweet springtide of happiness seems to
blossom in our thought, as in a delightful and lovely garden.
Therefore in the evening chill of life, when our sun begins to sink to
its setting and steals away those pleasures, we should fare better if in
losing them, we could lose the memory of them also, and as Themistocles
said, find an art that shall teach us to forget. For so deceitful are
our bodily senses, that they often cheat even the judgment of our minds.
Thus it seems to me that old people are in like case with those who keep
their eyes fixed upon the land as they leave port, and think their ship
is standing still and the shore recedes, although it is the other way.
For both the port and also time and its pleasures remain the same, and
one after another we take flight in the ship of mortality upon that
boisterous sea which absorbs and devours everything, and are never
suffered to touch shore again, but always tossed by adverse winds we are
wrecked upon some rock at last.
Since therefore the senile mind is an unfit subject for many pleasures,
it cannot enjoy them; and just as to men in fever, when the palate is
spoiled by corrupt vapours, all wines seem bitter, however precious and
delicate they be,—so old men, because of their infirmity (which yet does
not deprive them of appetite), find pleasures flat and cold and very
different from those which they remember tasting of old, although the
pleasures are intrinsically the same. Thus they feel themselves
despoiled, and they lament and call the present times bad, not
perceiving that the change lies in themselves and not in the times; and
on the other hand they call to mind their bygone pleasures, and bring
back the time when these were enjoyed and praise it as good, because it
seems to carry with it a savour of what they felt when it was present.
For in truth our minds hold all things hateful that have been with us in
our sorrows, and love those that have been with us in our joys.
Enlarged from Anderson’s photograph (no. 11375) of a part of the injured
fresco, “Triumph of Minerva,” in the Palazzo Schifanoia at Ferrara,
painted about 1468 by Francesco Cossa (1438?-1480?). See Gustave
Gruyer’s _L’Art Ferrarais_, ii, 581.
This is why it is sometimes highest bliss for a lover to look at a
window although closed, because he there had once the happiness to gaze
upon the lady of his love; and in the same way to look at a ring, a
letter, a garden or other place, or what you will, which seems to him a
conscious witness of his joys. And on the contrary, a gorgeous and
beautiful room will often be irksome to a man who has been prisoner or
has suffered some other sorrow there. And I once knew some who would not
drink from a cup like that from which in illness they had taken
medicine. For just as to the one the window or ring or letter recalls
the sweet memory that gives him such delight and seems part of his
bygone joy,—so to the other, the room or cup brings his illness or
imprisonment to mind. I believe that the same cause leads old people to
praise bygone times and to censure the present.
2.—Therefore as they speak of other things, so do they also of courts,
affirming those which they remember, to have been far more excellent and
full of eminent men than those which we see to-day. And as soon as such
discussions are started, they begin to extol with boundless praise the
courtiers of Duke Filippo or Duke Borso;[149] and they narrate the
sayings of Niccolò Piccinino;[150] and they remind us that there were no
murders in those days (or very few at most), no brawls, no ambushes, no
deceits, but a certain frank and kindly good will among all men, a loyal
confidence; and that in the courts of that time such good behaviour and
decorum prevailed, that courtiers were all like monks, and woe to him
who should have spoken insultingly to another, or so much as made a less
than decorous gesture to a woman. And on the other hand they say
everything is the reverse in these days, and that not only have
courtiers lost their fraternal love and gentle mode of life, but that
nothing prevails in courts but envy, malice, immorality and very
dissolute living, with every sort of vice,—the women lascivious without
shame, the men effeminate. They condemn our dress also as indecorous and
too womanish.
In short they censure an infinity of things, among which many indeed
merit censure, for it cannot be denied that there are many bad and
wicked men among us, or that this age of ours is much fuller of vice
than that which they praise.[151] Yet it seems to me that they ill
discern the cause of this difference, and that they are foolish. For
they would have the world contain all good and no evil, which is
impossible; because, since evil is opposed to good and good to evil, it
is almost necessary, by force of opposition and counterpoise as it were,
that the one should sustain and fortify the other, and that if either
wanes or waxes, so must the other also, since there is no contrary
without its contrary.
Who does not know that there would be no justice in the world, if there
were no wrongs? No courage, if there were no cowards? No continence, if
there were no incontinence? No health, if there were no infirmity? No
truth, if there were no lying? No good fortune, if there were no
misfortunes? Thus, according to Plato,[152] Socrates well says it is
surprising that Æsop did not write a fable showing that as God had never
been able to join pleasure and pain together, He joined them by their
extremities, so that the beginning of the one should be the end of the
other; for we see that no joy can give us pleasure, unless sorrow
precedes it. Who can hold rest dear, unless he has first felt the
hardship of fatigue? Who enjoys food, drink and sleep, unless he has
first endured hunger, thirst and wakefulness? Hence I believe that
sufferings and diseases were given man by nature not chiefly to make him
subject to them (since it does not seem fitting that she who is mother
of every good should give us such evils of her own determined purpose),
but as nature created health, joy and other blessings,—diseases, sorrows
and other ills followed after them as a consequence. In like manner, the
virtues having been bestowed upon the world by grace and gift of nature,
at once by force of that same bounden opposition, the vices became their
fellows by necessity; so that always as the one waxes or wanes, thus
likewise must needs the other wax or wane.
3.—So when our old men praise bygone courts for not containing such
vicious men as some that our courts contain, they do not perceive that
their courts did not contain such virtuous men as some that ours
contain; which is no marvel, for no evil is so bad as that which springs
from the corrupted seed of good, and hence, as nature now puts forth far
better wits than she did then, those who devote themselves to good, do
far better than was formerly done, and likewise those who devote
themselves to evil, do far worse. Therefore we must not on that account
say that those who refrained from evil because they did not know how to
do evil, deserved any praise for it; for although they did little harm,
they did the worst they could. And that the wits of those times were
generally inferior to those of our time, can be well enough perceived in
all that we see of those times, both in letters and in pictures,
statues, buildings, and every other thing.
These old men censure us also for many a thing that in itself is neither
good nor evil, simply because they did not do it. And they say it is not
seemly for young men to ride through the city on horse, still less in
pumps, to wear fur linings or long skirts in winter, or to wear a cap
before reaching at least the age of eighteen years, and the like;
wherein they certainly are wrong, for besides being convenient and
useful, these customs have been introduced by usage and meet universal
favour, just as formerly it was to go about in gala dress with open
breeches and polished pumps, and for greater elegance to carry a
sparrow-hawk on the wrist all day without reason, to dance without
touching the lady’s hand, and to follow many other fashions that now
would be as very clumsy as they then were highly prized.
Therefore let it be allowed us also to follow the custom of our time
without being slandered by these old men, who in their wish to praise
themselves, often say: “When I was twenty years old, I still slept with
my mother and sisters, nor did I for a long time afterwards know what
women are; while now, boys hardly have hair on their heads before they
know more tricks than grown men did in our time.” Nor do they perceive
that in saying this they acknowledge that our boys have more mind than
their old men had.
Let them cease then to censure our time as full of vices, for in
removing the vices they would remove the virtues too; and let them
remember that among the worthies of old, in the ages when there lived
those spirits who were glorious and truly divine in every virtue, and
those more than human minds,—there were also to be found many very bad
men; who (if they were living) would be as eminently bad among our bad
men, as the good men of that time would be eminently good. And of this,
all history gives ample proof.
4.—But I think these old men have now sufficient answer. So we will end
this homily, perhaps already too diffuse but not wholly irrelevant to
our subject; and as it is enough for us to have shown that the courts of
our time were worthy of no less praise than those which old men praise
so highly,—we will pursue the discussion about the Courtier, from which
we may easily understand what rank the court of Urbino held among other
courts, and of what quality were the Prince and Lady to whom such noble
spirits did service, and how fortunate they might hold themselves who
lived in such companionship.
5.—Now the following day having arrived, there were many and diverse
discussions among the cavaliers and ladies of the court concerning the
debate of the evening before; which in great part arose because my lord
Prefect, eager to know what had been said, questioned nearly everyone
about it, and (as is always wont to be the case) he received different
answers; for some praised one thing and some another, and among many too
there was disagreement as to the Count’s real opinion, since everyone’s
memory did not quite fully retain the things that were said.
Thus the matter was discussed nearly all day; and as soon as night set
in, my lord Prefect desired that food be served and took all the
gentlemen away to supper. When they had done eating, he repaired to the
room of my lady Duchess, who, on seeing such a numerous company and
earlier than the custom was, said:
“Methinks, messer Federico, it is a heavy burden that is placed upon
your shoulders, and great the expectation you must satisfy.”
Then without waiting for messer Federico to reply, the Unico Aretino
said:
“And what, forsooth, is this great burden? Who is so foolish that when
he knows how to do a thing, does not do it in proper season?”
So, discoursing of this, everyone sat down in the usual place and order,