The Book of the Courtier
requires. But in these matters perfect grace and true cleverness consist
in picturing forth what we wish to say, with both word and gesture, so
well and with such ease that they who hear may seem to see before their
eyes the thing we tell them. And this graphic method is so effective
that it sometimes adorns and makes highly amusing a thing that in itself
is neither very jocular nor clever.
“And although this kind of narrative requires gesture and the aid of the
speaking voice, its quality is sometimes found in written compositions
also. Who does not laugh, when, in the Eighth Day of his Decameron,[197]
Giovanni Boccaccio tells how the priest of Varlungo tried to chant a
_Kyrie_ and a _Sanctus_ on discovering that his Belcolore was in the
church. There are amusing narratives also in his stories of
Calandrino,[198] and in many others. Of the same sort seems to be the
raising of a laugh by mimicry or imitation, as we say,—wherein I have
thus far seen no one more admirable than our friend messer Roberto da
Bari.”[48]
50.—“This would be no small praise,” said messer Roberto, “if it were
true; because I should of course try to imitate the good rather than the
bad, and if I could make myself like some men I know, I should deem
myself very fortunate. I fear, however, that I know how to imitate only
those things which excite laughter, and which you just now said consist
essentially in the imperfect.”
Messer Bernardo replied:
“Imperfect, yes; but not unpleasantly so. And you must know that this
imitation of which we are speaking, cannot be without cleverness; for
besides the way of governing words and gestures and setting before our
hearers’ eyes the face and manners of the man we are speaking of, we
must needs be discreet, and pay great heed to the place and time, and to
the persons with whom we are speaking, and not descend to buffoonery or
go beyond bounds;—which rules you observe admirably and therefore know
them all, I think. For in truth it would little befit a gentleman to
make faces, to weep and laugh, and mimic voices, to wrestle with himself
as Berto[65] does, or dress like a clown before everyone, like
Strascino,[199]—and things of that kind, which are very fitting in those
men because it is their profession.
“But for us it is needful to give only a fleeting and covert imitation,
always preserving the dignity of a gentleman, without uttering foul
words or performing acts that are less than seemly, without contorting
the face or person beyond measure; but to order our movements in such
fashion that whoever hears and sees us may from our words and gestures
imagine far more than what he sees and hears, and so be moved to
laughter.
“Moreover in our imitation we ought to avoid too stinging jibes,
especially at deformities of face or person; for while bodily defects
often furnish excellent material for laughter to a man who uses them
with discretion, yet to employ this method too bitterly is the act not
only of a buffoon but of an enemy. So, although it be difficult, in this
regard we must, as I have said, keep to the manner of our friend messer
Roberto, who mimics all men and not without marking their defects
sharply even to their face, and yet no one is annoyed or seems to take
it amiss. And I will give no instance of this, because in him we see
countless examples of it every day.
51.—“Another thing excites much laughter, although it is included under
the head of narration; and that is to describe gracefully certain
defects of others,—unimportant ones however and undeserving greater
punishment, such as follies, sometimes mere absurdities or sometimes
accompanied by a quick and pungent dash of liveliness; likewise certain
extreme affectations; sometimes a huge and well-constructed lie. As
when, a few days since, our friend Cesare told of a delightful
absurdity, which was that finding himself before the Podestà of this
place,[200] he saw a peasant come in to complain of being robbed of a
donkey. The fellow told of his poverty and of the trick played upon him
by the thief, and then, to make out his loss the heavier, he said:
‘Masters, if you had seen my donkey, you would have better understood
how much cause I have to grieve; for when he had his pack on, he looked
like a very Tullius.’[201]
Reduced from a photograph, specially made by Mansell, of an anonymous
bas-relief in the South Kensington Museum,—possibly the work of
Sperandio di Bartolommeo de’ Savelli (1425?-1500?).
“And one of our friends, meeting a flock of goats with a great he-goat
at their head, stopped and said with a look of admiration: ‘See what a
he-goat! He looks like a Saint Paul.’[202]
“My lord Gaspar tells of having known an old servant of Duke Ercole of
Ferrara,[203] who offered the duke his two sons as pages; but before
they could begin their service, both the boys died. When the duke heard
this, he condoled with the father kindly, saying that he was very sorry,
for the only time when he had seen them, they had seemed to him very
pretty and gentle boys. The father replied: ‘My Lord, you saw nothing;
for within the last few days they had grown far handsomer and more
virtuous than I could possibly have believed, and already they sang
together like two sparrow-hawks.’
“And not long since one of our doctors stood looking at a man who had
been condemned to be flogged about the piazza, and taking pity on him,
because (although his shoulders were bleeding freely) the poor wretch
walked as slowly as if he had been out for a stroll to pass the time,
the doctor said to him: ‘Step out, poor fellow, and make haste to be
done with your pain.’ Whereat the goodman turned, and gazing at the
doctor as if amazed, he stood awhile without speaking, and then said:
‘When you come to be flogged, you will go your own gait; so I choose to
go mine now.’
“You surely must still remember that absurd story which my lord Duke[2]
lately told of a certain abbot, who, being present one day when Duke
Federico[26] was discussing what to do with the great mass of earth that
had been excavated to lay the foundations of this palace, which was then
building, said: ‘My Lord, I have thought of an excellent place to put
it. Give orders to have an immense pit made, and it can be put in
without further difficulty.’ Duke Federico replied, not without
laughter: ‘And where shall we put the earth to be dug out of this pit of
yours?’ The abbot continued: ‘Have it made large enough to hold both.’
And so, for all the duke repeated several times that the larger the pit
was made, the more earth would be dug out of it, the man could never get
it into his brain that it could not be made large enough to hold both,
and kept replying: ‘Make it so much the larger.’ Now you see what good
judgment this abbot had.”
52.—Then messer Pietro Bembo said:
“And why do you not tell the story of your friend the Florentine
commander who was besieged in Castellina[204] by the Duke of Calabria?
Finding one day some poisoned crossbow missiles that had been shot in
from the camp, he wrote to the duke that if the warfare was to be
carried on so barbarously, he too would have medicine put on his cannon
shot, and then woe to the one who had the worst of it.”[205]
Messer Bernardo laughed, and said:
“Messer Pietro, if you do not hold your peace, I will tell all the
things I have seen and heard about your dear Venetians (which are not
few), and especially when they try to play the horseman.”
“Do not so, I beg of you,” replied messer Pietro, “and I will keep quiet
about two other delightful tales that I know of the Florentines.”[206]
Messer Bernardo said:
“They must have rather been Sienese, who often slip in this way; as was
recently the case with one, who, on hearing some letters read in council
wherein the phrase ‘the aforesaid’ was used (to avoid such frequent
repetition of the name of the man who was spoken of), said to the man
who was reading: ‘Stop there a moment and tell me, is this Aforesaid a
friend to our commune?’”
Messer Pietro laughed, then said:
“I am speaking of Florentines, not of Sienese.”
“Speak out freely then,” added my lady Emilia, “and do not stand so much
on ceremony.”
Messer Pietro continued:
“When the Florentine Signory was waging war against the Pisans,[207]
they sometimes found their money exhausted by their great expenses; and
the method of finding money for daily needs being discussed in council
one day, after many ways had been proposed, one of the oldest citizens
said: ‘I have thought of two methods whereby we could soon get a goodly
sum of money without much trouble. And one of these is, that since we
have no revenue greater than from the customs levied at the gates of
Florence, and since we have eleven gates, let us at once have eleven
more made, and thus we shall double our revenue. The other method is to
give orders that the mints be forthwith opened in Pistoia and
Prato,[208] just the same as in Florence, and that nothing be done there
day and night but mint money, and that all the money be ducats of gold;
and in my judgment this course is the quicker and the less costly.’”
53.—There was much laughter at this citizen’s keen sagacity: and the
laughter being quieted, my lady Emilia said:
“Messer Bernardo, will you allow messer Pietro to ridicule the
Florentines in this fashion, without returning blow for blow?”
“I forgive him this affront,” replied messer Bernardo, still laughing,
“for if he has displeased me by ridiculing the Florentines, he has
pleased me by obeying you, as I also would always do.”
Then messer Cesare said:
“I heard a delightful blunder made by a Brescian who had been at Venice
this year for the feast of the Ascension, and in my presence was
describing to some of his companions the fine things that he had seen
there; and how much merchandise there was, and how much silverware,
spices, cloth and stuffs; then the Signory went forth with great pomp to
wed the sea in the Bucentaur,[209] on board of which there were so many
finely dressed gentlemen, so much music and singing, that it seemed a
paradise. And on being asked by one of his companions which kind of
music he liked best among those that he had heard, he said: ‘They all
were good; but among the rest I saw a man playing on a certain strange
trumpet, which he thrust down his throat more than two palms at every
flourish, and then he straightway drew it out and thrust it down again;
so that you never saw a greater marvel.’”
Then everyone laughed, perceiving the silly mistake of the man, who had
imagined that the player thrust down his throat that part of the
trombone which disappears by sliding into itself.
54.—Messer Bernardo then continued:
“Moreover common affectations are tedious, but they excite much laughter
when they are beyond measure: like those we sometimes hear from certain
mouths regarding greatness or courage or nobility; or sometimes from
women, regarding beauty or fastidiousness. As was not long since the
case with a lady who remained sad and abstracted at some great festival;
and when asked what she was thinking about that should make her so
gloomy, she replied: ‘I was thinking of a matter that troubles me
greatly whenever it occurs to me, nor can I lift it from my heart; and
this is, that on the universal Judgment Day, when all men’s naked bodies
must rise and appear before the tribunal of Christ, I cannot endure the
distress I feel at the thought that my body will have to be seen
unclothed among the rest.’ Being extravagant, such affectations as these
cause laughter rather than tedium.
“You all are familiar with those splendid lies so well composed that
they move to laughter. A very excellent one was but lately told me by a