The Book of the Courtier
Bernardo,[10] Cardinal of Santa Maria in Portico, who for his keen and
playful readiness of wit was most delightful to all that knew him, he,
too, is dead. Dead also is my lord Ottaviano Fregoso,[11] a man very
rare in our times: magnanimous, devout, full of kindness, talent, good
sense, and courtesy, a true lover of honour and merit, and so worthy of
praise that his very enemies were ever forced to praise him; and the
misadventures that he bore so bravely were enough to prove that fortune
is still, as always, adverse to merit. And of those mentioned in my book
many more besides are dead, to whom nature seemed to promise very long
life.
But what should not be told without tears is that my lady Duchess,[12]
too, is dead. And if my heart mourns the loss of so many friends and
patrons, who have left me in this life as in a solitude full of sorrows,
it is meet that I grieve more bitterly for the death of my lady Duchess
than of all the others; for she was more precious than they, and I more
bound to her than to all the others. Not to delay, then, the tribute
that I owe the memory of so excellent a Lady and of the others who are
no more, and moved also by the danger to my book, I have had it printed
and published in such state as the shortness of time permitted.
And since you had no knowledge in their lifetime either of my lady
Duchess or of the others who are dead (except Duke Giuliano and the
Cardinal of Santa Maria in Portico), in order to give you that knowledge
after their death as far as I can, I send you this book as a picture of
the Court of Urbino, not by the hand of Raphael[98] or Michelangelo,[99]
but of a humble painter, who knows only how to trace the chief lines,
and cannot adorn truth with bright colouring, or by perspective art make
that which is not seem to be. And although I tried to show forth in
their discourse the qualities and character of my personages, I own I
failed to express or even to suggest the excellences of my lady Duchess,
not only because my style is inadequate to describe them, but because my
intelligence fails even to conceive of them;[13] and if I be censured
for this or any other matter worthy of censure (for I well know that my
book contains many such), I shall not gainsay the truth.
2.—But as men sometimes so delight in finding fault that they reprehend
even that which does not merit reprehension, to such as blame me because
I did not imitate Boccaccio[14] or conform to the usages of present
Tuscan speech, I shall not refrain from saying that while, for his time,
Boccaccio had a charming faculty and often wrote with care and
diligence, yet he wrote far better when he followed only the guidance of
his natural wit and instinct, without further thought or care to polish
his writings, than when he strove industriously and laboriously to be
more refined and correct. For this reason even his followers declare
that he greatly erred in judgment concerning his own works, holding
cheap what did him honour[15] and prizing what was worthless. Therefore,
if I had imitated that manner of writing which in Boccaccio is censured
by those who elsewise praise him, I should not have been able to escape
those same aspersions that were cast on him in this regard; and I should
have more deserved them, because he committed his faults thinking he was
doing well, while I should have known I was doing ill. Again, if I had
imitated the style now admired by many but less esteemed by him, it
seemed to me that by such imitation I should show myself at variance
with him whom I was imitating, a thing I deemed unseemly. And again, if
this consideration had not moved me, I was not able to imitate him in my
subject-matter, for he never wrote anything at all in the manner of
these books of the Courtier; and I thought I ought not to imitate him in
language, because the power and true law of good speech consist rather
in usage than in aught else, and it is always a bad habit to employ
words not in use. Therefore it was not meet for me to borrow many of
Boccaccio’s words that were used in his day, but are not now used even
by the Tuscans themselves.
Nor was I willing to limit myself to the Tuscan usage of to-day, because
intercourse between different nations has always had the effect to
transport, as it were like merchandise, new forms of speech from one to
the other; and these endure or fail according as custom accepts or
rejects them. Besides being attested by the ancients, this is clearly
seen in Boccaccio, who used so many French, Spanish, and Provençal words
(some of them perhaps not very intelligible to modern Tuscans) that if
they were all omitted his work would be far shorter.
And since, in my opinion, we ought not to despise the idiom of the other
noble cities of Italy, whither men resort who are wise, witty, and
eloquent, wont to discourse on weighty matters of statecraft, letters,
war, and commerce, I think that, of the words used in the speech of
these places, I could fitly use in writing such as are graceful in
themselves, elegant to pronounce, and commonly deemed good and
expressive, although they might not be Tuscan or even of Italian origin.
Moreover, in Tuscany, many words are used which are plainly corruptions
of the Latin, but which in Lombardy and other parts of Italy have
remained pure and unchanged, and are so generally employed by everyone
that they are accepted by the gentle and easily understood by the
vulgar. Hence I think I did not err if in writing I used some of these
words, or preferred what is whole and true speech of my own country
rather than what is corrupt and mutilated from abroad.
Neither do I regard as sound the maxim laid down by many, that our
common speech is the more beautiful the less it is like Latin; nor do I
understand why one fashion of speech should be accorded so much greater
authority than another, that, if the Tuscan tongue can ennoble debased
and mutilated Latin words and lend them such grace that, mutilated as
they are, they may be used by anyone without reproach (which is not
denied), the Lombard or any other tongue may not support these same
Latin words, pure, whole, precise, and quite unchanged, so that they be
tolerable. And truly, just as to undertake, in spite of usage, to coin
new words or to preserve old ones may be called bold presumption, so
also, besides being difficult, it seems almost impious to undertake,
against the force of that same usage, to suppress and bury alive, as it
were, words that have already endured for many centuries, protected by
the shield of custom against the envy of time, and have maintained their
dignity and splendour through the changes in language, in buildings, in
habits and in customs, wrought by the wars and disasters of Italy.
Hence if in writing I have chosen not to use those words of Boccaccio
that are no longer used in Tuscany, nor to conform to the rule of those
who deem it not permissible to use any words that the Tuscans of to-day
do not use, I seem to myself excusable. And I think that both in the
matter and in the language of my book (so far as one language can aid
another), I have followed authors as worthy of praise as is Boccaccio.
Nor do I believe that it ought to be counted against me as a fault that
I have elected to make myself known rather as a Lombard speaking
Lombard, than as a non-Tuscan speaking Tuscan too precisely, in order
that I might not resemble Theophrastus, who was detected as non-Athenian
by a simple old woman, because he spoke the Athenian dialect with excess
of care.[16]
But as this subject is sufficiently treated of in my first Book,[17] I
shall say no more, except that, to prevent all possible discussion, I
grant my critics that I do not know this Tuscan dialect of theirs, which
is so difficult and recondite. And I declare that I have written in my
own dialect, just as I speak and for those who speak as I do; and in
this I think I have wronged no man, because it seems to me that no one
is forbidden to write and speak in his own language; nor is anyone bound
to read or listen to what does not please him. Therefore if these folk
do not care to read my Courtier, I shall not hold myself in the least
wronged by them.
3.—Others say that since it is so very hard and well nigh impossible to
find a man as perfect as I wish the Courtier to be, it was superfluous
to write of him, because it is folly to teach what cannot be learned. To
these I make answer that I am content to have erred in company with
Plato, Xenophon and Marcus Tullius, leaving on one side all discussion
about the Intelligible World and Ideals; among which, just as are
included (according to those authors) the ideal of the perfect State, of
the perfect King and of the perfect Orator,[18] so also is the ideal of
the perfect Courtier. And if in my style I have failed to approach the
image of this ideal, it will be so much the easier for courtiers to
approach in deeds the aim and goal that I have set them by my writing;
and even if they fail to attain the perfection, such as it is, that I
have tried to express, he that approaches nearest to it will be the most
perfect; just as when many archers shoot at a target and none hit the
very mark, surely he that comes nearest to it is better than the rest.
Still others say that I thought to paint my own portrait, as if I were
convinced that I possessed all the qualities that I attribute to the
Courtier.[19] To these I shall not indeed deny having essayed everything
that I should wish the Courtier to know; and I think that a man, however
learned, who did not know something of the matters treated of in the
book, could not well have written of them; but I am not so lacking in
self-discernment as to fancy that I know everything I have the wit to
desire.
My defence then against these and perhaps many other accusations, I
leave for the present to the verdict of public opinion; for while the
many may not perfectly understand, yet oftener than not they scent by
natural instinct the savour of good and bad, and without being able to
explain why, they relish one thing and like it, and reject another and
hate it. Therefore if my book wins general favour, I shall think it must
be good and ought to live;[20] but if it fails to please, I shall think
it must be bad and soon to be forgot. And if my censors be not satisfied
with the common verdict of opinion, let them rest content with that of
time, which in the end reveals the hidden defects of everything, and
being father of truth and judge without passion, ever passes on men’s
writings just sentence of life or death.
BALDESAR CASTIGLIONE.
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE COURTIER
BY COUNT BALDESAR CASTIGLIONE
TO MESSER ALFONSO ARIOSTO
1.—Within myself I have long doubted, dearest messer Alfonso, which of
two things were the harder for me: to deny you what you have often
begged of me so urgently, or to do it. For while it seemed to me very
hard to deny anything (and especially a thing in the highest degree
laudable) to one whom I love most dearly and by whom I feel myself to be
most dearly loved, yet to set about an enterprise that I was not sure of
being able to finish, seemed to me ill befitting a man who esteems just
censure as it ought to be esteemed. At last, after much thought, I am
resolved to try in this matter how much aid my assiduity may gain from
that affection and intense desire to please, which in other things are
so wont to stimulate the industry of man.
You ask me then to write what is to my thinking the form of
Courtiership[21] most befitting a gentleman who lives at the court of
princes, by which he may have the ability and knowledge perfectly to