The Book of the Courtier
“Another time my lord Ottaviano Ubaldini,[273] being at Florence in the
company of some citizens of great influence, and the talk being about
soldiers, one of them asked him if he knew Antonello da Forli,[274] who
had at that time fled from Florentine territory. My lord Ottaviano
replied: ‘I do not know him, but have always heard him spoken of as a
prompt soldier.’ Whereupon another Florentine said: ‘You see how prompt
he is, when he takes his departure without asking leave.’
75.—“Those witticisms also are very clever in which we take from our
interlocutor’s lips something that he does not mean. And of this kind,
methinks, was my lord Duke’s reply to the castellan who lost San
Leo[275] when this duchy was taken by Pope Alexander and given to Duke
Valentino;[276] and it was this: my lord Duke being in Venice at the
time I have mentioned, many of his subjects came continually to give him
secret news how things were faring in his state; and among the rest came
this castellan, who, after having excused himself as best he could,
ascribing the blame to mischance, said: ‘Have no anxiety, my Lord,
because I still have heart to take measures for the recovery of San
Leo.’ Then my lord Duke replied: ‘Trouble yourself no more about the
matter, for the mere loss of it was a measure that rendered its recovery
possible.’
“There are certain other sayings when a man known to be clever says
something that seems to proceed from foolishness. For instance, messer
Camillo Paleotto[232] said of someone the other day: ‘He was such a fool
that he died as soon as he began to grow rich.’
“Of like kind with this is a spicy and keen dissimulation, where a man
(discreet, as I have said) pretends not to understand something that he
does understand. Like what was said by the Marquess Federico of Mantua,
who,—being pestered by a tiresome fellow who complained that some of his
neighbours were snaring doves out of his dovecote, and all the while
held one of them in his hand, hanging dead just as he had found it with
its foot caught in the snare,—replied that the matter should be looked
to. The fellow repeated the story of his loss not once only but many
times, always displaying the dove that had been hanged, and saying: ‘And
what, my Lord, do you think ought to be done in this case?’ At last the
Marquess said: ‘I think the dove ought on no account to be buried in
church, for having hanged itself, it must be believed to have committed
suicide.’[277]
“Somewhat of the same fashion was the retort made by Scipio Nasica[278]
to Ennius. Once when Scipio went to Ennius’s house to speak with him and
called him down from the street, one of his maids replied that he was
not at home; and Scipio distinctly heard Ennius himself tell the maid to
say he was not at home, and so went away. Not long afterwards Ennius
came to Scipio’s house and likewise called to him from below; whereupon
Scipio himself replied in a loud voice that he was not at home. Then
Ennius replied: ‘How? Do I not know thy voice?’ Scipio said: ‘Thou art
too rude. The other day I believed thy maid when she said thou wert not
at home, and now thou wilt not believe the like from me in person.’
76.—“It is also a fine thing when a man is struck in the very same place
where he first struck his fellow. As in the case of messer Alonso
Carillo,[279] who, being at the Spanish court and having committed some
youthful peccadilloes of no great importance, was put in prison by the
king’s order and left there overnight. The next day he was taken out,
and so going to the palace in the morning, he reached the hall where
there were many cavaliers and ladies. And as they were laughing at his
imprisonment, my lady Boadilla[280] said: ‘Signor Alonso, your mishap
weighed on me heavily, for all your acquaintance thought the king would
have you hanged.’ Then Alonso said quickly: ‘My Lady, I was much afraid
of it myself; but then I had hope that you would ask me to be your
husband.’ You see how sharp and clever this was, because in Spain (as in
many other countries too) the custom is that when a man is led to the
gallows, his life is given him if a public courtesan begs him for her
husband.
Enlarged from a part of Weinwurm’s photograph (no. 1384) of the
portrait, in the National Gallery at Buda-Pest, by Sebastiano
Luciani “del Piombo” (1485-1547). In the Scarpia collection at La
Motta di Livenza, this picture passed for years as a portrait by
Raphael of the Ferrarese courtier-poet Antonio Tebaldeo. On purely
intrinsic evidence, both Morelli and Berenson identify it as a
portrait of Raphael at the age of 26 or 27 years.
“In this manner also the painter Raphael replied to two cardinals with
whom he was on familiar terms, and who (to make him talk) were finding
fault in his presence with a picture that he had painted,—in which St.
Peter and St. Paul were represented,—saying that these two figures were
too red in the face. Then Raphael at once said: ‘My Lords, be not
concerned; because I painted them so with full intention, since we have
reason to believe that St. Peter and St. Paul are as red in Heaven as
you see them here, for shame that their Church should be governed by
such men as you.’[281]
77.—“Very keen also are those witticisms that have a certain latent
spice of fun in them. As where a husband was making great lament and
weeping for his wife, who had hanged herself on a fig-tree, another man
approached him and plucking him by the robe, said: ‘Brother, might I as
a great favour have a small branch of that fig-tree to graft upon some
tree in my garden?’
“Some other witticisms need an air of patience and are slowly uttered
with a certain gravity. As where a rustic, who was carrying a box on his
shoulders, jostled it against Cato, and then said: ‘Have a care.’ Cato
replied: ‘Hast thou aught else but that chest upon thy shoulders?’[282]
“Moreover we laugh when a man has made a blunder, and to mend it says
something of set purpose that seems silly and yet tends to the object he
has in view, and thus keeps himself in countenance. For instance, in the
Florentine Council not long ago there were (as often happens in these
republics) two enemies, and one of them, who was of the Altoviti family,
fell asleep. And although his adversary, who was of the Alamanni family,
was not speaking and had not spoken, yet to raise a laugh the man who
sat next Altoviti woke him with a touch of the elbow, and said: ‘Do you
not hear what So and So says? Make answer, as the Signors are asking for
your opinion.’ Thereupon Altoviti rose to his feet all drowsy as he was,
and said without stopping to think: ‘My Lords, I say just the opposite
of what Alamanni said.’ Alamanni replied: ‘But I said nothing.’ ‘Then,’
said Altoviti at once, ‘the opposite of whatever you may say.’
“Of this kind also was what your Urbino physician, master Serafino, said
to a rustic, who had received a hard blow in the eye so that it was
forced quite out, yet decided to seek aid from master Serafino. On
seeing him, although aware that it was impossible to cure him, still in
order to force money from his hands (just as the blow had forced the eye
from his head), the doctor readily promised to cure him, and accordingly
demanded money from him every day, affirming that he would begin to
recover his sight within five or six days. The poor rustic gave what
little he had; then, seeing that the affair was progressing slowly, he
began to complain of the physician, and to say that he felt no benefit
at all and saw no more with that eye than as if he had it not in his
head. At last master Serafino, seeing that he would be able to extort
little more from the man, said: ‘Brother, you must have patience. You
have lost your eye and there is no longer any help for it; and may God
grant that you do not lose your other eye as well.’ On hearing this, the
rustic began to weep and complain loudly, and said: ‘Master, you have
ruined me and stolen my money. I will complain to my lord Duke;’ and he
made the greatest outcry in the world. Then, to clear himself, master
Serafino said angrily: ‘Ah, wretched traitor! So you would have two
eyes, as city-folk and rich men have? To perdition with you!’ and
accompanied these words with such fury that the poor rustic was
frightened into silence and quietly went his way in peace, believing
himself to be in the wrong.
78.—“It is also fine to explain or interpret a thing jocosely. As when
at the court of Spain there appeared one morning in the palace a
cavalier who was very ugly, and his wife who was very beautiful, both
dressed in white damask (_damasco_),—the queen[283] said to Alonso
Carillo: ‘What think you of these two, Alonso?’ ‘My Lady,’ replied
Alonso, ‘I think she is the _dama_ (lady), and he is the _asco_,’ which
means monster.
Reduced from Giraudon’s photograph (no. 1528) of an anonymous bas-relief
in the Louvre. The features strikingly resemble those of Francesco
Francia’s medal of Alidosi, but are very unlike those shown in a
picture by Raphael (in the Prado Gallery at Madrid), which M. Müntz
regards as a portrait of the same personage. See _L’Archivio Storico
dell’Arte_ for 1891, pp. 328-32.
“Another time Rafaello de’ Pazzi[284] saw a letter which the Prior of
Messina[285] had written to a lady of his acquaintance, the
superscription of which read, ‘This missive is to be delivered to the
author of my woes.’ ‘Methinks,’ said Rafaello, ‘this letter is intended
for Paolo Tolosa.’[286] Imagine how the bystanders laughed, when
everyone knew that Paolo Tolosa had lent the Prior ten thousand ducats,
and that he, being a great spendthrift, found no means to repay them.
“Akin to this is the giving of friendly admonition in the form of
advice, yet covertly. As Cosimo de’ Medici did to one of his friends,
who was very rich but of moderate education and who had secured through
Cosimo a mission away from Florence. When on setting out the man asked
Cosimo what course he thought ought to be taken in order to do well in
the mission, Cosimo replied: ‘Wear rose-colour,[287] and say little.’ Of
the same kind was what Count Ludovico said to a man who wished to travel
incognito through a certain dangerous place and knew not how to disguise
himself; and being asked about it, the count replied: ‘Dress like a
doctor or some other man of sense.’ Again, Gianotto de’ Pazzi[288] said
to someone who wished to make a jerkin of as varied colours as he could
find: ‘Imitate the Cardinal of Pavia in word and deed.’
79.—“We laugh also at some things that have no connection. As when
someone said the other day to messer Antonio Rizzo[289] about a certain
man from Forli: ‘You may know he is a fool, for his name is
Bartolommeo.’ And another: ‘You are looking for a Master Stall, and have
no horses!’ And: ‘All the fellow lacks is money and brains.’
“And we laugh at certain other things that seem to have sequence. As
recently, when a friend of ours was suspected of having had the
renunciation[290] of a benefice forged, upon another priest’s falling
sick, Antonio Torello[291] said to our friend: ‘Why do you delay to send
for that notary of yours and see about filching this other benefice?’
Likewise at some things that have no sequence. As the other day, when
the pope sent for messer Gianluca da Pontremolo and messer Domenico
dalla Porta (who are both hunchbacks as you know),[292] and made them
auditors, saying that he wished to set the Wheel right,—messer Latino
Giovenale[293] said: ‘His Holiness is in errour if he thinks to make the
Wheel right with two wrongs (_due torti_).’
80.—“We often laugh also when a man admits everything that is said to