HAVE a longe time doubted with my self (most loving M.
Alphonsus) which of the two were harder for me, either to denye you the
thinge that you have with suche instance manye tymes required of me, or to
take it in hande: bicause on the one side me thoughte
it a verye harde matter to denye anye thynge, especially the request
beinge honest, to the personne whom I love deerlye, and of whom I perceyve
my selfe deerlye beloved. Againe on the other syde, to undertake an
enterpryse whiche I do not knowe my selfe able to brynge to an end, I
judged it uncomely for him that wayeth due reproofes so much as they
oughte to be wayed. At length after muche debatynge, I have determined to
prove in this behalfe what ayde that affection and great desyre to please,
can bring unto my dilygence, whyche in other thynges is wont to encreace the
laboure of menne. You then require me to wryte, what is (to my thynkynge)
the trade and maner of Courtyers, whyche is most fyttynge for a Gentilman
that lyveth in the Court of Princes, by the whiche he maye have the
knoweleage howe to serve them perfectlye in
everye reasonable matter, and obtaine thereby favour of them and prayse of
other men. Fynallye, of what sort he ought to be that deserveth to be
called so perfect a Courtyer, that there be no wante in him: wherefore I,
considering this kinde of request, say, that in case it should not appeare
to my selfe a greater blame to have you esteame me to be of smal
frendeshippe, then all other men of litle wysdome, I woulde have ryd my
handes
of this laboure, for feare leaste I shoulde bee counted rashe of all such
as knowe, what a harde matter it is, emonge suche diversitye of maners,
that are used in the Courtes of Christendome, to picke out the perfectest
trade and way, and (as it were) the floure of this Courtiership. Because
use maketh us manye times to delite in, and to set litle by the self same
thinges: wherby somtime it proceadeth that maners, garmentes, customes,
and facions whiche at sometyme have beene in price, becumme not regarded,
and contrarywyse the not regarded, becumme of price. Therfore it is
manifestlye to be descerned, that use hath greater force then reason, to
brynge up newe inventions emonge us, and to abolishe the olde, of the
whiche who so goeth about to judge the perfection, is often tymes
deceyved. For which consideration, perceyvinge this and manye other lettes
in the matter propunded for me to write upon, I am constreyned to make a
peece of an excuse, and to open playnelye that this errour (yf it may be
termed an errour) is commune to us both, that if anye blame happen to me
about it, it may be also partned with you. For it ought to be reckned a no
lesse offence in you to laye uppon me a burden that passeth my strengthe,
then in me to take it upon me. Let us therfore at length settle oure
selves to begin that is oure purpose and drifte, and (if it be possible)
let us facion suche a Courtier, as the Prince that shalbe worthy to have
him in his servyce, although hys state be but small, maye notwythstandynge
be called a myghtye Lorde. We will not in these bookes folow any certaine
order or rule of appointed preceptes, the whiche for the moste part is
wont to be observed in the teaching of any thinge whatsoever it be: but
after the maner of men of olde time, renuinge a gratefull memorye, we
will repeat certaine reasoninges that were debated in times past betwene
men verye excellent for that purpose. And althoughe I was not there
present, but at the time when they were debated, it was my chaunce to be
in Englande, yet soone after my retourne, I hearde them of a person that
faithfullye reported them unto me. And I will endevoure my selfe, for so
muche as my memorye wyll serve me, to call them perticularly to
remembraunce, that you maye see what, men worthy greate commendacion, and
unto whose judgement a man maye in everye poynt geve an undoubted credyt,
have judged and beleved in this matter. Neyther shall we swarve from the
pourpose to arryve in good order at the ende unto the whiche all oure
communication is directed, yf wee disclose the cause of the reasoninges
that hereafter folowe.
As everye man knoweth the lytle Citye of Urbin
is sytuated upon the side of the Appenine (in a maner) in the middes of
Italy towardes the Golf of Venice. The which for all it is placed emonge
hylles, and those not so pleasaunt as perhappes some other that we
behoulde in many places, yet in this point the element hathe been
favourable unto it, that all aboute, the
countrye is very plentyfull and full of fruites: so that beside the
holsomenesse of aer, it is very aboundant and stored wyth all thinges
necessarye for the lief of man. But amonge the greatest felycityes that
men can recken it to have, I counte thys the chief, that now a longe tyme
it hath alwayes bene governed with very good Princes, although in the
commune calamyties of the warres of Italy it remayned also a season with
out anye at all. But without searching further of this we maye make a good
proofe wyth the famous memorye of Duke Fridericke, who in his dayes was
the light of Italy. Neyther do we want true and very large
testimonies yet remayninge of his wisdome, courtesye, justice,
liberalitye, of his invincible courage and pollycy of warr. And of this do
his so many vyctoryes make proofe, chyeflye his conquerynge of places
impregnable, his sodyne redynesse in settynge forwarde to geve battaile,
his putting to flyght sundrye tymes wyth a small numbre, verie greate and
puissaunte armyes, and never suteined losse in any conflict: so that we
may, not without cause, compare hym to manye famous men of olde time. This
man emong his other deedes praiseworthy, in the hard and sharpe situation
of Urbin buylt a Palaice,
to the opinion of many men, the fayrest that was to be founde in all
Italy, and so fornished it with everye necessary implement belonging
therto, that it appeared not a palaice, but a Citye in fourme of a
palaice, and that not onelye with ordinarie matters, as Silver plate,
hanginges for chambers of verye riche cloth of golde, of silke and other
like, but also for sightlynesse: and to decke it out withall, placed there
a wonderous number of auncyent ymages of marble and mettall, verye
excellente peinctinges and instrumentes of musycke of all sortes, and
nothinge would he have there but what was moste rare and excellent. To
this with verye great charges he gathered together a great number of most
excellent and rare bookes, in Greke, Latin and Hebrue, the which he
garnished wyth golde and sylver, esteaming this to be the chiefest
ornament of his great palaice. This duke then folowing the course of
nature when he was lxv. yeares of age, as he had lived, so did he end his
lief with glorye. And left Duke after
him a childe of x. yeares,
| Guidubaldo duke of Urbin. |
havynge no more male, and wythout mother, who hight Guidubaldo. Thys
chylde as of the state, so did it appeare also that he was heyre of all
his fathers vertues: and sodenly wyth a marveylous towardnes beeganne to
promise so much of himselfe, as a manne woulde not have thought possyble
to be hoped of a man mortall. So that the opinyon of men was, that of all
duke Friderickes notable dedes there was none greater then that he begat
suche a son. But fortune envyinge this so great vertue, wythall her myght
gainstoode this so gloryous a beginnynge, in suche wyse that before duke
Guidubaldo was xx. yeares of age, he fell sicke of the gout, the which
encreasinge uppon him wyth most bitter paynes, in a short tyme so nummed
hym of all hys members, that he coulde neyther stande on foote nor move
hymselfe. And in this maner was one of the best favoured and towardlyest
personages in the world deformed and marred in his greene age. And beside,
not satisfyed with thys, fortune was so contrarye to him in all his
pourposes, that verye sildome he brought to passe any thynge to hys minde.
And for all he had in him moste wise counsayle, and an invincible courage,
yet it seemed that whatsoever he tooke in hande bothe in feates of armes
and in everye other thinge small or greate, it came alwayes to yll
successe.
And of thys make proofe his manye and dyvers calamityes, which he alwayes
bore out with suche stoutnesse of courage, that vertue never yelded to
fortune. But wyth a boulde stomake despising her stormes, lyved wyth great
dignytie and estimation emonge all men: in sickenesse, as one that was
sounde, and in adversitye, as one that was most fortunate. So that for all
he was thus diseased in his bodye, he seved in time of warre wyth moste
honourable enterteinmente under the most famous kinges of Naples,
Alphonsus and Ferdinande the yonger.
| Hys service with princes and commune weales.
|
Afterward with Pope Alexander the vi. with the lordes of Venice and
Florence. And when Julius the ii. was created Pope, he was then made
generall Captayne of the Churche: at whych tyme proceadynge in hys
accustomed usage, he sett hys delyte above all thynges to have hys house
furnished with most noble and valyaunte Gentylmen, wyth whom he lyved very
famylyarly, enjoying theyr conversation, wherein the pleasure whyche he
gave unto other menne was no lesse, then that he receyved of other,
because he was verye wel seene in both tunges, and together wyth a lovynge
behavyour and pleasauntnesse he had also accompanied the knowleage of
infinite thinges. And beside this, the greatnesse of his courage so
quickened hym, that where he was not in case with hys personne to
practise the feates of Chivalrye, as he had done longe before, yet dyd he
take verye great delyte to behoulde them in other men, and with his wordes
sometyme correctinge, and otherwhyle praysing everye man accordynge to
hys desertes, he declared evydentlye howe greate a judgment he hadde in
those matters. And upon this at Tylt, at Tourneye, in rydynge, in playinge
at all sorts of weapon, also in inventing devyces, in pastymes, in
musicke, fynallye in all exercise s meete for noble Gentilmen, everye
manne stryved to showe hymselfe suche a one, as myght deserve to bee
judged woorthye of so noble an assemblye. Therefore were all the houres of
the daye devyded into honourable and pleasaunt exercyses, aswell of the
bodye as of the mynde. But because the Duke
| Elizabeth Gonzaga dutchesse of Urbin. L. Emilia Pia.
|
used continuallye, by reason of his infirmytye, soone after supper to go
to his rest, everye man ordinarelye, at that houre drewe where the
Dutchesse was, the Lady Elizabeth Gonzaga. Where also continuallye was the
Lady Emilia Pia, who for that she was endowed with so lively a wytt and
judgement as you knowe, seemed the maistresse and ringe leader
of all the companye, and that everye manne at her receyved understandinge
and courage. There was then to be hearde pleasaunte communication and
merye conceytes, and in every mannes countenaunce a manne myght perceyve
peyncted a lovynge jucoundenesse. So that thys house truelye myght well
be called the verye mansion place of Myrth and Joye. And I beleave it was
never so tasted in other place, what maner a thynge the sweete
conversation is that is occasioned of an amyable and lovynge companye, as
it was once there. For leavynge aparte what honoure it was to all us to
serve such a Lorde, as he whom I declared unto you right nowe, everye man
conceyved in his minde an high contentacyon everye tyme we came into the
dutchesse sight. And it appeared that this was a chaine that kept all
lincked together in love, in suche wise that there was never agrement of
wyll or hearty love greater betweene brethren, then was there beetweene us
all. The lyke was beetweene the women, with whom we hadde such free and
honest conversation, that every manne myght commune, syt, daly, and laugh
with whom he had lusted. But such was the respect which we bore to the
Dutchesse wyll, that the selfe same libertye was a very great bridle.
Neither was there anye that thought it not the greatest pleasure he
coulde have in the worlde, to please her, and the greatest griefe to
offende her. For this respecte were there most honest condicions coupled
with wonderous greate libertye, and devises of pastimes and laughinge
matters tempred in her sight, besyde most wyttye jestes, with so comelye
and grave a majesty, that the verye sober moode and greatnesse that dyd
knyt together all the actes, woordes and gestures of the Dutchesse in
jesting and laughynge, made them also that had never seene her in
their lief before, to count her a verye greate Ladye.
| The behavyoure of the Dutchesse. |
And all that came in her presence havyng this respect fyxed in their
breast, it seemed she had made them to her becke: so that every man
enforced himself to folowe this trade, takynge (as it were) a rule and
ensample of faire condicions at the presence of so greate and so vertuous
a Lady. Whose most excellent qualities I entend
not nowe to expresse, for it is neyther my pourpose, and againe they are
well inoughe knowen to the worlde, and muche better then I am able either
with tunge or with pen to endite.
And such as would perhaps have lien hid a space, fortune, as she that
wondreth at so rare vertues, hath thought good with many adversities and
temptatyons of miseries to disclose them, to make trial therby that in the
tender breast of a woman, in companye wyth synguler beawtie, there can
dwell wysdome, and stoutenes of courage, and all other vertues that in
grave men them selves are most seldome. But leavynge this apart, I say
that the maner of all the Gentilmen in the house was immedyatelye after
supper
to assemble together where the dutchesse was. Where emonge other
recreations, musicke and dauncynge, whiche they used contynuallye,
sometyme they propounded feate questions, otherwhyle they invented
certayne wytty sportes and pastimes, at the devyse some tyme of one
sometyme of an other, in the whych under sundrye covertes, often tymes the
standers bye opened subtylly theyr imaginations unto whom they thought
beste. At other tymes there arrose other disputations of divers matters,
or els jestinges with prompt inventions. Manye tymes they fell into
pourposes, as we nowe a dayes terme them, where in thys kynde of talke and
debating of matters, there was wonderous great pleasure on all sydes:
because (as I have sayde) the house was replenyshed wyth most noble
wyttes. Emonge whych (as you knowe) were moste famous the Lord Octavian
| Noble personages in the Court of Urbin. |
Fregoso, Sir Friderick his brother, the L. Julian de Medicis, M. Peter
Bembo, the L. Cesar Gonzaga, Count Lewis of Canossa, the L. Gaspar
Pallavicin, the L. Lodovicus Pius, M. Morello of Ortona, Peter of Naples,
M. Robert of Bari, and infynyte other most woorthye knyghtes and
Gentlymen. Beesyde these there were manye that for all ordinarilye they
dwelled not there, yet spent they most of their tyme there, as M. Bernard
Bibiena, Unico Aretino, Johnchristopher Romano, Peter Mount, Therpander,
M. Nicholas Phrisio, so that thither ran continually poetes, musitiens,
and al kinde of men of skyll, and the excellentest in every faculty that
were in al Italy. After pope Julius the ii. had with his owne presence by
the ayde of the Frenchmen brought Bolonia to the obedyence of the
Apostolyke Sea again, in the yeare mdvi. in hys retourn toward Roome he
tooke Urbin in his way, where he was receaved as honorably as was
possible, and with as sumptuous and costlye preparation, as coulde have
bine in any other Citie of Italy whatsoever it be. So that beeside the
Pope, all the Cardinalles and other Courtyers thought themselves throughly
satisfied. And some there were that provoked wyth the sweetnesse of this
companye, after the Pope and the Court was departed, contynued manye
dayes together in Urbin. At which time they did not onely proceade in
their accustomed trade of disportinge and ordinary recreations, but also
every man sett to his helpinge hande to augment them somewhat, and
especially in pastymes, which they had up
almost everye nyght. And the order therof was such, that assoone as they
were assembled where the Dutches was, every man satt him down at his
will, or as it fell to his lot, in a circle together, and in sittinge were
devyded a man and a woman, as longe as there were women, for alwayes
(lightlye) the number of men was farr the greater. Then were they governed
as the Dutchesse thought best, whiche manye times gave this charge unto
the L. Emilia.
So the daye after the Pope was departed, the companye beeinge gathered to
the accustomed place, after much pleasaunt talke, the Dutchesse pleasure
was that the
L. Emilia should beginne these pastimes: and she after a litle refusing of
that charge, sayd in this maner: Syth it is your pleasure (Madam) I shall
be she that must give the onsett in oure pastimes this night, bicause I
ought not of reason disobey you, I
thinke meete to propounde a pastyme, wherof I suppose shall ensue little
blame, and lesse travayle. And that shall be to have every man, as nigh as
he can, propounde a devyse not yet hearde of, then shall we chuse out such
a one as shall be thought meete
to be taken in hande in this companye.
And after she had thus spoken, she tourned her unto the L. Gaspar
Pallavicin, willynge him to propounde his: who immediatelye made answere:
But first (madam) you must beeginne to propounde yours.
Then saide the L. Emilia: I have alreadye done. But your grace must
commaunde hym (Madam) to be obedient.
Then the Dutchesse laughynge: To thintent (quoth she) every man shal obey
you, I make you my deputy, and give unto you all mine aucthority.
It is surely a great matter, aunswered the L. Gaspar, that it is alwaies
lawfull for women to have this privilege, to be exempt and free from
paines takyng, and truely reason woulde we should in any wise knowe why.
But bicause I will not be he that shall geve example to disobey, I shal
leave thys untill an other time, and will speake of that I am nowe charged
withall, and thus I beginne. Mine oppinion is, that oure mindes, as in
other thinges, so also in lovynge are diverse in judgemente,
and therefore it chaunceth often tymes, that the thynge whyche is most
acceptable unto one, is most abhorred of an other. Yet for all that they
alwayes agree in that everye man counteth most deere the wight beloved. So
that many times the overmuch affection in lovers doth so deceive their
judgemente, that they weene the person whom they love, to be so garnished
wyth all excellent vertues and wythout faulte, that he hath no peere in
the worlde. But bycause the nature of man doth not admytte suche full
perfectyons, and there is no mann that hath not some defaulte or want in hym,
it can not be sayde that suche as these be are not deceyved, and that the
lover doeth not become blynde as touchynge the beloved. I would therefore
oure pastyme should be thys nyghte to have everye manne open what vertues
he would principally the person he loveth should be indowed with all. And
seeyng it is so necessarilye that we all have some spotte, what vyce he
woulde also have in hym: to se who can fynde out most prayse woorthye and
manlye vertues, and most tollerable vyces, that shoulde be least hurtfull
bothe to hym that loveth, and to the wyghte beloved.
| The L. Constance Fregosa. |
After the L. Gaspar hadde thus spoken, the L. Emilia made a signe unto the
Lady Constaunce Fregosa, bicause she was next in order to folow: who was
about to speake, whan the Dutchesse sodeinlye said: Seinge the L. Emilia
will not take the paine to fynde out some pastime, reason willeth that
the other Ladyes should be partakers of the same privilege, and be also
fre from this burden for this night: especially seing there are so many
men in place, for assure your self we shall want no pastimes.
So shall we do, aunswered the L. Emilia, and puttinge the L. Consataunce
to silence tourned her to the L. Cesar Gonzaga, that sat next her,
commaunding him to speak,
| The L. Cesar Gonzagas devise. |
and thus he began: Whoso wyll diligentlye consider all our doynges, he
shall fynde alwayes in them sundrye imperfections. And that happeneth,
bicause nature doth varye, as well in this, as in all other thinges. Unto
one she hath geven the lyght of reason in one thyng, and unto an other, in
an other thyng. Therefore it commeth to passe, where one man knoweth that
another knoweth not, and is ignoraunte in the thyng that the other hath
understandynge in, eche man doth easilye perceyve the errour of hys felow,
and not hys owne, and we all think oure selves to be verye wyse and
peradventure in that poynt most, wherein we are most foolysh. So that we
have seene by experience in this house manye men whyche at the beegynnynge
were counted most wise, in processe of tyme were knowen to be most
foolysh. Whiche hath proceaded of no other thyng but of oure owne
dilygence, lyke, as it is sayde to be in Pulia of them that are bitten
with a
| A kind of spiders, whiche beyng dyvers of nature causes divers
effectes, some after their biting fal a singyng, some laugh, some wepe,
some watche, some sweate: and this disease is onely cured with
instrumentes of musick, whiche must never
cease until the diseased beynge constrained with the melodye thereof to
fall a daunsinge with long exercise overcommeth the force of this
poyson. |
Tarrantula, about whom men occupye manye instrumentes of musicke, and wyth
sundrye sounes goe searchynge out, untyll the humor that maketh this
dysease by a certayn concordance it hath wyth some of those sounes, feling
it, doth sodeinly move, and so stirreth the pacient, that by that
styrrynge he recovereth hys health agayne. In lyke maner we, whan we have
felt some privie operacion of folye we provoke it so subtillye, and with
suche sundrye perswasions, and so divers wayes that at length we
understand whether it tended. Afterward the humour knowen, we so stir it
that alwayes it is brought to the perfection of open foly. And some is
wexed foolish in verses, some in musicke, some in love, some in daunsinge,
some in makynge antiques, some in rydinge, some in playnge at fence,
everye man accordinge to the moine of his mettall, wherby hath ensued (as
you know) marveylous great pastime. I houlde therfore for certeine, that
in everye one of us there is some seede of folye, the which beyng stirred
may multiplye (in a maner) infinite. Therfore I would this night our
pastime were to dispute upon this matter: and that everye man myght say
his mynde, seeynge I must be openly foolysh, in what sort of foly I am
foolysh, and over what matter, judginge it the issue for the sparkles of
folye that are daylye sene to proceade from me. And let the lyke be sayd
of all the rest, kepinge the order of our devises, and let everye man do
his best to grounde his opinion upon some sure signe and argument, and so
by this our pastime
shall everye one of us get profite, in that we shal know our defaultes,
and then shall we the better take heede. And in case the veyne of folye
whiche we shall discover, be so ranke that it shall appeare to us past
remedy,
we will set therto oure helpynge hande, and according to the doctrine of
Frier Marian, wee shal gaigne a soule whiche shalbe no small gaigne. At
this devise there was much laughing, and none coulde refraine from
speakinge. One sayde, I shoulde be founde foolysh in imagining. An
other, in viewinge. An other sayde, he was alreadye become foolysh for
love: and suc[h] lyke matters.
Then frier Seraphin after his maner, laughing: This (quoth he) should be
to tedious a matter. But if you wyll have a pretye pastime,
let everyman tel his opinion, how it cummeth that (in a maner) all women
abhorre rattes, and love serpentes, and you shall see that none will hit
upon it, but I, that knowe this misterye by a straunge means.
And now began he to enter into his triflyng tales, but the L. Emilia
commaunded him to silence, and overscipping
the Lady that satt there, made a signe to Unico Aretino that was next in
order, and he without looking for anye more biddyng, I (quoth he) would
gladlye be a judge of aucthoritye that I might with all kinde of tourment
bolte out the truth of offenders: and that, to discover the deceytes of
an ungrate woman, who with the eies of an angel, and hearte of a Serpent,
never agreeth her tunge with her mynde, and with a feygned deceyvable
compassion, purposeth nothyng els but to make Anatomie of hartes. Neither
is there in all the sandie countrey of Libia to be found so venemous a
serpent that is so deirous of mans bloud, as is this false creature. Which
not onely for the sweetenesse of voice and pleasant soune of woordes, but
also for her eyes, for her laughing,
for her countenaunce, and for all her gestures is a most perfect
meremayden. Therfore seying it is not lawful for me, as I would, to use
chaines, ropes, or fier, to understand a matter of trouth, my desire is to
compasse the knowledge of it with a mirye pastyme, whiche is this: That
every man should expresse his fansye what the S dothe signify that the
dutchess carieth in her foreheade. For although this be also an artificial
covert, the better to beguile, perhappes there may be an interpretacion
whiche she never thought upon. And who knoweth whether fortune, with pity
behoulding the tormentes of men, hath stirrid her with this small token to
discover against her wyll the inwarde desire she hathe to slea and bury
alyve in calamitie hym that honoureth and
serveth her. The duchesse laughed: and Unico, perceiving she would have
excused her self of thys interpretacion, No (quoth he) speake you not
(madam) for it is not your turne to speake nowe.
The L. Emilia then tourned her and sayd: M. Unico, there is none of us all
here that geveth not place to you in everye thyng, and especiallye in
knowynge the disposicion of the Dutchesse. And as you by your dyvyne wit
knowe her better then all the rest, so do you love her better then all
the rest, whych lyke byrdes of a feble sight, that cannot looke
stedfastlye into the circle of the Sunne, cannot so well perceyve the
perfection of it. Therfore all laboure were in vaine in cleeryng of thys
doubt, savyng your judgement alone. Thys interprise then is reserved onely
to you, as unto him that alone can brynge it to an ende, and none
other.
Unico, after he had pawsed a while being stil called upon to say his
fansy, at length rehersed a rime upon the aforesaide matter, expoundynge
what signified the letter S, the which many judged to be made at the first
sight. But bicause it was more witty a nd better knitt then a man would
have beleved the shortnes of time required, it was thought he had prepared
it before.
So after mens favourable voyce geven in the praise of this rime, and after
sufficient talke, the L. Octavian
| The L. Octavian Fregosos devise. |
Fregoso whose tourne was then next, began in this sorte smilyng: My
lordes, if I should say unto you that I never felt passion of love in my
daies, I am sure the Dutchesse and the L. Emilia, althoughe they beleved
it not in deede, yet would they make semblant to beleve it, and would
saye that it proceded bicause I mistrusted I should never frame any woman
to love me. The which trulye I have not hytherto proved with such
instance, that of reason I should dispare to obtain it once. Neither have
I forborne the doynge of it, bicause I set so much by my self and so
litle by women, that I thinke none worthye to bestowe my love and service
upon. But rather amased at the continual bewailings of some lovers, that
with their palenes, sorow, and silence, it appeareth they have evermore
their owne discomfort painted in their eyes. And if they speake,
accompanyinge everye woorde with certeyne treblefolde syghes, they reason
of nothing elles, but of teares, of tourmentes, of desperacions, and of
longyng for death. So that whansoever any sparckle of love hath beegonne
to kyndle in my breast, I have by and by enforced my self wyth all
dyligence to quenche it, not for anye hatred that I have conceyved agaynst
women (as these Ladyes suppose) but for myne owne health. On the other
side, I have knowen some other cleane contrarye to these sorowfull, whiche
do not onelye avaunce and content theymselves with the cheerfull lookes,
lovinge woordes, and sweete countenances of their ladies, but also sauce
their sorowes with sweetnesse, so that they count the debates, the angers
and the disdeignes of them, most sweete. Therefore these men seme unto me
to be much more then happy, for whereas they fynde so muche sweetenesse in
the amorous disdeignes, whiche some men recken much more bytter then
death, I beleve in lovyng gestures they should feele that wonderfull
blisse, whyche we seeke for in vayne in thys worlde. Therefore would I
oure pastyme were this nyght to have everye manne shew, where there muste
be a dysdeygne againste him in the person beloved, what the cause should
be that should make the person conceive thys disdeygne. For if there be
anye here that have proved those sweete disdeignes, I am sure they wil
desire for courtesy one of these causes that make them so sweet. And
perhappes I shall with a better will proceade somewhat farther in love, in
hope that I shall also fynde thys sweetenesse, where as some finde
bitternesse, and so shall not these Ladies geve me anye more this
slaunderous reporte, that I am not in love.
This pastime was muche praysed, and therefore dyd everye man setle
himselfe to reason uppon this matter.
But the Lady Emilia holdying her peace, M. Peter Bembo, that satt next in
order, spake in this maner: My Lordes, this pastime that the L. Octavian
hath propounded hath raysed no smal doubt in my mind, where he hath
resoned of the disdiegnes of love, the whiche though they be sondry, yet
unto me have they alwaies bin most bitter. Neither do I beleve that I can
learne any sauce that shalbe sufficient to sweten them. But peradventure
they are the more and the lesse bitter according to the cause wherof they
arrise. For I have in my daies (I remember) seene the woman whom I
served, stirred against me, eyther upon a vaine suspicyon that she
conceyved her self of my trustinesse, or elles upon some other false
opinyon that that had bine put into her head by some mennes report to my
hindraunce, so I beleaved no grief might be compared to myne. And me
thought that the greatest sorowe I felt was to suffer wythout deservyng,
and to sustayne this affliction, not for any offence of mine, but for the
small love that was
in her. At other times I saw her disdeignefull for some oversight of
mine, and knew that her anger proceaded of myne offence, and at that
instante I judged the former vexation to be verye lyght in comparison to
that whych I felt then. And me thought to be in displeasure and that for
myne owne trespas, wyth the persone to whom onelye I coveted and with
suche diligence sought to please, was the greatest torment of all other.
Therefore woulde I oure pastyme were to have every man declare his
opinion, where
there must be a disdeigne agaynst hym in the person beloved, of whom he
woulde the cause of this disdeigne shoulde have his beeginning, whether of
her or of him selfe: to know which is the greater grief, eyther to
dysplease the wight beloved, or to receyve dyspleasure of the wyght
beloved.
Every man looked what the L. Emilia woulde make aunswere to this, but
without anye woord speakyng to Bembo, she tourned her and made a signe to
Sir Friderick
| S. Friderick Fregosos divise. |
Fregoso to shew his devyse. And he incontinentlye beegan thus: Madam, I
woulde it were lawfull for me, as the maner is manye tymes to remytte me
to the judgement of an other, for I for my part woulde wyth all my heart
allowe some of the pastymes that have
bine already propounded by these Lordes, bicause in deede me thinke they
would be worth the hearing. Yet least I shoulde breake the order, thys I
saye: who so woulde take in hande to praise oure Court, leaving a part the
desertes of the dutchesse, which ghostly spirite, with her influence, is
sufficient to drawe from the earth up into heaven the simplest wittes in
the world, he might wel do it without suspicion of flattery. For
peradventure in all Italy a man shall have muche a do to fynde out
| Good Courtyers in the court of Urbin. |
so many gentlemen and noble personages that are so worthy, and besyde the
principall profession of Chivalrye so excellent in sundry thinges, as are
presently here. Therfore if in any place men may be founde that deserve
the name of good Courtyers, and can
judge what belongeth to the perfeccion of Courtyership, by reason a man
may beleve them to be here. To disgrace therefore many untowardly
asseheades, that through malepertnes thinke to purchase them the name of a
good Courtyer, I would have suche a pastime for this night, that one of
the company myght bee picked out who should take in hand to shape in
woordes a good Courtyer, specifying all suche condicions and particuler
qualities, as of necessitie must be in hym that deserveth this name. And
in suche thinges as shall not appere necessarie, as of necessitie must be
in hym that deserveth against them, as the maner of Philosophers schooles
is against him that kepeth disputacions.
Syr Friderick proceaded styll forwarde in his talke, whan the L. Emilia
interruptyng hym, sayde: If it bee my L. the dutchesse pleaser, this shall
be our pastime for this once.
The Dutchesse aunswered: I am wel pleased. Then (in maner) all the company
began to say both to the dutchesse, and among themselves that this was the
trimmest pastyme they could have, and without looking for answere the one
of the other thei craved the Lady Emilia to appoint who should first
beginne. Who tournynge her towarde the dutchesse, sayde: Commaunde you
(madam) whom shall please you to take this enterprise in hand, for I wyll
not by chousing, more one then an other, declare my selfe to judge in
this behalf, whom I thinke to be better skilled then the rest, and so do
wrong to some.
The Dutchesse aunswered: Make you this choise your selfe, and take hede
that in disobeying you bee not a president to the rest to be
disobedient.
Then the Lady Emilia saide laughyng unto Lewis count of Canossa: Therefore
for leesyng any more tyme, you (Count) shall be he that shall take this
enterprise uppon hym in fourme and maner as Syr Friderick hath declared.
Not for that we knowe ye are so good a Courtyer that you have at your
fingers endes that belongeth thereto: but because in repeatinge everye
arsiversy, as we hope ye wyll, we shall have somuch the more pastyme, and
everye one shall be able to answere you, where if an other more skilfull
then you should take it in hande, there should bee nothing sayde againste
hym for tellyng the trueth, and so shoulde we have but a colde pastime.
The Count aunswered by and by: We neede not feare (madam) that we shall
wante contrarying in wordes againste hym that telleth the truth, as longe
as you be here. And after they had laughed a whyle at this answer, he
proceded on: But truely I would with al l my hearte bee ridde of this
burthen, for it is to hard for me. And I know that to be most true in me
which you have spoken in jest: namelye, that I have no understandynge in
that belongeth to a good Courtyer. And this dooe I not seeke to prove with
anye
other tryall, for seeyng I dooe not the deedes, a manne may judge I
understande it not, and I beleve I am the lesse to bee blamed. For oute of
doubte it is a woorse matter not to dooe well, then not to understande
howe to dooe it. Yet seynge youre pleaser is, that I shall take the
charge uppon me, I can not, nor wyll refuse it, for withstandyng youre
order and judgement, the which I knowe is much better then myne.
Then the L. Cesar Gonzaga: Because it is nowe (quoth he well forwarde in
nyghte, and have here redy for us other sortes of pastimes, peradvendture
it shoulde not bee amysse to deferre this resonynge untyll to morowe, and
the Counte shall have leysure to thynke better uppon that he hathe to
saye: for in verye deede to entreate uppon suche a matter at the fyrste
syghte, it is a harde thynge.
Then aunswered the Count: I wyll not dooe as he dyd, that strypped himself
into his dublette, and leaped lesse grounde then he didde before in his
Coate. And me thynke my lucke is good that it is late, because the
shortenesse of tyme shall make me use few e woordes, and the sodeinnesse
of the matter shall so excuse me, that it shall be lawfull for me to speak
without blame whatsoever commeth firste to mynde. Because I wyll not
therefore carye this burthen of duetye anye longer uppon my shoulders,
this I saye: in everye thynge it is so harde a matter to knowe the true
perfeccion, that it is almoste
| The true perfeccion in thinges. |
unpossible, and that by reason of the varietie of judgementes. Therefore
manye there are, that delite in a manne of muche talke, and hym they call
a pleasaunt felowe. Some wyll delite more in modestie, some other wyll
fansye a manne that is actyve and alwayes doynge: other, one that sheweth
a quietnes and a respecte in everye thynge. And thus dooeth everye man
prayse or dysprayse accordynge to hys fansye, alwayes coverynge a vyce
with the name of the next vertue to it, and a vertue with the name of the
nexte vice: as in calling him that is sawcye, bolde: hym that is sober,
drie: hym that is seelye, good: hym that is unhappye, wittie: and lykewyse
in the reste.
| Vice cloked with the name of a vertue, and contrariwise.
|
Yet doe I thinke that eche thing hath his perfeccion, althoughe it be hid,
and with reasonable dyscourses myght be judged of hym that hath knowledge
in the matter. And for as much as the trueth (as I have sayd) is
oftentymes hid, and I take not upon me to
have this knowledge, I cannot praise but that kind of Courtyers which I
set most by, and allow that whiche semeth unto me most nigh the trueth, in
my smal judgement. The which you shal folowe if ye thinke it good, or els
sticke to youre owne, yf it shal vary from mine. Neither will I (for all
that) stand stiffe that mine is better then yours, for not onelye one
thynge maie seme unto you, and an other to me, but also unto my self it
may appere sometime one thing, sometime another.
| The facioning of a Courtyer. A Gentleman borne.
|
I wyll have this our Courtyer therfore to be a Gentleman borne and of a
good house. For it is a great deale lesse dyspraise for him that is not
born a gentleman to faile in the actes of vertue then for a gentleman. If
he swarve from the steppes of his auncestours, he stayneth the name of
his familie, and doeth not onely not get, but loseth that is already
gotten. For noblenesse of birth is (as it were) a clere lampe that sheweth
forth and bringeth into light, workes bothe good and badde, and enflameth
and
provoketh unto vertue, as wel with the feare of slaunder, as also with
the hope of praise. And wheras this brightnesse of nobleness dothe not
discover the workes of the unnoble, they have a wante of provocation and
of feare of slaunder, and they recken not themselves bounde to wade anye
further then their auncestours did before theym, whereas the noble of
birth counte it a shame not to arrive at the leaste at the boundes of
their predecessors set foorth unto them. Therefore it chaunceth alwaies
(in a maner) bothe in armes and in all other vertuous actes, that the
moste famous menne are gentlemen. Because nature in every thing hath
depely sowed that
privie sede, which geveth a certain force and propertie of her beginning,
unto whatsoever springeth of it, and maketh it lyke unto her selfe. As we
see by exaumple not onely in the race of horses and other beastes, but
also in trees, whose slippes and graftes alwayes for the moste parte are
lyke unto the stocke of the tree they came from: and yf at any time they
growe out of kind, the fault is in the husbandman. And the lyke is in men,
yf they
| Gentlemen of most prowesse. Good bringing up in youthe. Some
borne full of graces
and comelines. Some borne very asseheds. Hypolitus da Este
brother to the Duke of Ferrara. |
be trayned up in good nourtour, moste commonlye they resemble them from
whom thei come and often times passe them, but yf they have not one that
can well trayn them up, thei growe (as it were) wylde, and never come to
their ripenesse. Truth it is, whether
it be through the favour of the starres or of nature, some there are
borne endowed wyth suche graces, that they
seeme not to have bene borne, but rather facioned with the verye hand of
some God, and abounde in all goodnesse bothe of bodye and mynde. As againe
we see some so unapte and dull, that a man wyl not beleve, but nature hath
brought them into the worlde for
a spite and mockerie. And lyke as these with continual diligence and good
bringyng up for the most parte can bring small fruite: even so the other
with litle attendance clime to the full perfeccion of all excellency.
Marke me the Lorde Hyppolitus da Este Cardinall of Ferrara, he hath hade
so happye a birthe, that his person, his woordes, and all his gestures are
so facioned and compact with this grace, that among the moste aunciente
prelates (for all he is but yonge) he dothe represente so grave an
aucthoritie, that a man woulde weene he were more meete to teache, then
nedefull to learne. Likewise in company with menne and women of all
degrees, in sportynge, in laughynge, and in jestynge he hath in hym a
certayne sweetenesse, and so comely demeanours, that whoso speaketh with
hym or yet beholdeth hym, muste nedes beare him an affeccion for ever. But
returnyng to our purpose I saye, that betwene thys excellent grace, and
that fond foolyshnesse there is yet a meane, and
they that are not by nature so perfectly furnished, with studye and
diligence maye polishe and correct a great part of the defaultes of
nature. The Courtyer therfore, besyde noblenesse of birthe, I wyll have
hym to be fortunate in this behalfe, and by nature to have not only a
wytte, and a comely shape of persone and countenance, but also a certain
grace, and (as they saie) a hewe, that shall make him at the first sight
acceptable and lovyng unto who so beholdeth him. And let this be an
ornament to frame
and accompanye all his actes, and to assure men in his looke, such a one
to bee woorthy the companye and favour of every great man.
Here without any longer tariyng the L. Gaspar Pallavicin saide: That our
pastime may have the fourme and maner agreed upon, and least it shoulde
appeare that we litle esteme the aucthoritie geven us to contrary you, I
say (in mine advise) that this noblenesse of birth is not so necessarie
for the Courtyer. And if I wiste that anye of you thought it straunge or a
newe matter, I woulde alledge unto you sondrye, who for all they were
borne of moste noble bloude, yet have they bene heaped full of vyces: and
contrarywise, many unnoble that have made famous their posteritie. And yf
it be true that you sayde before, that the privie force of the firste
seede is in everye thynge, we shoulde al bee in one maner condicion, for
that we had all one selfe begynnynge, and one shoulde not bee more noble
then an other. But besyde the diversityes and degrees in us of highe and
lowe, I beleve there bee manye other matters, wherein I judge fortune to
be the chief, because we see her beare a stroke in al worldlye thinges,
and
(as it were) take a pastime to exalt many time whom pleaseth her without
any desert at all, and burie in the bottomles depth the most worthy to be
exalted. I confirme your saying as touching the happines of them that are
borne abounding in all goodnes both of minde and bodie: but this is seen
aswel in the unnoble, as in the noble of birthe, for nature hath not these
so subtile distinctions: yea (as I have sayde) we se many times in persons
of most base degree, most high giftes of nature. Therefore seing
this noblenes is gotten neither with force, nor art, but is rather a
praise of oure ancestours then our own, me think it a strange opinion that
the parentes of our Courtyer being unnoble, his good qualities should be
defaced, and these oure good condicions whiche you have named should not
be sufficient to bring him to the top of al perfeccion: that is to say,
wit, beauty of fisnamy, dispsicion of person, and that grace which at the
first sight shal make him moste acceptable unto all men.
Then aunswered Count Lewis: I denie not, but in men of base degree may
reigne the very same vertues that are in gentlemen. But to avoyd rehersal
of that we have already said, with many other reasons that might be
alleged in commendacion of noblenesse, the
which is evermore honored of al men because it standeth with reason that
good should spring of good, forsomuch as our entent is to facion a
Courtyer without ani maner default or lack in hym, and heaped with all
praise, me thinke it a necessarye matter to
make him a gentleman, as well for many other respects, as also for the
common opinion, which by and by doeth leane to noblenesse. For where there
are two in a noble mans house which at the first have geven no proofe of
themselves with woorkes good or bad,
| Noblenes of birthe in estimacion with all men. The
imprintinges of the mind with expectacion. |
assoone as it is knowen that the one is a gentleman borne, and the other
not, the unnoble shall be muche lesse estemed with everye manne, then the
gentleman, and he muste with much travaile and long time imprint in mennes
heades a good opinion of himselfe, whiche the other shal geat in a
moment, and onely for that he is a gentleman: and howe waighty these
imprintinges are every man may easily judge. For, to speake of our selves:
we have seen menne come to thys house, whiche for all they were fooles and
dulwitted, yet had they a report through all Italye of great Courtyers,
and though at length they were discovered and knowen, yet manye daies did
thei beguyle us, and mainteyned in our mindes that oppinion of themselves,
whiche at the fyrste they found there imprinted, although they wrought
accordyng to their small skil.
| The yl incyncion of princes in favouring them that deserve it
not. |
We have seen other at the fyrste in very smal estimacion, and afterwarde
in the ende have acquited themselves marveilous well. And of these errors
there are divers causes and among other the obstinatenes of princes,
whiche to prove mastries oftentimes bend themselves to favor him, that to
their seeming, deserveth no favour at all, and manye tymes in deede they
are deceyved. But because thei have alwaies many that counterfait them, a
very great report dependeth upon their favor, the which moste commonly
judgements folow. And if thei find any thing that semeth contrary to the
common opinion, thei are in doubt for deceiving themselves, and alwaies
loke for some matter secretly because it semeth, that these general
opinions ought to be founded upon a trothe, and arise of reasonable
causes.
| We be moved to passions without anye manifest cause why.
|
And forsomuch as our mindes are very apte to love and to hate: as in the
sightes of combates and games and in all other kinde of contencion one
with an other, it is seene that the lookers on many times beare affeccion
without any manifest cause why, unto one of the two parties, with a gredy
desire to have him get the victorie, and the other to have the overthrow.
Also as touching the opinion of mens qualities, the good or yll reporte at
the first brunt moveth oure mynde to one of these two passions: therefore
it commeth to passe, that for the moste part we judge with love or els
with hatred. You see then of what importance this first imprinting is, and
howe he ought to endeavoure himself to get it good in princes, if he
entende to be set by, and to purchase him the name of a good Coutyer. But
to come to some particularitie, I judge the principall and true profession
of a Courtyer ought to be in feates of armes, the which
| Armes the Courtyers chiefe profession. That he take no
foile. |
above all I will have hym to practise lively, and to bee knowen among
other for his hardinesse, for his acheving of enterprises, and for his
fidelitie toward him whom he serveth. And he shall purchase himselfe a
name with these good condicions, in doing the dedes in everie time and
place: for it is not for him to feint at any time in this behalfe without
a wonderous reproche. And even as in women honestye once stained dothe
never retourne againe to the former astate: so the fame of a gentleman
that carieth weapon, yf it once take a foile in any litle point through
dastardlines or any other reproche, doeth evermore continue shameful in
the
worlde and full of ignoraunce. Therefore the more excellent our Courtyer
shalbe in this arte, the more shall he bee worthy praise: albeit I judge
not necessarye in hym so perfect a knowledge of thynges and other
qualities that is requisite in a capitaine. But because this is overlarge
a scope of matters, wee wyll holde oure selves contented (as we have
sayde) with the uprightnesse of a well meaning minde, and with an
invincible courage, and that he alwaies shew himself such a one: for many
times men of courage are sooner knowen in small matters then in greate.
Often times
| Cowardes sometime hardie. |
in daugers that stande them upon, and where many eyes be, ye shall see
some that for all their hearte is dead in their bodie, yet pricked with
shame or with the company, go forwarde (as it were) blindfield and do
their dutie. And God knoweth bothe in matt ers that little touche them,
and also where they suppose that without missynge they may convey
themselves from daunger, how they are willing ynough to slepe in a whole
skinne. But such as think themselves neither marked, seen, nor knowen, and
yet
| Who have the stoutenesse of courage. |
declare a stout courage, and suffer not the leaste thyng in the worlde to
passe that maie burthen them, they have the courage of spirite whiche we
seke to have in our Coutyer. Yet will we not have him for al that so
lustie to make braverie in woordes, and
to bragge that he hath wedded his harneys for his wife, and to threaten
with suche grim lookes, as we have seene Berto do oftentimes. For unto
suche maie well be saide that a worthie Gentlewoman in a noble assembly
spake pleasauntly unto one, that shall be namelesse for this tyme, whome
she to shewe hym a good countenance, desired to daunce with her, and he
refusing both that, and to heare musick and many other entertainmentes
offred him, alwaies affirming suche trifles not to be his profession, at
last the Gentlewoman demaunding him, What is then your profession? He
aunswered with a frowning looke: To fight.
Then saide the Gentlewoman: Seing you are not nowe at the warre nor in
place to fight, I woulde thinke it best for you to bee well besmered and
set up in an armorie with other implementes of warre till time wer that
you should be occupied, least you waxe more rustier then you are.
Thus with much laughinge of the standers by she left him with a mocke in
his foolish presumpcion.
| A stout-herted man. To avoide praising a mans selfe.
|
He therefore that we seeke for, where the enemies are, shall shewe
himselfe moste fierce, bitter, and evermore with the firste. In everie
place beside, lowly, sober, and circumspecte, fleeing above all thinge
bragginge and unshamefull praising himself, for therewith a man alwaies
purchaseth himself the hatred and yll will of the hearers.
And I, aunswered the L. Gaspar, have knowen few men excellent in any thing
whatsoever it bee, but they praise them selves. An me thinke it may wel be
borne in them: for he that is of skill, whan he seeth that he is not
knowen for his woorkes of the ignoraunte, hath a disdeigne that his
connynge should lye buried, and needes must he open it one waie, least he
should bee defrauded of the estimation that belongeth to it, whiche is the
true rewarde of vertuous
| Estimation the reward of vertious actes.
|
travailes. Therefore among the auncient writers he that muche excelleth
doeth sildome forbeare praisyng hymself. They in deede are not to be borne
withall that havyng no skill in theym, wyll prayse themselves: but we wyll
not take our Courtyer to be suche
a one.
Then the Count: Yf you have well understoode (quoth he) I blamed the
praysinge of a mans selfe impudently and withoute respecte. And surelye
(as you saye) a man ought not to conceyve an yll oppinion of a skifull man
that praiseth hymselfe dyscretely, but rather take it for a more certaine
witnes, then yf it came out of an other mans mouth. I agree well that he,
whiche in praising himselfe falleth not into errour, nor purchaseth
himself lothsomenes or hatred of the hearers, is moste discrete: and
beside the praises whiche he giveth himselfe, deserveth the same of other
men also, because it is a very hard matter.
Then the L. Gaspar: This (quoth he) muste you teache us.
| In what sort a man maye praise himself. |
The Count aunswered: Emong the auntient writers there hathe not also
wanted that hathe taught it. But in mine opinion, all doth consist in
speaking such thynges after a sort, that it maye appeare that they are not
rehearsed to that ende: but that they come so to purpose, that he can not
refrayne tellyng them, and alwaies seemynge to flee his owne prayse tell
the trueth. But not as those lustie laddes dooe, that open their mouthe
and thruste oute woordes at aventure they care not how. As within these
few dayes one of oure company
being pusshed throughe the thygh with a pyke at Pysa, thought that it was
the bytynge of a flie. And an other sayde that he occupied no lookynge
glasse in his chamber, because in hys rage he was so terrible to beholde,
that in lookynge upon his owne count enaunce he shoulde put himself into
much feare.
At this every one laughed. But the L. Cesa Gonzaga saide unto them: At
what laugh you Knowe ye not that the great Alexander, hearing a certaine
Philosophers oppinion
to be that there were infinite worldes, fell in weping: and when he was
asked the question why he wept, he aunswered: Because I have not yet one
in hande, as thoughe hys mynde was to have them all. Dooe you not thynke
that this was a greater braverie, then to speak of the fly biting.
So was Alexander a greater person then he that so sayde, aunswered the
Count. But excellent men in very deede are to be held excused, whan they
take muche upon them: because he that undertaketh great enterprises muste
have a boldnesse to dooe it, and a confidence of hym selfe, and not of a
bashfull or cowardly mynde, but yet sober in woores: shewing as though he
tooke lesse upon hym then he dothe in deede, so that his taking upon him
do not extend unto rashnesse.
Here the Count respetyng a while, M. Bernard Bibiena saide merelye: I
remember you saide before, that this oure Courtyer oughte of nature to
have a faire comelynesse of fisnamye and person, with the grace that
oughte to make hym so amyable. As for the grace and beautie of fisnamie,
I thynke not the contrary but they are in me, and therefore doe so many
women burne for the love of me, as you knowe. But for the comelinesse of
persone, I stande somewhat in doubte, and especiallye by reason of my
legges here,
for me thinke in deede thei are not so wel made as I could wishe thei
were: the body and the rest is meetely wel. Therefore declare som what
more particularly this comelines of person, what it should be, that I may
be out of this doubt and set my heart at reste.
Whan thei had a while laughed at this, the Count sayde: Certes, the grace
of the fisnamy, may wel be said to be in you without any lye. And no other
exaumple. doe I alledge but this, to declare what maner thing it should
bee: for undoubtedly we see your countenaunce is most acceptable and
pleasant to beholde unto every man, although the proporcion and draughtes
of it be not very delicate, but it is manly and hath a good grace withall.
And this qualitie have many and sundrye shapes of visages. And suche a
countenaunce as this is, will I have our Courtyer to have, and not so
softe and womanishe as many procure to have, that do not onely courle
| The countenaunce of the Courtyer. Menne that woulde appere
women. |
the hear, and picke the browes, but also paumpre themselves in every point
like the most wanton and dishonest women in the worlde: and a man would
thinke them in goyng, in standing, and in all their gestures so tender and
feint, that their members were ready to flee one from an other, and their
woordes they pronounce so drawningly, that a man would weene they were at
that instant yelding up the ghost: and the higher in degree the men are
they talke withall, the more they use such facyons. These men, seing
nature (as they seeme to have a desire to appeare and to bee) hath not
made them women, ought not to be esteamed in place of good women, but like
common Harlottes to be banished, not onely out of prynces courtes, but
also oute of the companye of Gentlemen. To come therefore to the qualitie
of the person,
| Good to bee of a meane stature. |
I say he is well, if he bee neither of the least, nor of the greatest
sise. For bothe the one and the other hath with it a certayne spytefull
wonder, and suche men are marveyled at, almoste, as muche as men marveile
to behoulde monstrous thynges. Yet if there must needes be a defaulte in
one of the two extremities, it shall be lesse hurtfull to bee somewhat of
the least, then to excede the common stature in height. For men so shut up
of bodie, beside that manye tymes they are of a dull wit, they are also
unapte
| Rather with the lowest then to high. To be a man of
warre. To handle al kind of weapon. |
for all exercyses of nimblenesse, whiche I much desire to have in the
Courtyer. And therefore will I have him to bee of a good shape, and well
proporcioned in his lymmes, and to shewe strength, lightnes, and
quicknesse, and to have understandyng in all exercises of the bodie, that
belonge to a man of warre. And herein I thinke the chief point is to
handle well all kynde of weapon both for the footeman and horseman, and to
know the
vauntages in it. And especially to be skilfull on those weapons that are
used ordinarily emong gentlemen, for beside the use that he shall have of
them in warre, where peradventure nedeth no great connyng, there happen
often times variaunces betwene one gentleman and an other, whereupon
ensueth a combat. And manye tymes it shall stande him in stede to use the
weapon whiche he hath at that instant by his side, therefore it is a very
sure thing to be skilfull. And I am none of them whiche saye, that he
forgetteth his conning whan he commeth to the poynte: for to abide by,
| Fightinge maketh not a man to forget his
fence. Wrastlynge. To knowe what is to be done in quarrels whan they
happen. Not
rashe to fight combattes. Howe a man ought to behave himself in fightyng
a
combatte. |
whoso loseth his conning at that time, sheweth that he hath firste loste
his hearte and his spirites for feare. I think also it will serve his
turne greatly, to know the feate of wrastling, because it goeth much
together with all weapon on foote. Againe it is behouffull bothe for him
selfe and for his frendes, that he have a foresight in the quarrelles and
controversies that may happen, and let him beware of the vauntages,
declarynge alwaies in everye pointe bothe courage and wisedome. Neither
let him runne rashely to these
combattes, but whan he muste needes to save his estimation withall: for
beside the greate daunger that is in the doubtfull lotte, hee that goeth
headlonge to these thynges and without urgent cause, deserveth verye
great blame, although his chaunce bee good. But whan a man perceiveth that
he is entred so farre that hee can not drawe backe withoute burdeyn, hee
muste, bothe in suche thinges he hath to doe before the combat and also in
the combat be utterly resolved with hymselfe, and alwayes shewe a
readinesse and a stomake. And not as some dooe, passe the matter in
arguing and pointes,
and having the choise of weapon, take such as have neyther poynte nor
edge. And arme themselves as thoughe they shoulde goe against the shotte
of a Cannon. And weening it sufficyent not to be vanquished, stande
alwaies at their defence and geve ground, in
so muche that they declare an extreme faint hert, and are a mocking
stocke to the verye chyldren. As those two of Ancona: that a while a goe
fought a combat beside Perugia, and made them to laughe that looked on.
And what were they? quoth the L. Gaspar Pallavicin.
The L. Cesar aunswered: Cousins Germains of two sisters.
Then said the Count: At the combat a man would have thought them naturall
brethren, then he went forwarde. Also men occupie their weapon oftentimes
in tyme of peace aboute sondrie exercises, and gentlemen are seen in open
showes in the presence of people,
women and Princes. Therefore will I have our Courtyer a perfecte horseman
for
everye saddle. And beside the skyll in horses and in whatsoever belongeth
to a horseman, let him set all his delite and dylygence to wade in everye
thyng a litle farther then other menne, so that he maye be knowen among al
menne for one that is excellente. As it is reade of Alcibiades, that he
excelled all other nations wheresoever he came, and every manne in the
thynge he hadde moste skyll in.
Alcibiades excelled other nations in theyr owne
feates.
Property of Italians.
Property of Frenchmen.
Property of
Spaniardes.Huntyng.
Swimming.
Leapying.
Running.
Castying
the
stone. Play at tenyse.
Vawting. |
So shall this our Courtyer passe other menne, and every manne in his owne
profession. And because it is the peculyer prayse of us Italians to ryde
well, to manage wyth reason, especiallye roughe horses, to runne at the
rynge and at tylte, he shall bee in this amonge the beste Italyans. At
tourneymente, in kepyng a passage, in fightinge at barriers, he shall be
good emonge the best
Frenchemen. At Joco di canne, runninge at Bull, castinge of
speares and dartes, he shall be amonge the Spaniardes excellent. But
principallye lette hym accompanye all his mocion wyth a certayne good
judgemente and grace, yf he wyll deserve that generall favour whiche is
so muche set by. There bee also manye other exercises, the whiche thoughe
they depende not throughlye upon armes, yet have they a greate agreemente
with them, and have in them muche manlye activitie. And of them me thinke
huntynge is one of the chiefest, for it hath a certaine lykenesse with
warre, and truelye a pastyme for great men, and fitte for one lyvyng in
courte. And it is founde that it hath also bene muche used amonge them of
olde tyme. It is meete for hym also to
have the arte of swimming, to leape, to runne, to cast the stone: for
beside the profite that he maie recyve of thys in the warres, it happeneth
to hym manye tymes to make proofe of himselfe in such thynges, whereby he
getteth hym a reputacion, especiallye among the multitude, unto whom a
man
muste sometyme applye hymselfe. Also it is a noble exercyse and meete for
one lyvyng in courte to play at tenyse, where the disposition of the
bodye, the quickenesse and nimblenesse of everye
member is much perceyved, and almoste whatsoever a manne can see in all
other exercises. And I recken vautyng of no lesse prayse, which for all it
is peynefull and harde, maketh a man more light and quicker then any of
the rest: and beside the profite, yf
that lightnesse be accompanyed with a good grace, it maketh (in my
judgemente) a better showe then anye of the reste. If our Courtyer then be
taught these exercises more then indifferently well, I beleve he may sette
a syde
| Tumblynge not fit for a Gentleman. |
tumblyng, clymynge upon a corde, and suche other matters that taste
somewhat of jugglers crafte, and doe lytle beseeme a Gentleman. But
because we can not alwayes endure emonge these so paynefull doynges,
besyde that the contynuance goeth nyghe to geve a manne hys fyll, and
taketh awaye the admyracion that menne have of thynges sildome seen, we
muste contynuallye alter oure lyfe with practysynge sondrye matters.
| To frame himself to the company. |
Therefore wyll I have oure Courtyer to descende manye times to more easye
and pleasaunt exercyses. And to avoyde envye and to keepe companye
pleasauntlye with every man, let him do whatsoever other men do: so he
decline not at any time from commendable dedes, but governeth himselfe
with that good judgement that will not suffer him to enter into any folye:
but let him laugh, dalie, jest, and daunce, yet in such wise that he maie
alwayes declare himselfe to bee wittie and discrete, and everie thynge
that he
doeth or speaketh, let him doe it with a grace.
Truelye, saide then the L. Cesar Gonzaga, the course of this communicacion
shoulde not be stopped: but if I shoulde houlde my peace, I should not
satisfie the libertie whiche I have to speake, nor the desyre that I have
to understand one thing. And let me
be pardoned if where I ought to speake against, I demaund a question:
because I suppose I maie lawfully do it after the example of M. Bernard,
who for the to great desire he hadde to be counted a welfavoured man, hath
offended agaynst the lawes of our pastime in demaunding without speakinge
against.
Behoulde I beseeche ye, saide then the Dutchesse, howe one errour bringeth
in a great sorte. Therfore who so offendeth and geveth yll example, as M.
Bernard hathe done, deserveth to be punished not onely for his owne
offence, but for other mens also.
Then auswered the L. Cesar: Therefore must I (madam) escape punishmente,
for that M. Bernard ought to bee punished for his owne offence and mine
bothe.
Nay (quoth the Dutchesse) you oughte to have bothe double punishmente. He
for his offence, and for beynge an occasion for you to commit the lyke:
and you for your offence and for taking hym for a president that dyd
offende.
I have not hytherto offended, madam, answered the L. Cesar. Therefore
because I wyll leave the whole punishmente for M. Bernard I wyll kepe
silence.
And nowe he held his peace, whan the L. Emilia aunswered: Say what
pleaseth you, for (by the dutchesse leave) I perdone thys faulte, and
whosoever shall offende in so small a trespace.
Upon that the Dutchesse said: I am well pleased. But take ye heede that ye
deceive not your selfe, thinking peradventure to be better reported of for
mercy then for justice. For in perdoning the offendour to muche, ye do
wrong to him that doeth not offende. Yet wyll not I have my rigour at
this time in accusing your mercye to be the cause that we shall lose the
hearing of this the L. Cesars demaund.
So he, after the dutches and the L. Emilia had made a signe to him, sayde
by and by: if I do well beare in mind, me thynke (Count Lewis) you have
this night oftentimes repeted, that the Courtier ought to accompany all
his doinges, gestures, demeaners, finally al his mocions with a grace,
and this, me think, ye put for a sauce to every thing, without the which
all his other properties and good condicions were litle woorth. And I
beleve verely that every man would soone be perswaded therin, for by the
vertue of the worde a man may saye, that whoso hath grace is gracious.
But bicause you have saide sundry times that it is the gift of nature and
of the heavens,
and againe where it is not so perfect, that it maye with studye and
diligence be made muche more, that they be borne so happye and so welthye
with such a tresure (as some that we se) me thynke therin they have litle
nede of anye other teacher, because the
bountifull favour of heaven doeth (as it were) in spite of them, guide
them higher then they covet, and maketh them not onely acceptable, but
marveylous unto all the world. Therfore I do not reason of this, because
the obtainynge of it of our selves lyeth not in our powre: but such as by
nature have onely so much, that they be apte to beecome gratious in
bestowinge labour, exercise, and diligence, I would faine knowe what art,
with that learning, and by what meane they shall compasse this grace,
aswel in
the exercises of the bodye (wherin ye thinke it so necessarie a matter)
as in all other thynges that they dooe or speake. Therfore as you have in
praysinge thys qualitye to us engendred (I beleve) in al a fervent thirst
to come by it, by the charge ye received of the L. Emilia, so with
teaching it us, ye are bound to quenche it.
Bound I am not (quoth the Count) to teache you to have a good grace, nor
anye thing els, saving only to shew you what a perfect Courtyer ought to
be. Neither will I take upon me to teach you this perfeccion, sins a while
a goe, I said, that the Courtier ought to have the feate of wrastlyng and
vawtinge, and such other thinges, the which howe I should be able to
teache them not having learned them my selfe, I am sure ye knowe it all.
It sufficeth that as a good souldyer cann speake his minde to an armourer
of what facion, of what temper and goodnesse he will have his harneys,
and for all that cannot teache him to make it, nor to hammer or temper it:
so perhaps I am able to tel you what a perfect Courtyer ought to be, but
not able to teach you how ye should
doe to be one. Notwithstanding to fulfill your request in what I am able,
althoughe it be (in maner) in a proverbe that Grace
is not to be learned, I say unto you, whoso mindeth to be gracious or to
have a good grace in the exercises of the body, (presupposing first that
he be not of nature unapt) ought to begin betimes, and to learne his
principles of cunning men. The which thing how neccessarie a matter
Philip king of Macedonie thought it, a man may gather in that his wil was
that Aristotel so famous a philosopher, and perhappes
| Grace not to be learned. Aristotle the first that taught great
Alexander. S. Galeazzo
Sanseverino. A good scoler must seeke to be like his maister.
|
the greatest that ever hath bine in the world, should be the man that
should instruct Alexander his sonne in the first principles of letters.
And of men whom we know nowadayes, mark how wel and with what a good grace
Sir Galiazzo Sanseverino M. of the horse to the French king, doth all
exercises of the body: and that because, besyde the naturall disposition
of person that is in him, he hath applyed all his study to learne of
cunning men, and to have continually excellent men about hym, and of every
one to
chuse the best of that they have skill in. For as in wrastling, in
vawting, and in learning to handle sundry kinde of weapons he hath taken
for his guide oure M. Peter Mount, who (as you know) is the true and only
maister of al artificial force and sleight: so in ridyng, in justyng, and
in every other feate, he hath alwayes had before his eyes the most
perfectest that hath ben knowen to be
in those professions: he therfore that wil be a good scolar, beside the
practysing of good thinges, must evermore set al his diligence to bee lyke
his mayster, and (if it were possible) chaunge himself into him. And when
he hath had some entrey, it profiteth hym much to behould sondrye men of
that profession: and governing hymselfe with that good judgement that must
alwayes be hys guyde, go about to pyke out, sometyme of one and sometyme
of an other, sundry matters. And even as the bee in the greene medowes
fleeth alwayes aboute the grasse chousynge out flowres: so shall our
Courtyer steale thys grace from them that to hys seming
| Howe grace is to be atteined. |
have it, and from ech one that percell that shal be most worthy praise.
And not do, as a frende of ours, whom you al know, that thought he
resembled much kyng Ferdinande the yonger of Aragon, and regarded not to
resemble hym in anye other poynt but in the
often lyftyng up hys head, wrying therewythall a part of hys mouth, the
whych custome the king had gotten by infymitye. And manye such there are
that thynke they doe much, so they resemble a great man in somewhat, and
take many tymes the thynge in hym that woorst becommeth hym. But I,
imagynyng with my self oftentymes how this grace commeth, leaving a part
such as have it from above, fynd one rule that is most general whych in
thys part (me thynk) taketh
| A generall rule. To avoid curiositie.
Reckelesnes.
|
place in all thynges belongyng to man in worde or deede above all other.
And that is to eschew as much as a man may, and as a sharp and dangerous
rock, Affectation or curiousity and (to speak a new word) to use in every
thyng a certain Reckelessness, to cover art withall, and seeme whatsoever
he doth and sayeth to do it wythout pain, and (as it were) not myndyng it.
And of thys do I beleve grace is muche deryved, for in rare matters and
wel brought to passe every man knoweth the hardnes of them, so that a
redines therin maketh great wonder. And contrarywise to use force, and
(as they say) to hale by the hear, geveth a great disgrace, and maketh
every thing how great so ever it be, to be litle estemed. Therfore that
may be said to be a very art
that appeereth not to be art, neyther ought a man to put more dilgence in
any thing then in covering it: for in case it be open, it loseth credit
cleane, and maketh a man litle set by. And I remember that I have reade in
my dayes, that there were some excellent Oratours, which among other
their cares, enforced themselves to make every man beleve that they had no
sight in letters, and dissembinge their conning, made semblant their
orations to be made very simply, and rather as nature and trueth lead
them, then study and arte, the whiche if it had bene openly knowen, would
have putte a doubte in the peoples minde for feare least he beguiled them.
You may see then how howe to shewe arte and suche
| To seme not to mynde the thing a man doeth excellently
well. |
bent study taketh away the grace of every thing. Which of you is it that
laugheth not whan our M. Peterpaul daunseth after his owne facion with
such fine skippes and on tipto without moving his head, as though he were
all of wood, so heedfullie, that truely a man would weene he counted his
paces? What eye is so blind that perceiveth not in this disgrace of
curiosity, and in many men and women here present the grace of that not
regarded agylitie and slighte conveyaunce (for in the mocions of the bodye
manye so terme it) with a kinde of speaking or smiling, or gesture,
betokening not to passe upon it, and to minde anye other thinge more then
that, to make him beleve that loketh on that he can not do amisse?
Here M. Bernard Bibiena not forbearing any longer, sayde: You may se yet
that our M. Robert hath found one to prasie his maner of daunsing, though
the reste of you set litle by it. For if this excellency doeth consist in
Recklesness, and in shewing not to
passe upon and rather to minde anye other thing then that a man is in
hande withall, M. Robert hath no peere in the worlde. For that men should
wel perceive that he litle mindeth it, manye tymes his garmentes fall from
hys backe, and his slippers from his feete, and daunseth on still without
taking uppe againe anye of both.
Then aunswered the Count: Seyng you will nedes have me speake, I wyll saye
somewhat also of oure vices. Do you not marke, this that you call in M.
Robert Reckelesness, is a verie curiositie? for it is well knowen that he
enforceth himself with al dilgence
possible to make a show not to minde it, and that is to minde it to much.
And bicause he passeth certain limites of a meane, that Reckelesness of
his is curious, and not comly, and is a thing that commeth cleane
contrarye to passe from the dryfte, (that
is to wit) to cover arte. Therfore I judge it a no lesse vyce of
curiositye to be in Reckelesness (which in it selfe is prayse worthye) in
lettynge a mans clothes fal of his backe, then in
Preciseness (whiche likewise of it self is praise worthy) to carie a mans
head so like a malthorse for feare of ruffling his hear, or to keepe in
the bottom of his cappe a looking glasse, and a comb in his sleeve, and to
have alwayes at his heeles up and down the streetes a page with a spunge
and a brushe: for this maner of Preciseness and Reckelesness are to much
in the extremitie, which is alwaies a vice and contrarie to that pure and
amiable simplicitie, which is so acceptable to mens mindes. Marke what an
yll grace a man at armes hath, when he enforceth himselfe to goe so bolt
upright setled in saddle (as we use to say after the Venetian phrase) in
comparison of an other that appeareth not to mind it, and sitteth on
horseback so nimbly and close as though he were on fote. How much more do
we take pleaser in a gentilman that is a man at armes, and how much more
worthy praise is he if he be modest, of few words, and no bragger, then an
other that alwayes craketh of himself, and blaspheming with a bravery
seemeth to threaten the worlde. And this is nothing els but a curiositie
to seeme to be a roister. The lyke happeneth in all exercises, yea in
everye thinge in the worlde that a man can doe or speak.
Then said the L. Julian: This in like maner is verified in musicke:
where it is a verye greate vice to make two perfecte cordes, the one after
the other, so that the verye sence of our hearing abhorreth it, and often
times deliteth in a seconde or in a seven, which in it selfe is an
unpleasaunt discord and not tollerable:
and this proceadeth because the continuance in the perfit tunes
engendreth urksomenesse and betokeneth a to curious harmonye the whyche in
mynglyng therwythall the unperfect is avoyded wyth makynge (as it were) a
comparason, whereby oure eares stande to listen and gredely attend and
tast the perfecte, and are otherwhyle delyted wyth the disagement of the
seconde or seven, as it were with a thing lytle regarded.
Behould ye then, answered the Count, that curiosnesse hurteth in thys as
well as in other thynges. They say also that it hath bene a proverbe
emonge some most excellent peincters of old time, that To muche diligence
is hurtfull,
| To much diligence hurtfull. |
and the Apelles found fault with Protogenes because he coulde not keepe
his handes from the table.
Then sayd the L. Cesar: The very same fault (me think) is in our Frier
Seraphin that he cannot kepe his handes from the table, especially as long
as there is any meat styrryng.
The Count laughed and went forward: Apelles meaning was, that Protogenes
knew not when it was well, whych was nothyng els but to reprehend hys
curyousnesse in hys workes. Thys vertue therfore contrarye to curiosity
whych we for thys tyme terme Reckelesness, besyde that it is the true
fountain from the whych all grace spryngeth, it bryngeth wyth it also an
other ornamente, whych accompanyinge anye deede that a man doeth, how
lytle so ever it be, doeth not onely by and by open the knowledge of hym
that doth
it, but also many times maketh it to be estemed much more in effect then
it is, because it imprinteth the myndes of the lookers on an opinyon, that
whoso can so sleyghtly do well, hath a great deale more knowledge then
indeede he hath: and if he wyll
| A manne is thought manye times to be more cunning then he is in
deede. |
applye hys study and dilygence to that he doeth, he myght do it much
better. And to repete even the verye same examples, marke a man that
taketh weapon in hande: yf goyng about to cast a darte, or houldyng in hys
hand a sworde or any other waster, he setleth hym self lightsomely (not
thinking upon it) in a ready aptnesse wyth such activity, that a man would
seeme hys bodye and all his members were naturally setled in that
disposition and without any payne, though he doeth nothing els, yet doeth
he declare
hymself unto everye man to be most perfect in that exercise. Lykewyse in
daunsinge, one measure, one mocion of a bodye that hath a good grace, not
being forced, doeth by and by declare the knowledge of him that daunseth.
A musitien, yf in singing he roule out but a playne note endinge in a
dooble relise wyth a
| A slight trick betokeneth knowledge. |
sweete tune, so easily that a man would judge he did it at aventure, in
that point alone he doeth men to understand that his knowledge is far
greater then it is indeede. Oftentymes also in peinctinge, one lyne not
studyed upon, one draught with the pensel
sleightly drawen, so it appeareth the hand without the guiding of any
study or art, tendeth to his mark, according to the peincters purpose,
doth evidently discover the excellency of the workman, about the opinion
wherof every man afterwarde contendeth accordyng to his judgement. The
like happeneth also, in a maner, about every other thing. Therfore shall
our Courtyer be esteemed excellent, and in everye thyng he shall have a
good grace, and especially in speaking, if he avoide curiositye:
| Men that wil be deemed to be wel languaged.
|
into which errour many men runne, and some time more then other, certain
of our Lumbardes, which after a yeeres travaile abrode, come home and
begin by and by to speake the Romayne tunge, somtime the Spanish tunge, or
the Frenche, and God wotteth howe. And all this proceadeth of an over
great desier to show much knowledge: and in this wise a man applyeth hys
studye and diligence to gett a most odyous vice. And truelye it were no
small travayle for me, if I should use in this communycatyon of oures,
those auncient Tuscane wordes, that are not in use among
| Auncient Tuscane woordes. |
the Tuscanes nowe a dayes, and beesyde that, I beleeve every manne would
laughe at me.
Then spake Syr Frederick: In deede reasoning together as wee nowe dooe,
peradventure it were not well done to use those auntient Tuscane woordes:
for (as you say) they would be a lothsomnesse both to the speaker and to
the hearer, and of manye they should
not be understoode without muche a doe. But he that shoulde write, I
would thinke he committed an errour in not using them: bicause they gave a
great grace and aucthoritye unto writinges, and of them is compact a tonge
more grave and more full of majestie, then of the newe.
I knowe not, aunswered the Count, what grace and aucthority those wordes
can geve unto writinges that ought to be eschewed, not only in the maner
of speach that we now use (which you your self confesse) but also in any
other maner that can be imagined.
| Old wordes to be eschewed both in speaking and writing.
|
For if anye man, of howe good a judgement so ever he were, had to make an
oration of grave matters in the verye Counsell chamber of Florence which
is the head of Tuscane: or els to common privately with a person of
estimacion in that city about waightye affaires: or also with the
familiarst frend he hath about pleasaunt matters: or with women or
gentilmen about matters of love, either in jesting or daliyng, banketting,
gaming, or where ever els: or in any time or place, or purpose, I am
assured he would flee the using of those auntient Tuscane wordes. And in
usyng them, beside that he should be a laughing stock, he should bringe no
small lothesomenesse to hym that heard them. Therefore me thinke it a
straunge matter to use those wordes for good in writing, that are to be
eschewed for naughtie in everie maner of speache: and to have that whiche
is never proper in speache, to be the proprest way a man can use in
writing, forsomuch as (in mine opinion)
wrytyng is nothinge elles, but a maner of speache, that remaineth stil
after a man hath spoken, or (as it were) an Image, or rather the life of
the woordes. And therfore in speache, whiche as soone as the soune is
pronounced vanisheth a way, peradventure
somthinges are more to be borne withall, then in writinge. Because
writinge keepeth the woordes in store, and referreth them to the
judgemente of the reader, and geveth tyme to examyne them depely. And
therfore reason willeth that greater diligence should be had therein to
make it more trimme and better corrected: yet not so, that the written
wordes should be unlike the spoken, but in writing to chuse oute the
fayrest and prorest of significacion that be used in speaking. And if that
should be lawful in writing, which is not lawfull in speaking, there
should arise an inconvenience of it (in my judgement) very great: namely,
that a man myght use a greater libertie in the thinge, where he ought to
use most diligence, and the labour he bestoweth in writing,
in stede of furtherance should hinder him. Therfore it is certain,
whatsoever is allowed in writing,
| What is allowed in wryting, is allowed in speaking. Why writing
oughte to bee more understoode then speaking. |
is also allowed in speaking: and that speache is moste beautifull that is
like unto beautifull writinges. And I judge it much more behoufful to be
understoode in writing then in speaking, because they that write are not
alwaies presente with them that rede, as they that speake with them that
speake. Therfore would I commende him, that beside the eschewing of many
auncient Tuskane woordes, would applye himself also to use bothe in
writing and speakyng, suche as now a daies are in use in Tuscane and in
other partes of Italy, and that have some grace in the pronunciation. And
(in my minde) whoso foloweth any other trade is not assured not to runne
into that curiositie so muche blamed, whiche we have spoken of before.
Then spake Sir Frederick: I cannot denye you, Count Lewis, that writinge
is not a maner of speaking. But this I saie, if the wordes that are spoken
have any darkenesse in them, that communicacion perceth not the minde of
him that heareth: and passing with out being understoode, wexeth vaine and
to no purpose: the whiche dothe not happen in writyng, for if the woordes
that the writer useth bring with them a litle (I will not saie
diffycultie) but covered subtilty, and not so open, as suche as be
ordinarily spoken, they geve a certain greater aucthoritye to writing, and
make the reader more hedefull to pause at it, and to ponder it better, and
he taketh a delyte in the wittinesse and learning of him that writeth, and
with a good judgement, after some paines
takyng, he tasteth the pleaser that consisteth in harde thinges. And if
the ygnoraunce of him that readeth bee suche, that he cannot compasse that
difficultie, there is no blame in the writer, neither ought a man for all
that to thinke that tunge not to bee faire. Therefore in writing, I houlde
opinion it is necessarie for a man to use the Tuscane wordes, and only
such as have bene used among the auncient Tuskans: for it is a great
testimoniall and approved by tyme, that they bee good and of pithie
signification in that thei be applyed to. And beside this they have that grace
and majesty that antiquitie geveth not only to woordes, but unto
buildinges, ymages, peinctinges, and to everye thyng that is of force to
preserve it. And many times with this onely
brightnes and dignitie they make the fourme of sentences very fair, and
through the vertue and elegancie thereof, every matter howe base so ever
it be, maie be so decked oute, that it maie deserve verye great
commendacion. But this youre custome, that you make so muche a doe of,
appeareth unto me very daungerous, and many times it maie be naught. And
if anye vice of speache be taken up of many ignorant persones, me thinke
for all that it oughte not to be receyved for a rule, nor folowed of
other. Besides
this, customs be manye and divers, and ye have not a notable Citye in
Italy that hath not a divers maner of speache from all the rest.
Therefore if ye take not the paines to declare
So manye Cities so many diverse maner of speaches in Italy.
The Bergamask tunge the moste barbarous in
Italy.
Petrarca.
Boccaccio. |
is the best, a manne maye as well geve hym selfe to the Bergamask tunge,
as to the Florentine, and to folowe youre advyse it were no erroure at
all. Me semeth then who so wyll be out of doubte and well assured, it is
requisite for him to determyne with hym selfe to folowe one, that by al
mens accorde is judged good, and to take him for a guyde alwaies and for a
shielde againste suche as wyll goe about to fynde faulte, and that I
thinke oughte to bee none other, (I meane in the vulgar tunge) but
Petrarca and Boccaccio:
and who so swarveth from these two, goeth at all aventure, as he that
walketh in the darke without lyght, and therefore many times strayeth from
the right waye. But wee are so hardye nowadayes, that wee disdeigne to do
as other good menne of auncient tyme
have done: that is to saye, to take dylygente heede to folowinge, without
the whiche I judge no man canne wryte well. And me thinke Virgill
declarethe a greate triall of this, whoo for all that with his so devine a
witte and judgemente he tooke all hope from his posteritye for anye to
folowe him at anye tyme, yet would he folow Homer.
Then the L. Gasper Pallavicin: This disputacion (quoth he) of writinge in
verye deede is woorthe the hearinge: yet were it more to oure purpose, if
you woulde teache in what sorte the Courtier ought to speake, for me
thinke he hath more neede of that, and
he serveth his tourne oftner with speakyng then with wrytinge.
The L. Julian aunswered: There is no doubt, but so excellent and so
perfect a Courtier hath nede to understand both the one and the other, and
without these two qualyties paraventure all the rest should not be much
woorthye prayse: therefore if the Count will fulfill hys charge, he shall
teache the Courtier not onelye to speake but also to write well.
Then said the Count: I will not (my Lorde) undertake this enterprise, for
it shoulde be a great folye for me to teache an other that I understand
not my self. And thoughe I were skillful in it, yet can I not see howe I
shoulde thinke to do the thing in so
fewe woordes, which greate Clearkes have scase done wyth such great study
and diligince, unto whose writings I would remit out Courtyer, if it were
so that I wer bounde to teache him to write and to speake.
The L. Cesar then said: The L. Julian meaneth the speaking and writing of
the vulgar tunge, and not Latin, therfore those writinges of great
Clearkes are not for our purpose. But you muste shewe us in this behalfe
as muche as you knowe, as for the reste, ye shalbe held excused.
I have already sayde, aunswered the Count. But in reasoning upon the
Tuskane tunge, perhappes it were rather the L. Julians part, then any mans
els to geve judgement in it.
The L. Julian saide: I cannot, nor of reason ought to speake against him
that saith the Tuskane tunge is fairer then al the rest.
| Woordes in Petrarca, and in Boccaccio not to be used.
|
Trueth it is, there are many wordes in Petrarca and Boccaccio worne out of
use now a daies: and suche would I never use neither in speakyng nor in
writyng, and peradventure they themselves if thei were nowe alive would
use them no more.
Then spake Sir Frederick: No doubt but they would use them still. And you
Lordes of Tuscane ought to renue your tunge, and not to suffer it decaye,
as you do, for a man may saie now, that there is lesse knowledge in
Florence, then in manye other places of
Italy.
Then aunswered M. Bernard: Those woordes that are no more in use in
Florence, doe styl continue among the men of the countrey, and are refused
of the gentlemen for woordes corrupt and decayed by antiquitie.
Then the Dutchesse: Let us not swarve (quoth she) from our firste purpose,
but lette us make Count Lewis teache the Courtyer to speake and to write
well, be it Tuscane or what ever els.
The Count aunswered: I have alreadye spoken (madam) what I knowe. And I
suppose the verye same rules that teache the one, maye also serve to
teache the other. But sins ye commaunde me: I will make aunswere unto Syr
Frederick what commeth in my head, for I
am of a contrary opinion to him. And paraventure I shal be drieven to
answere somewhat more darkely then will be allowed, but it shall be as
muche as I am hable to saie. And first I say, that (to my judgement) this
our tunge, whiche we name the vulgar tunge, is tender and newe, for al it
hath bene now
| The vulgar tunge of Italy is a new tunge. How the Italian tunge
was corrupted. |
used a long while. For in that Italy hathe bene, not onely vexed and
spoyled, but also inhabited a long time with barbarous people, by the
great resort of those nations, the Latin tunge was corrupted and
destroyed, and of that corruption have spronge other tunges. The whiche
lyke the ryvers that departe from the toppe of the Appennine and runne
abrode towarde the two seas: so are they also divided, and some died with
the Latin speach have spred abrode sundrye waies, some into one part, and
some into another, and one dyed with barbarousnesse hath remayned in
Italy. This then hath a long time bene among us out of order and dyverse,
because there was none that would bestow diligence about it, nor write in
it, ne yet seke to geve it brightnesse or anye grace.
Yet hath it bene afterwarde broughte into better frame in Tuscane, then
in the other partes of Italye. And by this it appeareth that the flowre of
it hath remained there ever since those first times, because that nation
hath kept proper and sweete accentes in the pronunciation and an order of
grammer, where it was meete, more then the other. And hath had three noble
writers, whiche wittily bothe in the woordes and termes
Petrarca.
Dante.
Boccaccio. |
that custome did allowe in their time, have expressed their conceites and
that hath happened (in my mind) with a better grace to Petrarca in maters
of love, then to any of the other. Where there arose afterwarde from time
to time, not onely in Tuscane, but in al Italy, among gentlemen brought
up in court, in armes and in letters, some studye to speake and to write
more finely then they did in that first rude age, whan the turmoyle of the
miseries that arose through barbarous nations was not as yet quieted,
many woordes have bene left out as well in Florence it selfe, and in all
Tuscane, as in the residue of Italy, and other brought in, in their stead,
and made in this behalfe the alteration that happeneth in all worldly
thinges: the whiche also hath evermore chaunced in other tunges. For in
case those auncient Latin writinges had lasted hitherto, we shoulde see
that Evander and Turnus and the other Latins in those dayes spake
otherwise then dyd afterwarde the laste kinges of the Romanies
Speaches chaunge from time to time.
The priestes of
Mars. |
and the fyrste Consules. You may see the verses song by the Salii wer
scantly understoode of their posteritie: but because it was so ordeyned by
the first inventours of it, they were not altered for reverence of
religion. So from time to time Oratours and
Poets forsoke manye woordes that had bene used amonge their
predecessours: for Antonius, Crassus, Hortensius, and Cicero eschewed
manye that Cato had used, and Virgill many of Ennius, and so did the
reste. For albeit they had antiquitie in great reverence, yet did they
not esteme them so much, that they woulde bee so bounde to them, as you
wil have us nowe. Yea, where they thoughte good,
|
Men never
delited in wordes worne out with time. Horace. Cicero.
|
they spake agaynst them, as Horace, that sayeth, his predecessours dyd
foolyshlye praise Plautus, which would that we should have the aucthoritye
to bring up newe woordes. And Cicero in manye places reprehendeth manye of
his predecessours, and to blame S.
Galba, he sayeth that his Oracions smelled of antiquitie. And affirmeth
that Ennius also in some pointes set lytle by his predecessours, so that
yf we wyll folow them of olde tyme, we shall not folowe them. And Virgil
that you saye folowed Homer, folowed
hym not in the tunge. Therfore woulde I (for my parte) alwayes shonne the
use of those auncient woordes, except it wer in certayne clauses, and in
them very seldome. And (in my judgement) he that useth them otherwise,
committeth a no lesse errour, then whoso would to folowe them of olde
time, fede upon maste, where he hath nowe aboundance of corne founde oute.
And because you saie the auncient woodes onely, with the brightnesse of
antiquitie descke oue so highlye every matter, how base so ever it be,
that it maye make it woorthy great commendacion: I saie unto you that not of
these auncient woordes onely, but of those that be good in dede, I make so
smal accompt, that I suppose without the juyce of fair sentences thei
ought of reason to be litle set by. For to divide the sentences from the
woordes,
| Woordes without faire sentences litle worthe. Knowledge
necessarie to speake and write well. What words oughte to be.
|
is the deviding of the soule from the body, the which cannot be done,
neither in the one nor in the other, without destruccion ensue upon it.
That therfore which is the principal mater and necessary for a Coutyer to
speak and write wel, I beleve is knowledge. For he that hath not
knowledge and the thing in his minde that deserveth to be understood, can
neither speak nor write it. Then must he couch in a good order that he
hath to speake or to write, and afterward expresse it wel with wordes: the
which (if
I be not deceived) ought to be apt, chosen, clere, and wel applyed, and
(above al) in use also among the people: for very suche make the greatnes
and gorgeousnes of an Oracion, so he that speaketh have a good judgement
and heedfulnes withal, and the understanding to pike such as be of most
proper significacion, for that he entendeth to speake and commend, and
tempring them like wexe after his owne mynde, applyeth them in such parte
and in suche order, that at the firste showe they maie set furth and doe
men to understand the dignitie and brightnes of them, as tables of
peincting placed in their good and naturall light. And
| Thynges necessay in speakinge. The voyce.
|
this do I saie as well of writing as of speaking, wherein certayne thinges
are requisite that are not necessary in wryting, as a good voyce, not to
subtyll or soft, as in a woman: nor yet so boysterous and roughe, as in
one of the Countrey, but shrill, clere, sweete and wel framed with a
prompt pronunciacion and with fitte maners and gestures, which (in my
minde) consiste in certain mocions of al the body not affected nor forced,
but tempred with a manerly countenance and with amoving of the eyes, that
may geve a grace and accord with the words, and (asmuch as he can)
signify also with gestures the entent and affeccion of the speaker. But al
these thinges wer in vain and of smal accompte yf the sentences expressed
by the wordes should not be fair, witty, subtil, fine and grave according
to the mater.
I doubt, said the M. Morello, if this Courtyer speake with suche finenesse
and gravity among us, there wil be some that wil not understand him.
Nay every one shall understand him, answered the Count, for finenes
hindreth not the easines of understanding. Neither wil I have him to speak
alwaies in gravity, but of pleasant matters, and of mery conceits, of
honest divises, and of jestes according to
the time, and in al notwithstanding after a pithy maner, and with redines
and varietie without confusion, neither shal he in anye part show vanity
or childish foly.
| What he muste speake of. To speake to raise affectyons.
|
And whan he shal then commune of a matter that is dark and hard, I wil
have him both in woordes and sentences wel pointed, to expresse his
judgement, and to make every doubt clere and plain after a certaine
diligent sort without tediousnesse. Likewise (whan he shal see time) to
have the understanding to speake with dignitie and vehemency, and to raise
those affections which oure mindes have in them, and to enflame or stirre
them accordinge to the matter: sometime with a simplicitye of suche
meekenesse of mynde, that a man woulde weene nature her self spake, to
make them tender and (as it wer) dronken with sweetnesse: and with suche
conveiaunce of easinesse, that whoso heareth him, maye conceyve a good
oppinion of himselfe, and thinke that he also with very litle a doe,
mighte attaine to that perfection, but whan he commeth to the proofe shall
finde himselfe farre wide. I would have oure Courtyer to speake and write
in that sort, and not onely choose gorgeous and fine woordes out of every
parte of Italye, but also I would judge him woorthy praise to use some of
those termes bothe Frenche and Spanishe, which by oure custome have bene
admitted. Therefore it should not mislike me, fallyng so to purpose,
| Certaine termes out of the French and Spanishe, which sound not
so wel in Englishe nor can be applyed to oure phrase. Woordes in an
other sygnificacion. To forge new wordes. |
to say, Vauntcourrour: to saye, to acertain, to aventure: to say,
to perce through a body with talke, meaning thereby to use a familiaritie
wyth him, and to grope him to geat of him some perfect knoweledge: to
saie, a royall gentleman, a nete man to be about a Prince, and suche other
termes, so he maie thinke to be understoode. Sometime I would have him
take certain woordes in an other significacion then that is proper to
them, and wrasting them to his purpose (as it were) graffe them lyke a
graffe of a tree in a more luckye stocke, to make them more sightly and
faire, and (as it were draw the matters to the sense of the verye eyes,
and (as they saie) make them felte wyth hande, for the delyte of him that
heareth, or readeth. Neyther woulde
I have him to sticke to forge newe also, and with newe figures of speache,
deriving them featly from the Latins, as the Latins in olde tyme, derived
from the Grecians. In case then of suche learned men bothe of good witte
and judgement, as now a dayes may
be piked out among us, there were some that would bestow their travail to
write after the maner that we have spoken of, in this tongue thinges worth
the readinge, wee should soone see it in good frame and flowinge with
termes and good phrases, and so copious that a man might as well write in
it as in anye other tongue: and thoughe it were not the meere auntient
Tuscane tongue, yet shoulde it be the Italian tongue, commune, plentifull,
and variable, and (as it were) like a delicious gardein ful of sundrie
flowres and frutes. Neyther shoulde this be a newe matter: for of the
foure tongues that were in use among the Greeke writers, pikinge out of
every worde, moodes and rules as they thought meete, they raysed therby an
other, whiche was named the Commune tongue, and afterward all
fyve they called with one name the Greeke tongue. And albeit the Athenian
tongue was more fine, purer, and eloquenter then the rest, yet did not the
good writers that were not of Athens borne, so affect it, but in the stile
of writing, and (as it were) in
the smack and propretie of their naturall speache they were welinough
knowen: neither were they anye whit the lesse regarded for all that, but
rather such as would appeere over mere Athenians wer blamed for it. Amonge
the Latin writers in like case manye
there were in their dayes much setbye that were no Romanes althoughe
there appeared not in them the propre and peculiar purenesse of the Romane
tongue, whiche menne of an other nation can verie seldome attaine. In
times past T. Livius was not neglected,
althoughe some one sayde he founde in him mere Padowan: nor Virgil, for
that he was reprehended that he spake not Romane. And (as you know) there
were also read and much setbye in Roome manie writers of Barbarous
nations. But we more precise a great deale
then they of olde time, do binde our selves with certaine new lawes out
of purpose: and having the brode beaten waye beefore oure eyes, seeke
through gappes to walke in unknowen pathes. For in oure owne tounge, whose
office is (as all others) to expresse
well and clearlye the conceites of the minde, we delite in darkenesse,
and callinge it the vulgar tounge,
| The vulgar tunge ought
not to be dark. |
will use in it woordes, that are not onely not understoode of the vulgar
people, but also of the best sort of menne and that men of learninge, and
are not used in any part, not regarding that all good wryters of olde time
blamed such woordes as were refused of custome, the which you (in my
mind) do not well knowe, for somuche as you say, if any vice of speache be
taken up of many ignorant parsons, it ought not to be called a custome nor
received for a rule of speache. And (as at other tymes I have hard you
say) ye wil have again in stead of Capitolio, we should say
| Mere Tuscane writing of certaine wordes.
|
Campidoglio: for Hieronymo, Girolamo: Aldace, for Audace: and for Patrone
padrone: and such corrupt and mangled wordes, because they have bene
founde so written by some ignorant Tuscane of olde time, and because the
men of the countrey speak so in Tuscane
now a dayes. The good use of speach therefore I beleve ariseth of men
that have wytte, and with learninge and practise have gotten a good
judgement, and with it consent and agree to receave the woordes that they
think good, which are knowen by a certaine
naturall judgement, and not by art or anye maner rule. Do you not
| Figures of speach, abuse of grammer rules. Good
customs. Thinges good in every tunge. |
knowe that figures of speach which give suche grace and brightnesse to an
Oration, are all the abuse of Grammer rules, but yet are receaved and
confirmed by use, because men are able to make no other reason but that
they delite, and to the very sence of our eares it appeareth they bringe
a lief and a sweetenesse? And this beleave I is good custome, which the
Romanes, the Napolitans, the Lombardes, and the rest are as apt to
receave, as the Tuscanes. Truth it is, in everye tounge some thinges are
alwayes good, as easinesse to be understoode, a good ordre, varietie,
piked sentences, clawses wel framed: and on the other side Affectation,
and the other contrary to these are to be shonned. But of woordes some
there are that last a good tyme and afterwarde wexe
stale and cleane lose their grace: other some take force and creepe into
estimation, for as the seasones of the yeare make leaves and fruites to
fal, and afterward garnish the trees a freshe with other: evenso, doth
time make those first wordes to fall, and use maketh other to springe
afreshe and giveth theim grace and estimation, untill they in like sorte
consumed by lytle and lytle with the envyous biting of tyme come to their
end, because at the last both we and whatsoever is oures, are mortall.
Consider with your selves that we have no more any knoweleage of the Osca
tunge.
| Tunges decayed with time. |
The Provinciall tung, that (a man may say) the last day was renowmed of
noble writers, now is it not understoode of the inhabitantes of the
countrey. I beleave therefore (as the L. Julian hath said), that wer
Petrarca, and Boccaccio, at this present in lief, they would not use many
woordes that we see in their writinges. Therfore (in mine opinion) it is
not wel done to folow them therin. Yet do I muche commende them that can
folowe that ought to be folowed: but notwithstanding I beleve it be
possible ynough to write well without folowyng, and especiallye in this
our tunge, wherin we may be helped by custome, the which I wyll not take
upon me in the Latin.
The Sir Friderick: Why, wil you (quoth he) custom should be more appriced
in the vulgar tunge, then in the Latin?
Nay, bothe in the one and the other (answered the Count) I judge custome
ought to be the Maistresse. But forsomuche as those menne, unto whom the
Latin tunge was as proper, as is the the vulgar tunge nowe to us, are no
more in the world, we must learne of
their writinges that they learned by use and custome:
| Auntient speach auntient custome of speache.
|
neyther doeth auncyent speach signifye anything els but an auncyent
custome of speach: and it wer a fond matter to love the auncient speach
for nothing elles but to speake rather as men did speake, then as menne
doe speake.
Did not they then of olde time folowe? aunswered Sir Fridericke.
I beleave, quoth the Counte, many did folowe, but not
| Olde writers did not imitate in all pointes.
|
in every point. An if Virgill had altogether folowed Hesiodus, he should
not have passed him nor Cicero, Crassus, nor Ennius, his predecessors.
Behould Homer, who is so auntient that he is thought of many to be the
first heroical Poet aswell of time, as also of excellencie of phrase: and
whom wyll you have him to have folowed?
Some other, aunswered Sir Friderick, more auntient then he was, whiche we
heare not of, by reason of tomuch antiquitie.
Whom will you say Petrarca and Boccaccio folowed, said the Count, whiche
(a man may say) were but thre dayes agoo in the world?
I knowe not, aunswered Sir Fridericke, but it is to be thoughte they in
lyke wise bent their minde to folowinge, thoughe wee knowe not of whom.
The Count aunswered: A man maye beleave that they that were folowed, were
better then they that did folowe: and it were to great a wonder that their
name and renowme (if they were good) should so soone be cleane lost. But I
beleave their verye maister
| A man may write well without imitation. Musick. Sundry sortes
of musike and all delite.
|
was witt, and their owne naturall inclination and judgement. And therat no
man ought to wonder, for (in a maner) alwayes a manne by sundrye wayes may
clime to the toppe of all perfection. And their is no matter, that hath
not in it many thinges of like sort unlike the one to the other, which
for al that among them selves deserve a like praise. Mark me Musick,
wherin are harmonies sometime of base soune
and slowe, and otherwhile very quicke and of new divises, yet do they all
recreat a man: but for sundrye causes, as a manne may perceive in the
maner of singinge that Bidon useth, which is so artificiall, counninge,
vehement, stirred, and suche sundrye melodies, that the spirites of the
hearers move al and are enflamed, and so listening a man would wene they
were lifte up in to heaven. And no lesse doeth our Marchetto Cara move in
his singinge, but with a more softe harmonye, that by a delectable waye
and full of mourninge swetnesse maketh tender and perceth the mind, and
sweetly imprinteth in it a passion full of great delite. Sundrye thinges
in lyke maner do equally please oure eyes somuche, that a man shall have
muche a do to judge in whiche they most delite. Behould in peincting
Leonard Vincio, Mantegna, Raphael, Michelangelo, George of Castelfranco:
they
| Sundry peincters perfit in sundrie kinde of trades.
|
are all most excellent dooers, yet are they in working unlike, but in any
of them a man would not judge that there wanted ought in his kind of
trade: for every one is knowen to be of most perfection after his maner.
The like is of many Poets both Greeke and Latin, which being divers in
writing are alike in praise. Oratours also have alwaies had such a
diversitye emong them, as (in a maner) everye age hath brought forth and
set by one sort of Oratours peculiar for that time, which have bene unlike
and disagreing not only to their predecessours and folowers but also
emong themselves. As it is
| Greeke oratours. Latin oratours. So many oratours so many
kindes of speach. De Oratore
lib. i. Lib. ii. |
written emonge the Grecians, of Isocrates, Lysias, Eschines and many
other, al excellent, but yet like unto none saving themselves. And emong
the Latins, Carbo, Laelig;lius, Scipio Affricanus, Galba, Sulpitius,
Cotta, Graccus, Marcus Antonius, Crassus, and so many, that it should be
long to repete them, all good and moste diverse one from an other. So that
whoso could consider all the Oratours that have bene in the worlde, he
should finde so many Oratours, so many
kindes of speach. Me thynke I remember also that Cicero in a place
bringeth in Marcus Antonius to say unto Supitius that ther are many that
folow no man, and yet clime they to a high degree of excellency. And
speaketh of certein that had brought up a new stile and phrase of speaking
faire, but not used of the Oratours of that time wherin they folowed none
but themselves. Therfore he affirmeth also that maisters shoulde consider
the nature of their scolers, and taking it for thier guide, direct and
prompt them in the way that their witt and naturall inclination moveth
them unto. For this cause therfore, Sir Fridericke, do I beleve if a man
have not an inclination unto some author whatsoever he be, it were not wel
done to force him to folowing. Bicause the vertue of that disposicion of
his, soon feinteth and is hindered, by reason that it is a stray out of
the way in which he would have profited, had he not bene stopped in it. I
knowe not then how it will stande wel, in steade of enriching this tunge,
and of gevyng it majestye and light, to make it poore, sclender, bare and
dark, and to seeke to shut it up into so narrowe a rowne, that everye man
should be compelled to folow onely Petrarca and Boccaccio, and that we
should not also in that tung,
| An errour to imitate none but Boccaccio and Petrarca.
|
credit Laurence de Medicis, Francis Diaceto, and certein other that
notwithstanding are Tuscanes, and perhappes of no lesse learning and
judgement then Petrarca and Boccaccio. And truly it should be a great
miserye to stoppe without wading any farther then almost the first that
ever wrote: and to dispaire, that so many and so noble wittes shall never
find out any mo then one good maner of speach in the tung that unto them
is proper and naturall. But now a dayes there be some so scrupulous, that
(as it were) with a religion and high misteries of this their Tuscane
tung, put as manye as heareth them in such dread, that they bring in like
case many gentilmen and learned men into such an awe, that they dare not
open their mouth: and confesse plainly, that they can not speak the tung
which thei have learned of their nurses, even from their cradel. But in
this point (me think) we have spoken tomuch. Therfore let us now procead
in our communication of the Courtier.
Then aunswered Sir Friderick: But first I will saye this lytle, whiche is
that I denye not but the opinions and wittes of men are divers emong
themselves: neither doe I judge it comlye for one that is vehement and
quicke of nature to take in hand to write
of soft and quiet matters. Nor yet for an other that is severe and grave
to write of mery conceits. For in this point (me think) it is reason every
man should aply him self to his own proper inclination, and of this I
beleve spake Cicero, when he said that maisters should have a
consideration to the nature of their scolers, least they should doe like
the yll husbandemanne, that sometime in a soyle that is good onely for
vynes will sowe graine. But it wyll not sinke into my head why in a
perticuler tunge, that is not so proper unto all menne, as are discourses
and conceites, and many other operations, but an invencion contained under
certaine termes, a man may not with more reason folowe them that speake
best, then speake at al aventure. And that, as in
the Latin tunge a manne ought to appy himselfe to bee in the tunge lyke
unto Virgil and Cicero, rather then Silius and Cornelius Tacitus, so in
the vulgar tunge why it were not better to folowe the tunge of Petrarca
and Boccaccio then any mannes els: and
therin expresse well his owne conceites, and so applye himselfe as
(Cicero saith) to his owne naturall inclination. And thus shall the
difference whiche you saye is betwene the good Oratours, be found to
consist in the senses and not in the tunge.
Then the Count: I feare me (quoth he) we shall enter into a large sea, and
leave our first purpose of the Courtyer. But I would knowe of you, wherin
consisteth the goodnes of this tunge?
Sir
| Wherin consisteth the goodnesse of the tung.
|
Fridericke aunswered: In keping well the propertie of it: and in taking it
in the significacion (using the same stile and measur) that al such have
done as have written wel.
I would know then, quoth the Count, whether this stile and measure which
you speake of, arise of the sentences or of the wordes?
Of the wordes, answered Sir Frederick.
Do you not think then, quoth the Count, that the wordes of Silius and
Cornelius Tacitus are the very same that Virgil and Cicero use? and taken
in the same signification?
Sir Fridericke aunswered: They are the very same in dede, but some yil
appyed and dyverslye taken.
The Count aunswered: In case a manne should pyke out of a booke of
Cornelius and of Silius, al the woordes placed in other signification then
is in Virgil and Cicero, (whiche should bee verye fewe) woulde you not
then saye that Cornelius in the tounge were equall with Cicero, and
Silius with Virgil?
Then the L. Emilia: Me thinke (quoth shee) thys youre dysputation hathe
lasted to longe, and hathe been verye tedyouse, therefore it shall bee
best to deferre it untill an other tyme.
Sir Fridericke began still to make aunswere, but the L. Emilia alwayes
interrupted hym.
| Many talkers of imitation. |
At laste the Count saide: manye wil judge of styles and talke of numbers
and measures, and of folowing, but they cannot doe me to understande what
maner a thing stile and measure is, and wherin folowing consisteth. Nor
why, thinges taken out of Homer or any other, are so well couched in
Virgil, that they appeare rather amplyfied then folowed, and peradventure
the occation thereof is that I am not able to conceive it. But because a
great argument that a man understandeth a thinge, is the understanding
that
he hath to teach it, I feare me they themselves have small understanding
in it, and praise Virgil and Cicero, because they heare them praised of
many, not for that they knowe the difference betwene them and others,
whiche out of peradventure consisteth not in the observation of two, or
three, or of tenne woordes used after a divers maner from other. In
Salust, in Cesar, in Varro, and in other good writers, there are founde
some termes applyed otherwise then Cicero applyeth them, and both the one
and the other doeth welinough. Bicause in so triflynge a matter the
goodnesse and perfection of a tunge doeth not consiste as Demosthenes
| Demosthenes aunswer to Eschines. |
answered Eschines well that had taken him up, demaundinge him of certaine
woordes which he hadde used and yet were not auntient, what monster or
wonderous matters they were? Wherat Demothenes laughed, and answered him,
that the fortunes of Grece depended not upon them. Even so would I passe
full litle if a Tuscane should reprehende me for speaking rather
Satisfatto, then Sodisfatto: and Honorevale, then
Horrevole: and Causa, then Cagione: and Populo,
then
Popolo, and such other matters.
| Diversitie of certain Tuscane wordes with the rest of
Italy. |
Then arose Sir Friderick upon his feete and saide: I beseech ye give the
hearing of these few woordes.
The L. Emilia answered laughing: Uppon my displeasure I forbid anye of you
to talke any more in this matter, for I wil have you to breake it of
untill an other night. But you Count, proceade you in your communication
of the Courtyer, and let us see how good a memory you have: for I
beleve, if ye can knitt it agayne where you brake of, ye shall not do a
litle.
Madam, answered the Count, me think the thrid is broken in sunder, but if
I be not deceyved, I trowe we saide that pestilent curiositie doth alwayes
geve an il grace unto al thinges: and contrarywise simplicity and
Reckelesness a marvailous good grace. In
commendation whereof and in dispraise of curiosity, many other thinges
might be said, yet wil I alleage but one mo, and then have done. All women
generally have a great desire to be, and when they canne not be, at the
least to appear beawtyfull. Therfore where nature in some part hath not
done her devoyr therin, they endeavour them selves to supply it with art.
| Women that peincte them selves to seme faire to men.
|
Of this ariseth the trymming of the face, with such studye and many times
peines, the pilling of the browes and forehead, and the usynge of all
those maner wayes, and the abydyng of such lothsomenesse, as you women
beleave are kepte very secret from men, and yet do all men know them.
The La. Constance Fregosa laughed at this, and said: You shoulde do much
better to go forward in your communication, and declare how a man may
attein a good grace, and speak of courtynge, then to discover the faultes
of women wythout purpose.
Nay, it is much to purpose, answered the Count, bicause these defaultes
that I talke of take this grace from you: for they proceade of nothing els
but of curiousnesse, whereby ye discover openlye unto everye man the over
great desire that ye have to be beawtifull. Do not you marke howe much
more grace is in a woman, that if she doth trim her self, doeth it so
scarcely and so litle, that whoso behouldeth her, standeth in doubt
whether she be trimmed or no: then in an other so bedawbed, that a man
woulde we ne she had a viser on her face and dareth not laugh for making
it chappe: nor at any tyme chaungeth her colour, but whan she apparayeleth
her self in the morninge and all the rest of the daye standeth lyke an
image of woodde without movinge, shewinge her self onely in torche light,
as craftye
| Women that bestowe no payne in settinge out themselves.
|
marchaundmen do their clothes in their darke lightes? How much more then
doeth a man delite in one, I meane not foule, that is manyfestlye seene
she hath nothinge uppon her face, though she be not so white nor so red,
but with her naturall colour somewhat
wan, sometime with blusshinge or through other chaunce dyed with a pure
rednes, with her hear by happe out of order and ruffled, and with her
simple and naturall gestures, without shewing her self to bestow diligence
or study, to make her faire? This is that not regarded pureness which best
pleaseth the eyes and mindes of men, that stande alwayes in awe to be
deceived by art. Whyte teeth is a good sight in a woman, for sence they
are not in so open sight as is the face, but most
| White teath. Faire handes. |
communly are hid, a man may think she bestoweth not so much laboure about
them, to make them white, as she doeth in the face: yet who so shoulde
laughe without cause purposly to show them, should discover the art, and
for all their faire whitenesse should
appeare unto all men to have a very yll grace, as Egnatius in Catullus.
The like is in the
handes, which being delicate, smooth and faire, yf they be shewed bare at
a tyme whan occasyon is to occupye them, and not of purpose to showe the
beawtye of them, they leave a very great desire of themselves, and
especiallye after they are covered with gloves agayne, for a manne would
judge that in puttynge them on againe she passeth not and lytle regardeth
whether they be in sighte or no, and that they are so fayre rather by
nature, then by anye studye or dilygence. Have ye not hadde an eye
otherwhyle, whan eyther in the stretes goynge to Churche, or in anye other
place, or in sportyng, or by any other chaunce it happeneth that a woman
lyfteth up her clothes so high, that she sheweth her foote, and sometime a
litle of her pretye legge unwittinglye? And seemeth shee not to you to
have a verye good grace, yf ye beholde her then with a certayne womanlye
disposition, cleanlye and precise, with her shooes of vellute, and her
hose sittynge cleane to her legge? Truelye it deliteth me much, and I
beleve all of you, for everye manne supposeth
| Clenlye and precise in places sildome seene.
|
that Preciseness in so secret place and so sildom seen, to be unto that
woman rather natural and propre then forced, and that thereby she thinketh
to gett her no commendation at all. In such sort is curiousenesse avoyded
and covered, the which you maye nowe conceyve howe contrarye it is, and
taketh awaye the grace of everye operation and deede, aswell of the bodye
as of the minde, whereof hitherto we have spoken but litle, and yet
ought it not to be omitted, for as the minde is muche more worthye then
the bodye, so deserveth it also to bee better decked and polished. And
howe that ought to be in oure Courtyer (leavyng a parte the preceptes of
so manye wyse Phylosophers that wryte in this matter and define the
vertues of the minde, and so subtillye dyspute of the dignitye of them)
wee will expresse in fewe wordes, applyinge to our pourpose, that it is
sufficient he be (as they terme it commonlye) an honest manne and
welmeaning: for in this is comprehended the goodnesse, the wisdome, the
manlynesse and the temperaunce of the mynde, and all other qualityes that
belonge to so worthye a name. And I recken hym onely a true morall
Phylosopher that wyll be good, and to that, he needeth fewe other
preceptes then that will of his.
| To applye a mans good will is profeting.
|
And therefore saide Socrates well, that he thought his instructions hadde
brought foorth good fruite whan by them he hadde provoked anye one to
applye his wyll to the knoweleage and learnynge of vertue. For they that
are come to the pointe that they covet te nothynge more then to be good,
do easyly attayne the understandynge of all that beelongeth thereto:
therefore herein we wyll make no more a do. But besyde goodnesse, the true
and principall ornament of the mynde in everye manne (I beeleeve)
| The French menne make none accompte of learning.
|
are letters, although the Frenchmen know onelye the noblenesse of armes,
and passe for nothing beside: so that they do not onelye not sett by
letters, but they rather abhorre them, and all learned men they count
verie rascalles, and they think it a great vilany when any one of them is
called a clarke.
Then aunswered the L. Julian: You say very true, this errour in deede hath
longe reigned among the Frenchemen. But if Monseigneur Angoulism have so
good luck that he may (as men hope) succeede in the Croun, the glory of
armes in Fraunce doeth not so florishe nor is had in suche estimation, as
letters wilbe, I beleave.
For it is not long sins I was in Fraunce, and saw this Prince in the Court
there, who semed unto me beside the handsomenesse of personne and beawty
of visage, to have in his countenance so great a majestie, accompanyed
neverthelesse with a certayne lovely e courteisy, that the realme of
Fraunce should ever seeme unto him a small matter. I understoode
afterwarde by many gentilmen both French and Italian, very much of the
most noble condicions, of the greatnesse of courage, prowesse and
liberalitie that was in him: and emonge other thinges, it was tolde me
that he highly loved and esteamed letters, and had in verie great
reputation all learned men, and blamed the Frenchemen themselves that
their mindes were so farr wide from this profession, especially having
at their doores so noble an universitye as Paris is, where all the world
resorteth.
Then spake the Count: It is great wonder that in these tender yeres only
by the provocation of nature, contrary to the maner of the countrey, he
hath geven himself to so good a way. And because subjectes folow alwaies
the condicions of the higher powers, it is possible that it may come to
passe (as you say) that the Frenchmen will yet esteeme letters to be of
that dignity that they are in deed. The which (if they give ear therto)
they may soone be perswaded, forsomuch as men ought to covet of nature
nothing so much and that is more proper for them, then knowleage: which
thing it wer a great folly to say or to holde opinion
that it is not alwaies good. And in case I might commune with them, or
with other that were of a contrarie opinion to me, I would do my diligence
to show them, how much letters (which undoubtedlye have bene graunted of
God unto men for a soveraigne gift) are profytable and necessarye for our
lief and estimation. Neyther should I want thexamples of so many excellent
capitaines of old time, which all joyned the Ornament of letters, with the
powesse of armes. For (as you know) Alexander had Homer in such
reverence, that he laide his Ilias alwayes under his beddes head: and
he applied diligentlye not these studies onely, but also the speculations
of Philosophye under the discipline of Aristotle.
Howe the great Alexander esteamed Homer, Plutarck, in the life of
Alexander.
Alcibiades Socrates scholar.
J. Cesar.
Scipio
Africanus.
Paidia Xenophontis.
Hannibal learned.
|
Alcibiades encreased his good condicions and made them greater with
letters, and with the instructions of Socrates. Also what dyligence Cesar
used in studye, those thinges which he hath so divinely written him self,
make triall. It is said that Scipio Africanus caried alwayes in his hande
the bookes of Xenophon, wherein under the name of Cyrus he instructeth a
perfect king. I could recite unto you Lucullus, Sylla, Pompeius, Brutus,
and many other Romanes and Gretians, but I will do no more but make
mencion of Hanibal, which being so excellent a captaine ( yet for all
that of a
fierce nature, and voide of all humanitye, an untrue dealer, and a
despiser of men and of the Gods) had also understanding in letters, and
the knowleage of the Greeke tunge. And if I be not deceived (I trowe) I
have read in my time that he left a booke behind him of his owne makynge
in the Greeke tunge. But this kynd of talke is more then nedeth, for I
knowe all you understand howe much the Frenchemen be deceived in houlding
opinion
letters to do anye hurt to armes.
You knowe in great matters and aventurous in wars the true provocation is
glory: and whoso for lucres sake or for any other consideration taketh it
in hand (beside that he never doeth anye thynge woorthy prayse) deserveth
not the name of a gentleman, but is a most vile marchaunt. And every man
maye conceive it to be the true glorye, that is stored up in the holy
treasure of letters, excepte such unlucky creatures as have had no tast
therof.
What minde is so fainte, so bashefull and of so base a courage, that in
reading the actes and greatnesse of Cesar, Alexander, Scipio, Hannibal,
and so many other, is not incensed with a most fervent longing to be like
them: and doth not preferre the getting of that perpetuall fame, before
this rotten life that lasteth twoo dayes?
| Glorye. In letters the true glorye. Noble courages enflamed
in readyng the actes of famous
captaines. The unlearned knowe not glorye. Why the unlearned seeke not
to be famous. Italians faint in
armes. |
Which in despite of death maketh him lyve a greate deale more famous then
before. But he that savoureth not the sweetnesse of letters, cannot know
how much is the greatnesse of glorye, which is a longe whyle preserved by
them and onely measureth it with the age of one or two men, for farther
he beareth not in minde. Therfore can he not esteme this shorte glorye so
much as he would do that, which (in a maner) is everlastinge, yf by his
ill happe he wer not barred from the knowleage of it.
And not passing upon it so much, reason perswadeth and a man may well
beleave he wyll never hasard hym self to come by it, as he that knoweth
it. I would not nowe some one of the contrarye parte should alleage unto
me the contrarye effectes to confute min e opinion with all: and tell me
how the Italians with their knowleage of letters have shewed small
prowesse
in armes from a certaine time hitherto, the which neverthelesse is to
true. But in very dede a man may well saye that the offence of a few, hath
brought (beside the great damage) an everlasting reproche unto all other.
And the very cause of our confusion,
and of the neglecting of vertue in our mindes (if it be not clean dead)
proceaded of them. But it were a more shamefull matter unto us to publishe
it, then unto the Frenchman the ignoraunce in letters. Therfore it is
better to passe that over with silence that cannot be rehersed without
sorow, and leaving this purpose into the which I am entred against my
will, retourne againe unto oure Courtier, whom in letters I will have to
bee more then indyfferentlye well seene, at the leaste in those studyes,
The Courtier ought to be learned.
In humanity.
In the Latin
and Greeke tung.
In poetes.
In oratours.
In
Historiographers.
In
writinge ryme and prose.
What is to be done of a mans
writinges.
|
which they call Humanitie, and to have not only the understandinge of the
Latin tunge, but also of the Greeke, because of the many and sundrye
thinges that with greate excellencye are written in it. Let him much
exercise hym selfe in poets, and no lesse in Oratours and
Historiographers, and also in writinge bothe rime and prose, and
especiallye in this our vulgar tunge. For beside the contentation that he
shall receive thereby himselfe, he shall by this meanes never want
pleasaunt interteinments with women which ordinarylye love such matters.
And if by reason either of his other busines beside, or of his slender
studie, he shall not attaine unto that perfection that hys writinges may
be worthye much commendation, let him be circumspect in keeping them
close, least he make other men to laugh at him. Onely he may show them to a
frend whom he may trust, for at the leastwise he shall receive so much
profite, that by that exercise he shall be able to geve his judgement upon
other mennes doinges.
For it happeneth verye sildome, that a man not exercised in writinge, how
learned so ever he be, can at any tyme know perfectly the labour and toile
of writers, or tast of the sweetenes that often times are found in them of
olde tyme. And besyde that, those studyes shall make him copyous, and (as
Aristippus aunswered that Tiran)
bould to speake uppon a good grounde wyth everye manne. Notwithstanding I
wyll have oure Courtier to keepe faste in his minde one lesson, and that
is this, to be alwaies wary both in this and in every other point, and
rather fearfull then bould, and beware that he perswade not him self
falsely to knowe the thing he knoweth not indede.
The not practised can not judge.
Dionysius.
To be rather
warie then bould in all thinges.
The wordes of
flatterers sweete. |
Because we are of nature al the sort of us much more gredy of praise then
is requisite, and better to our eares love the melody of wordes sounding
to our praise, then any other song or soune that is most sweete. And
therfore manye tymes, lyke the voices of Meremaydens, they are the cause
of drownyng him that doeth not well stoppe his eares at such deceitfull
harmonie. This daunger being perceived, there hath bene among the auncient
wise men that hath written bookes, howe a manne should know a true
friend from a flatterer. But what availeth it? If there be many of them
(or
rather infinit) that manifestly perceive there are flatterers, and yet
love hym that flattereth them, and hate him that telleth them the trothe,
and often times (standinge in opinion that he that praiseth them is to
scace in his woordes) they themselves helpe him forward, and utter such
matters of themselves, that the most impudent flatterer of all is ashamed
of.
Men take no hede to flatterers.
Men flatter themselves.
|
Let us leave these blinde busardes in their owne erroure, and make oure
Courtyer of so good a judgement, that he will not be geven to understand
blacke for white, nor presume more of him selfe then what he knoweth very
manifestlye to be true, and especially in those thinges, which (yf he
beare well in minde) the L. Cesar rehearsed in his divise of pastimes,
that we have manye tymes used for an instrument to make many become
foolysh. But rather, that he may be assured not to fall into anye errour,
where he
knoweth those prayses that are geven him to be true: let hym not so
openly consent to them, nor confirme them so without resistance, but
rather with modesty (in a maner) denye them cleane, shewyng alwayes and
countynge in effect, armes to be his principall profession, and al the
other good qualities for an ornament thereof,
How he should avoid flatterers.
Letters an ornamente of
armes. |
and pryncypallye amonge souldiers, least he be like unto them that in
learnyng will seeme men of warr, and among men of warr, learned. In this
wise for the reasons we have said he shal avoyde curyousnesse, and the
meane thinges which he taketh in hand, shal appeare very great.
Here M. Peter Bembo answered: I know not (Count Lewis) howe you will have
this Courtier, being learned and of so many other vertuous qualities, to
count every thing for an ornament of armes, and not armes and the reste
for an ornamente of letters. The whyche wythout other addicyon are in
dignitie so muche above armes, as the minde is above the bodye: because
the practising of them belongeth properly to the mind even as the
practising of armes dooeth to the body.
| Armes belong to the mind and body both. |
The Count answered then: Nay the practisinge of armes beelongeth aswel to
the mind as to the body. But I wold not have you (M. Peter) a judge in
this cause, for you would be to partial to one of the partes. And
forsomuch as this disputacion hath already bene tossed a long time my
moste wise men, we neede not to renew it, but I count it resolved upon
armes side, and wil have our Courtier (since I have the facioning of him
at mi wil) think thus also. And if you be of a contrary opinion, tary till
you heare a disputacion, where it may be as well lawfull for him that
taketh part with armes, to use his armes, as thei that defend letters use
in the defence the very same letters.
Oh (quoth M. Peter) you rebuked the Frenchmen before for setting litle by
letters, and declared what a great light of glory they shew unto men and
how they make them immortal: and now it seemeth you are in an other
opinion. Do you not remember that:
|
Petrarca: Son. 155. Alexander. Homer. Quint. Curt.
lib. 2. |
The great Macedo, when he proched neer
Fiers Achils famous
Toumb, thus said and sight:
O happy Prince that found a Tromp so
cleer,
And happy he that prayed so worthy a wight.
And if Alexander envied Achilles not for his deedes but for his fortune
that gave him so great luck to have his actes renowmed by Homer, a man may
gather he estemed more the letters of Homer then the armes of Achilles.
What other judge then or what other sentence looke you for, as touching
the dignity of armes and letters, then that which was geven by one of the
greatest capitaines that ever were?
The Count answered: I blame the Frenchmen because they think letters hurt
the profession of armes: and I hould opinion that it is not so necessary
for any man to be learned, as it is for a man of war.
| The Courtyer a manne of warre and learned.
|
And these two pointes linked together and aided the one by the other
(which is most fit) wil I have to bee in the Courtier. Neyther doe I
thinke my self for this to be in an other opinion, but (as I have said) I
will not dispute: whiche of them is most worthy praise, it sufficeth that
learned men take not in hande at anye time to praise any but great men,
and glorious actes, which of themselves deserve prayse by their proper
essentiall vertues from whence they arrise.
| Glorious actes a noble Theme. |
Beside that, they are a most noble Theme for writers, which is a great
ornament, and partly the cause of the continuance of writinges, that
paraventure should not be so much read and set by, if there wanted in them
noble matter, but counted vaine and of smal reputation. And if Alexander
envied Achilles bicause he was praised of him that did it, yet doth it not
consequently folowe that he esteamed letters more then armes. Wherin if he
had knowen himself so farr wide from Achilles, as in writing he thought al
they would be from Homer that should go about to write of him, I am sure
he would muche sooner have desired wel doing in himself then wel speaking
in an other. Therfore think I that this was a close praise of himself,
| Alexander thought not himself inferiour to Achilles. What
Alexander ment by calling Achilles happy. |
and a wishing for that he thought he had not, namelye the high excellency
of a writer, and not for that he thought with himself he had already
obtayned, that is to say, the prowess of armes, wherin he counted not
Achilles any whit his superiour, wherefore
he called him happye, as it were signifying, where his fame in foretime
was not so renowmed in the worlde, as was the fame that by so divyne
a Poeme was cleere and excellent, it proceaded not for that his prowes and
desertes were not such and worthy so much praise: but it arose of fortune
that had before hand prepared for Achilles that miracle of nature for a
glorious renowme and trompet of his actes. And peradventure again he
minded therby to stirr up some noble wit to wryte of himself, declaring
how acceptable it should be to him, forsomuch as he loved and reverenced
the holye monumentes of letters: about the which we have now spoken
sufficient.
Nay more then sufficient, aunswered the L. Lodovicus Pius. For I beleve
there is never a vessell in the world possible to be founde so bigge that
shalbe able to receive al the thinges that you wil have in this
Courtyer.
Then the Count: Abide yet a while (quoth he) for there be manye other
thinges to be had in him yet.
Peter of Naples aunswered: After this maner Crassus de Medicis shal have
great avantage of M. Peter Bembo.
At this they all laughed. And the Counte beginning a freshe: My Lordes
(quoth he) you must thinke I am not pleased with the Courtier if he be not
also a musitien,
and beside his understanding and couning upon the booke, have skill in
lyke
maner on sudrye instruments. For yf we waie it well, there is no ease of
the labours and medicines of feeble mindes to be founde more honeste and
more praise worthye in time of leyser then it. And princypally in
Courtes, where (beside the refreshing of vexacyons that musike bringeth
unto eche man) many thynges are taken in hande to please women withal,
whose tender and softe breastes are soone perced with melody and fylled
with swetenesse. Therefore no marvaile that in the olde times and nowe a
dayes they have alwayes bene enclined to musitiens, and counted this a
moste acceptable foode of the mynde.
Then the L. Gaspar: I beleve musicke (quoth he) together with many other
vanities is mete for women, and paradventure for some also that have the
lykenes of men, but not for them that be men in dede: who ought not with
suche delicacies to womannishe their
mindes, and brynge themselves in that sort to dread death.
Speake it not, answered the Count. For I shall enter into a large sea of
the praise of Musicke, and call to rehearsal howe much it hath alwayes
bene renowmed emong them of olde time, and counted a holy matter: and how
it hath bene the opinion of most wise
Philosophers
| Musick in estimation in olde time. |
that the world is made of musick, and the heavens in their moving make a
melody, and our soule framed after the very same sort, and therfore
lifteth up it self and (as it were) reviveth the vertues and force of it
with musick: wherfore it is written that Alexander was sometime so
ferventely styrred with it, that (in a maner) against his wyll he was
forced to arise from bankettes and runne to weapon,
Alexander styrred with
musicke.
Xenofant.
Musitien.
Socrates beyng olde lerned upon the
harpe.
Why musick is good.
Lycurgus.
The Lacedemons.
The
Cretenses.
Epaminondas.
Themistocles the lesse estemed for not beyng
a musitien.
Chiron.
Achilles a musitien. |
afterward the mustien chaunging the stroke and his maner of tume, pacified
himself againe and retourned from weapon to banketting. And I shall tell
you that grave Socrates when he was well stricken in yeares learned to
playe uppon the harpe. And I remember I have understoode that Plato and
Aristotle will have a man that is well brought up, to be also a musitien:
and declare with infinite reasons the force of musicke to be to very great
purpose in us, and for many causes (that should be to long to rehearse)
ought necessarilye to be learned from a mans childhoode, not onely for the
superficial melodie that is hard, but to be sufficient to bring into us a
newe habite that is good, and
a custome enclyning to vertue, whiche maketh the minde more apt to the
conceiving of felicitie, even as bodely exercise maketh the bodie more
lustie, and not onely hurteth not civyl matters and warrelyke affaires,
but is a great staie to them.
Also Lycurgus in his sharpe lawes allowed musicke. And it is read that the
Lacedemons, whiche were valiaunt in armes, and the Cretenses used harpes
and other soft intstumentes: and many most excellent captaines of olde
time (as Epaminondas) gave themselves to musicke: and suche as had not a
syght in it (as Themistocles) were a great deale the lesse set by. Have
you read that among the first instruccions which the good olde man Chiron
taught Achilles in his tender age, whome he had brought up from his nurse
and cradle, musick was one? And the wise maister would have those hands
that should shed so muche Troyan bloude, to be oftentimes occupyed in
playing upon the harpe? What souldyer is there (therefore) that will
thinke it a shame to folow Achilles, omitting many other famous captaines
that I could alledge? Do ye not then deprive our Coutyer of musicke, which
doth not only make swete the mindes of men,
but also many times wilde beastes tame: and whoso savoureth it not, a
manne may assuredly thinke him not to be wel in his wittes. Beholde I pray
you what force it hath, that in times paste allured a fishe to suffer a
Wielde beasts delyte in musicke.
Dolphines delyte in
musicke.
Musicke acceptable to
God.
Labourers.
Countreywomen.
Mariners.
Pylgroms.
Prisoners.
Suckyng babes.
|
man to ride upon him throughe the tempestious sea. We maie see it used in
the holy temples to render laude and thankes unto God, and it is a
credible matter that it is acceptable unto him, and that he hath geven it
unto us for a most swete lightning of our travailes and vexations. So that
many times the boisterous labourers in the fieldes in the heate of the
sunne beguyle theyr paine with rude and cartarlyke singing. With this the
unmannerly countreywoman that aryseth befor e daye out of her slepe. to
spinne and carde, defendeth her self and maketh her labour pleasant.
Tis is the most swete pastime after reigne, wind, and tempest unto the
miserable mariners. With this do the wery pilgromes comfort themselves in
their troublesome and long viages. And often tymes prisoners in
adversitie, in fetters, and in stockes. In lyke maner for a greater
proofe that the tunablenes of musicke (though it be but rude) is a very
great refrshing of al worldly paines and griefs, a man would judge that
nature hath taughte it unto nurses for a speciall remedye to the
contynuall waylinges of sucking babes, whiche at the soune of their voice
fall into a
quiete and swete sleep, forgetting the teares that are so proper to them,
and geven us of nature in that age for a gesse of the reste of oure life
to come.
Here the Count pausing a whyle the L. Julian saide: I am not of the L.
Gaspars opinion, but I beleve for the reasons you alledge and for many
other, that musicke is not onelye an ornament, but also necessarie for a
Courtyer. But I woulde have you declare how this and the other qualities
whiche you appoint him are to be practised, and at what time, and in what
sort. Because many thinges that of them selves bee worthie praise,
oftentimes in practisyng theym out of season seeme most foolish. And
contrarywise, some thinges that appere to be of smal moment, in the wel
applying them, are greatly esteemed.
Then saide the Count: Before we enter into this matter, I will talke of an
other thing, whiche for that it is of importaunce (in my judgemente) I
beleve our Courtyer ought in no wise to leave it out. And that is the
cunning in drawyng, and the knowledge in the very arte of peincting. And
wonder ye not if I wish this feat in him, whiche now a dayes perhappes is
counted an handycraft and ful litle to become a gentleman, for I remember
I have read that the men of olde time, and especially in all Greece would
have
Peincting.
Gentlemens children learned to peinct.
Peincting
forbid to
bondmen.
Fabius Pictor.Temple of health. |
Gentlemens children in the schooles to apply peincting, as a matter both
honest and necessary. And this was received in the firste degree of
liberal artes, afterwarde openly enacted not to be taught to servauntes
and bondmen. Emong the Romanes in like maner it was in very great
reputacion, and thereof sprong the surname of the most noble family of
Fabii, for the first Fabius was named Pictor, because in ded he was a most
excellent peinter, and so addicted to peincting, that after he had
peincted the walles of the temple of Health,
he writte therein hys name thinking with himselfe, that for all he was
borne in so noble a familye whiche was honoured with so many titles of
Consulshippes and triumphes and other dignities, and was learned and wel
seene in the lawe, and reckened among Oratours, to geve also an encrease
of brightnesse and an ornament unto his renowme, by leavyng behynde him a
memorie that he had bene a peinter. There have not in lyke maner wanted
many other of notable famylyes that have bene renowmed in this art, of the
which (beside that in it selfe it is moste noble and worthye) there ensue
manye
commodities, and especially in warre to drawe oute countreys,
plattefourmes, ryvers, brydges, castelles, houldes, fortresses, and suche
other matters, the which thoughe a manne were hable to kepe in mynde (and
that is a harde matter to doe) yet can he not shewe them to others. And in
verye dede who so esteameth not this arte, is (to my seemyng) farre wyde
from all reason: forsomuche as the engine of the worlde that we behoulde
with a large sky,
so bright with shining sterres, and in the middes, the earth environed
with the Seas, severed in partes wyth Hylles, Dales, and Rivers, and so
decked with suche diverse trees, beawtifull flowres and herbes, a man maye
saye it to be a noble and a great peincting, drawen wyth the hande of
nature and of God: the whych whoso can folow in myne opinion he is
woorthye muche commendacion. Neyther can a man atteyne to thys wythout the
knoweledge of manye thinges, as he well knoweth that trieth it. Therefore
had they of olde time in verye great estimation both the art and the
artificers, so that it came to the toppe of all excellencye. And of this
maye a man gather a suffuciient argument at the auntient ymages
| Auntient ymages. Carving. |
of marble and mettall, whyche at thys daye are to be seene. And though
peincting be a diverse matter from carving, yet they do both arise out of
one self fountayne (namelye) of a good patterne. And even as the ymages
are divine and excellent, so it is to be thought peinctinges were also,
and so much the more, for that they conteine in them a greater
workemanshipp.
Then the L. Emilia tourning her unto Johnchristopher Romano that sat ther
emong the rest: How thinke you (quoth she) to this judgement, will you
graunt that peincting conteineth in it a greater workmanship, then
carving?
Johnchristopher answered: in my minde carving is of more travaile, of more
art, and of a more dignitye then peincting.
Then said the Count: Bicause ymages are more durable, perhappes a man may
say they are of a more dignity. For sith they are made for a memory, they
better satisfy the effect why thei be made, then peincting. But beside
memory, both peincting and carving are made also to set out a thing, and
in this point hath peincting a great deale the upper hande, the which
though it be not so long lastyng (to terme it so) as carving is, yet doth
it for al that endure a long tyme, and for the while it lasteth, is much
more sightly.
Then aunswered Johnchristopher: I beleave verelye you thynke not as ye
speake, and all this you do for your
Raphaelles sake. And peradventure to, you judge the excellency you know to
be in him in peincting to be of such perfection, that carvynge in marble
cannot come to that degree. But weye with youre self, that this is the
praise of the artificer and not of the art. Then he proceaded: And I
judge also both the one and the other to be an artificiall folowing of
nature. But yet I know not how you can say, that the trueth and property
that nature maketh, cannot be folowed better in a figure of marble or
mettall, wherin the members are all round, proporcioned and measured as
nature her self shapeth them, then in a Table, where men perceyve nothing
but the outwarde syght and those colours that deceive the eyes: and say
not to me that being, is not nigher unto the trueth then seeming. Again,
I judge
| Why carving is harder than peinctyng. |
carving in marble much harder, bicause if ye make a fault it cannot be
amended again, for marble cannot be joyned together, but ye must be
drieven to make a newe image, the which happeneth not in peincting, for a
man may alter, put to, and diminish, alwaies making it better.
The Count said laughing: I speak not for Raphelles sake, neither ought you
to think me so ignoraunt a person, but I understand the excellency of
Michelangelo, of you your selfe, and of other men in carvyng marble, but I
speake of the art and not of the artificers. And you say wel, that both
the one and the other is the folowing of nature. But for al that, it is
not so, that peinting appeareth and carving is: for although images are
all round like the lively patterne, and peinctyng is onely seene in the
outward apparance, yet want there manye thinges in ymages, that want not
in peinctinges, and especiallye lightes and shadowes, for fleshe geveth
one light, and Marble an other, and that doth the Peincter naturally folow
with cleare and darke, more and lesse, as he seeth occasion, which the
graver in marble can not doe. And where the Peincter maketh not his figure
round, he maketh the muscles and the
members in round wise, so that they go to meete with the partes not
seene, after such a maner, that a man may very well gather the peincter
hath also a knowleage in them and understandeth them.
And in this poynt he must have an other craft that is greater to frame
those membres, that they may seeme short and diminishe accordinge to the
proportion of the sight by way of prospective, which by force of measured
lines, colours, lightes and shadowes
discover unto you also in the outward sight of an upright wal the
plainnesse and farnesse, more and lesse, as pleaseth him.
| Wherin the peincter passeth the carver. |
Think you it agayn a triflyng matter to counterfeyt naturall coulours,
flesh, clothe, and all other coloured thinges? This can not now the graver
in marble do, ne yet express the grace of the sight that is in the black
eyes or in azurre with the shininge of those amorous beames. He can not
show the coulour of yellow hear, nor the glistring of armour, nor a darke
nyght, nor a Sea tempest, nor those twincklinges and sperkeles, nor the
burninge of a Citye, nor the rising of the mornyng in the coulour of roses
with those beames of purple and gold. Finallye he can not show the skye,
the sea, the earth, hilles, woddes, medowes, gardeines, rivers, Cityes,
nor houses, which the peincter doeth all. For this respect (me thinke)
peinctinting is more noble, and conteyneth in it a greater workemanshippe
then graving in marble. And among them of olde tyme I beleve it was in as
high estimation as other thinges, the which is also to be discerned by
certayn litle remnantes
that are to be sene yet, especially in places under ground in Roome, but
much more evidentlye may a man gather it by olde wrytinges, wherein is so
famous and so often mention both of the workes and workemen, that by them
a man maye understande in what hig h reputation they have bene alwaies
with Princes and Commune weales. Therefore it is read that
| Remnants of peinctinge in Roome. Alexander loved
Appelles. Alexanders gift to Appelles.
|
Alexander loved highlye Appelles of Ephesus, and somuch, that after he had
made him draw out a woman of his, naked, whom he loved most deerly, and
understandinge that this good peincter, for her marveylous beauty, was
most fervently in love with her, with out any more a do, he bestowed her
upon him. Truely a woorthy liberalitye of Alexander, not to geve onelye
treasures and states, but also his owne affections and desires, and a
token of very great love towarde Apelles, not regarding (to please him
with all) the displeasure of the woman that he highly loved, who it is to
be thought was sore agreved to chaunge so great a king for a peincter.
There be manye other signes rehersed also of Alexanders good will toward
Apelles, but he shewed plainlye in what esti mation he had him, whan he
commaunded by open proclamation no other peincter shoulde be so hardy to
draw out his picture.
Here could I repete unto you the contentions of manye noble peincters with
the greatest commendation and marvaile (in a maner) in the world. I coulde
tel you with what solemnitie the Emperours of old time decked out their
tryumphes with peinctinges, and dedicated them up in haunted places and
how deere it cost them. And that there wer some Peincters that gave their
Onely Appelles drewe out his picture.
Estimation of
peincting.
A table wherin Bacchus was
peinted.
Metrodorus. |
woorkes freely, seeming unto them no golde nor silver was inough to value
them. And how a table of Protogenes was of such estimation, that Demetrius
lying encamped before Rhodes, where he might have entred the citie by
setting fier to the place where he wiste this table was, for feare of
burning it, staid to bid them battaile, and so he wan not the city at al.
And how Metrodorus a Philosopher and a most excellent peincter was sent
out of Athens to L. Paulus to bringe up his children and to deck out his
triumph he had to make. And also manye noble writers have written of this
art, which is a token great inough to declare in what estimation it hath
bene. But I will not we procede any farther in this communication.
Therfore it sufficeth onely to say that our
Courtier ought also to have a knowledge in peincting, since it was honest
and profitable, and much set by in those daies whan men were of a more
prowesse then they are now.
And thoughe he never geat other profite or delite in it (beside that it is
a helpe to him to judge of the ymages both olde and new, of vessels,
buildings, old coines, cameses, gravings and such other matters) it maketh
him also understand the beawtye of lively bodies, and not onely in the
sweetenesse of the fisnamy, but in the proportion of all the rest, aswell
in men as other living creatures. Se then how the knowleage in peinctinge
is cause of verye great pleasure.
| Lovers ought to have a sight in it. |
And this let them think that do enjoy and view the beauty of a woman so
throughly that they think them selves in paradise, and yet have not the
feate of peinctinge: the which if they had, they would conceive a farre
greater contentation, for then should they more perfectly understand the
beauty that in their brest engendreth such hartes ease.
Here the L. Cesar laughed and saide: I have not the art of peincting, and
yet I know assuredly I have a far greater delyte in behoulding a woman in
the world then Apelles himself that was so excellent whom ye named right
now, could have if he wer now in lief again.
The Count answered: This delite of yours proceadeth not wholy of the
beawty, but of the affection which you perhappes beare unto the woman. And
if you wil tell the troth, the first time you beheld that woman, ye felt
not the thousandth part of the delite which ye did afterward, though her
beauty wer the very same. Therfore ye may conceive how affection beareth a
greater stroke in your delite then beauty.
I deny not that (quoth the L. Cesar): but as delite ariseth of affection,
so doth affection arise of beauty, therfore a man may say for al that,
that beauty is the cause of delite.
The Count aunswered: There may be other thinges also that beside beawty
often times enflame our mindes, as maners, knowleage, speach, gestures and
a thousand mo (which peradventure after a sort may be called beauty to)
and above all the knowing a mans self to be beloved: so that without the
beautys you reason of, a man may be most ferventlye in love, but those
loves that arise onelye of the beauty which we dyscerne superficially in
bodyes, without doubt will bring a farre greater delite to him that hath
but a litle.
Therefore retourning to our pourpose, I beleve Appelles conceived a far
greater joy in behoulding the beawty of Campaspes then did Alexander, for
a man maye easilye beleeve that the love of them both proceaded of that
beawtye, and perhaps also for this respect Alexander determined to
bestowe her upon him, that (in his minde) could knowe her more perfectlye
then he did. Have you not read of the five daughters of Croton,
| V. doughters of Croton. Zeusis. |
which among the rest of the people, Zeusis the peincter chose to make of
all five one figure that was most excellent in beawty, and wer renowmed of
many Poets, as they that wer alowed for beawtifull of him that ought to
have a most perfect judgment in beawty?
Here the L. Cesar, declaring him self not satisfied nor willing to consent
by any meanes, that any man coulde tast of the delite that he felt in
beholding the beawty of a certein woman, but he him self, began to speake:
and then was there hard a great scraping of feet in the floore with a
cherme of loud speaking, and upon that every man tourninge him selfe
about, saw at the Chambre doore appeare a light of torches, and by and by
after entred in the L. Generall with a greate and noble traine,
| L. Franciscomaria della Rovére. |
who was then retourned from accompaninge the Pope a peece of the way. And
at his first entrey into the Palaice demaundinge what the Dutches did, he
was certefied what kind of pastime they had in hande that night, and howe
the charg was committed to Count Lewis to entreat of courting. Therfore he
hasted him as much as he could to come betime to heare somewhat. And
assone as he had saluted the Dutchesse and setled the reste that were
risen up at his comminge, he satte hym downe in the circle amonge them and
certeine of the chiefe of his traine, amonge which were the marquesse
Phebus of Ceva, and Ghirardin brethern, M. Hector of Roome, Vincent
Calmeta, Horace Floridus and many other.
And whan al was whist, the L. General said: My Lordes, my comminge shoulde
bee to hurtefull, if I should hindre such good communication as I gesse
was even now emong you. Therfore do you me not this injurie to deprive
both youre selves and me of this pleasure.
Then aunswered Count Lewis: I beleave (my Lorde) silence ought rather to
please all parties then speakinge. For seinge it hath been my lot this
night before all other to take this travaile in hande, it hath nowe weried
me in speakinge and I werie all the rest in hearinge: because my talke
hath not bene worthye of this companye, nor sufficient ynoughe for the
waightinesse of the matter I have bene charged withall, wherin sins I have
litle satisfied my self, I recken I have muche lesse satysfied others.
Therfore (my Lorde) your lucke hath bene good to come at the latter end, and
nowe shal it be wel done to geve the enterprise of that is behind to an
other that may succede in my roume. For whosoever he be, I knowe well he
will much better acquite him selfe then I should do if I went forwarde
with it, beinge thus wery as I am.
This will I in no wise permit, aunswered the L. Julian, to be deceived of
the promise ye have made me. And I knowe well the Lord Generall will not
be against the understandinge of that point.
And what promise was that? quoth the Count.
The L. Julian answered: to declare unto us in what sort the Courtyer ought
to use those good condicions and qualities which you say are meete for
him.
The Lorde Generall, though he were but a child in yeares, yet was he wise
and discreete more then a man would think belonged unto those tender
yeares of his, and in every gesture he declared with a greatnesse of minde
a certaine livelinesse of wit, which did sufficiently pronosticate the
excellente degree of honoure, and vertue whereunto afterwarde he ascended.
Wherfore he said incontinentlye: If all this be behinde yet to be spoken
of (me thinke) I am come in good season. For understandinge in what sort
the Courtier muste use his good condicions and qualities, I shall knowe
also what they are, and thus shall I come to the knowleage of al that have
bene spoken hitherto. Therfore sticke not (Count) to pay this debt, being
alreadye discharged of one part therof.
I should not have so greate a debt to discharg, answered the Count, if the
peynes were equally devided, but the faulte hath bene, in gevinge a Ladye
authoritye to commaunde, that is to partial.
And so smiling he beheld the Lady Emilia, which said immediately: you
ought not to complain of my partialyty, yet sins ye do it against reason,
we wil give one part of this honor, which you call peynes, unto an other:
and tourninge her unto Sir Friderick Fregoso, You (quoth she propounded
this devise of the Coutier, therfore reason willeth ye should say somewhat
in it: and that shalbe to fulfill the L. Julians request, in declaring
what sort, maner and time the Courtier ought to practise his good condicio
ns and qualityes, and those other thinges which the Count hath said are
meete for him.
Then Sir Friderick: Madam (quoth he) where ye will sever the sort, the
time and the maner of good condicions and qualityes and the well
practisinge of the Courtyer, ye will sever that can not be sundred: for it
is these thinges that make the condicions and qualityes good and the
practising good. Therfore sins the Count hath spoken so much and so wel,
and also said somwhat of these circumstances, and prepared for the rest in
his mind that he had to say, were but reason he should go forward untill
he came to the ende.
The Lady aunswered: Set the case you were the Count your self, and spake
that your mind geveth you he would do, and so shall all be well.
Then said Calmeta: My lordes, sins it is late, least Sir Friderick should
find a scuse to utter that he knoweth, I beleve it were wel done to
deferre the rest of the communication untill to morowe, and bestowe the
small time that remayneth about some other pastyme without ambicion. The
which being agreed upon of all handes, the Dutches willed the Lady
Margaret and the Lady Constance Fregosa to shew them a daunce. Wherefore
Barletta immediately, a very pleasaunt mustien and an excellent daunser,
who continually kept al the Court in mirth and joy, began to play upon
his instrumentes, and they hande in hande, shewed them a daunce or twoo
with a verye good grace and greate pleasure to the lookers on: that doone,
because it was farre in nighte, the Dutches arrose uppon her feete, and
so every man taking his leave reverentlye of her, departed to his reste.
