should always be allowed this exemption from toil, and it certainly
would not be unreasonable to wish in some way to learn the reason why;
but not to be the first to disobey, I will leave this for another time,
and will tell what is required of me;” and he began: “It seems to me
that in love, as in everything else, our minds judge diversely; and thus
it often happens that what is very delightful to one man, is very
hateful to another; but none the less we all are ever alike in this,
that every man holds his beloved very dear; so that the over fondness of
lovers often cheats their judgment to such a degree, that they esteem
the person whom they love to be the only one in the world adorned with
every excellent virtue and wholly without defect; but since human nature
does not admit such complete perfection, and since there is no one to be
found who does not lack something, it cannot be said that such men do
not cheat themselves, and that the lover does not become blind
concerning the beloved. I would therefore that this evening our game
might be that each of us should tell what virtue above others he would
have the person whom he loves adorned with; and then, as all must have
some blemish, what fault he would have in her; in order that we may see
who can find the most praiseworthy and useful virtues, and the most
excusable faults and least harmful to lover and beloved.”
My lord Gaspar having spoken thus, my lady Emilia made sign to madonna
Costanza Fregosa[57] to follow after, because she sat next in order, and
she was preparing to speak; but my lady Duchess said quickly:
“Since my lady Emilia will not make the effort to invent a game, it were
only fair that the other ladies share this ease and that they too be
exempt from such exertion for this evening, especially as there are here
so many men that there is no danger of lack of games.”
“So be it,” replied my lady Emilia; and imposing silence on madonna
Costanza, she turned to messer Cesare Gonzaga, who sat next, and bade
him speak; and he began thus:
8.—“Whoso will carefully consider all our actions, will ever find
various defects in them; the reason whereof is that nature, variable in
this as in other things, has given to one man the light of reason in one
thing, to another man in another thing; and so it happens that, the one
knowing what the other does not know and being ignorant of what the
other understands, each readily perceives his neighbour’s fault and not
his own, and we all seem to ourselves very wise and perhaps most of all
in that wherein we most are foolish. Thus we have seen it happen in this
house that many, at first accounted very wise, were in course of time
recognized as very foolish, which came about from nothing else but our
own watchfulness. For, as they say that in Apulia musical instruments
are used for those bitten by the tarantula,[58] and various tunes are
tried until the humour that causes the malady (through a certain
affinity it has for some one of those tunes) is suddenly stirred by the
sound, and so excites the sick man that he is restored to health by
virtue of that excitement: so when we have perceived a hidden touch of
folly, we have stimulated it so artfully and with such various
persuasions and diverse means, that at length we have learned whither it
tended; then, the humour once recognized, so well have we excited it
that it has always reached the perfection of open folly. Thus one man
has waxed foolish over poetry, another over music, another over love,
another over dancing, another over inventing mimes,[59] another over
riding, another over fencing,—each according to the native quality of
his metal; whence, as you know, great amusement has been derived. I hold
it then as certain that there is some grain of folly in each of us,
which being quickened can multiply almost infinitely.
“Therefore I would that this evening our game might be a discussion upon
this subject, and that each one tell with what kind of folly, and about
what thing, he thinks I should make a fool of myself if I had to make a
fool of myself openly, judging of this outburst by the sparks of folly
that are daily seen to issue from me. Let the same be told of all the
rest, keeping to the order of our games, and let each one try to found
his opinion upon some actual sign and argument. And thus we shall each
derive from our game the advantage of learning our defects, and so shall
be better able to guard against them; and if the vein of folly that is
discovered proves so rich that it seems incurable, we will assist it,
and according to fra Mariano’s[60] teaching, we shall have saved a soul,
which will be no small gain.”
There was much laughter at this game, nor were there any who could keep
from talking; one said, “I should make a fool of myself over thinking;”
another, “Over looking;” another said, “I have already made a fool of
myself over loving;” and the like.
9.—Then fra Serafino[61] said, laughing after his manner:
“That would take too long; but if you want a fine game, let everyone
give his opinion why it is that nearly all women hold rats in hatred,
and are fond of snakes; and you will see that no one will guess the
reason except myself, who learned this secret in a strange way.” And he
began to tell his stories; but my lady Emilia bade him be silent, and
passing over the lady who sat next, made sign to the Unico Aretino whose
turn it was; and he, without waiting for further command, said:
“I would I were a judge with power to search the heart of evil-doers by
every sort of torture; and this that I might fathom the deceits of an
ingrate with angel eyes and serpent heart, who never lets her tongue
reveal her soul, and with deceitful pity feigned has no thought but of
dissecting hearts. Nor is there in sandy Libya to be found a serpent so
venomous and eager for human blood as is this false one; who not only in
the sweetness of her voice and honeyed words, but in her eyes, her
smiles, her aspect and in all her ways, is a very siren.
“But since I am not suffered, as I would I were, to use chains, rope and
fire to learn a certain truth, I fain would learn it by a game,—which is
this: let each one tell what he believes to be the meaning of that
letter S which my lady Duchess wears upon her brow;[62] for, although
this too is surely an artful veil to aid deceit, perchance there will be
given it some interpretation unthought of by her perhaps, and it will be
found that fortune, compassionate spectatress of men’s martyrdoms, has
led her against her will to disclose by this small token her secret wish
to slay and bury alive in calamity everyone who beholds her or serves
her.”
[Illustration:
BERNARDO ACCOLTI
THE UNICO ARETINO
1465?-1535
]
Head enlarged from a photograph, specially made by Alinari, of a part of
the fresco, “Leo X’s Entry into Florence,” in the Palazzo Vecchio at
Florence, by Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574). See Milanesi’s edition of
Vasari’s _Opere_, viii, 142.
My lady Duchess laughed, and the Unico, seeing that she wished to defend
herself against this imputation, said:
“Nay, my Lady, do not speak, for it is not now your turn to speak.”
My lady Emilia then turned and said:
“Sir Unico, there is no one of us here who does not yield to you in
everything, but above all in knowledge of my lady Duchess’s mind; and
since you know it better than the others (thanks to your divine genius),
you love it better than the others, who like those weak-sighted birds
that fix not their eyes upon the sun’s orb, cannot so justly know how
perfect it is; wherefore every effort to clear this doubt would be vain,
save your own judgment. To you alone then be left this task, as to him
who alone can perform it.”
The Unico remained silent for a while, then being urged to speak, at
last recited a sonnet upon the aforesaid subject, declaring what that
letter S meant; which was by many believed to be done impromptu, but as
it was more ingenious and finished than seemed to accord with the
shortness of the time, it was thought rather to have been prepared.[62]
10.—Then having bestowed a merry plaudit in praise of the sonnet, and
talked of it awhile, my lord Ottaviano Fregoso, whose turn it was,
smilingly began as follows:
“My Lords, if I were to affirm that I had never felt the passion of
love, I am sure that my lady Duchess and my lady Emilia would feign to
believe it even though they believed it not, and would say that it was
because I mistrusted ever being able to prevail upon any woman to love
me; whereof indeed I have not made trial hitherto with such persistence
as reasonably to despair of being able sometime to succeed. But yet I
have not refrained because I rate myself so high, or women so low, that
I do not deem many of them worthy to be loved and served by me; but made
timourous rather by the continual laments of some lovers, who—pallid,
gloomy and taciturn—seem always to wear their unhappiness depicted in
their eyes; and if they speak, they accompany every word with triple
sighs, and discourse of nothing but tears, torments, despairings and
longings for death; so that if an amourous spark has sometimes kindled
in my heart, I have at once striven with all my might to quench it, not
from any hate I bear to women as these ladies think, but for my own
good.
“I have also known some others quite different from these dolourous
souls,—lovers who not only give thanks and praise for the kind looks,
tender words and gentle bearing of their mistresses, but flavour all
evils with sweetness, so that they call their ladies’ warrings, anger
and disdain, most sweet. Wherefore such as these seem to me far more
than happy. For if they find such sweetness in lovers’ quarrels, which
those others deem far more bitter than death, I think that in loving
endearments they must enjoy that supreme beatitude which we vainly seek
in this world. So I would that this evening our game might be, that each
man tell, if she whom he loves must needs be angry with him, by what
cause he would have her anger roused. Because if there be any here who
have enjoyed this sweet anger, I am sure that out of courtesy they will
choose one of those causes that make it so sweet; and perhaps I shall
take courage to advance a little farther in love, hoping that I too may
find this sweetness where some find bitterness; and then these ladies
will be no longer able to cast shame upon me because I do not love.”
11.—This game found much favour and everyone made ready to speak upon
the subject, but as my lady Emilia made no further mention of it, messer
Pietro Bembo, who sat next in order, spoke thus:
“My Lords, no small uncertainty has been awakened in my mind by the game
proposed by my lord Ottaviano in his discourse about love’s anger: the
which, however varied it be, has in my case always been most bitter, nor
do I believe that any seasoning could be learned from me that would
avail to sweeten it; but perhaps it is more or less bitter according to
the cause from which it springs.[63] For I remember once to have seen
the lady whom I served wrought up against me, either by some idle
suspicion that she had herself conceived as to my loyalty, or by some
other false notion awakened in her by what others had said to my injury;
insomuch that I believed no pain could equal mine, and it seemed to me
that the greatest suffering I felt was to endure that which I had not
deserved, and to have this affliction come upon me not from my fault but
from her lack of love. At other times I saw her angered by some errour
of mine, and knew her ire to proceed from my fault; and then I deemed
that my former woe was very light compared with that which now I felt;
and it seemed to me that to have displeased, and through my own guilt,
the person whom alone I desired and so zealously strove to please, was
the greatest torment and above all others. I would therefore that our
game might be that each man tell, if she whom he loves must needs be
angry with him, from which of the two he would have her anger spring,
from her or from himself; so that we may know which is the greater
suffering, to give displeasure to her who is loved, or to receive it
from her who is loved.”
12.—Everyone waited for my lady Emilia to reply; but she, saying nothing
more to Bembo, turned and made sign to messer Federico Fregoso that he
should tell his game; and he at once began as follows:
“My Lady, I would it were permitted me, as it sometimes is, to assent to
another’s proposal; since for my part I would readily approve any of the
games proposed by these gentlemen, for I really think that all of them
would be amusing. But not to break our rule, I say that anyone who
wished to praise our court,—laying aside the merit of our lady Duchess,
which with her divine virtue would suffice to lift from earth to heaven
the meanest souls that are in the world,—might well say without
suspicion of flattery, that in all Italy it would perhaps be hard to
find so many cavaliers so singularly admirable and so excellent in
divers other matters besides the chief concerns of chivalry, as are now
to be found here: wherefore if anywhere there be men who deserve to be
called good Courtiers and who are able to judge of what pertains to the
perfection of Courtiership, it is reasonable to believe that they are
here. So, to repress the many fools who by impudence and folly think to
win the name of good Courtier, I would that this evening’s game might
be, that we select some one of the company and give him the task of
portraying a perfect Courtier, explaining all the conditions and special
qualities requisite in one who deserves this title; and as to those
things that shall not appear sound, let everyone be allowed to
contradict, as in the schools of the philosophers it is allowed to
contradict anyone who proposes a thesis.”
Messer Federico was continuing his discourse still further, when my lady
Emilia interrupted him and said:
“This, if it pleases my lady Duchess, shall for the present be our
game.”
My lady Duchess answered:
“It does please me.”
Then nearly all those present began to say, both to my lady Duchess and
among themselves, that this was the finest game that could possibly be;
and without waiting for each other’s answer, they entreated my lady
Emilia to decide who should begin. She turned to my lady Duchess and
said:
“Command, my Lady, him who it best pleases you should have this task;
for I do not wish, by selecting one rather than another, to seem to
decide whom I think more competent in this matter than the rest, and so
do wrong to anyone.”
My lady Duchess replied:
“Nay, make this choice yourself, and take heed lest by not obeying you
give an example to the others, so that they too prove disobedient in
their turn.”
13.—At this my lady Emilia laughed and said to Count Ludovico da
Canossa:
“Then not to lose more time, you, Count, shall be the one to take this
enterprise after the manner that messer Federico has described; not
indeed because we account you so good a Courtier that you know what
befits one, but because, if you say everything wrong as we hope you
will, the game will be more lively, for everyone will then have
something to answer you; while if someone else had this task who knew
more than you, it would be impossible to contradict him in anything,
because he would tell the truth, and so the game would be tedious.”
The Count answered quickly:
“Whoever told the truth, my Lady, would run no risk of lacking
contradiction, so long as you were present;” and after some laughter at
this retort, he continued: “But truly I would fain escape this burden,
it seeming to me too heavy, and I being conscious that what you said in
jest is very true; that is, that I do not know what befits a good
Courtier: and I do not seek to prove this with further argument,
because, as I do not practise the rules of Courtiership, one may judge
that I do not know them; and I think my blame may be the less, for sure
it is worse not to wish to do well than not to know how. Yet, since it
so happens that you are pleased to have me bear this burden, I neither
can nor will refuse it, in order not to contravene our rule and your
judgment, which I rate far higher than my own.”
[Illustration:
COUNT LUDOVICO DA CANOSSA
1476-1532
]
Reduced from a photograph, specially made through the courtesy of the
Bishop of Bayeux, of an anonymous portrait in his possession. The
sadly injured condition of the original rendered it necessary to
retouch the negative, in which process recourse was had to a small
photograph, kindly furnished by the Marquess Ottavio di Canossa, of
his copy of the Bayeux portrait.
Then messer Cesare Gonzaga said:
“As the early evening is now spent and many other kinds of entertainment
are ready, perhaps it will be well to put off this discussion until
to-morrow and give the Count time to think of what he has to say; for it
is difficult indeed to speak unprepared on such a subject.”
The Count replied:
“I do not wish to be like the fellow who, when stripped to his shirt,
vaulted less well than he had done in his doublet; hence it seems to me
good fortune that the hour is late, for I shall be obliged by the
shortness of the time to say but little, and my not having taken thought
will excuse me, so that I shall be allowed to say without blame whatever
first comes to my lips.
“Therefore, not to carry this burden of duty longer on my shoulders, I
say that in everything it is so hard to know the true perfection as to
be well nigh impossible; and this because of the variety of opinions.
Thus there are many that will like a man who speaks much, and will call
him pleasing; some will prefer modesty; some others, an active and
restless man; still others, one who shows calmness and deliberation in
everything; and so every man praises or decries according to his mind,
always clothing vice with the name of its kindred virtue, or virtue with
the name of its kindred vice; for example, calling an impudent man
frank, a modest man dull, an ignorant man good, a knave discreet; and so
in all things else. Yet I believe that there exists in everything its
own perfection, although concealed; and that this can be determined
through rational discussion by any having knowledge of the thing in
hand. And since, as I have said, the truth often lies concealed, and I
do not profess to have this knowledge, I can only praise the kind of
Courtier that I most esteem, and approve him who seems to me nearest
right, according to my poor judgment; the which you will follow if you
find it good, or you will hold to your own if it differs from mine. Nor
shall I at all insist that mine is better than yours; not only because
you may think one thing and I another, but I myself may sometimes think
one thing, and sometimes another.
14.—“I wish, then, that this Courtier of ours should be nobly born and
of gentle race; because it is far less unseemly for one of ignoble birth
to fail in worthy deeds, than for one of noble birth, who, if he strays
from the path of his predecessors, stains his family name, and not only
fails to achieve but loses what has been achieved already; for noble
birth is like a bright lamp that manifests and makes visible good and
evil deeds, and kindles and stimulates to virtue both by fear of shame
and by hope of praise. And since this splendour of nobility does not
illumine the deeds of the humbly born, they lack that stimulus and fear
of shame, nor do they feel any obligation to advance beyond what their
predecessors have done; while to the nobly born it seems a reproach not
to reach at least the goal set them by their ancestors. And thus it
nearly always happens that both in the profession of arms and in other
worthy pursuits the most famous men have been of noble birth, because
nature has implanted in everything that hidden seed which gives a
certain force and quality of its own essence to all things that are
derived from it, and makes them like itself: as we see not only in the
breeds of horses and of other animals, but also in trees, the shoots of
which nearly always resemble the trunk; and if they sometimes
degenerate, it arises from poor cultivation. And so it is with men, who
if rightly trained are nearly always like those from whom they spring,
and often better; but if there be no one to give them proper care, they
become like savages and never reach perfection.
“It is true that, by favour of the stars or of nature, some men are
endowed at birth with such graces that they seem not to have been born,
but rather as if some god had formed them with his very hands and
adorned them with every excellence of mind and body. So too there are
many men so foolish and rude that one cannot but think that nature
brought them into the world out of contempt or mockery. Just as these
can usually accomplish little even with constant diligence and good
training, so with slight pains those others reach the highest summit of
excellence. And to give you an instance: you see my lord Don Ippolito
d’Este,[64] Cardinal of Ferrara, who has enjoyed such fortune from his
birth, that his person, his aspect, his words and all his movements are
so disposed and imbued with this grace, that—although he is young—he
exhibits among the most aged prelates such weight of character that he
seems fitter to teach than to be taught; likewise in conversation with
men and women of every rank, in games, in pleasantry and in banter, he
has a certain sweetness and manners so gracious, that whoso speaks with
him or even sees him, must needs remain attached to him forever.
[Illustration:
IPPOLITO D’ESTE
1479-1520
]
Enlarged from a cast, courteously furnished by the Austrian authorities,
of an anonymous medal in the Imperial Museum at Vienna. See Armand’s
_Les Médailleurs Italiens_, iii, 169, G.
“But to return to our subject: I say that there is a middle state
between perfect grace on the one hand and senseless folly on the other;
and those who are not thus perfectly endowed by nature, with study and
toil can in great part polish and amend their natural defects. Besides
his noble birth, then, I would have the Courtier favoured in this regard
also, and endowed by nature not only with talent and beauty of person
and feature, but with a certain grace and (as we say) air that shall
make him at first sight pleasing and agreeable to all who see him; and I
would have this an ornament that should dispose and unite all his
actions, and in his outward aspect give promise of whatever is worthy
the society and favour of every great lord.”
15.—Here, without waiting longer, my lord Gaspar Pallavicino said:
“In order that our game may have the form prescribed, and that we may
not seem to slight the privilege given us to contradict, I say that this
nobility of birth does not appear to me so essential in the Courtier;
and if I thought I were saying what was new to any of us, I should cite
instances of many men born of the noblest blood who have been full of
vices; and on the other hand, of many men among the humbly born who by
their virtue have made their posterity illustrious. And if what you just
said be true, namely that there is in everything this occult influence
of the original seed, then we should all be in the same case, because we
had the same origin, nor would any man be more noble than another. But
as to our differences and grades of eminence and obscurity, I believe
there are many other causes: among which I rate fortune to be chief; for
we see her holding sway in all mundane affairs, often amusing herself by
lifting to heaven whom she pleases (although wholly without merit), and
burying in the depths those most worthy to be exalted.
“I quite agree with what you say as to the good fortune of those endowed
from birth with advantages of mind and body: but this is seen as well
among the humbly born as among the nobly born, since nature has no such
subtle distinctions as these; and often, as I said, the highest gifts of
nature are found among the most obscure. Therefore, since this nobility
of birth is won neither by talent nor by strength nor by craft, and is
rather the merit of our predecessors than our own, it seems to me too
extravagant to maintain that if our Courtier’s parents be humbly born,
all his good qualities are spoiled, and that all those other
qualifications that you mentioned do not avail to raise him to the
summit of perfection; I mean talent, beauty of feature, comeliness of
person, and that grace which makes him always charming to everyone at
first sight.”
16.—Then Count Ludovico replied: