be art; nor to anything must we give greater care than to conceal art,
for if it is discovered, it quite destroys our credit and brings us into
small esteem. And I remember having once read that there were several
very excellent orators of antiquity, who among their other devices
strove to make everyone believe that they had no knowledge of letters;
and hiding their knowledge they pretended that their orations were
composed very simply and as if springing rather from nature and truth
than from study and art; the which, if it had been detected, would have
made men wary of being duped by it.
“Thus you see how the exhibition of art and study so intense destroys
the grace in everything. Which of you is there who does not laugh when
our friend messer Pierpaolo dances in his peculiar way, with those
capers of his,—legs stiff to the toe and head motionless, as if he were
a stick, and with such intentness that he actually seems to be counting
the steps? What eye so blind as not to see in this the ungracefulness of
affectation,—and in many men and women who are here present, the grace
of that nonchalant ease (for in the case of bodily movements many call
it thus), showing by word or laugh or gesture that they have no care and
are thinking more of everything else than of that, to make the onlooker
think they can hardly go amiss?”
27.—Messer Bernardo Bibbiena here said, without waiting:
“Now at last our friend messer Roberto[48] has found someone to praise
the manner of his dancing, as all the rest of you seem to value it
lightly; because if this merit consists in nonchalance, and in appearing
to take no heed and to be thinking more of everything else than of what
you are doing, messer Roberto in dancing has no peer on earth; for to
show plainly that he is not thinking about it, he often lets the cloak
drop from his shoulders and the slippers from his feet, and still goes
on dancing without picking up either the one or the other.”
Then the Count replied:
“Since you insist on my talking, I will speak further of our faults. Do
you not perceive that what you call nonchalance in messer Roberto, is
really affectation? For it is clearly seen that he is striving with all
his might to seem to be taking no thought, and this is taking too much
thought; and since it passes the true limits of moderation, his
nonchalance is affected and unbecoming; and it is a thing that works
precisely the reverse of the effect intended, that is the concealment of
art. Thus in nonchalance (which is praiseworthy in itself), I do not
think that it is less a vice of affectation to let the clothes fall from
one’s back, than in care of dress (which also is praiseworthy in itself)
to hold the head stiff for fear of disarranging one’s locks, or to carry
a mirrour in the peak of one’s cap and a comb in one’s sleeve, and to
have a valet follow one about the streets with sponge and brush: for
such care in dress and such nonchalance both touch upon excess, which is
always offensive and contrary to that pure and charming simplicity which
is so pleasing to the human mind.
“You see how ungraceful a rider is who strives to sit bolt upright in
the saddle after the manner we are wont to call Venetian,[74]—as
compared with another who seems not to be thinking about it, and sits
his horse as free and steady as if he were afoot. How much more pleasing
and how much more praised is a gentleman who carries arms, if he be
modest, speak little and boast little, than another who is forever
sounding his own praises, and with blasphemy and bluster seems to be
hurling defiance at the world! This too is naught but affectation of
wishing to appear bold. And so it is with every exercise, nay with
everything that can be done or said in the world.”
28.—Then my lord Magnifico[9] said:
“This is true also with music, wherein it is a very great fault to place
two perfect consonances one after the other, so that our very sense of
hearing abhors it and often enjoys a second or seventh, which in itself
is a harsh and intolerable discord. And the reason is that repetition of
perfect consonances begets satiety and exhibits a too affected harmony;
which is avoided by introducing imperfect consonances, and thus a kind
of contrast is given, whereby our ears are held more in suspense, and
more eagerly await and enjoy the perfect consonances, and sometimes
delight in that discord of the second or seventh, as in something
unpremeditated.”
“You see then,” replied the Count, “the harmful effect of affectation in
this as in other things. It is said also to have been proverbial among
some very excellent painters of antiquity, that over diligence is
harmful, and Protogenes is said to have been censured by Apelles because
he did not know when to take his hand from the tablet.”[75]
Then messer Cesare said:
“Methinks our friend fra Serafino has this same fault, of not knowing
when to take his hands from the table, at least until all the food has
been taken from it too.”[76]
The Count laughed, and continued:
“Apelles meant that in his painting Protogenes did not know when he had
finished, which was the same thing as reproving him for being affected
in his work. Thus this excellence, which is the opposite of affectation
and which for the present we call nonchalance, besides being the true
fountain from which grace springs, carries with it another ornament,
which, in accompanying any human action whatever and however trifling it
be, not only at once reveals the knowledge of him who performs it, but
often leads us to rate his knowledge as much greater than in fact it is;
because it impresses upon the minds of the bystanders the idea that he
who does well so easily, knows much more than he does, and that if he
were to use care and effort in what he did, he could do it far better.
“And to multiply like examples, here is a man who handles weapons,
either about to throw a dart or holding a sword in his hand or other
weapon; if he nimbly and without thinking puts himself in an attitude of
readiness, with such ease that his body and all his members seem to fall
into that posture naturally and quite without effort,—although he do no
more, he will prove himself to everyone to be perfect in that exercise.
Likewise in dancing, a single step, a single movement of the person that
is graceful and not forced, soon shows the knowledge of the dancer. A
musician who in singing utters a single note ending with sweet tone in a
little group of four notes with such ease as to seem spontaneous, shows
by that single touch that he can do much more than he is doing. Often
too in painting, a single line not laboured, a single brush-stroke
easily drawn, so that it seems as if the hand moves unbidden to its aim
according to the painter’s wish, without being guided by care or any
skill, clearly reveals the excellence of the craftsman, which every man
appreciates according to his capacity for judging. And the same is true
of nearly everything else.
“Our Courtier then will be esteemed excellent and will attain grace in
everything, particularly in speaking, if he avoids affectation; into
which fault many fall, and often more than others, some of us Lombards;
who, if they have been a year away from home, on their return at once
begin to speak Roman, sometimes Spanish or French, and God knows how.
And all this comes from over zeal to appear widely informed; in such
fashion do men devote care and assiduity to acquiring a very odious
fault. And truly it would be no light task for me, if I were to try in
these discussions of ours to use those antique Tuscan words that are
quite rejected by the usage of the Tuscans of to-day; and besides I
think everyone would laugh at me.”
29.—Then messer Federico said:
“Of course in discussing among ourselves as we now are doing, perhaps it
would be amiss to use those antique Tuscan words, since (as you say)
they would be fatiguing to him who uttered them and to him who listened
to them, and by many would not be understood without difficulty. But if
one were writing, I should certainly think he would be wrong not to use
them, because they add much grace and authority to writing, and from
them there results a style more grave and full of majesty than from
modern words.”
“I do not know,” replied the Count, “that writings can gain grace and
authority from those words that ought to be avoided, not merely in such
talk as we are now engaged in (which you yourself admit), but also under
every other circumstance that can be imagined. For if any man of good
judgment should chance to make a speech on serious matters before the
very senate of Florence, which is the capital of Tuscany, or even to
converse privately with a person of weight in that city about important
business, or with his closest friend about affairs of pleasure, with
ladies or gentlemen about love, or joking or jesting at feasts, games,
and where you will,—or whatever the time, place or matter,—I am sure he
would avoid using those antique Tuscan words; and if he did use them,
besides exciting ridicule, he would give no little annoyance to everyone
who listened to him.
“It seems to me then a very strange thing to use as good in writing
those words that are avoided as faulty in every sort of speaking, and to
insist that what is never proper in speaking, is the most proper style
that can be used in writing. For in my opinion writing is really nothing
but a form of speech, which still remains after we have spoken, as it
were an image or rather the life of our words: and thus in speech, which
is lost as soon as the sound has gone forth, some things are bearable
perhaps that are not in writing, because writing preserves the words and
subjects them to the judgment of the reader and gives time to consider
them advisedly. Hence in writing it is reasonable to take greater pains
to make it more refined and correct; not however in such wise that the
written words may be unlike the spoken, but that, in writing, choice be
made of the most beautiful that are used in speaking. And if that were
allowed in writing which is not allowed in speaking, I think a very
great inconvenience would arise: which is that greater license could be
taken in that respect wherein greater care ought to be taken; and the
industry bestowed on writing would work harm instead of good.
“Therefore it is certain that what is proper in writing, is proper also
in speaking, and that manner of speaking is most beautiful which is like
beautiful writing. Moreover I think it is far more necessary to be
understood in writing than in speaking, because those who write are not
always present before those who read, as those who speak are present
before those who hear.[77] But I should praise him, who besides avoiding
many antique Tuscan words, acquired facility, both writing and speaking,
in the use of those that are to-day familiar in Tuscany and in the other
parts of Italy, and that have comeliness of sound. And I think that
whoever imposes other rule upon himself, is not very sure of escaping
that affectation which is so much censured and of which we were speaking
earlier.”
30.—Then messer Federico said:
“Sir Count, I cannot gainsay you that writing is a kind of speech.
Indeed, I say that if words that are spoken have any obscurity in them,
the meaning does not penetrate the mind of him who hears, and passing
without being understood, comes to naught: which does not occur in
writing, because if the words that the writer uses carry with them a
little, I will not say difficulty, but subtlety that is recondite and
thus not so familiar as are the words that are commonly used in
speaking,—they give a certain greater authority to the writing, and
cause the reader to proceed more cautiously and collectedly, to consider
more, and to enjoy the genius and learning of him who writes; and by
judiciously exerting himself a little, he tastes that delight which is
found in the pursuit of difficult things. And if the ignorance of him
who reads is so great that he cannot overcome those difficulties, it is
not the fault of the writer, nor on this account ought that style to be
deemed unbeautiful.
“Therefore in writing, I believe it is proper to use Tuscan words used
only by the ancient Tuscans, because that is great proof and tested by
time, that they are good and effective to express the sense in which
they are used. And besides this, they have that grace and venerableness
which age lends not only to words, but to buildings, to statues, to
pictures, and to everything that is able to attain it, and often merely
by their splendour and dignity they make diction beautiful, by virtue
whereof (and of grace) every theme, however mean it be, can be so
adorned as to merit very high praise. But this custom of yours, by which
you set such store, seems to me very dangerous, and often it may be bad;
and if some fault of speech is found widely prevalent among the ignorant
many, methinks it ought not on this account to be taken as a rule and
followed by other men. Moreover customs are very diverse, nor is there a
noble city of Italy that has not a different manner of speaking from all
the others. But as you do not limit yourself to declaring which is the
best, a man might as well adopt the Bergamasque as the Florentine, and
according to you it would be no errour.[78]
“Therefore I think that whoever wishes to avoid all doubt and be quite
safe, must needs select as model someone who by consent of all is rated
good, and must take him as a constant guide and shield against any
possible adverse critic. And this model (in the vernacular, I mean) I do
not think should be other than Petrarch[79] and Boccaccio; and whoever
departs from these two, gropes like one who walks in the dark without a
light and thus often mistakes the road. But we are so daring that we do
not deign to do that which the good writers of old did,—that is, devote
themselves to imitation, without which I think a man cannot write
well.[80] And methinks good proof of this is shown us by Virgil, who by
his genius and judgment so divine took from all posterity the hope of
ever being able to imitate him well, yet fain would imitate Homer.”
31.—Then my lord Gaspar Pallavicino said:
“This discussion about writing is certainly well worth listening to:
still it would be more to our purpose if you were to teach us in what
manner the Courtier ought to speak, for I think he has greater need of
it and more often has occasion to employ speaking than writing.”
The Magnifico replied:
“Nay, for a Courtier so excellent and so perfect there is no doubt but
it is necessary to know both the one and the other, and that without
these two accomplishments perhaps all the rest would not be very worthy
of praise. So if the Count wishes to perform his duty, he will teach the
Courtier not only how to speak, but also how to write well.”
Then the Count said:
“My lord Magnifico, that task I will on no account accept; for great
folly would be mine to pretend to teach others that which I do not
myself know, and (even if I did know it) to think myself able to do in
only a few words that which with so much care and pains has hardly been
done by most learned men,—to whose works I should refer our Courtier, if
I were indeed bound to teach him how to write and speak.”
Messer Cesare said:
“My lord Magnifico means speaking and writing the vernacular [Italian],
and not Latin; so those works by learned men are not to our purpose. But
in this matter there is need for you to tell us what you know about it,
because for the rest we will hold you excused.”
The Count replied:
“I have told you that already; but as we are speaking of the Tuscan
tongue, perhaps it would be, more than any other man’s, my lord
Magnifico’s office to give an opinion on it.”
The Magnifico said:
“I cannot and in reason ought not to contradict any man who says that
the Tuscan tongue is more beautiful than the others.[81] It is very true
that in Petrarch and in Boccaccio are found many words that are now
discarded by the custom of to-day; and these I for my part would never
use either in speaking or in writing; and I believe that they
themselves, if they had survived until now, would no longer use those
words.”
Then messer Federico said:
“Indeed they would. And you Tuscan gentlemen ought to keep up your
mother tongue, and not suffer it to decay, as you do,—so that now one
may say that there is less knowledge of it in Florence than in many
other parts of Italy.”
Then messer Bernardo said:
“These words that are no longer used in Florence have survived among the
country folk, and are rejected by the gentle as corrupt and spoiled with
age.”
32.—Then my lady Duchess said:
“Let us not wander from our main purpose, but have Count Ludovico teach
the Courtier how to speak and write well, whether it be in the Tuscan or
any other dialect.”
“My Lady,” replied the Count, “I have already told what I know about it;
and I hold that the same rules which serve to teach the one, serve also
to teach the other. But since you require it of me, I will make such
response as I may to messer Federico, who has a different opinion from
mine; and perhaps I shall have need to discuss the matter somewhat more
diffusely than is right. However, it shall be all I can tell.
“And first I say that in my judgment this language of ours, which we
call vulgar, is still tender and new, although it be already long in
use. For since Italy was not only vexed and ravaged but long inhabited
by the barbarians, the Latin language was corrupted and spoiled by
contact with those nations, and from that corruption other languages
were born: and like rivers that from the crest of the Apennines separate
and flow down into the two seas, so also these languages divided, and
some of them tinged with Latinity reached by diverse paths, one this
country and one that; and one of them remained in Italy tinged with
barbarism. Thus our language was long unformed and various, from having
had no one to bestow care upon it or write in it or try to give it
splendour or grace: but afterwards it was somewhat more cultivated in
Tuscany than in the other parts of Italy. And so its flower seems to
have remained there even from those early times, because that nation
more than the others preserved a sweet accent and a proper grammatical
order, and have had three noble writers[82] who expressed their thoughts
ingeniously and in those words and terms that the custom of their times
permitted: wherein I think Petrarch succeeded more happily than the
others in amourous subjects.
“Afterwards from time to time, not only in Tuscany but in all Italy,
among noble men and those well versed in courts and arms and letters,
there arose some desire to speak and write more elegantly than had been
done in that rude and uncultivated age, when the blaze of the calamities
inflicted by the barbarians was not yet quenched. Many words were laid
aside, as well in the city of Florence itself and in all Tuscany as in
the rest of Italy, and instead of them others were taken up; and herein
there thus occurred that change which takes place in all human affairs
and has always happened in the case of the other languages also. For if
those earliest writings in ancient Latin had survived until now, we
should see that Evander and Turnus[83] and the other Latins of that age
spoke differently from the last Roman kings and the first consuls. See
how the verses that the Salian priests chaunted were hardly understood
by posterity;[84] but being established in that form by the first
founders, out of religious reverence they were not changed. Likewise the
orators and poets continued one after another to lay aside many words
used by their predecessors: thus Antonius, Crassus, Hortensius and
Cicero avoided many of Cato’s words, and Virgil avoided many of
Ennius’s;[85] and the others did the same. For although they had
reverence for antiquity, yet they did not esteem it so highly as to
consent to be bound by it in the way you would have us bound by it now.
Nay they criticised it where they saw fit, as did Horace, who says that
his forefathers lauded Plautus foolishly, and thinks he has a right to
gather in new words.[86] And in sundry places Cicero reprehends many of
his predecessors, and slightingly affirms that Sergius Galba’s orations
had an antique flavour,[87] and says that Ennius himself disprized his
predecessors in certain things: so that if we would imitate the
ancients, in doing so we shall not imitate them. And Virgil, who (you
say) imitated Homer, did not imitate him in language.
33.—“Therefore I for my part should always avoid using these antique
words, save however in certain places, and seldom even there; and it
seems to me that whoever uses them otherwise makes a mistake, not less
than he who, in order to imitate the ancients, should wish to feed on
acorns when wheat had been discovered in plenty. And since you say that
by their mere splendour of antiquity, antique words so adorn every
subject, however mean it be, that they can make it worthy of much
praise,—I say that I do not set such store, not only by these antique
words but even by good ones, as to think that they ought in reason to be
prized without the pith of beautiful thoughts; for to divide thought
from words is to divide soul from body, which can be done in neither
case without destruction.
“So I think that what is chiefly important and necessary for the
Courtier, in order to speak and write well, is knowledge; for he who is
ignorant and has nothing in his mind that merits being heard, can
neither say it nor write it.
“Next he must arrange in good order what he has to say or write; then
express it well in words, which (if I do not err) ought to be precise,
choice, rich and rightly formed, but above all, in use even among the
masses; because such words as these make the grandeur and pomp of
speech, if the speaker has good sense and carefulness, and knows how to
choose the words most expressive of his meaning, and to exalt them, to
mould them like wax to his will, and to arrange them in such position
and order that they shall at a glance show and make known their dignity
and splendour, like pictures placed in good and proper light.
“And this I say as well of writing as of speaking: in which however some
things are required that are not needful in writing,—such as a good
voice, not too thin and soft like a woman’s, nor yet so stern and rough
as to smack of the rustic’s,—but sonorous, clear, sweet and well
sounding, with distinct enunciation, and with proper bearing and
gestures; which I think consist in certain movements of the whole body,
not affected or violent, but tempered by a calm face and with a play of
the eyes that shall give an effect of grace, accord with the words, and
as far as possible express also, together with the gestures, the
speaker’s intent and feeling.
“But all these things would be vain and of small moment, if the thoughts
expressed by the words were not beautiful, ingenious, acute, elegant and
grave,—according to the need.”
34.—Then my lord Morello said:
“If this Courtier speaks with so much elegance and grace, I doubt if
anyone will be found among us who will understand him.”
“Nay, he will be understood by everyone,” replied the Count, “because
facility is no impediment to elegance.
“Nor would I have him speak always of grave matters, but of amusing
things, of games, jests and waggery, according to the occasion; but
sensibly of everything, and with readiness and lucid fullness; and in no
place let him show vanity or childish folly. And again when he is
speaking on an obscure or difficult subject, I would have him carefully
explain his meaning with precision of both word and thought, and make
every ambiguity clear and plain with a certain touch of unpedantic care.
Likewise, where there is occasion, let him know how to speak with
dignity and force, to arouse those emotions that are part of our nature,
and to kindle them or to move them according to the need. Sometimes,
with that simple candour that makes it seem as if nature herself were
speaking, let him know how to soften them, and as it were to intoxicate
them with sweetness, and so easily withal that the listener shall think
that with very little effort he too could reach that excellence, and
when he tries, shall find himself very far behind.