nature; but it is not true that painting seems, and sculpture is. For
while statues are round as in life and painting is seen only on the
surface, statues lack many things that paintings do not lack, and
especially light and shade. Thus flesh has one tone and marble another;
and this the painter imitates to the life by chiaroscuro, greater or
less according to the need,—which the sculptor cannot do. And although
the painter does not make his figure round, he presents the muscles and
members rounded in such fashion as so to join the parts which are not
seen, that we can discern very well that the painter knows and
understands these also. And in this, another and greater skill is needed
to represent those members that are foreshortened and grow smaller in
proportion to the distance by reason of perspective; which, by means of
measured lines, colours, lights and shades, shows you foreground and
distance all on the single surface of an upright wall, in such
proportion as he chooses.[134] Do you really think it of small moment to
imitate the natural colours, in representing flesh or stuffs or any
other coloured thing? The sculptor certainly cannot do this, or express
the grace of black eyes or blue, with the splendour of their amourous
beams. He cannot show the colour of fair hair, or the gleam of weapons,
or a dark night, or a storm at sea, or its lightnings and thunderbolts,
or the burning of a city, or the birth of rosy dawn with its rays of
gold and purple. In short, he cannot show sky, sea, earth, mountains,
woods, meadows, gardens, rivers, cities, or houses,—all of which the
painter shows.
52.—“Therefore painting seems to me nobler and more susceptible of
skill, than sculpture. And I think that it, like other things, reached
the summit of excellence among the ancients: which still is seen in the
few slight remains that are left, especially in the grottoes of
Rome;[135] but much more clearly may it be perceived in the ancient
authors, wherein is such honoured and frequent mention both of works and
of masters, and whereby we learn how highly they were always honoured by
great lords and by commonwealths.
“Thus we read that Alexander loved Apelles of Ephesus dearly,—so dearly,
that having caused the artist to paint a portrait of his favourite slave
undraped, and hearing that the worthy painter had become most ardently
enamoured of her by reason of her marvellous beauty, he gave her to
Apelles without hesitation:—munificence truly worthy of Alexander, to
sacrifice not only treasure and states but his very affections and
desires; and sign of exceeding love for Apelles, in order to please the
artist, not to hesitate at displeasing the woman he dearly loved, who
(we may believe) was sorely grieved to change so great a king for a
painter. Many other signs also are told of Alexander’s favour to
Apelles; but he very clearly showed how highly he esteemed the painter,
in commanding by public edict that none other should presume to paint
his portrait.
“Here I could tell you of the rivalries of many noble painters, which
filled nearly the whole world with praise and wonderment. I could tell
you with what solemnity ancient emperors adorned their triumphs with
pictures, and set them up in public places, and how dearly bought them;
and that there were some painters who gave their works as gifts,
esteeming gold and silver inadequate to pay for them; and how a painting
by Protogenes was prized so highly, that when Demetrius[136] laid siege
to Rhodes and could have gained an entrance by setting fire to the
quarter where he knew the painting was, he refrained from giving battle
so that it might not be burned, and thus did not capture the place; and
that Metrodorus,[137] a philosopher and very excellent painter, was sent
by the Athenians to Lucius Paulus[138] to teach his children and to
adorn the triumph that he was about to receive. Moreover many noble
authors have written about this art, which is a great sign of the esteem
in which it was held; but I do not wish to enlarge further upon it in
this discussion.
“So let it be enough to say that it is fitting for our Courtier to have
knowledge of painting also, as being honourable and useful and highly
prized in those times when men were of far greater worth than now they
are. And if he should never derive from it other use or pleasure than
the help it affords in judging the merit of statues ancient and modern,
of vases, buildings, medals, cameos, intaglios, and the like,—it also
enables him to appreciate the beauty of living bodies, not only as to
delicacy of face but as to symmetry of all the other parts, both in men
and in every other creature. Thus you see how a knowledge of painting is
a source of very great pleasure. And let those think of this, who so
delight in contemplating a woman’s beauty that they seem to be in
paradise, and yet cannot paint; which if they could do, they would have
much greater pleasure, because they would more perfectly appreciate that
beauty which engenders such satisfaction in their hearts.”
53.—Here messer Cesare Gonzaga laughed, and said:
“Certainly I am no painter; yet I am sure I have greater pleasure in
looking upon a woman than that admirable Apelles, whom you just
mentioned, would have if he were now come back to life.”
The Count replied:
“This pleasure of yours is not derived wholly from her beauty, but from
the affection that perhaps you bear her; and if you will say the truth,
the first time you saw that woman you did not feel a thousandth part of
the pleasure that you did afterwards, although her beauty was the same.
Thus you may see how much more affection had to do with your pleasure,
than beauty had.”
“I do not deny this,” said messer Cesare; “but just as my pleasure is
born of affection, so is affection born of beauty. Thus it may still be
said that beauty is the cause of my pleasure.”
The Count replied:
“Many other causes also inflame our minds, besides beauty: such as
manners, knowledge, speech, gesture, and a thousand other things which
in a way perhaps might also be called beauties; but above all, the
consciousness of being loved. So it is possible to love very ardently
even without that beauty you speak of; but the love that springs from
the outward bodily beauty which we see, will doubtless give far greater
pleasure to him who appreciates it more than to him who appreciates it
less. Therefore, to return to our subject, I think that Apelles enjoyed
the contemplation of Campaspe’s beauty far more than Alexander did:[139]
for we may easily believe that both men’s love sprang only from her
beauty; and perhaps it was partly on this account that Alexander
resolved to give her to him who seemed fitted to appreciate her most
perfectly.
“Have you not read that those five maidens of Crotona, whom the painter
Zeuxis chose above the others of that city for the purpose of forming
from them all a single type of surpassing beauty, were celebrated by
many poets as having been adjudged beautiful by one who must have been a
consummate judge of beauty?”[140]
54.—Messer Cesare here seemed ill satisfied and unwilling to admit for a
moment that anyone but himself could taste that pleasure which he felt
in contemplating a woman’s beauty, and he began to speak. But just then
a great tramping of feet was heard, and the sound of loud talking;
whereupon everyone turned, and a glare of torches was seen at the door
of the room, and soon there arrived, with a numerous and noble company,
my lord Prefect,[3] who returned from attending the pope part way on the
journey. At once on entering the palace he had asked what my lady
Duchess was doing, and had learned of what manner the game was that
evening, and the charge imposed on Count Ludovico to speak about
Courtiership. Therefore he came as fast as he could, so as to arrive in
season to hear something. Then, immediately after having made his
reverence to my lady Duchess and bidden the others to be seated (for
everyone had risen when he came in),—he too sat down in the circle with
some of his gentlemen; among whom were the Marquess Febus di Ceva and
his brother Gerardino,[141] messer Ettore Romano,[142] Vincenzo
Calmeta,[143] Orazio Florido,[144] and many others; and as everyone
remained silent, my lord Prefect said:
“Gentlemen, my coming here would be indeed a pity, if I were to
interrupt such a fine discussion as I think you were just now engaged
in; so do me not this wrong of depriving yourselves and me of such a
pleasure.”
Then Count Ludovico said:
“Nay, my Lord, I think we all must be far better pleased to be silent
than to speak; for this burden having fallen more to me than to the
others this evening, I have at last grown weary of speaking, and I think
all the others are weary of listening, for my talk has not been worthy
of this company or adequate to the lofty theme that I was charged with;
in which, having little satisfied myself, I think I have satisfied the
others still less. So you were fortunate, my Lord, to come in at the
end. And for the rest of the discussion, it would indeed be well to
appoint someone else to take my place, because whoever he may be, I know
he will fill it far better than I should even if I were willing to go
on, being now tired as I am.”
The Magnifico Giuliano replied:
55.—“I certainly shall not submit to be cheated of the promise that you
made me, and am sure my lord Prefect too will not be sorry to hear that
part of our discussion.”
“And what promise was it?” said the Count.
“To tell us in what way the Courtier must make use of those good
qualities that you have said befit him,” replied the Magnifico.
Although but a boy, my lord Prefect was wise and sensible beyond what
seemed natural to his tender years, and in his every movement he showed
a loftiness of mind and a certain vivacity of temper that gave true
presage of the high pitch of manliness that he was to attain. So he said
quickly:
“If all this is to be told, I think I have come just in time; for by
hearing in what way the Courtier must use his good qualities, I shall
hear also what they are, and thus shall come to learn everything that
has been said before. So do not refuse, Count, to fulfil the obligation
of which you have already performed a part.”
“I should not have so heavy an obligation to fulfil,” replied the Count,
“if the labour were more evenly divided; but the mistake was made of
giving the right of command to a too partial lady;” and then laughing he
turned to my lady Emilia, who quickly said:
“It is not you who ought to complain of my partiality; but since you do
so without reason, we will give someone else a share of this honour,
which you call labour;” and turning to messer Federico Fregoso, she
said: “You proposed the game of the Courtier, hence it is right that you
should bear some share in it; and this shall be to comply with my lord
Magnifico’s request, by declaring in what way, manner and time, the
Courtier ought to make use of his good qualities and practise those
things which the Count has said it is fitting he should know.”
Then messer Federico said:
“My Lady, in trying to separate the way and the time and the manner of
the Courtier’s good qualities and good practice, you try to separate
that which cannot be separated, because these are the very things that
make his qualities good, and his practice good. Therefore, since the
Count has spoken so much and so well, and has touched somewhat upon
these matters and arranged in his mind the rest of what he has to say,
it was only right that he should continue to the end.”
“Account yourself to be the Count,” said my lady Emilia, “and say what
you think he would say; and thus all will be right.”
56.—Then Calmeta said:
“My Lords, since the hour is late, and in order that messer Federico may
have no excuse for not telling what he knows, I think it would be well
to postpone the rest of the discussion until to-morrow, and let the
little time we have left, be spent in some other quiet diversion.”
As everyone approved, my lady Duchess desired madonna Margarita[145] and
madonna Costanza Fregosa[57] to dance. Whereupon Barletta,[146] a very
charming musician and excellent dancer, who always kept the whole court
in good humour, began to play upon his instruments; and joining hands,
the two ladies danced first a basset and then a _roegarze_,[147] with
consummate grace and to the great delight of those who saw them. Then
the night being already far spent, my lady Duchess rose to her feet, and
so everyone reverently took leave and retired to sleep.
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE COURTIER
BY COUNT BALDESAR CASTIGLIONE
TO MESSER ALFONSO ARIOSTO
1.—I have often considered not without wonder whence arises a fault,
which, as it is universally found among old people, may be believed to
be proper and natural to them. And this is, that they nearly all praise
bygone times and censure the present, inveighing against our acts and
ways and everything which they in their youth did not do; affirming too
that every good custom and good manner of living, every virtue, in short
every thing, is always going from bad to worse.
And verily it seems quite contrary to reason and worthy to be wondered
at, that ripe age, which in other matters is wont to make men’s judgment
more perfect with long experience, should in this matter so corrupt it
that they do not perceive that if the world were always growing worse,
and if fathers were generally better than children, we should long since
have reached that last grade of badness beyond which it is impossible to
grow worse. And yet we see that not only in our days but in bygone times
this failing has always been peculiar to old age, which is clearly
gathered from the works of many ancient authors, and especially of the
comic writers, who better than the others set forth the image of human
life.
Now the cause of this wrong judgment among old people I for my part take
to be, that the fleeting years despoil them of many good things, and
among others in great part rob the blood of vital spirits; whence the
complexion changes, and those organs become weak through which the soul
exerts its powers.[148] Thus in old age the sweet flowers of contentment
fall from our hearts, like leaves from a tree in autumn, and in place of
serene and sunny thoughts, comes cloudy and turbid sadness with its
train of thousand ills. So that not the body only but the mind also is
infirm; of bygone pleasures naught is left but a lingering memory and
the image of that precious time of tender youth, in which (when it is
with us) sky and earth and all things seem to us ever making merry and
laughing before our eyes, and the sweet springtide of happiness seems to
blossom in our thought, as in a delightful and lovely garden.
Therefore in the evening chill of life, when our sun begins to sink to
its setting and steals away those pleasures, we should fare better if in
losing them, we could lose the memory of them also, and as Themistocles
said, find an art that shall teach us to forget. For so deceitful are
our bodily senses, that they often cheat even the judgment of our minds.
Thus it seems to me that old people are in like case with those who keep
their eyes fixed upon the land as they leave port, and think their ship
is standing still and the shore recedes, although it is the other way.
For both the port and also time and its pleasures remain the same, and
one after another we take flight in the ship of mortality upon that
boisterous sea which absorbs and devours everything, and are never
suffered to touch shore again, but always tossed by adverse winds we are
wrecked upon some rock at last.
Since therefore the senile mind is an unfit subject for many pleasures,
it cannot enjoy them; and just as to men in fever, when the palate is
spoiled by corrupt vapours, all wines seem bitter, however precious and
delicate they be,—so old men, because of their infirmity (which yet does
not deprive them of appetite), find pleasures flat and cold and very
different from those which they remember tasting of old, although the
pleasures are intrinsically the same. Thus they feel themselves
despoiled, and they lament and call the present times bad, not
perceiving that the change lies in themselves and not in the times; and
on the other hand they call to mind their bygone pleasures, and bring
back the time when these were enjoyed and praise it as good, because it
seems to carry with it a savour of what they felt when it was present.
For in truth our minds hold all things hateful that have been with us in
our sorrows, and love those that have been with us in our joys.
[Illustration:
BORSO D’ESTE
DUKE OF FERRARA
1413-1471
]
Enlarged from Anderson’s photograph (no. 11375) of a part of the injured
fresco, “Triumph of Minerva,” in the Palazzo Schifanoia at Ferrara,
painted about 1468 by Francesco Cossa (1438?-1480?). See Gustave
Gruyer’s _L’Art Ferrarais_, ii, 581.
This is why it is sometimes highest bliss for a lover to look at a
window although closed, because he there had once the happiness to gaze
upon the lady of his love; and in the same way to look at a ring, a
letter, a garden or other place, or what you will, which seems to him a
conscious witness of his joys. And on the contrary, a gorgeous and
beautiful room will often be irksome to a man who has been prisoner or
has suffered some other sorrow there. And I once knew some who would not
drink from a cup like that from which in illness they had taken
medicine. For just as to the one the window or ring or letter recalls
the sweet memory that gives him such delight and seems part of his
bygone joy,—so to the other, the room or cup brings his illness or
imprisonment to mind. I believe that the same cause leads old people to
praise bygone times and to censure the present.
2.—Therefore as they speak of other things, so do they also of courts,
affirming those which they remember, to have been far more excellent and
full of eminent men than those which we see to-day. And as soon as such
discussions are started, they begin to extol with boundless praise the
courtiers of Duke Filippo or Duke Borso;[149] and they narrate the
sayings of Niccolò Piccinino;[150] and they remind us that there were no
murders in those days (or very few at most), no brawls, no ambushes, no
deceits, but a certain frank and kindly good will among all men, a loyal
confidence; and that in the courts of that time such good behaviour and
decorum prevailed, that courtiers were all like monks, and woe to him
who should have spoken insultingly to another, or so much as made a less
than decorous gesture to a woman. And on the other hand they say
everything is the reverse in these days, and that not only have
courtiers lost their fraternal love and gentle mode of life, but that
nothing prevails in courts but envy, malice, immorality and very
dissolute living, with every sort of vice,—the women lascivious without
shame, the men effeminate. They condemn our dress also as indecorous and
too womanish.
In short they censure an infinity of things, among which many indeed
merit censure, for it cannot be denied that there are many bad and
wicked men among us, or that this age of ours is much fuller of vice
than that which they praise.[151] Yet it seems to me that they ill
discern the cause of this difference, and that they are foolish. For
they would have the world contain all good and no evil, which is
impossible; because, since evil is opposed to good and good to evil, it
is almost necessary, by force of opposition and counterpoise as it were,
that the one should sustain and fortify the other, and that if either
wanes or waxes, so must the other also, since there is no contrary
without its contrary.
Who does not know that there would be no justice in the world, if there
were no wrongs? No courage, if there were no cowards? No continence, if
there were no incontinence? No health, if there were no infirmity? No
truth, if there were no lying? No good fortune, if there were no
misfortunes? Thus, according to Plato,[152] Socrates well says it is
surprising that Æsop did not write a fable showing that as God had never
been able to join pleasure and pain together, He joined them by their
extremities, so that the beginning of the one should be the end of the
other; for we see that no joy can give us pleasure, unless sorrow
precedes it. Who can hold rest dear, unless he has first felt the
hardship of fatigue? Who enjoys food, drink and sleep, unless he has
first endured hunger, thirst and wakefulness? Hence I believe that
sufferings and diseases were given man by nature not chiefly to make him
subject to them (since it does not seem fitting that she who is mother
of every good should give us such evils of her own determined purpose),
but as nature created health, joy and other blessings,—diseases, sorrows
and other ills followed after them as a consequence. In like manner, the
virtues having been bestowed upon the world by grace and gift of nature,
at once by force of that same bounden opposition, the vices became their
fellows by necessity; so that always as the one waxes or wanes, thus
likewise must needs the other wax or wane.
3.—So when our old men praise bygone courts for not containing such
vicious men as some that our courts contain, they do not perceive that
their courts did not contain such virtuous men as some that ours
contain; which is no marvel, for no evil is so bad as that which springs
from the corrupted seed of good, and hence, as nature now puts forth far
better wits than she did then, those who devote themselves to good, do
far better than was formerly done, and likewise those who devote
themselves to evil, do far worse. Therefore we must not on that account
say that those who refrained from evil because they did not know how to
do evil, deserved any praise for it; for although they did little harm,
they did the worst they could. And that the wits of those times were
generally inferior to those of our time, can be well enough perceived in
all that we see of those times, both in letters and in pictures,
statues, buildings, and every other thing.
These old men censure us also for many a thing that in itself is neither
good nor evil, simply because they did not do it. And they say it is not
seemly for young men to ride through the city on horse, still less in
pumps, to wear fur linings or long skirts in winter, or to wear a cap
before reaching at least the age of eighteen years, and the like;
wherein they certainly are wrong, for besides being convenient and
useful, these customs have been introduced by usage and meet universal
favour, just as formerly it was to go about in gala dress with open
breeches and polished pumps, and for greater elegance to carry a
sparrow-hawk on the wrist all day without reason, to dance without
touching the lady’s hand, and to follow many other fashions that now
would be as very clumsy as they then were highly prized.
Therefore let it be allowed us also to follow the custom of our time
without being slandered by these old men, who in their wish to praise
themselves, often say: “When I was twenty years old, I still slept with
my mother and sisters, nor did I for a long time afterwards know what
women are; while now, boys hardly have hair on their heads before they
know more tricks than grown men did in our time.” Nor do they perceive
that in saying this they acknowledge that our boys have more mind than
their old men had.
Let them cease then to censure our time as full of vices, for in
removing the vices they would remove the virtues too; and let them
remember that among the worthies of old, in the ages when there lived
those spirits who were glorious and truly divine in every virtue, and
those more than human minds,—there were also to be found many very bad
men; who (if they were living) would be as eminently bad among our bad
men, as the good men of that time would be eminently good. And of this,
all history gives ample proof.
4.—But I think these old men have now sufficient answer. So we will end
this homily, perhaps already too diffuse but not wholly irrelevant to
our subject; and as it is enough for us to have shown that the courts of
our time were worthy of no less praise than those which old men praise
so highly,—we will pursue the discussion about the Courtier, from which
we may easily understand what rank the court of Urbino held among other
courts, and of what quality were the Prince and Lady to whom such noble
spirits did service, and how fortunate they might hold themselves who
lived in such companionship.
5.—Now the following day having arrived, there were many and diverse
discussions among the cavaliers and ladies of the court concerning the
debate of the evening before; which in great part arose because my lord
Prefect, eager to know what had been said, questioned nearly everyone
about it, and (as is always wont to be the case) he received different
answers; for some praised one thing and some another, and among many too
there was disagreement as to the Count’s real opinion, since everyone’s
memory did not quite fully retain the things that were said.
Thus the matter was discussed nearly all day; and as soon as night set
in, my lord Prefect desired that food be served and took all the
gentlemen away to supper. When they had done eating, he repaired to the
room of my lady Duchess, who, on seeing such a numerous company and
earlier than the custom was, said:
“Methinks, messer Federico, it is a heavy burden that is placed upon
your shoulders, and great the expectation you must satisfy.”
Then without waiting for messer Federico to reply, the Unico Aretino
said:
“And what, forsooth, is this great burden? Who is so foolish that when
he knows how to do a thing, does not do it in proper season?”