Chapter XII: Part 12

“There is a proverb which says that when our enemy is in the water up to the belt, we must offer him our hand and lift him out of peril; but when he is in up to the chin, we must set our foot on his head and drown him outright. Thus there are some who do this with their rival, and as long as they have no safe way of ruining him, go about dissimulating and pretend to be rather his friend than otherwise; then if an opportunity offers—such that they know they can overwhelm him with certain ruin by saying all manner of evil of him (whether it be true or false),—they do it without mercy, with craft, deception and all the means they know how to invent.

“But since it would never please me to have our Courtier use any deceit, I would have him deprive his rival of the lady’s favour by no other craft than by loving and serving her, and by being worthy, valiant, discreet and modest; in short, by deserving her better than his rival, and by being in all things wary and prudent, abstaining from all stupid follies, wherein many dunces fall and in diverse ways. For in the past I have known some who use Poliphilian words in writing and speaking to women,[426] and so insist upon the niceties of rhetoric, that the women are diffident of themselves and account themselves very ignorant, and think each hour of such discourse a thousand years, and rise before the end. Others are immoderately boastful. Others often say things that redound to their own discredit and damage, like some I am wont to laugh at, who profess to be in love and sometimes say in the presence of women: ‘I have never found a woman to love me;’ and they do not perceive that those who hear them at once conclude that this can arise from no other reason than that they deserve neither love nor the water they drink, and hold them for men of slight account, and would not love them for all the gold in the world, thinking that to love them would be to stand lower than all the other women who loved them not.

“Still others are so silly that for the purpose of bringing odium upon some rival of theirs, they say in the presence of women: ‘So and So is the luckiest man on earth; for although he is not at all handsome, discreet or valiant, and cannot do or say more than the rest, yet all the women love him and run after him;’ and thus showing themselves to be envious of the man’s good luck, they incite belief that (although he shows himself to be lovable in neither looks nor acts) he has in him some hidden quality for which he deserves so many women’s love; hence those who hear him thus spoken of are by this belief even much more moved to love him.”

71.—Then Count Ludovico laughed, and said:

“I assure you that the discreet Courtier will never use these stupidities to win favour with women.”

Messer Cesare Gonzaga replied:

“Nor yet that one which was used in my time by a gentleman of great repute, whose name for the honour of men I will not mention.”

My lady Duchess replied:

“At least tell what he did.”

Messer Cesare continued:

“Being loved by a great lady, at her request he came secretly to the place where she was; and after he had seen her and conversed with her as long as she and the time allowed, taking his leave with many bitter tears and sighs, in token of the extreme sorrow that he felt at such a parting, he besought her to keep him continually in mind; and then he added that she ought to pay his board and lodging, for as he had been invited by her, it seemed to him reasonable that he should be at no charge for his coming.”

Then all the ladies began to laugh and to say that he was quite unworthy to be called a gentleman; and many of the men were ashamed, with that shame which the man himself would have rightly felt if he had at any time found wit enough to be conscious of such a shameful fault.

My lord Gaspar then turned to messer Cesare, and said:

“It was better to refrain from telling this thing for the honour of women, than to refrain for the honour of men from naming him; for you can well imagine what good judgment that great lady had in loving such a senseless animal, and also that of the many who served her perhaps she had chosen this one as the most discreet, forsaking and misliking men whose lackey he was unworthy to be.”

Count Ludovico laughed, and said:

“Who knows that he was not discreet in other things, and failed only as to board and lodging? But many times men commit great follies in their excessive love; and if you will say the truth, perhaps it has befallen you to commit more than one.”

72.—Messer Cesare replied, laughing:

“By your faith, do not expose our errours.”

“Nay, it is necessary to expose them,” replied my lord Gaspar, “in order that we may know how to correct them;” then he added: “My lord Magnifico, now that the Courtier knows how to win and maintain his lady’s favour and to deprive his rival of it, you must teach him how to keep his love affairs secret.”

The Magnifico replied:

“Methinks I have said enough; so now choose someone else to speak of this secrecy.”

Then messer Bernardo and all the others began to urge him anew; and the Magnifico said, laughing:

“You wish to tempt me. All of you are too well practised in love: yet if you would know more, go read it in Ovid.”

“And how,” said messer Bernardo, “should I hope that his precepts are of any service in love, when he recommends and says it is a very good thing that a man should pretend to be drunk in the presence of the beloved?[427] See what a fine way of winning favour! And he cites as a fine method of making one’s love known to a lady at a banquet, to dip a finger in wine and write it on the table.”[428]

The Magnifico replied, laughing:

“In those days it was not amiss.”

“And therefore,” said messer Bernardo, “since such a filthy trick as this was not offensive to the men of that time, we may believe that they did not have so gentle a manner of serving women in love as we have. But let us not forsake our first subject, of teaching how to keep love secret.”

73.—Then the Magnifico said:

“In my opinion, in order to keep love secret it is needful to avoid the causes that make it public, which are many; but there is one chief cause, which is the wish to be too secret and not trust any person whatever. For every lover desires to make his passion known to his beloved, and being alone he is forced to make many more and stronger demonstrations than if he were aided by some loving and faithful friend; because the demonstrations that the lover himself makes arouse much greater suspicion than those he makes through intermediaries. And since the human mind is naturally curious to find things out, as soon as a stranger begins to suspect, he employs such diligence that he learns the truth, and having learned it, makes no scruple to publish it—nay, sometimes delights to do so; which is not the case with a friend, who besides helping with comfort and advice, often repairs those mistakes which the blind lover commits, and always contrives secrecy and provides for many things for which he himself cannot provide. Moreover very great relief is felt in telling our passion and unburdening it to a trusty friend, and likewise it greatly enhances our joys to be able to impart them.”

74.—Then my lord Gaspar said:

“Another cause discloses love more than this.”

“And what is it?” replied the Magnifico.

My lord Gaspar continued:

“The vain ambition joined with madness and cruelty of women; who, as you yourself have said, try to have as great a number of lovers as they can, and if it were possible would have all of these burn and (once made ashes) after death return alive to die once more. And even although they be in love, still they delight in their lover’s torment, because they think that pain and afflictions and continual calling for death give good proof that they are loved, and can, by their beauty, make men wretched and happy, and bestow death and life, as they please. Hence they feed only on this food, and are so eager for it that (in order not to be without it) they do not satisfy or ever quite dishearten their lovers; but to keep these continually in anguish and desire, they use a certain domineering severity of threats mingled with encouragement, and fain would have a word, a look, a nod of theirs esteemed as highest bliss. And to be deemed modest and chaste, not only by their lovers but by all the rest, they take care to make their harsh and discourteous behaviour public, to the end that everyone may think that if they thus maltreat those who are worthy to be loved, they must treat the unworthy much worse.

“And in this belief, thinking they thus have artfully made themselves secure against infamy, they often spend every night with vilest men whom they scarcely know; and so, to enjoy the calamities and continual laments of some noble cavalier whom they love, they deny themselves those pleasures which they might perhaps attain with some excuse; and they are the cause that forces the poor lover in sheer desperation to behaviour which brings to light that which every care ought to be taken to keep most secret.

“Some others there are, who, if by trickery they succeed in leading many a man to think himself loved by them, nourish the jealousy of each by bestowing caresses and favour on one in the presence of another; and when they see that he too whom they most love is nearly sure of being loved because of the demonstrations shown him, they often put him in suspense by ambiguous words and pretended anger, and pierce his heart, feigning to care nothing for him and to wish to give themselves wholly to another; whence arise hatreds, enmities and countless scandals and manifest ruin, for in such a case a man must show the passion that he feels, even though it result in blame and infamy to the lady.

“Others, not content with this single torment of jealousy, after the lover has given all proofs of love and faithful service, and after they have received the same with some sign of returning it with good will, they begin to draw back without cause and when it is least expected, and pretend to believe that he has grown lukewarm, and feigning new suspicions that they are not loved, they give sign of wishing to break with him absolutely. And so, because of these obstacles, the poor fellow is by very force compelled to go back to the start and pay court as if his service were beginning; and daily to walk the earth, and when the lady stirs abroad to accompany her to church and everywhere she goes, never to turn his eyes another way: and now he returns to plaints and sighs and heaviness of heart, and if he can speak with her, to supplications, blasphemies, despairings, and all those ragings to which unhappy lovers are put by these fierce monsters, who have a greater thirst for blood than tigers have.

75.—“Such woeful demonstrations as these are but too much seen and known, and often more by others than by her who occasions them; and thus in a few days they become so public that not a step can be taken, nor the least signal given, that is not noted by a thousand eyes. Then it happens that long before there are any sweets of love between them, they are believed and judged by all the world; for when women see that the lover, now nigh to death and overwhelmed by the cruelty and tortures inflicted on him, is firmly and really resolving to withdraw, they at once begin to show him that they love him heartily, and to do him all manner of kindness, and to yield to him, to the end that (his ardent desire having failed) the fruits of love may be less sweet to him and he may have less to thank them for, in order to do everything amiss.

“And their love being now very well known, at the same time all the results that proceed from it are also very well known; thus the women are dishonoured, and the lover finds that he has lost time and pains and has shortened his life in sorrows, without the least advantage or pleasure; for he attained his desires, not when they would have made him very happy with their pleasantness, but when he cared little or nothing for them, because his heart was already so deadened by his cruel passion that it had no feeling left wherewith to enjoy the delight or contentment which was offered him.”

76.—Then my lord Ottaviano said, laughing:

“You held your peace awhile and refrained from saying evil of women; then you hit them so hard that it seems as if you were gathering strength, like those who draw back in order to strike the harder; and verily you are in the wrong and ought henceforth to be gentler.”

My lady Emilia laughed, and turning to my lady Duchess, said:

“You see, my Lady, that our adversaries are beginning to quarrel and differ among themselves.”

“Call me not so,” replied my lord Ottaviano, “for I am not your adversary. This contest has displeased me much, not because I was sorry to see the victory in favour of women, but because it has led my lord Gaspar to revile them more than he ought, and my lord Magnifico and messer Cesare to praise them perhaps a little more than their due; besides which, owing to the length of the discussion, we have missed hearing many other fine things that remained to say about the Courtier.”

“You see,” said my lady Emilia, “that you are our adversary after all; and for that reason you are displeased with the late discussion, and fain would not have had so excellent a Court Lady described; not because you had anything more to say about the Courtier (for these gentlemen have said all they knew, and I think that neither you nor anyone else could add anything whatever), but because of the envy that you have of women’s honour.”

77.—“Certain it is,” replied my lord Ottaviano, “that besides the things that have been said about the Courtier, I should like to hear many others. Still, since everyone is content to have him as he is, I also am content; nor should I change him in aught else, unless in making him a little more friendly to women than my lord Gaspar is, albeit perhaps not so much so as some of these other gentlemen.”

Then my lady Duchess said:

“By all means we must see whether your talents are so great that they can give the Courtier greater perfection than these gentlemen have given him. So please to say what you have in mind: else we shall think that even you cannot add anything to what has been said, but that you wished to detract from the praises of the Court Lady because you think her the equal of the Courtier, who you would therefore have us believe could be much more perfect than these gentlemen have described him.”

My lord Ottaviano laughed, and said:

“The praise and censure that have been bestowed on women beyond their due have so filled the ears and mind of the company as to leave no room for anything else to lodge; besides this, in my opinion the hour is very late.”

“Then,” said my lady Duchess, “we shall have more time by waiting till to-morrow; and meanwhile this praise and censure, which you say have been on both sides bestowed excessively on women, will leave these gentlemen’s minds, and thus they will better appreciate that truth which you will tell them.”

So saying, my lady Duchess rose to her feet, and courteously dismissing the company, retired to her more private room, and everyone went to rest.

THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE COURTIER
BY COUNT BALDESAR CASTIGLIONE

TO MESSER ALFONSO ARIOSTO

1.—Thinking to write out the discussions that were held on the fourth evening, after those mentioned in the previous Books, among various reflections I feel one bitter thought that strikes my heart, and makes me mindful of human miseries and our deceptive hopes: and how fortune, often in mid-course and sometimes near the end, shatters our frail and vain designs, and sometimes wrecks them before the haven can be even seen afar.

Thus I recall that not long after these discussions took place, importunate death deprived our court of three very rare gentlemen while they were in the flower of robust health and hope of honour. And of these the first was my lord Gaspar Pallavicino, who being assailed by an acute disease and more than once brought low, although his courage was of such vigour that for a season it held spirit and body together in spite of death, yet ended his natural course far before his time;[429] a very great loss not only to our court and to his friends and family, but to his native land and to all Lombardy.

Not long afterwards died messer Cesare Gonzaga, who to all those who had acquaintance with him left a bitter and painful memory of his death;[430] for since nature produces such men as rarely as she does, it seemed only fitting that she should not so soon deprive us of this one: because it certainly may be said that messer Cesare was carried off just when he was beginning to give something more than promise of himself, and to be esteemed as his admirable qualities deserved; for already, by many meritorious efforts he had given good proof of his worth, which shone forth not only in noble birth, but also in the ornament of letters and of arms, and in every kind of laudable behaviour; so that, by reason of his goodness, capacity, courage and wisdom, there was nothing so great that it might not be expected from him.

No long time passed before the death of messer Roberto da Bari also inflicted deep sorrow upon the whole court;[48] for it seemed reasonable that everyone should lament the death of a youth of good behaviour, agreeable, fair of aspect, and of very rare personal grace, and of as stout and sturdy temper as could be wished.

2.—If, then, these men had lived, I think they would have reached such eminence that they would have been able to give everyone who knew them clear proof how worthy the court of Urbino was of praise, and how adorned with noble cavaliers; which nearly all the others have done who were reared there. For verily the Trojan Horse did not send forth so many lords and captains as this court has sent forth men singular in worth and most highly prized by everyone. Thus, as you know, messer Federico Fregoso was made Archbishop of Salerno; Count Ludovico, Bishop of Bayeux; my lord Ottaviano, Doge of Genoa; messer Bernardo Bibbiena, Cardinal of Santa Maria in Portico; messer Pietro Bembo, secretary to Pope Leo; my lord Magnifico rose to the dukedom of Nemours and to that greatness where he now is. My lord Francesco Maria della Rovere also, Prefect of Rome, was made Duke of Urbino:[431] albeit much higher praise may be accorded to the court where he was nurtured, because he there became a rare and excellent lord in every quality of worth, as we now see, than because he attained the dukedom of Urbino; nor do I believe that a small cause of this was the noble company in whose daily converse he always saw and heard laudable behaviour.

However, it seems to me that the cause, whether chance or favour of the stars, which has so long granted excellent lords to Urbino, still continues and produces the same results; and hence we may hope that fair fortune must further so bless these good works, that the welfare of the house and state shall not only not wane but rather wax from day to day: and of this many bright auguries are already to be seen, among which I esteem the chief to be Heaven’s bestowal of such a mistress as is my lady Eleanora Gonzaga, the new Duchess;[432] for if ever in a single body there were joined wisdom, grace, beauty, capacity, tact, humanity, and every other gentle quality,—in her they are so united that they form a chain which completes and adorns her every movement with all these qualities at once.

ELEANORA GONZAGA
DUCHESS OF URBINO
1492-1543
]

Reduced from the central part of Braun’s photograph (no. 34.106) of the
picture _Das Mädchen im Pelz_, in the Imperial Museum at Vienna, by
Titian (1477-1576).

Let us now continue the discussion about our Courtier, in the hope that after us there ought to be no lack of those who will find bright and honoured examples of worth in the present court of Urbino, just as we now do in that of bygone times.

3.—It seemed, then, as my lord Gaspar Pallavicino used to relate, that the following day after the discussions contained in the preceding Book, little was seen of my lord Ottaviano; hence many thought that he had retired in order that he might without hindrance think carefully of what he had to say. Thus, the company having betaken themselves to my lady Duchess at the accustomed hour, search had to be made far and wide for my lord Ottaviano, who did not appear for a good space; so that many cavaliers and maids of honour of the court began to dance and engage in other pastimes, thinking that for that evening there would be no more talk about the Courtier. And indeed all were busied, some with one thing and some with another, when my lord Ottaviano arrived, after he had almost been given up; and seeing that messer Cesare Gonzaga and my lord Gaspar were dancing, he bowed to my lady Duchess and said, laughing:

“I quite expected to hear my lord Gaspar say some evil about women again this evening; but seeing him dance with one, I think that he has made his peace with all of them; and I am glad that the dispute (or rather the discussion) about the Courtier has ended thus.”

“It is by no means ended,” replied my lady Duchess; “for I am no such enemy of men as you are of women, and therefore I am unwilling that the Courtier should be deprived of his due honour, and of those ornaments that you promised him last evening;” and so saying, she directed that as soon as the dance was finished, everyone should sit down in the usual order, which was done; and when all were giving close attention, my lord Ottaviano said:

“My Lady, since my wish to have the Courtier possess many other good qualities is taken as a promise to tell what they are, I am content to speak about them, not with any hope of saying all that might be said, but merely enough to clear your mind of the charge that was made against me last evening, to wit: that I spoke as I did rather for the purpose of detracting from the Court Lady’s praises (by raising a false belief that other excellences can be ascribed to the Courtier, and by thus artfully making him her superior), than because what I said was true. Wherefore, to adapt myself to the hour, which is later than it is wont to be when we begin our discussions, I shall be brief.

4.—“So, to pursue these gentlemen’s discourse, which I wholly approve and confirm, I say that of the things that we call good, there are some which simply and in themselves are always good, like temperance, fortitude, health, and all the virtues that bestow tranquillity upon the mind; others, which are good in various respects and for the object to which they tend, like law, liberality, riches, and other like things. Hence I think that the perfect Courtier, such as Count Ludovico and messer Federico have described, may be a truly good thing and worthy of praise, not however simply and in himself, but in respect to the end to which he may be directed. For indeed if by being nobly born, graceful, agreeable, and expert in so many exercises, the Courtier brought forth no other fruit than merely being what he is, I should not deem it right for a man to devote so much study and pains to acquiring this perfection of Courtiership, as anyone must who wishes to attain it. Nay, I should say that many of those accomplishments that have been ascribed to him (like dancing, merry-making, singing and playing) were follies and vanities, and in a man of rank worthy rather of censure than of praise: for these elegances, devices, mottoes, and other like things that pertain to discourse about women and love, although perhaps many other men think the contrary, often serve only to effeminate the mind, to corrupt youth, and to reduce it to great wantonness of living; whence then it comes to pass that the Italian name is brought into opprobrium, and but few are to be found who dare, I will not say to die, but even to run into danger.

“And surely there are countless other things, which, if industry and study were spent upon them, would be of much greater utility in both peace and war than this kind of Courtiership in itself merely; but if the Courtier’s actions are directed to that good end to which they ought, and which I have in mind, methinks they are not only not harmful or vain, but very useful and deserving of infinite praise.

5.—“I think then that the aim of the perfect Courtier, which has not been spoken of till now, is so to win for himself, by means of the accomplishments ascribed to him by these gentlemen, the favour and mind of the prince whom he serves, that he may be able to say, and always shall say, the truth about everything which it is fitting for the prince to know, without fear or risk of giving offence thereby; and that when he sees his prince’s mind inclined to do something wrong, he may be quick to oppose, and gently to make use of the favour acquired by his good accomplishments, so as to banish every bad intent and lead his prince into the path of virtue. And thus, possessing the goodness which these gentlemen have described, together with readiness of wit and pleasantness, and shrewdness and knowledge of letters and many other things,—the Courtier will in every case be able deftly to show the prince how much honour and profit accrue to him and his from justice, liberality, magnanimity, gentleness, and the other virtues that become a good prince; and on the other hand how much infamy and loss proceed from the vices opposed to them. Therefore I think that just as music, festivals, games, and the other pleasant accomplishments are as it were the flower, in like manner to lead or help one’s prince towards right, and to frighten him from wrong, are the true fruit of Courtiership.

“And since the merit of well-doing lies chiefly in two things, one of which is the choice of an end for our intentions that shall be truly good, and the other ability to find means suitable and fitting to conduce to that good end marked out,—certain it is that that man’s mind tends to the best end, who purposes to see to it that his prince shall be deceived by no one, shall hearken not to flatterers or to slanderers and liars, and shall distinguish good and evil, and love the one and hate the other.

6.—“Methinks, too, that the accomplishments ascribed to the Courtier by these gentlemen may be a good means of arriving at that end; and this because among the many faults which to-day we see in many of our princes, the greatest are ignorance and self-esteem. And the root of these two evils is none other than falsehood: which vice is deservedly hateful to God and to men, and more injurious to princes than any other; because they have greatest lack of that whereof they most need to have abundance—I mean of someone to tell them the truth and to put them in mind of what is right: for their enemies are not moved by love to perform these offices, but are well pleased to have them live wickedly and never correct themselves; on the other hand, their enemies dare not accuse them openly, for fear of being punished. Then of their friends there are few who have free access to them, and those few are chary of censuring them for their errours as freely as in the case of private persons, and to win grace and favour often think of nothing but how to suggest things that may delight and please their fancy, although the same be evil and dishonourable; thus from being friends these men become flatterers, and to derive profit from their intimacy, always speak and act complaisantly, and for the most part make their way by means of falsehoods, which beget ignorance in the prince’s mind, not only of outward things but of himself; and this may be said to be the greatest and most monstrous falsehood of all, for the ignorant mind deceives itself and lies inwardly to itself.

7.—“From this it follows that, besides never hearing the truth about anything whatever, rulers are intoxicated by that licence which dominion carries with it, and by the abundance of their enjoyments are drowned in pleasures, and so deceive themselves and have their minds so corrupted,—always finding themselves obeyed and almost adored with such reverence and praise, without the least censure or even contradiction,—that from this ignorance they pass to boundless self-esteem, so that they then brook no advice or persuasion from others. And since they think that to know how to rule is a very easy thing, and that to succeed therein they need no other art or training than mere force, they bend their mind and all their thoughts to the maintenance of that power which they have, esteeming that true felicity lies in being able to do what one likes.

“Therefore some princes hate reason and justice, thinking that it would be a kind of bridle and a means of reducing them to bondage, and of lessening the pleasure and satisfaction which they have in ruling, if they were willing to follow it; and that their dominion would not be perfect or complete if they were constrained to obey duty and honour, because they think that he who obeys is no true ruler. Therefore, following these principles and allowing themselves to be transported by self-esteem, they become arrogant, with haughty looks and stern behaviour, with splendid dress, gold and gems, and by letting themselves be almost never seen in public they think to win authority among men and to be held almost as gods. And to my thinking they are like the colossi that last year were made at Rome the day of the festival in the Piazza d’Agone,[433] which outwardly showed a likeness to great men and horses in a triumph, and within were full of tow and rags. But princes of this sort are much worse, in that the colossi keep upright merely by their great weight; while the princes, since they are ill balanced within and placed haphazard on uneven bases, fall to their ruin by reason of their own weight, and from one errour run into many; for their ignorance, together with the false belief that they cannot err and that the power which they have proceeds from their own wisdom, leads them to seize states boldly by fair means or foul, whenever they can.

8.—“But if they were resolved to know and to do that which they ought, they would be as set on not ruling as they are set on ruling; for they would perceive how monstrous and pernicious a thing it is when subjects, who are to be governed, are wiser than the princes who are to govern.

“You see that ignorance of music, of dancing, of horsemanship, is not harmful to any man; nevertheless, he who is no musician is ashamed and dares not sing in the presence of others, or dance if he knows not how, or ride if he has not a good seat. But from not knowing how to govern people there spring so many woes, deaths, destructions, burnings, ruins,—that it may be said to be the deadliest pest that is to be found on earth. And yet some princes who are very ignorant of government are not ashamed to undertake to govern, I will not say in the presence of four or of six men, but before all the world, for their rank is set so high that all eyes gaze on them, and hence not only their great but their least defects are always noted. Thus it is written that Cimon was accused of loving wine, Scipio of loving sleep, Lucullus of loving feasts.[434] But would to God that the princes of our time might couple their sins with as many virtues as did those ancients; who, although they erred in some respects, yet did not avoid the reminders and advice of anyone who seemed to them competent to correct those errours, but rather sought with all solicitude to order their lives after the precepts of excellent men: as Epaminondas after that of Lysis the Pythagorean,[435] Agesilaus after that of Xenophon, Scipio after that of Panætius, and countless others.[436]

“But if some of our princes were to happen upon a stern philosopher or any man who was willing openly and artlessly to show them the frightful face of true virtue, and to teach them what good behaviour is and what a good prince’s life ought to be, I am certain that they would loathe him like an asp, or in sooth deride him as a thing most vile.

9.—“I say, then, that since princes are to-day so corrupted by evil customs and by ignorance and mistaken self-esteem, and since it is so difficult to give them knowledge of the truth and lead them on to virtue, and since men seek to enter into their favour by lies and flatteries and such vicious means,—the Courtier, by the aid of those gentle qualities that Count Ludovico and messer Federico have given him, can with ease and should try to gain the good will and so charm the mind of his prince, that he shall win free and safe indulgence to speak of everything without being irksome. And if he be such as has been said, he will accomplish this with little trouble, and thus be able always to disclose the truth about all things with ease; and also to instil goodness into his prince’s mind little by little, and to teach continence, fortitude, justice, temperance, by giving a taste of how much sweetness is hidden by the little bitterness that at first sight appears to him who withstands vice; which is always hurtful and displeasing, and accompanied by infamy and blame, just as virtue is profitable, blithe and full of praise. And thereto he will be able to incite his prince by the example of the famous captains and other eminent men to whom the ancients were wont to make statues of bronze and of marble and sometimes of gold, and to erect the same in public places, both for the honour of these men and as a stimulus to others, so that they might be led by worthy emulation to strive to reach that glory too.

10.—“In this way the Courtier will be able to lead his prince along the thorny path of virtue, decking it as with shady leafage and strewing it with lovely flowers to relieve the tedium of the weary journey to one whose strength is slight; and now with music, now with arms and horses, now with verses, now with love talk, and with all those means whereof these gentlemen have told, to keep his mind continually busied with worthy pleasures, yet always impressing upon him also, as I have said, some virtuous practice along with these allurements, and playing upon him with salutary craft; like cunning doctors, who often anoint the edge of the cup with a sweet cordial, when they wish to give some bitter-tasting medicine to sick and over-delicate children.

“If, therefore, the Courtier put the veil of pleasure to such a use, he will reach his aim in every time and place and exercise, and will deserve much greater praise and reward than for any other good work that he could do in the world. For there is no good thing that is of such universal advantage as a good prince, nor any evil so universally noxious as a bad prince: hence, too, there is no punishment so harsh and cruel as to be a sufficient penalty for those wicked courtiers who use their gentle and pleasant ways and fine accomplishments to a bad end, and therewith seek their prince’s favour, in order to corrupt him and entice him from the path of virtue and lead him into vice; for such as these may be said to taint with deadly poison not a single cup from which one man alone must drink, but the public fountain used by all men.”

11.—My lord Ottaviano was silent, as if he did not wish to say more; but my lord Gaspar said:

“It does not seem to me, my lord Ottaviano, that this right-mindedness and continence, and the other virtues which you wish the Courtier to show his lord, can be learned; but I think that the men who have them are given them by nature and by God. And that this is true, you see that there is no man in the world so wicked and ill conditioned, or so intemperate and perverse, as to confess that he is so when he is asked; nay, everyone, however wicked he be, has pleasure in being deemed just, continent and good: which would not be the case if these virtues could be learned; for it is no disgrace not to know that to which one has given no study, but it seems a reproach indeed not to have that wherewith we ought to be adorned by nature. Hence everyone tries to hide his natural defects both of mind and of body too; which is seen in the blind, the halt and the crooked, and in others who are maimed or ugly; for although these imperfections may be ascribed to nature, still everyone dislikes to be sensible of them in himself, because he seems by nature’s own testimony to have that defect as it were for a seal and token of his wickedness.

“Moreover my opinion is confirmed by that story which is told of Epimetheus, who knew so ill how to distribute the gifts of nature among men that he left them much poorer in everything than all other creatures: wherefore Prometheus stole from Minerva and from Vulcan that artful cunning whereby men find the means of living;[437] but still they did not have the civic cunning to gather together in cities and live orderly lives, for this was guarded in Jove’s castle by very watchful warders, who so frightened Prometheus that he dared not approach them; wherefore Jove had compassion for the misery of men, who were torn by wild beasts because they could not stand together for lack of civic faculty, and sent Mercury to earth to bring them justice and shame, to the end that these two things might adorn their cities and unite the citizens. And he saw fit that they should not be given to men like the other arts, wherein one expert suffices for many ignorant (as in the case of medicine), but that they should be impressed upon each man; and he ordained a law that all who were without justice and shame should be exterminated and put to death like public pests. So you see, my lord Ottaviano, that these virtues are vouchsafed by God to men, and are not acquired, but natural.”

12.—Then my lord Ottaviano said, smiling:

“Do you then insist, my lord Gaspar, that men are so unhappy and perverse, that they have by industry discovered an art to tame the natures of wild beasts, bears, wolves, lions, and by it are able to teach a pretty bird to fly whither they like, and to return willingly from its woods and natural freedom to cages and captivity,—and yet that they cannot or will not by the same industry find arts to help themselves and improve their minds with diligence and study? To my thinking this would be as if physicians were to study with all diligence to acquire the mere art of healing sore nails and scurf in children, and were to leave off curing fevers, pleurisy and other serious maladies; and how out of all reason this would be, everyone can consider.

“Therefore I think that the moral virtues are not in us by nature wholly, for nothing can ever become used to that which is naturally contrary to it; as we see in the case of a stone, which although it were thrown upwards ten thousand times would never become used to move thither of itself; hence if virtue were as natural to us as weight is to the stone, we should never become used to vice. Nor, on the other hand, are the vices natural in this sense, for we should never be able to be virtuous; and it would be too unfair and foolish to chastise men for those defects that proceed from nature without our fault; and this errour would be committed by the law, which does not inflict punishment upon malefactors on account of their past errour (since what is done can not be undone), but has regard to the future, to the end that he who has erred may err no more nor be the cause of others erring through his bad example. And thus the law presumes that the virtues can be learned, which is very true; for we are born capable of receiving them and the vices also, and hence custom creates in us the habit of both the one and the other, so that we first practise virtue or vice, and then are virtuous or vicious.

“The contrary is observed in things that are bestowed by nature, which we first have the power to practise and then do practise: as is the case with the senses; for first we are able to see, hear and touch, then we see, hear and touch, although also many of these functions are perfected by training. Wherefore good masters teach children not only letters, but also good and seemly manners in eating, drinking, speaking and walking, with certain appropriate gestures.

13.—“Therefore as in the other arts, so too in virtue it is necessary to have a master, who by instruction and good reminders shall arouse and awake in us those moral virtues whereof we have the seed enclosed and buried in our soul, and like a good husbandman shall cultivate them and open the way for them by freeing us from the thorns and tares of appetite, which often so overshadow and choke our minds as not to let them blossom or bring forth those happy fruits which alone we should desire to have spring up in the human heart.

“In this sense, then, justice and shame, which you say Jove sent upon earth to all men, are natural in each one of us. But just as a body without eyes, however strong it be, often fails if it moves towards any object, so the root of these virtues potentially engendered in our minds often comes to naught if it be not helped by cultivation. For if it is to ripen into action and perfect character, nature alone is not enough, as has been said, but there is need of studied practice and of reason, to purify and clear the soul by lifting the dark veil of ignorance, from which nearly all the errours of men proceed,—because if good and evil were well perceived and understood, everyone would always prefer good and shun evil. Thus virtue may almost be said to be a kind of prudence and wit to prefer the good, and vice a kind of imprudence and ignorance which lead us to judge falsely; for men never prefer evil deeming it to be evil, but are deceived by a certain likeness that it bears to good.”

14.—Then my lord Gaspar replied:

“There are, however, many who know well that they are doing evil, and yet do it; and this because they have more thought for the present pleasure which they feel, than for the chastisement which they fear must come upon them: like thieves, homicides, and other such men.”

My lord Ottaviano said:

“True pleasure is always good, and true suffering always evil; therefore these men deceive themselves in taking false pleasure for true, and true suffering for false; hence by false pleasures they often run into true sufferings. Therefore that art which teaches how to discern the true from the false, may well be learned; and the faculty whereby we choose that which is truly good and not that which falsely seems so, may be called true wisdom and more profitable to human life than any other, because it dispels the ignorance from which, as I have said, all evils spring.”

15.—Then messer Pietro Bembo said:

“I do not know, my lord Ottaviano, whether my lord Gaspar ought to grant you that all evils spring from ignorance; and that there are not many who well know that they are sinning when they sin, and do not in the least deceive themselves as to true pleasure, nor yet as to true suffering. For it is certain that those who are incontinent judge reasonably and rightly, and know that to be evil to which they are prompted by their lusts in spite of duty, and therefore resist and set reason against appetite, whence arises a conflict of pleasure and pain against judgment. Conquered at last by too potent appetite, reason yields, like a ship which resists awhile the buffetings of the sea, but finally beaten by the too furious violence of the gale, with anchor and rigging broken, suffers herself to be driven at fortune’s will, without use of helm or any guidance of compass to save her.

“Therefore the incontinent commit their errours with a certain doubtful remorse, and as it were in their own despite; which they would not do if they did not know that what they are doing is evil, but would follow appetite without restraint of reason and wholly uncontrolled, and would then be not incontinent but intemperate, which is much worse. Thus incontinence is said to be a diminished vice, because it has a grain of reason in it; and likewise continence is said to be an imperfect virtue, because it has a grain of passion in it. Therefore in this, methinks, we cannot say that the errours of the incontinent proceed from ignorance, or that they deceive themselves and that they do not sin, when they well know that they are sinning.”

16.—My lord Ottaviano replied:

“In truth, messer Pietro, your argument is fine; yet to my thinking it is specious rather than sound, for although the incontinent sin hesitatingly, and reason struggles with appetite in their mind, and although that which is evil seems evil to them,—yet they have no perfect perception of it, nor do they know it so thoroughly as they need. Hence they have a vague idea rather than any certain knowledge of it, and thus allow their reason to be overcome by passion; but if they had true knowledge of it, doubtless they would not err: since the thing by which appetite conquers reason is always ignorance, and true knowledge can never be overcome by passion, which is derived from the body and not from the mind, and becomes virtue if rightly ruled and governed by reason; if not, it becomes vice.

“But reason has such power that it always reduces the senses to submission and enters in by wonderful means and ways, provided ignorance does not seize that which it ought to possess. So that although the spirits and nerves and bones have no reason in them, yet when a movement of the mind starts in us, as if thought were spurring and shaking the bridle on our spirits, all our members make ready,—the feet to run, the hands to take or to do that which the mind thinks; and moreover this is clearly seen in many who at times unwittingly eat some loathsome and disgusting food, which to their taste seems very delicious, and then learning what thing it was, not only suffer pain and distress of mind, but the body so follows the mental sense, that they must perforce cast up that food.”

17.—My lord Ottaviano was continuing his discourse further, but the Magnifico Giuliano interrupted him and said:

“If I heard aright, my lord Ottaviano, you said that continence is an imperfect virtue because it has a grain of passion in it; and when there is a struggle waging in our minds between reason and appetite, I think that the virtue which battles and gives reason the victory, ought to be esteemed more perfect than that which conquers without opposition of lust or passion; for there the mind seems not to abstain from evil by force of virtue, but to refrain from doing evil because it has no inclination thereto.”

Then my lord Ottaviano said:

“Which captain would you deem of greater worth, the one who fighting openly puts himself in danger and yet conquers the enemy, or the one who by his ability and skill deprives them of their strength, reducing them to such straits that they cannot fight, and thus conquers them without any battle or danger whatever?”

“The one,” said the Magnifico Giuliano, “who more safely conquers is without doubt more to be praised, provided this safe victory of his do not proceed from the cowardice of the enemy.”

My lord Ottaviano replied:

“You have judged rightly; and hence I tell you that continence may be likened to a captain who fights manfully, and although the enemy be strong and powerful, still conquers them, albeit not without great difficulty and danger. While temperance unperturbed is like that captain who conquers and rules without opposition, and having not only abated but quite extinguished the fire of lust in the mind where she abides, like a good prince in time of civil strife, she destroys her seditious enemies within, and gives reason the sceptre and whole dominion.

“Thus this virtue does not compel the mind, but infusing it by very gentle means with a vehement belief that inclines it to righteousness, renders it calm and full of rest, in all things equal and well measured, and disposed on every side by a certain self-accord which adorns it with a tranquillity so serene that it is never ruffled, and becomes in all things very obedient to reason and ready to turn its every act thereto and to follow wherever reason may wish to lead it, without the least unwillingness; like a tender lambkin, which always runs and stops and walks near its dam, and moves only with her.

“This virtue, then, is very perfect and especially befitting to princes, because from it spring many others.”

18.—Then messer Cesare Gonzaga said:

“I do not know what virtues befitting to a lord can spring from this temperance, if it is the one which removes the passions from the mind, as you say. Perhaps this would be fitting in a monk or hermit; but I am by no means sure whether it would befit a prince (who was magnanimous, liberal and valiant in arms) never to feel, whatever might be done to him, either wrath or hate or good will or scorn or lust or passion of any kind, and whether he could without this wield authority over citizens or soldiers.”

My lord Ottaviano replied: