Chapter III: Part 3

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.

“In such fashion would I have our Courtier speak and write; and not only choose rich and elegant words from every part of Italy, but I should even praise him for sometimes using some of those French and Spanish terms that are already accepted by our custom.[88] Thus it would not displease me if on occasion he were to say, _primor_ (excellence); or _acertare_ (to succeed), _aventurare_ (to run a risk successfully); or _ripassare una persona con ragionamento_, meaning to sound a person and to talk with him in order to gain perfect knowledge of him; or _un cavalier senza rimproccio_ (a cavalier without reproach), _attilato_ (elegant), _creato d’un principe_ (a prince’s creature), and other like terms, provided he might hope to be understood.[89]

“Sometimes I would have him use a few words in a sense other than that proper to them, to transpose them aptly, and as it were to graft them, like the branch of a tree, upon a more appropriate trunk,—so as to make them more attractive and beautiful, and as it were to bring things within the range of our vision, and within hand-touch as we say, to the delight of him who hears or reads. Nor would I have him scruple to form new words and in new figures of speech, deriving them tastefully from the Latins, as of old the Latins derived them from the Greeks.

35.—“Now if among the lettered men of good talent and judgment who to-day are found in our midst, there were a few who would take care to write in this language (as I have described) things worthy of being read, we should soon see it studied and abounding in beautiful terms and figures, and capable of being written in as well as is any other whatsoever; and if it were not pure old Tuscan, it would be Italian,—universal, copious and varied, and in a way like a delightful garden full of various flowers and fruits. Nor would this be a novel thing; for from the four dialects that the Greek writers had in use,[90] they culled words, forms and figures from each as they saw fit, and thence they brought forth another dialect which was called ‘common,’ and later they called all five by the single name Greek. And although the Attic dialect was more elegant, pure and copious than the others, good writers who were not Athenians by birth did not so affect it as to be unrecognizable by their style and by the perfume (as it were) and essence of their native speech. Nor yet were they disprized for this; on the contrary those who tried to seem too Athenian, were censured for it. Among the Latin writers too, many non-Romans were highly esteemed in their day, although there was not found in them that typical purity of the Roman tongue which men of other race can rarely acquire. Thus Titus Livius was not at all discarded, although someone professed to have detected a Paduan flavour in him;[91] nor was Virgil, albeit reproached with not speaking Roman. Moreover, as you know, many writers of barbarian race were read and esteemed at Rome.

“We, on the contrary, much more strict than the ancients, needlessly impose certain new laws upon ourselves, and with the beaten highways before our eyes, we seek to go along the by-paths; for in our own language,—of which, as of all others, the office is to express thought well and clearly,—we delight ourselves with obscurity; and calling it the vulgar tongue, we try in speaking it to use words that are understood neither by the vulgar nor yet by the gentle and lettered, and are no longer used in any place; unmindful that all the good writers of old disapproved words discarded by custom. Which to my thinking, you do not rightly understand; since you say that if some fault of speech is widely prevalent among the ignorant, it ought not for that reason to be called custom or accepted as a rule of speech, and from what I have heard you sometimes say, you would have us use _Campidoglio_ in place of _Capitolio_; _Girolamo_ for _Hieronymo_; _aldace_ for _audace_; and _padrone_ for _patrone_, and other words corrupt and spoiled like these; because they are found written thus by some ignorant old Tuscan, and because the Tuscan country folk speak thus to-day.[92]

“Hence I believe that good custom in speech springs from men who have talent and who have gained good judgment from study and experience, and who therefore agree and consent to accept the words that to them seem good, which are recognized by a certain innate judgment and not by any art or rule. Do you not know that figures of speech, which give so much grace and splendour to an oration, are all infringements of grammatical rules, yet accepted and confirmed by usage, because, although unable to offer other reason, they give pleasure and seem to carry suavity and sweetness to our very sense of hearing? And this I believe to be good custom,—of which the Romans, the Neapolitans, the Lombards and the rest, may be as capable as the Tuscans are.

36.—“It is very true that in every language certain things are always good, such as ease, good order, richness, beautiful sentences, harmonious periods; and on the contrary affectation and other things opposed to these, are bad. But among words there are some that remain good for a time, then grow antiquated and wholly lose their grace; others gain strength and come to be esteemed. For as the seasons of the year despoil the earth of flowers and fruits and then clothe it anew with others, so time causes those primal words to decay, and use makes others to be born again and gives them grace and dignity, until they in their turn meet their death, consumed by the envious gnawing of time; for in the end both we and all our concerns are mortal. Consider that we no longer have any knowledge of the Oscan tongue.[93] The Provençal, although it may be said to have been but lately celebrated by noble writers, is not now understood by the inhabitants of that country. Hence I think, as my lord Magnifico has well said, that if Petrarch and Boccaccio were alive at this time, they would not use many words that we find in their writings: therefore it does not seem to me well for us to copy these words. I applaud very highly those who know how to imitate that which ought to be imitated, but I do not at all believe that it is impossible to write well without imitating,—and particularly in this language of ours, wherein we may be aided by usage: which I should not dare say of Latin.”

37.—The messer Federico said:

“Why would you have usage more esteemed in the vernacular than in Latin?”

“Nay,” replied the Count, “I esteem usage as mistress of both the one and the other. But since those men to whom the Latin tongue was as natural as the vernacular now is to us, are no longer on earth, we must needs learn from their writings that which they learned from usage. Nor does ancient speech mean anything more than ancient usage of speech, and it would be a silly business to like ancient speech for no other reason than a wish to speak as men used to speak rather than as they now speak.”

“Then,” replied messer Federico, “the ancients did not imitate?”

“I believe,” said the Count, “that many of them did, but not in everything. And if Virgil had imitated Hesiod in everything, he would not have surpassed his master; nor Cicero, Crassus; nor Ennius, his predecessors. You know Homer is so ancient that many believe he is the first heroic poet in time as he is also in excellence of diction: and whom would you think he imitated?”

“Some other poet,” replied messer Federico, “more ancient than he, of whom we have no knowledge because of excessive antiquity.”

“Then whom,” said the Count, “would you say Petrarch and Boccaccio imitated, who were on earth only three days since, one may say?”

“I know not,” replied messer Federico; “but we may believe that even their minds were directed to imitation, although we do not know of whom.”

The Count replied:

“We may believe that they who were imitated, surpassed those who imitated them; and if they were admirable, it would be too great a marvel that their name and fame should be so soon extinguished. But I believe that their real master was aptitude and their own native judgment; and at this there is no one who ought to wonder, since nearly always the summit of every excellence may be approached by diverse roads. Nor is there anything that has not in it many things of the same sort which are dissimilar and yet intrinsically deserving of equal praise.

“Consider music, the harmonies of which are now grave and slow, now very fast and of novel moods and means; yet all give pleasure, albeit for different reasons: as is seen in Bidon’s[94] manner of singing, which is so skilful, ready, vehement, fervid, and of such varied melodies, that the listener’s spirits are moved and inflamed, and thus entranced seem to be lifted up to heaven. Nor does our friend Marchetto Cara[95] move us less by his singing, but with a gentler harmony; because he softens and penetrates our souls by placid means and full of plaintive sweetness, gently stirring them to sweet emotion.

“Again, various things give equal pleasure to our eyes, so that we can with difficulty decide which are more pleasing to them. You know that in painting Leonardo da Vinci,[96] Mantegna,[97] Raphael,[98] Michelangelo, [99] Giorgio da Castelfranco,[100] are very excellent, yet they are all unlike in their work; so that no one of them seems to lack anything in his own manner, since each is known as most perfect in his style.

ANGELO AMBROGINI
POLIZIANO
1454-1494
]

Reduced from Anderson’s photograph (no. 8148) of a part of the fresco,
“Zacharias in the Temple,” in the Church of Santa Maria Novella at
Florence, by Domenico Bigordi, better known as Ghirlandajo,
(1449-1494).

“It is the same with many Greek and Latin poets, who, although different in their writing, are equal in their fame. The orators, too, have always had so much diversity among themselves, that almost every age has produced and prized a type of orator peculiar to its own time; and these have been different not only from their predecessors and successors, but from one another: as it is written of Isocrates, Lysias, Æschines,[101] and many others among the Greeks,—all excellent, yet each resembling no one but himself. So, among the Latins, Carbo, Lælius, Scipio Africanus, Galba, Sulpicius, Cotta, Gracchus, Marcus Antonius, Crassus,[102] and so many others that it would be tedious to name them,—all good and very different one from another; so that if a man were able to consider all the orators that have been in the world, he would find as many kinds of oratory as of orators. I think I remember too that Cicero in a certain place[103] makes Marcus Antonius say to Sulpicius that there are many who imitate no man and yet arrive at the highest pitch of excellence; and he speaks of certain ones who had introduced a new form and figure of speech, beautiful but not usual among the orators of that time, wherein they imitated no one but themselves. For that reason he affirms also that masters ought to consider the pupils’ nature, and taking this as guide ought to direct and aid them to the path towards which their aptitude and natural disposition incline them. Hence I believe, dear messer Federico, that if a man has no innate affinity for any particular author, it is not well to force him to imitate, because the vigour[104] of his faculty languishes and is impeded when turned from the channel in which it would have made progress had that channel not been barred.

“Therefore I do not see how it can be well, instead of enriching this language of ours and giving it spirit and grandeur and light, to make it poor, thin, humble and obscure, and to try to restrict it in such narrow bounds that everyone shall be forced to imitate Petrarch and Boccaccio alone; and how, in respect of language, we ought not also to give credence to Poliziano,[105] to Lorenzo de’ Medici,[106] to Francesco Diacceto,[107] and to some others who are also Tuscans and perhaps of no less learning and judgment than were Petrarch and Boccaccio. And great pity would it be indeed to set a limit, and not to surpass that which almost the earliest writers achieved, and to deny that so many men of such noble genius can ever find more than one beautiful form of expression in this language which is proper and natural to them. But to-day there are certain scrupulous souls, who so frighten the listener with the cult and ineffable mysteries of this Tuscan tongue of theirs, as to put even many a noble and learned man in such fear, that he dare not open his mouth and confesses that he does not know how to speak the very language which he learned in swaddling clothes from his nurse.

“However I think we have said only too much of this; so now let us go on with our discussion about the Courtier.”

38.—Then messer Federico replied:

“I should first like to say one thing more, which is that I do not deny men’s opinions and aptitudes to be different among themselves. Nor do I believe that it would be well for a naturally vehement and excitable man to set himself to write of placid themes, or for another, being severe and grave, to write jests; for in this matter it seems to me reasonable that everyone should adapt himself to his own proper instinct. And I think Cicero was speaking of this when he said that masters ought to have regard to their pupils’ nature, in order not to act like bad husbandmen, who will sometimes sow grain in land that is fruitful only for the vine.

“Still I cannot get it into my head why, in the case of a particular language,—which is not proper to all men equally, like speech and thought and many other functions, but an invention of limited use,—it is not more rational to imitate those who speak better, than to speak at random; or why, just as in Latin we ought to try to approach the language of Virgil and Cicero rather than that of Silius or Cornelius Tacitus,[108] it is not better in the vernacular also to imitate the language of Petrarch and Boccaccio than any other’s; yet to express our thoughts in it well, and thus to give heed to our own natural instinct, as Cicero teaches. And in this way it will be found that the difference which you say there is among good orators, consists in sense and not in language.”

Then the Count said:

“I fear we shall be entering on a wide sea, and shall be leaving our first subject of the Courtier. However, I ask you in what consists the excellence of this language?”

Messer Federico replied:

“In preserving strictly its proprieties, in giving it that sense, and in using that style and those rhythms, which have been used by all who have written well.”

“I should like to know,” said the Count, “whether this style and these rhythms of which you speak, arise from the thought or from the words.”

“From the words,” replied messer Federico.

“Then,” said the Count, “do not the words of Silius and Cornelius Tacitus seem to you the same that Virgil and Cicero use? and employed in the same sense?”

“Certainly they are the same,” replied messer Federico, “but some of them wrongly applied and turned awry.”

The Count replied:

“And if from a book of Cornelius and from one of Silius, all those words were removed that are used in a sense different from that of Virgil and Cicero, which would be very few,—would you not then say that Cornelius was the equal of Cicero in language, and Silius of Virgil, and that it would be well to imitate their manner of speech?”

39.—Then my lady Emilia said:

“Methinks this debate of yours is far too long and tedious; therefore it were well to postpone it to another time.”

Messer Federico was about to reply none the less, but my lady Emilia always interrupted him. At last the Count said:

“Many men like to pass judgment upon style and to talk about rhythms and imitation; but they cannot make it at all clear to me what manner of thing style or rhythm is, or in what imitation consists, or why things taken from Homer or from someone else are so becoming in Virgil that they seem illumined rather than imitated. Perhaps this is because I am not capable of understanding them; but since a good sign that a man knows a thing, is his ability to teach it, I suspect that they too understand it but little, and that they praise both Virgil and Cicero because they hear such praise from many, not because they perceive the difference that exists between these two and others: for in truth it does not consist in preserving two or three or ten words used in a way different from the others.

“In Sallust, Cæsar, Varro[109] and the other good writers, some terms are found used differently from the way Cicero uses them; and yet both ways are proper, for the excellence and force of a language lie in no such trifling matter: as Demosthenes well said to Æschines, who tauntingly asked him whether certain words that he had used (although not Attic) were prodigies or portents; and Demosthenes laughed and replied that the fortunes of Greece did not hang on such a trifle. So I too should care little if I were reproved by a Tuscan for having said _satisfatto_ rather than _sodisfatto_, _honorevole_ for _horrevole_, _causa_ for _cagione_, _populo_ for _popolo_, and the like.”

Then messer Federico rose to his feet and said:

“Hear me these few words, I pray.”

“The pain of my displeasure,” replied my lady Emilia, laughing, “be upon him who speaks more of this matter now, for I wish to postpone it to another evening. But do you, Count, go on with the discussion about the Courtier,—and show us what a fine memory you have, which I think you will do in no small measure, if you are able to take up the discussion where you left it.”

40.—“My Lady,” replied the Count, “I fear the thread is broken; yet if I am not wrong, methinks we were saying that the pest of affectation imparts extreme ungracefulness to everything, while on the other hand simplicity and nonchalance produce the height of grace: in praise of which, and in blame of affectation, we might cite many other arguments; but of these I wish to add only one, and no more. Women are always very eager to be—and when they cannot be, at least to seem—beautiful. So where nature is somewhat at fault in this regard, they try to piece it out by artifice; whence arise that painting of the face with so much care and sometimes pains, that plucking of the eyebrows and forehead, and the use of all those devices and the endurance of that trouble, which you ladies think to keep very secret from men, but which are all well known.”

Here madonna Costanza Fregosa laughed and said:

“It would be far more courteous for you to keep to your discussion, and tell us of what grace is born, and talk about Courtiership,—than to try to unveil the weaknesses of women, which are not to the purpose.”

“Nay, much to the purpose,” replied the Count: “for these weaknesses of yours I am speaking of, deprive you of grace because they spring from nothing but affectation, wherein you openly make known to everyone your over-eagerness to be beautiful.

“Do you not see how much more grace a lady has who paints (if at all) so sparingly and so little, that whoever sees her is in doubt whether she be painted or not; than another lady so plastered that she seems to have put a mask upon her face and dares not laugh for fear of cracking it, nor ever changes colour but when she dresses in the morning, and then stands motionless all the rest of the day like a wooden image, showing herself only by candle-light, like wily merchants who display their cloths in a dark place? Again, how much more pleasing than all others is one (I mean not ill-favoured) who is plainly seen to have nothing on her face, although it be neither very white nor very red, but by nature a little pale and sometimes tinged with an honest flush from shame or other accident,—with hair artlessly unadorned and hardly confined, her gestures simple and free, without showing care or wish to be beautiful! This is that nonchalant simplicity most pleasing to the eyes and minds of men, who are ever fearful of being deceived by art.

“Beautiful teeth are very charming in a woman, for since they are not so much in view as the face is, but lie hidden most of the time, we may believe that less care is taken to make them beautiful than with the face. Yet if one were to laugh without cause and solely to display the teeth, he would betray his art, and however beautiful they were, would seem most ungraceful to all, like Catullus’s Egnatius.[110] It is the same with the hands; which, if they are delicate and beautiful, and occasionally left bare when there is need to use them, and not in order to display their beauty, they leave a very great desire to see more of them, and especially if covered with gloves again; for whoever covers them seems to have little care or thought whether they be seen or not, and to have them thus beautiful more by nature than by any effort or pains.

“Have you ever noticed when a woman, in passing through the street to church or elsewhere, thoughtlessly happens (either in frolic or from other cause) to lift her dress high enough to show the foot and often a little of the leg? Does this not seem to you full of grace, when you see her tricked out with a touch of feminine daintiness in velvet shoes and neat stockings? I for one delight in it and believe you all do, for everyone is persuaded that elegance, in matters thus hidden and rarely seen, is natural and instinctive to the lady rather than forced, and that she does not think to win any praise by it.

41.—“In this way we avoid and hide affectation, and you can now see how opposed and destructive it is to grace in every office as well of the body as the mind: whereof we have thus far spoken little, and yet we must not omit it, for since the mind is of far more worth than the body, it deserves to be more cultivated and adorned. And as to what ought to be done in the case of our Courtier, we will lay aside the precepts of the many sage philosophers who write of this matter and define the properties of the mind and discuss so subtly about their rank,—and keeping to our subject, we will in a few words declare it to be enough that he be (as we say) an honest and upright man; for in this are included prudence, goodness, strength and temperance of mind, and all the other qualities that are proper to a name so honoured. And I esteem him alone to be a true moral philosopher, who wishes to be good; and in this regard he needs few other precepts than that wish. And therefore Socrates was right in saying that he thought his teachings bore good fruit indeed whenever they incited anyone to understand and teach virtue: for they who have reached the goal of desiring nothing more ardently than to be good, easily acquire knowledge of everything needful therefor; so we will discuss this no further.

42.—“Yet besides goodness, I think that letters are for everyone the true and principal ornament of the mind: although the French recognize only the nobility of arms and esteem all else as naught. Thus they not only fail to prize but they abhor letters, and hold all men of letters most base, and think they speak very basely of any man when they call him a clerk.”

MONSEIGNEUR D’ANGOULÊME
AFTERWARD FRANCIS I OF FRANCE
1494-1547
]

Enlarged from a negative, specially made by Alinari through the courtesy
of Professor I. B. Supino, of an anonymous medal in the National
Museum at Florence.

Then the Magnifico Giuliano replied:

“You say truly, that this fault has long been prevalent among the French. But if kind fate decrees that Monseigneur d’Angoulême[111] shall succeed to the crown, as is hoped, I think that just as the glory of arms flourishes and shines in France, so too ought that of letters to flourish in highest state; for it is not long since I, being at the court, saw this prince, and it seemed to me that besides the grace of his person and the beauty of his face, he had in his aspect such loftiness, joined however with a certain gracious humanity, that the realm of France must always seem small for him. I heard afterwards from many gentlemen, both French and Italian, of his very noble manner of life, of his loftiness of mind, of his valour and liberality. And among other things I was told that he loved and esteemed letters especially and held all men of letters in greatest honour; and he condemned the French themselves for being so hostile to this profession, especially as they have within their borders such a noble school as that of Paris, frequented by all the world.”[112]

Then the Count said:

“It is a great marvel that in such tender youth, solely by natural instinct and against the usage of his country, he has of himself chosen so worthy a path. And as subjects always copy the customs of their superiours, it may be that, as you say, the French will yet come to esteem letters at their true worth: whereto they may easily be persuaded, if they will but listen to reason; since nothing is by nature more desirable for men, or more proper to them, than knowledge, which it is great folly to say or believe is not always a good thing.

43.—“And if I were speaking with them, or with others who had an opinion contrary to mine, I should strive to show them how useful and necessary letters are to our life and dignity, having indeed been granted by God to men as a crowning gift. Nor should I lack instances of many excellent commanders of antiquity, who all added the ornament of letters to the valour of their arms.

“Thus you know Alexander held Homer in such veneration that he always kept the Iliad by his bedside; and he devoted the greatest attention not only to these studies but to philosophical speculation under Aristotle’s guidance. Alcibiades enlarged his natural aptitudes and made them greater by means of letters and the teachings of Socrates. The care that Cæsar gave to study is also attested by the surviving works that he divinely wrote. It is said that Scipio Africanus always kept in his hand the works of Xenophon, wherein the perfect king is portrayed under the name of Cyrus. I could tell you of Lucullus, Sulla, Pompey, Brutus,[113] and many other Romans and Greeks; but I will merely remind you that Hannibal, the illustrious commander,—although fierce by nature and a stranger to all humanity, faithless and a despiser of both men and gods,—yet had knowledge of letters and was conversant with the Greek language; and if I mistake not, I once read that he even left a book composed by him in Greek.

“However it is superfluous to tell you this, for I well know that you all see how wrong the French are in thinking that letters are injurious to arms. You know that glory is the true stimulus to great and hazardous deeds of war, and whoso is moved thereto by gain or other motive, besides doing nothing good, deserves not to be called a gentleman, but a base trafficker. And true glory is that which is preserved in the sacred treasure-house of letters, as everyone may understand except those unfortunates who have never enjoyed them.

“What soul is there so abject, timid and humble, that when he reads of the deeds of Cæsar, Alexander, Scipio, Hannibal, and many others, is not inflamed by an ardent desire to be like them, and does not make small account of this frail two days’ life, in order to win the almost eternal life of fame, which in spite of death makes him live in far greater glory than before? But he who does not feel the delight of letters, cannot either know how great is the glory they so long preserve, and measures it by the life of one man or two, because his memory runs no further. Hence he cannot esteem this short-lived glory so much as he would that almost eternal glory if knowledge of it were unhappily not denied him, and as he does not esteem it so much, we may reasonably believe that he will not run such danger to pursue it as one who knew it would.

“I should be far from willing to have an antagonist cite instances to the contrary in refutation of my view, and urge upon me that with all their knowledge of letters the Italians have for some time since shown little martial valour,—which is alas only too true.[114] But it very certainly might be said that the fault of a few has brought not only grievous harm but eternal obloquy upon all the rest; and from them was derived the true cause of our ruin and of the decadence if not the death of valour in our souls: yet it would be far more shameful in us to publish it, than for the French to be ignorant of letters. Therefore it is better to pass over in silence that which cannot be recalled without pain: and avoiding this subject (upon which I entered against my will) to return to our Courtier.