The Book of the Courtier

by Baldassare Castiglione

  ‘To me, no,’ said Federico, ‘unless he does so too assiduously, and in consequence neglects things of greater importance, or indeed for no other reason than to win money and cheat his partner, and then, when he loses, is so dismayed and angry as to prove his avarice.’

  Signor Gaspare replied: ‘And what do you say about the game of chess?’

  ‘That is certainly a refined and ingenious recreation,’ said Federico, ‘but it seems to me to possess one defect; namely, that it is possible for it to demand too much knowledge, so that anyone who wishes to become an outstanding player must, I think, give to it as much time and study as he would to learning some noble science or performing well something or other of importance; and yet for all his pains when all is said and done all he knows is a game. Therefore as far as chess is concerned we reach what is a very rare conclusion: that mediocrity is more to be praised than excellence.’

  Signor Gaspare replied: ‘But there are to be found many Spaniards who excel at chess and at a number of other games, and yet do not study them too exhaustively or neglect other things.’

  ‘You may take it for granted,’ said Federico, ‘that they put in a great deal of study, but they conceal it. However, the other games you mention, apart from chess, are doubtless like many I have seen played which are of little moment and serve only to make the common people marvel; so I do not consider they deserve any praise or reward other than what Alexander the Great gave to the man who at some distance was so good at impaling chickpeas on a pin.

  ‘But because it seems that Fortune, in this as in so many other things, has great influence on men’s opinions, we sometimes see that a gentleman, however finely endowed and gifted he may be, proves disagreeable to his lord and always, as we say, raises his gall; and this is for no discernible reason. Thus when he comes into his lord’s presence, and before he has been recognized by the others, though his conversation may be fluent and ready and though his behaviour, gestures and words and everything else may be all that can be desired, his lord will show that he has no high regard for him and, indeed, will display his contempt. And as an immediate result of this, the others will at once fall in line with the wishes of the prince and to each one of them it will seem that the man is worthless; nor will there be found any to value or respect him, or laugh at his witticisms or regard him as being of any account; on the contrary, they will all immediately start to mock him and hound him down. Nor will it do the wretch any good to answer agreeably and well or take what is being said in good part, since they will all, down to the page-boys themselves, set about him so that even if he were the worthiest man in the world he would still be hounded down and frustrated. In contrast to this, if the prince should show that he favours some ignorant fellow, who knows neither how to speak or behave, often his manners and ways, however foolish and uncouth they may be, will be praised to the skies by everyone and the whole Court will seem to admire and respect him, and everyone will laugh at his jokes and at certain flat and boorish sayings calculated to make people feel sick rather than entertained. This is the extent to which men obstinately adhere to opinions engendered by the favour or disfavour of princes. Therefore I should wish our courtier to bolster up his inherent worth with skill and cunning, and ensure that whenever he has to go where he is a stranger and unknown he is preceded by a good reputation and that it becomes known that elsewhere, among other lords, ladies and knights, he is very highly regarded. For the fame which appears to rest on the opinions of many fosters a certain unshakeable belief in a man’s worth which is then easily maintained and strengthened in minds already thus disposed and prepared. Moreover, by taking these steps the courtier avoids the annoyance I always feel when I am asked who I am and what my name is.’

  ‘I fail to see how this helps,’ commented Bernardo Bibbiena, ‘for it has several times been my experience (and, I believe, that of others) to have decided, in the light of what was said by those able to judge, that something was of outstanding quality before I saw it; but then, when I have come to see it I have been greatly disappointed, and it has fallen a long way short of what I expected. This has been the result simply of relying too much on hearsay and having formed such an exaggerated notion in my mind of what to expect that when I have had to compare what I anticipated with the real thing, for all its possible excellence and grandeur, the latter has seemed of little or no account. And the same kind of fate can, I fear, befall our courtier. So I do not see that it is right to raise such expectations and rely on advance reports of what we are like. For our minds often imagine things that cannot be lived up to, and in that way more is lost than gained.’

  Here Federico said: ‘The things that you and others discover to be far less impressive than their reputation are usually of the kind that can be summed up at a glance, as if, for example, you had never visited Naples or Rome but had heard a great deal about them and were to imagine them as being far more impressive than perhaps proved to be the case. But this does not happen when it is a question of a man’s character, because the outward appearances are the least important. For instance, if you were to hear someone speak for the first time, not finding in him the qualities you had been anticipating, you would not change your opinion as swiftly as you would regarding matters of which the eye can judge immediately; rather, you would expect to discover from day to day some hidden virtue, and you would hold firm to the impression created in your mind by what so many others had said; and then if the gentleman concerned were to be as well endowed as our courtier is supposed to be, the good reports received about him would be confirmed with every hour that passed, since he would bring this about by his actions and you would always give him credit for even more than was apparent.

  ‘To be sure, it cannot be denied that these first impressions carry great force and that we should pay considerable attention to them. And to make you realize just how important they are, let me tell you about a gentleman I once knew who, although he was of pleasing appearance and modest behaviour, and also a very capable warrior, was not so outstanding as regards any of these qualities that there were not to be found many who were his equal and even better. However, as luck would have it, a certain lady fell very deeply in love with him. She saw that he felt the same way, and as her love grew day by day, there not being any way for them to speak to each other, she revealed her sentiments to another lady, who she hoped would be of service to her in this affair. Now this lady neither in rank nor beauty was a whit inferior to the first; and it came about that when she heard the young man (whom she had never seen) spoken of so affectionately, and came to realize that the other woman, whom she knew was extremely discreet and intelligent, loved him beyond words, she straight away began to imagine that he must be the most handsome, the wisest, the most discreet of men, and, in short, the man most worthy of her love in all the world. So, never having set eyes on him, she fell in love with him so passionately that she set out to win him not for her friend but for herself. And in this she succeeded with little effort, for indeed she was a woman more to be wooed than to do the wooing. And now listen to the splendid sequel: not long afterwards it happened that a letter which she had written to her lover fell into the hands of another woman of comparable rank, charm and beauty; and since she, like most women, was curious and eager to learn secrets, she opened the letter and read it. Realizing that it was written from the depths of passion, in the most loving and ardent terms, she was at first moved with compassion, for she knew very well from whom the letter came and to whom it was addressed; then, however, such was the power of the words she read, turning them over in her mind and considering what kind of man it must be who had been able to arouse such great love, she at once began to fall in love with him herself; and the letter was without doubt far more effective than if the young man had himself written it to her. And just as it sometimes happens that the poison prepared for a prince kills the one who tastes his food, so that poor woman, in her greediness, drank the love potion prepared for another. What more is there to say? Th
e affair was no secret, and things so developed that many other women besides, partly to spite the others and partly to follow their example, put every care and effort into winning this man’s love, squabbling over it for a while as boys do for cherries. And all this was the consequence of the first impression formed by the lady who saw how much he was loved by another.’

  Here signor Gaspare Pallavicino said with a laugh:

  ‘But to find reasons for your opinion you are citing what is done by women, who are quite unreasonable. And if you were to tell us the whole truth, this fellow who won the favours of so many women must have been a fool and a good-for-nothing, because it is the practice of women always to favour the worst and to follow their leader like sheep, whether for good or ill. Moreover, they are so jealous of each other that even if he had been a monster they would still have wished to steal him away from one another.’

  At this, almost everyone tried to say something in contradiction to signor Gaspare, but the Duchess made them all keep quiet, and then she said:

  ‘I would allow someone to answer you were it not that the wicked things you are saying about women are so far from the truth that they reflect shame and discredit on the one who is saying them rather than on women. However, I have no intention of letting you be cured of your bad habits by hearing all the conclusive arguments against what you are saying, lest you escape the severe punishment that you deserve for your sin, namely, the poor opinion which everyone who hears the way you talk will have of you.’

  Then Federico added: ‘You must not say that women are completely irrational, signor Gaspare, even if sometimes they fall in love more by someone else’s judgement than by their own. For there are very often noble and wise men who do the same, and, if the truth were told, you yourself and all of us frequently, and at this very moment, rely more on the opinions of others than on our own. And to prove this, consider that not so long ago, when certain verses were presented here as being by Sannazaro, everyone thought they were extremely fine and praised them to the skies; then when it was established that they were by someone else their reputation sank immediately and they seemed quite mediocre. Then again, when a motet was sung in the presence of the Duchess, it pleased no one and was considered worthless, until it became known that it had been composed by Josquin des Près.9 What clearer proof do you want of the force of opinion? Do you not remember that once when drinking a certain wine one moment you were saying that it was absolutely perfect and the next that it was really insipid? And this was because you were persuaded that you were drinking two different kinds of wine, one from the Riviera of Genoa and the other from this locality? And even when the mistake was discovered you simply refused to believe it, so firmly entrenched in your mind was the false opinion which, of course, arose from what others had said.

  ‘Therefore the courtier should at the outset take great care to give a good impression of himself, and bear in mind how harmful and fatal it is to do the opposite. Men who expose themselves to this danger more than others are those who make it their profession to be very amusing and think by these pleasantries of theirs to be allowed a certain licence which makes it proper and permissible for them to do and say whatever they wish, without thinking. Thus people like this very often embark on certain things without knowing how to finish, and they then try to extricate themselves by raising a laugh. But they do this so awkwardly that it does not succeed, and instead their efforts fall flat and they inspire the greatest distaste in whoever sees or hears them. On other occasions, convinced they are being terribly witty and amusing, they use filthy and indecent language in the presence of noble ladies, and often to their face. And the more they make the ladies blush, the more they are convinced that they are being good courtiers; they never stop laughing and they pride themselves on the fine talents they think they possess. But the only reason they behave in such a beastly fashion is because they believe it makes them the life and soul of the party: this is what they think really praiseworthy and what they pride themselves on most. And to acquire this reputation they indulge in the most shameful and shocking discourtesies in the world. Sometimes they push one another downstairs, belabour each other with sticks and bricks, throw handfuls of dust in each other’s eyes, cause their horses to collapse on one another in ditches or downhill; then at table they hurl the soup, or the sauce or jelly, in one another’s face, and they burst out laughing; and the one who knows how to do most things of this kind prides himself on being the better courtier and the more gallant, and thinks he has covered himself in glory. Then sometimes they ask a gentleman to join in their amusements, and if he does not wish to take part in their horseplay they immediately allege that he thinks himself a cut above them and too important, and has no party spirit. But there is worse to come. There are even some who compete among themselves and wager as to who can eat and drink the most revolting and filthy things, and they hit upon things so abhorrent to our senses that it is impossible to mention them without a shudder.’

  ‘And what things can these be?’ asked signor Lodovico Pio.

  ‘Ask Marquess Febus to tell you,’ answered Federico, ‘for he has often seen them done in France, and perhaps taken part himself.’

  Marquess Febus remarked: ‘Well, I have seen nothing of this kind done in France that is not also done in Italy; indeed, all that is good among the Italians in their dress and recreations, their banquets and feats of arms, and everything that befits a courtier, they have had from the French.’

  ‘I do not say,’ replied Federico, ‘that there are not to be found the most cultivated and well-mannered gentlemen in France, and I for one have known very many worthy of the highest praise. But there are also some to be found who are very careless; and, broadly speaking, it seems to me that the customs of the Spaniards are more suited to the Italians than those of the French, because the calm dignity characteristic of the Spaniards seems to me more appropriate to us than the ready vivacity we see in almost everything the French people do. In them, this is not unbecoming; in fact, it is full of charm since it is natural and proper and so carries no suggestion of affectation. And admittedly there are many Italians who do their best to imitate the way the French behave; but all they understand is wagging their heads as they speak and bowing clumsily to one side and walking so fast when they are out on the streets that their attendants can’t keep pace with them. Acting like this, they imagine they are being good Frenchmen and have their ease of manner. But this is rarely possible except for those who have been brought up in France and been taught these things from childhood. The same is true of knowing many languages, which is a gift I like to see in the courtier, especially as regards French and Spanish, since in Italy we have very frequent dealings with both countries and their ways conform more with ours than any others, and their rulers (who are powerful in war and splendid in peace) keep their courts full of fine gentlemen who then travel the world; and we are obliged to converse with them.

  ‘Now I do not want to go into great detail as regards matters that are already very familiar, such as that your courtier should not profess to be a great eater or drinker, or indulge in bad habits, or be disgusting and dissolute in his manner of life, and act like a peasant who stinks of the soil a mile off. For a man of this sort can never hope to become a good courtier and indeed can be given no occupation other than looking after the farm animals. So, to conclude, I maintain that the courtier would do well to understand everything we have said is appropriate to him, so that he can do everything possible and that everyone marvels at him and he at no one. But this is on the understanding that he does not display a certain proud and inhuman impassivity, as do some who will never seem astonished at what others accomplish because they assume they can do far better themselves, and by their silence scorn those things as undeserving of mention; and they do this as if to suggest that there is no one their equal let alone capable of appreciating the profundity of their knowledge. Our courtier must avoid this hateful kind of behaviour and praise the achievements of others
with great kindness and goodwill; and although he may think himself a man to be admired and by a long chalk superior to everyone else, he should not reveal this. However, since perfection of this kind is hardly ever if at all to be found in human nature, the man who feels he is wanting in some particular ought not to become diffident or give up hope of achieving an excellent standard, even though he cannot reach the supreme perfection to which he aspires. For in every accomplishment there are many commendable grades besides the highest, and if a man aims at the top, he is nearly always certain of reaching at least half-way. Therefore if our courtier finds he is skilled in something other than arms I should wish him to derive profit and honour from it in a suitable way; and he should know how to use his discretion and good judgement in bringing people skilfully and opportunely to see and hear what he considers he is good at, always seeming to do so without ostentation, but casually and as if at the request of others rather than of his own will. And, if at all possible, he should always be well briefed and prepared for everything he has to do or say, though giving the impression that it is off the cuff. As regards matters in which he is unsure of himself, he should treat them merely in passing, without going too deeply into them, but in such a way as to make people credit him with far more knowledge than he displays, as sometimes happens with poets who hint at subtle matters of philosophy or other branches of knowledge, and doubtless understand very little about them. And then as regards things about which he knows he is totally ignorant, I should wish our courtier to keep completely silent and not to seek to acquire any reputation for understanding them; rather, when necessary, he ought to confess his ignorance.’

  Then Calmeta said: ‘That is not what Nicoletto10 would have done. He was a very good philosopher, but he knew no more about law than about how to fly, and when the mayor of Padua decided to give him a lectureship in law, despite the urgings of many scholars, he would never disabuse him and confess that he knew nothing about it. He was always protesting that in this instance he disagreed with the opinion of Socrates, and that it was never for a philosopher to admit his ignorance.’