The Book of the Courtier

by Baldassare Castiglione

  ‘I do not say,’ replied Federico, ‘that a courtier should volunteer a confession of his ignorance, without its being required. For I also dislike the silly habit of accusing or denigrating oneself. Thus sometimes I laugh to myself at certain men who quite needlessly tell things that reflect rather poorly on themselves, even though they may not involve them in any fault, as did a certain gentleman you all know who whenever he heard mention of the encounter with King Charles in the Parmesan would at once begin to describe how he had fled from the field, giving the impression that he had seen and heard nothing of the battle. Then when a certain famous tournament was spoken of, he always told the story of how he had fallen; and in his conversation he always appeared to be wanting to find the opportunity to be able to recount how one night, when he had paid a visit to a certain lady, he had received a thrashing. I do not want our courtier to indulge in this kind of folly; but I certainly believe that when the opportunity arises for him to display his ignorance over something, then he should let it pass by, and if compelled to do so he should plainly admit that he is ignorant rather than run any risks; and in this way he will escape the censure nowadays justly deserved by many who, I do not know through what perverse instinct or irrational motive, always strive to do what they cannot and avoid things they understand. In proof of this, I know an outstanding musician who has given up music and devotes himself completely to composing verse, in doing which he imagines he is a great genius, and he makes everyone laugh at him and has now lost even his music. Another, one of the world’s finest painters, despises the art for which he has so rare a talent and has set himself to study philosophy; and in this he has strange notions and fanciful revelations that, if he tried to paint them, for all his skill he couldn’t.11 There are countless people who act like this. Then again there are those who knowing they are outstanding in one field, devote most of their energies to another that they happen to know something about. Then whenever they are called upon to show what they can do as regards the subject in which they know they have talent, they give a redoubtable performance; and it often happens that when they are seen by all and sundry to be so competent with regard to something they do not profess, it is believed that they must be even more competent in what is their main activity. This stratagem, provided it is used judiciously, does not displease me in the slightest.’

  Then signor Gaspare Pallavicino replied: ‘What you are describing seems to me more like crude deception than art. Nor do I believe such deceit is ever fitting for one who wishes to be a man of honour.’

  ‘It is not a question of deceit,’ answered Federico, ‘but of an embellishment for whatever one does; and even if it is deception, it is not to be censured. In the case of two men who are fencing, would you not say that the one who defeats the other is deceiving him when he does so because he has more skill than his partner? And if you have a lovely jewel without a setting, and it passes into the hands of a good goldsmith who greatly enhances its beauty by setting it well, would you not say that he is deceiving the eye? And yet he deserves praise for the deception, since with good judgement and skill his cunning hands often add grace and adornment to ivory or silver or to a lovely stone by setting it in fine gold. So we must not say that art (or this kind of deceit, if you want to call it so) deserves censure. Nor is it wrong for a man who believes he is competent in some matter to seek cleverly for the occasion when he can demonstrate his abilities and, in the same way, to conceal the things that he believes merit little praise, though everything should be done with circumspection and reserve. Do you not recall that, without appearing to seek them out, King Ferdinand was always ready to seize the opportunity from time to time to go about in his doublet? And this he did because he was proud of his physique. And also, since he did not have attractive hands, that he rarely if ever took off his gloves? I also seem to remember having read that Julius Caesar very readily took to wearing a laurel wreath, in order to hide his baldness. But in all these matters one must be very prudent and judicious so as not to exaggerate in any way; for very often in avoiding one error a man falls into another, and in seeking to win praise, wins blame.

  ‘Therefore in our way of life and our dealings with others the safest thing is to observe the golden mean, and this, to be sure, provides a strong and reliable protection against envy, which is always to be avoided as much as possible. I also wish our courtier to be careful not to acquire the name of a liar or a boaster, which can sometimes happen even to those who do not deserve it. So in his conversation he should always be on his guard against departing from the truth or telling too often those truths that have the appearance of falsehoods, unlike those who never speak of anything except miracles and yet want to be held in such authority that every incredible thing they say must be believed. There are others who at the beginning of a friendship, to win favour with their new friend, swear, on the very first day they speak to him, that there is no one in the world they love more than him, and that they would willingly die to serve him, and so on, out of all reason. And when they part from him they make a show of weeping and of being speechless with grief. So in wanting to be thought extremely loving, they acquire a reputation for being liars and stupid flatterers. However, it would take too long and be too tedious to discuss all the vices possible in our dealings with others; so, as far as my wishes for the courtier are concerned, let it suffice to add to what I have already said that he should be so constituted that he never lacks for eloquence adapted to those with whom he is talking, and that he should know how to refresh and charm the minds of his listeners, and move them to merriment and laughter with his agreeable pleasantries and witticisms, in such a way that, without ever being tedious or boring, he is always a source of pleasure.

  ‘I think that by now signora Emilia will be ready to allow me to stay silent. If she denies me this, then on the strength of my own words I shall be convinced that I am not the good courtier whom I have been discussing. For not only is eloquence (which you have not been hearing, and perhaps never have heard from me) beginning to fail me completely but also such things, for what they are worth, as I am capable of saying.’

  Here, the Prefect said with a smile: ‘I do not want anyone here to be under the illusion that you are not an excellent courtier; for your desire to be silent is caused by your wanting to avoid work rather than from lack of something to say. Therefore, to avoid giving the impression that in a gathering as worthy as this and in such an excellent discussion anything is being neglected, be good enough to teach us how we are to make use of those pleasantries you have mentioned, and explain the skill that goes with all this kind of amusing talk, intended to arouse laughter and merriment in a polite and appropriate way, for it seems to me that this is very important and most fitting for the courtier.’

  ‘My lord,’ replied Federico, ‘pleasantries and witticisms are the gift and favour of Nature rather than of art; but in this certain people are quicker than the others, and notably the Tuscans who are truly very sharp. It also seems that the Spaniards are instinctively witty. But there are many among them, and of other races too, who let their loquacity run away with them and become insipid and inept, because they pay no regard to the kind of people with whom they are talking, to the place where they happen to be, or to the rules of sobriety and modesty that they ought to observe.’

  Then the Prefect answered: ‘You deny that there is any art in pleasantries, and yet it seems to me that when you condemn those who do not observe the rules of sobriety and modesty and have no respect for the circumstances or for the persons with whom they are talking you prove that this is also a subject that can be taught and has some method in it.’

  ‘These rules, my lord,’ replied Federico, ‘are so universal that they fit and apply to everything. But I said there was no skill in light conversation, since it seems to be that there are only two kinds to be found. The first is sustained through a long narrative, as we see in the case of some men who very charmingly and agreeably recount and describe something that has ha
ppened to them or that they have seen or heard, and by their words and gestures bring it before our very eyes, as if we could reach out and touch it; and this, for want of another name, we can perhaps call “polished” or “urbane discourse”. The other kind of pleasantry is extremely brief and consists merely in sayings, such as are often heard among us, that are sharp and spontaneous or caustic; and unless they are rather cutting they seem to lack elegance. In the ancient world these used to be called dicta, and now some call them quips. Now as for the first kind of light conversation, in urbane story-telling, there is no need for any art, since Nature herself creates and fashions men with a talent for agreeable story-telling, and she gives them the countenance, the gestures, the voice and the words all suited to imitating what they want. As for quips, what place is there for art? For in this case, a pungent remark must be uttered and must hit the target before the speaker seems to have had time to think. Therefore I consider that this springs entirely from genius and Nature.’

  At this point, Pietro Bembo joined in and said:

  ‘The Prefect is not denying what you say, namely, that Nature and genius play the chief role, and especially as regards invention. But surely however brilliant he is a man receives good and bad ideas, of lesser and greater worth; and then these are corrected and refined by judgement and art, which reject the bad and select the good. Therefore, leaving aside what springs from genius, explain to us the part played by art, namely, concerning the pleasantries and witticisms that provoke laughter, which befit the courtier and which not, and on what occasions and in what manner they should be employed; for this is what the Prefect is asking of you.’

  Then with a smile Federico said: ‘There is no one here to whom I do not yield in everything, and especially in the matter of being facetious; unless perhaps sheer silliness (which often makes people laugh more than clever sayings) is also accepted as wit.’

  And then, turning to Count Lodovico and Bernardo Bibbiena, he added: ‘Here are the masters in this matter, from whom, if I am to speak of amusing talk, I must first learn what to say.’

  Count Lodovico replied: ‘It seems to me that you are already practising what you say you know nothing about, namely, by trying to make us all laugh by making fun of Bernardo and me; because everyone here knows that you are far better at what you are praising us for. Therefore if you are weary, it would be better to ask the Duchess to consent to postpone the rest of the discussion until tomorrow rather than shift the burden off your shoulders by deceitful means.’

  Federico started to answer, but signora Emilia at once interrupted him to say:

  ‘It is not in the rules that the discussion should now be devoted to praising you; for we know you all very well. But since I recall that you, my dear Count, alleged yesterday evening that I did not share the work fairly, it would be right for Federico to rest for a moment, and the task of speaking of pleasantries we shall give to Bernardo Bibbiena, because not only do we know that he is most amusing when he talks at length but we remember that he has several times promised that he would write on the subject, and so we may well believe that he has given it a lot of thought and so should be able to satisfy us completely. Then, after we have finished speaking about pleasantries, Federico shall continue with what he still has to tell us about the courtier.’

  Then Federico remarked: ‘Madam, I do not know what I have yet to say about the courtier. However, like a traveller weary from his long journey when the sun is high, I shall find repose listening to the discourse of Bernardo and the sound of his voice as if I were resting under some lovely, shady tree and hearing the gentle murmuring of a flowing spring. Then, refreshed a little, perhaps I will have something more to say.’

  Bernardo answered with a smile: ‘If I showed you the top of my head you would soon realize what kind of shade could be expected from its leaves. As for listening to the murmur of a flowing spring, perhaps you will be lucky, because I was once turned into a spring not by any of the ancient deities but by our own Fra Mariano, and since then I have never lacked water.’

  Then everyone burst out laughing, for the joke to which Bernardo alluded and which occurred in Rome in the presence of Cardinal Galeotto of San Pietro in Vincoli,12 was well known to all.

  After the laughter had died down, signora Emilia said:

  ‘Now stop making us laugh with your pleasantries and teach us how we are to use them, and how they are devised, and all that you know on the subject. And so as not to waste any more time, please begin immediately.’

  ‘I fear,’ said Bernardo, ‘that the hour is late; and lest my speaking of pleasantries should prove rather unwelcome and wearisome, perhaps it would be as well to postpone it until tomorrow.’

  At this, everyone at once started to protest that the time at which it was customary to end the discussion was still a long way off. So then, turning to the Duchess and to signora Emilia, Bernardo said:

  ‘I do not want to shirk my task; but just as I always marvel at the boldness of those who dare to sing to the viol in the presence of our Giacomo Sansecondo, so I wonder whether I should talk about jokes in the presence of an audience which understands what I should say far better than I do. However, to avoid providing an excuse for any of these gentlemen to decline what they may be ordered to do, I shall say, as briefly as I can, whatever occurs to me on the subject of the causes of laughter, which is so natural to mankind that to define a man it is customary to say that he is an animal capable of laughing. For laughter is seen only in men, and it is nearly always the sign of a certain inward hilarity of the spirit, which is naturally attracted to pleasure and desirous of rest and recreation. So we see many things devised by men for this purpose, such as festivals and various kinds of spectacle. And because we like those who are responsible for providing us with our recreations, the kings of the ancient world, the Roman, the Athenian and many others, in order to secure the goodwill of the populace and to feed the eyes and mind of the multitude, used to build great theatres and other public edifices, and there they would show new kinds of sport, horse and chariot races, combats, strange beasts, comedies, tragedies and mime. Nor were grave philosophers averse to such displays, and they would often, both at spectacles of that kind or at banquets, relax their minds which were weary from their exalted discourses and inspired thoughts; and this is something all kinds and conditions of men willingly do, for not only labourers in the fields, sailors and all those who do hard and rough work with their hands but also holy men of religion and prisoners waiting in hourly expectation of death, all seek solace in light recreation. Therefore everything which provokes laughter exalts a man’s spirit and gives him pleasure, and for a while enables him to forget the trials and tribulations of which life is full. So you can see that laughter is most agreeable to everyone and the one who inspires it at the right time and place deserves every praise. But what laughter is, and where it is to be found, and how it sometimes takes possession of our veins, our eyes, our mouth and sides, and sometimes seems about to make us burst, being uncontrollable no matter how hard we try, I shall leave to Democritus13 to explain; who, even if he should promise to find the words, would not be able to.

  ‘Now the location and, as it were, the source of the ridiculous is to be found in a kind of deformity; for we laugh only at things that contain some elements of incongruity and seem disagreeable though they are not really so. I know no way of explaining it otherwise; but if you think about it, you will realize that invariably what causes laughter is something that is incongruous and yet not really unpleasing. Now, as for the ways in which the courtier should try to cause laughter and the limits he should observe in doing so, I shall endeavour to explain as far as my judgement allows. For to cause laughter is not always fitting for the courtier, nor should he do so after the manner of fools and drunkards, or stupid clowns and buffoons. And though it appears that people like this are in demand at the Courts, they do not merit the name of courtier but each should be called by his proper name and judged for what he is. It is also
necessary to consider with great care the reservations and limits to be acknowledged when causing laughter by means of sarcasm, and also who it is who is being stung; for there is nothing to laugh at in deriding some unfortunate creature or some rascal or known criminal, since the last deserve a worse punishment than mockery, and normal people are not disposed to make sport of the unfortunate, unless they boast of their misfortune and are proud and presumptuous. The courtier should also guard against mocking those who are universally favoured and loved by all and who are powerful, because by doing so he can sometimes stir up dangerous enmities. But it is allowable to hold up to derision and laugh at the vices of those who are neither so wretched as to excite compassion nor so wicked as to seem to deserve capital punishment, nor again of such exalted rank that their slightest anger can do one great harm.

  ‘You must also understand that what can be phrased as an amusing witticism can also be interpreted as a serious comment intended for praise or censure, sometimes with the use of exactly the same words. Thus in praise of a generous man who puts his belongings at the disposal of his friends, it is frequently said that what he has is not his own; and the same words may be used to accuse someone who has obtained his belongings through theft or some other evil means. One also hears it said: “She is a much-loved lady,” meaning to praise a woman for her prudence and virtue; but the same words might be used to censure her for bestowing her favours widely. More often, however, it is a question of exploiting the same situations rather than the same words. For example, just the other day when a lady was hearing mass in church with three gentlemen, one of whom was her gallant, a poor beggar approached and standing in front of the lady asked her for alms; although he begged her insistently, whining and demanding, she not only gave him nothing but did not even dismiss him, and instead stood with a distracted expression as if she were thinking of something else. Her lover said to his two companions: “You see what I can expect from my lady, who is so cruel that not only does she refuse to give alms to that naked wretch who is dying of hunger and who is pleading all this time so pitiably but she refuses even to send him away, she so much enjoys the sight of someone languishing in misery and imploring her favour in vain.”