The Book of the Courtier

by Baldassare Castiglione

  ‘What will you say of another, who nearly every night for six months lay beside her dearest lover; nevertheless, in a garden full of the sweetest fruits, and incited by her own burning desire, as well as by the entreaties and tears of the one she held dearer than life itself, she refrained from tasting them; and though she was taken and held naked in the tight circle of those beloved arms, she never submitted, but preserved the flower of her chastity untouched?

  ‘Now don’t you think, signor Gaspare, that these are examples of continence comparable with that of Alexander? For he was burning with love, not for the women of Darius, but for the fame and greatness that spurred him on in the pursuit of glory and let him suffer fatigue and perils for the sake of immortality; and apart from everything else he scorned even his own life in his endeavour to win fame above all other men. So is it to be wondered at that, cherishing such ambitions, he should refrain from taking what he scarcely wanted? For, as he had never seen these women before, it is impossible that he should have come to love them immediately; and indeed he may well have detested them on account of his enemy, Darius. And in this case, his every lustful act towards them would have been outrage and not love. So it is no great wonder that Alexander, who conquered the world as much with magnanimity as with arms, held back from committing such an outrage on those women. The continence of Scipio is also very praiseworthy. Nevertheless, if you consider it carefully, it is not comparable with that shown by those two women; since he, too, abstained from something he did not desire. For he was in a hostile land, new in command and at the beginning of a very important campaign; and he had left the highest expectations of himself in his own country, where he would have to account for his actions to the sternest of judges, who often handed out punishment for even the most trivial blunders and among whom he knew he had enemies; moreover, since the lady concerned was of very noble rank and married to a most noble lord, he also knew that if he did otherwise he would stir up many enemies who might seriously delay and perhaps altogether prevent his triumph. For all these important reasons he abstained from indulging a dangerous whim, and thereby he demonstrated his continence and generous integrity; and this, as we read, won over all those peoples to him and gave him the equivalent of another army with which to conquer by kindness minds that would doubtless never have been conquered by force of arms. Therefore, it was a matter of military strategy rather than simple continence, although even then the report we have of this is not very reliable, since some authoritative writers affirm that he did in fact make love to the girl; whereas there is no doubt at all about what I am telling you.’

  ‘Then,’ said Frisio, ‘you must have found it in the Gospels.’

  ‘I witnessed it myself,’ replied Cesare, ‘and so I am far more certain about it than you or anyone else can be that Alcibiades always got up from Socrates’ bed like a child leaving the bed of its parents. And indeed it was a strange place and time – in bed and by night – to contemplate that pure beauty which Socrates is said to have loved without any improper desire, especially since he loved the soul’s beauty rather than the body’s, though in boys and not in grown men, who happen to be wiser. Surely one could find no more fitting example of the continence of men than that of Xenocrates, who, devoted to his studies, in duty bound to his profession (namely, philosophy, which consists in good deeds and not in words), when he was an old man whose natural powers were exhausted, and quite evidently impotent, denied himself a whore who would have been abhorrent to him for that name alone. I would be more inclined to believe he was continent had he shown some sign of being aroused and then held back. Or rather, if he had abstained from what old men desire more than the battles of Venus, namely, wine; and yet to clinch the proof of his senile continence they write that he was full and drowsy with wine. But what in an old man is more alien to continence than drunkenness? And if to abstain from the sport of love at that sluggish and cold time of life is so praiseworthy, how much more praiseworthy it is on the part of those tender young girls, about whom I told you earlier? For the first, maintaining the strictest rule over all her senses, not only denied her eyes their vision but also drove from her heart the thoughts which had long been the sweet sustenance of her life; and the other, passionately in love and finding herself so often alone in the arms of the one whom she adored above all else, fighting against herself and against the one who was dearer to her than herself, overpowered that burning desire that has so often overpowered so many wise men, and still does. Don’t you now think, signor Gaspare, that writers should be ashamed of honouring the memory of Xenocrates in this instance, and saying that he was continent? For did we but know, I wager he lay like a corpse all that night till dinner-time the next day, drowned in wine; and no matter how hard that woman shook him his eyes stayed as tightly closed as if he had been drugged.’

  Everyone present laughed at this; and signora Emilia, still smiling, remarked:

  ‘Signor Gaspare, if you will think a little harder, I am sure you will remember some other splendid example of continence just like that.’

  Cesare replied: ‘Don’t you consider, madam, that what he cited in regard to Pericles is a splendid example of continence? I only wonder that he didn’t also quote the continence and the splendid remark attributed to a certain man who told a woman who had demanded too high a price for the night that he didn’t buy repentance so dear?’

  With everyone laughing still, Cesare, after a moment’s pause, then added:

  ‘Signor Gaspare, do forgive me for speaking the truth; for in short these are the examples of supernatural continence that men have written about themselves, while accusing women – who give countless proofs of continence every day – of being incontinent. For surely, if you think hard, there is no fortress so unassailable or so well defended that if it were attacked with a thousandth part of the engines and ambushes used to overwhelm a woman’s constancy, it would not surrender at the first assault. How many men raised up and enriched by princes, and held in great esteem, being in command of fortresses or strongholds on which their ruler’s state and life and every good depended, have, without any shame or worry about being called traitors and moved by avarice, perfidiously surrendered them to those they should not? Would to God there were less of their kind to be found today, so that we might not find it far more difficult to find someone who has done what he should in such instances than to name those who have failed! Do we not see so many going about every day killing men in the forests and scouring the seas in order to rob? How many prelates sell what belongs to the Church of God! How many lawyers forge wills! How many perjure themselves, or give false testimony for the sake of gain! How many doctors poison the sick for that same reason! And again, how many do the most cowardly things from fear of death! And yet a frail and tender girl often resists the most formidable and harsh assaults; for there have been many who have chosen death rather than lose their chastity.’

  ‘I don’t think,’ said signor Gaspare, ‘that we find girls of that sort in the world nowadays.’

  Cesare answered: ‘I will not now cite the women of the ancient world, but I will insist on this, that many women could be and are found who in such cases are not afraid to die. And now I call to mind that when Capua was sacked by the French, which was not so long ago that you cannot remember it very well, a beautiful young lady was taken from her house, where she had been seized by a band of Gascons, and when she reached the river that flows through Capua she pretended that she wanted to tie her shoe, so that the man who was holding her let her go for a moment; and thereupon she threw herself into the river. What will you say of the young country girl who not so long ago, at Gazzuolo near Mantua, after she had gone with her sister to reap in the fields, was overcome by thirst and went into a house for a drink of water? For the master of the house, a young man, seeing that she was very beautiful and all by herself, put his arms round her and first with kind words and then with threats sought to make her do his pleasure; and after she had resisted more and more stubbornly,
at length with many blows he overpowered her by force. So all dishevelled and in tears she returned to the field where her sister was, but for all her sister’s urging she would never say what wrong had been done to her in that house; however, all the while, as they were walking home, she grew gradually more subdued and began to speak quite calmly, and she asked her sister to do certain things for her. Then when they came to the Oglio, the river that flows past Gazzuolo, drawing a little apart from her sister, who neither knew nor imagined what she meant to do, she suddenly threw herself in. Crying and grieving, her sister followed as best she could along the bank of the river, which was carrying her swiftly downstream, and each time that the poor girl came to the surface she threw her a rope that she had brought with her for binding the sheaves; and although more than once the rope touched her hands, for she was still near the edge, the girl’s constancy and resolution were such that she always refused it and pushed it away; and so rejecting every aid that might have saved her life, very soon she met her death. Neither was she prompted by nobility of birth or fear of a crueller death still, nor by shame, but simply by grief for her lost virginity. So now from this you can realize how many unknown women there must be who perform truly memorable acts; for it was only the other day, so to speak, that this girl gave such a convincing proof of virtue; and yet no one speaks of her or even knows her name. Moreover, had it not been for the death at that time of the Duchess’s uncle, the Bishop of Mantua, the bank of the Oglio, at the spot where she threw herself in, would now be graced with a most beautiful monument, in memory of a glorious soul which deserved all the more resplendent fame after death for having inhabited the body of just an ordinary girl when alive.’

  Then, after he had paused for a moment, Cesare added:

  ‘A similar affair took place in Rome in my day: namely, there was a beautiful and noble Roman girl who was pursued for a long time by someone who showed a deep love for her but who would never reward him with as much as a glance, let alone anything else. As a result, by bribery her suitor corrupted one of her maids who, in order to get more money by doing what he wanted, persuaded her mistress, on some minor feast-day, to visit the church of San Sebastiano; and having told the lover everything and informed him what he should do, she led the girl to one of those dark caves which nearly all the visitors to San Sebastiano usually go to see. Meanwhile, the young man had secretly hidden himself there, and when he found himself alone with the girl he loved so much he began to implore her in every way, as gently as he could, to take pity on him and let her former coolness turn to love. But when he saw that all his entreaties were useless, he started to use threats; and then, seeing that this was hopeless too, he began to beat her roughly. He was utterly determined to get what he wanted, and by force if in no other way, and he even asked the help of the evil woman who had brought the girl there; but for all their efforts, she still obstinately refused him; and although her strength was failing, she kept protesting and struggling to defend herself. At length therefore, partly out of anger that he could not get what he wanted, and partly from fear lest perhaps her relations might come to hear of what had happened and make him pay the penalty, that wicked man, with the help of the maid, who shared his fears, suffocated the poor girl and left her there. The man took to flight and managed to escape; the maid, blinded by the crime, did not think to run off and soon gave herself away. So she was arrested, and confessed everything and was punished as she deserved. Then the body of that steadfast and noble girl was borne from the cave with the greatest honour; and then, wearing a laurel wreath on her head, she was taken for burial to Rome, accompanied by a great crowd of men and women, among whom there was no one who returned home without tears in his eyes. So that rare and noble soul was universally mourned and praised by all the people.

  ‘However, to speak about women you have known yourselves, do you not recall having heard how signora Felice della Rovere, on her way to Savona, feared that some sails that were sighted might be Pope Alexander’s ships in pursuit, and therefore calmly and deliberately made ready to throw herself into the sea if they should draw near and if there were no chance of escape? And it can scarcely be thought that she did this thoughtlessly, for you know as well as anyone that her singular beauty was matched by her intelligence and prudence.

  ‘And now I must say a word about our Duchess, who has lived with her husband for fifteen years like a widow, and who has not only steadfastly refused ever to tell this to anyone in the world but, after being urged by her own people to escape from this widowhood, chose rather to suffer exile, poverty and all kinds of hardship than to accept what seemed to everyone else a great favour and indulgence of Fortune.’

  Cesare was continuing to talk in this fashion, but the Duchess interrupted by saying:

  ‘Speak about something else and say no more about this subject, for you have a great deal to say about other things.’

  And Cesare added: ‘Well, I know that you will not deny me this, signor Gaspare, nor you, Frisio.’

  ‘No indeed,’ replied Frisio. ‘But one swallow doesn’t make a summer.’

  Then Cesare went on: ‘It is true that few women provide such examples as these; yet those who resist the assaults of love are truly admirable, and those who are sometimes overcome deserve all our compassion. For surely the inducements of lovers, the tricks they employ, the snares they spread, are so many and so unending that it is a great marvel if a tender young girl manages to escape them. Hardly a day or an hour passes but that the girl being pursued is urged by her lover with money and gifts and all those things that can be thought to give her pleasure. At no time can she even go to her window without seeing her obstinate lover pass by, with a silent tongue but eloquent eyes, with a downcast and languid expression, breathing passionate sighs and, often as not, shedding copious tears. If ever she leaves her home to go to church or elsewhere, he is always there to meet her, and at every street corner he accosts her, with his mournful passion depicted in his eyes as if he expects to expire there and then. And this is not to mention all the dressing up, the inventions, mottoes, devices, festivals, dances, games, masquerades, jousts and tournaments, all of which she knows are for her benefit! And then, she cannot wake up at night without hearing music, or at least the sighs and laments of that restless soul wandering around the house. Again, if she should happen to want to speak with one of her maids, the girl has already been bribed to produce a little gift, a sonnet or something of that sort, and hand it to her on behalf of her suitor; and seizing her opportunity she goes on to declare how the poor man is consumed by love, how he would sacrifice his life to serve her, that his motives are entirely honourable and that he wishes only to speak with her. All possible difficulties are met with the help of duplicate keys, rope-ladders and sleep-potions; the affair is made to seem really nothing to worry about; examples are given of many other women who do far worse: and in short, the path is made so smooth that all she need trouble to do is to say: “I agree.” And if the poor girl still resists, yet more inducements are offered, and countless other ways are found to break through the remaining obstacles by repeated assaults. There are also many who, when they see that their blandishments are of little use, turn to threats and say that they will lie about them to their husbands. Others bargain brazenly for what they want with fathers or husbands, who, for money or for favours, compel their own daughters or wives to surrender themselves against their will. Others seek to rob women of the free will given them by God by means of incantations and sorceries; and some astonishing things happen as a result. But I couldn’t begin, in a thousand years, to list the endless tricks men devise to make women do what they want. Indeed, apart from what every man discovers for himself, there has been no lack of clever writers to compose books in which they have applied their talents to teaching the ways in which women can be seduced. So how can our simple doves remain safe with so many snares around, all baited so sweetly to entice them? Is it so strange, therefore, that a woman should eventually be persuaded to love a
handsome, noble and well-mannered young man, who for many years has demonstrated to her his love and adoration, who risks his life a thousand times a day just to serve her, and thinks only of her pleasure, and who wears down her resistance just as water after a time wears away the hardest stone? Is it strange that conquered by this passion she yields to him what you allege, because of the weakness of her sex, she naturally desires far more than he? Is her lapse so grave that the poor creature, who has been snared by so many enticements, doesn’t at least deserve the mercy that is often shown even to murderers, thieves, assassins and traitors? Would you consider the sin so heinous that because some woman or another falls all women must be regarded as despicable and the female sex as impure, regardless of the fact that many of them never yield, and are as adamant against the endless temptations of love and as firm in their profound constancy as the rocks against the waves of the sea?’