The Book of the Courtier

by Baldassare Castiglione

  Count Lodovico then remarked with a smile: ‘I promise you that our sensible courtier will never act so stupidly to gain a woman’s favour.’

  Cesare Gonzaga replied: ‘Nor so stupidly as a gentleman I remember, of some repute, whom to spare men’s blushes I don’t wish to mention by name.’

  ‘Well, at least tell us what he did,’ said the Duchess.

  Then Cesare continued: ‘He was loved by a very great lady, and at her request he came secretly to the town where she was. After he had seen her and enjoyed her company for as long as she would let him in the time, he sighed and wept bitterly, to show the anguish he was suffering at having to leave her, and he begged her never to forget him; and then he added that she should pay for his lodging at the inn, since it was she who had sent for him and he thought it only right, therefore, that he shouldn’t be involved in any expense over the journey.’

  At this, all the ladies began to laugh and to say that the man concerned hardly deserved the name of gentleman; and many of the men felt as ashamed as he should have been, had he ever had the sense to recognize such disgraceful behaviour for what it was.

  Then signor Gaspare turned to Cesare and remarked: ‘You would have done better for the honour of women not to have told this story than to have refrained from giving his name to spare the men. For you can imagine what a fine judge was that great lady, to love such an idiotic beast. And perhaps, too, she chose this man as the most discreet out of all the many others who served her, and whom she rejected in favour of someone who wasn’t fit to lick their boots.’

  Count Lodovico laughed and replied: ‘Who knows if he wasn’t perfect in other things and behaved badly only when it was a question of paying the bill? However, men often do stupid things when they are head over heels in love; and if you were to be honest, you’d admit that you have perhaps often made mistakes yourself.’

  Cesare replied with a smile: ‘Good heavens, please spare us from revealing our own errors!’

  ‘But we must reveal them,’ added signor Gaspare, ‘so that we know how to correct them.’ And then he added:

  ‘And now, signor Magnifico, as the courtier has learnt how to gain and keep his lady’s favour, and how to deprive his rival of it, you should teach him how to keep his love affairs secret.’

  The Magnifico replied: ‘I think I have said quite enough. So choose someone else to speak about this.’

  Then Bernardo and all the others began to insist that he should continue, and the Magnifico laughed and added:

  ‘You want to tempt me; you are all only too well instructed in love. However, if you want to know still more, go and read your Ovid.’27

  ‘But how can I rely on his advice in love,’ said Bernardo, ‘since he recommends as a good thing that a man should pretend to be drunk in the presence of his beloved? What a fine way of winning her favour that is! And then he suggests that if one is at a banquet a splendid way of letting one’s lady know one loves her is to dip a finger in the wine and write it on the table.’

  The Magnifico replied with a smile: ‘Well, in those days there was nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘Well,’ said Bernardo, ‘if such sordid behaviour was not displeasing to the men of that time one must believe that the way they served their ladies was far less refined than ours. However, let us not stray from our first purpose, which was how to keep our love affairs secret.’

  Then the Magnifico began: ‘In my view, to keep a love affair secret one must avoid the things that cause it to become known; and although there are many of them, one of them stands out, namely, the desire to be too secretive, and not to trust anyone. For every lover wants to let his beloved know what he is suffering; but if he has to rely on himself he has to make many more and stronger demonstrations than if assisted by some loyal and loving friend. Then the demonstrations of affection made by the lover himself arouse far more suspicion than those made through intermediaries; and since people are naturally inquisitive, as soon as some stranger begins to suspect something he at once works diligently to find out the truth, and when he has discovered it he doesn’t scruple to tell the world; on the contrary, quite often he is delighted to do so. This is not the case with a friend; indeed, a friend not only helps the lover with sympathy and advice but often repairs the errors into which he stumbles, always ensures secrecy and looks after many things that the lover cannot. Moreover, it is a welcome relief for the lover to be able to unburden himself by telling his sorrows to a faithful friend, just as it augments his joy when he can share it with someone else.’

  Then signor Gaspare remarked: ‘There is something else which is far more important in bringing a love affair to light.’

  ‘And what is that?’ asked the Magnifico.

  ‘The vain ambition of women, along with their folly and cruelty,’ added signor Gaspare. ‘As you yourself have said, they strive as hard as they can to win a great number of lovers, and if they could they would burn them all to ashes, only to bring them back from death to die a second time. Even if they are in love themselves, they enjoy the torments of their lover, because they consider that grief, affliction and the constant wish for death are the most convincing proofs that they are loved in turn, that their beauty can make men miserable as well as happy, and that they can give them life or death as they please. So they feed on this kind of satisfaction, for which they are so greedy that in order not to go without it they neither give their lovers what they want nor make them utterly despair. Rather, in order to keep them in a continual state of anxiety and desire, they adopt a certain haughty and disdainful attitude, and mingle threats with promises, and they like their slightest word or look or gesture to be received with rapture. Then they wish to be thought modest and chaste, not only by their lovers but also by everyone else, and so they make sure that their harsh and discourteous ways are well known to all, so that everyone may think that as they treat worthy men so badly they must treat those who are unworthy of love still worse. And then, convinced that this strategy has made their good name secure, they very often lie every night with the commonest of men, whom they hardly know; and so in this way simply in order to enjoy the misfortunes and endless laments of some noble gentleman, whom they love, they deny themselves pleasures that they might be excused for enjoying. And so they are the reason why, in utter despair, the wretched lover makes known to all what ought to be carefully and painstakingly concealed. There are some other women who, if they can trick a number of men into believing they are loved by them, will then stir up jealousies among them by showing favour and affection to one in the presence of another; and if they see that the one they most love has grown confident because of the signs he has been given, they often make use of ambiguous remarks and counterfeit anger to raise doubts in his mind; and then they break his heart by pretending that they do not care for him and want to give themselves completely to someone else. And this provokes hatred and enmity, endless scandal and plain disaster, because in such cases a lover is bound to give vent to the anguish he feels, even though this brings the woman concerned into shame and disrepute. Still other women, not content solely with tormenting men through jealousy, after their lover has given every proof of his love and faithful devotion, and they have responded with some affectionate demonstration of their own disposition, for no reason at all, and when this is least expected, grow aloof and suggest they believe that this ardour has cooled; and so pretending to fear they are not really loved, they make it plain that they want nothing more to do with him. So then, because of these setbacks, the wretched fellow has to start again at the beginning, and demonstrate his attachment as if he were only just starting to serve her. So every day he has to walk about her neighbourhood, and when the lady leaves home he must follow her to church or wherever she goes, and never turn his eyes anywhere else. Then he has to experience tears and sighs and fits of ill humour all over again, and, when he does have the chance to speak with her, entreaties and blasphemies, moods of despair and all the ragings to which unhappy lovers are r
educed by those wild beasts who are more bloodthirsty even than tigers.

  ‘These piteous displays are all too evident and well known, and often more by others than by the lovers who are responsible for them; and so in this way within the space of a few days they are so much observed that a step cannot be taken nor the least sign given without its being noted by a thousand eyes. The result is that long before they come to taste the joys of love, everyone supposes and concludes that they have done so; for when a woman sees that her lover is near to death, and that overwhelmed by the cruelty and torments inflicted on him he is utterly determined to abandon the affair, then she begins to show that she loves him with all her heart, to grant him all his wishes and to give herself to him; and this is because, now his ardent longings have abated, the fruits of love are less sweet to him and she is less constrained to do everything to the contrary. And then, since their love is known to all, the consequences that flow from it are now also well known; and so the woman is dishonoured and the lover finds he has wasted time and effort and worried his life away without gaining any pleasure or advantage. For he attains his desires not when they would have been so gratifying as to make him supremely happy but when he cares little or nothing about them, because his heart has been so mortified by his bitter sufferings that he has no feeling left to appreciate the joys and pleasures he is offered.’

  At this, signor Ottaviano said with a laugh: ‘You held your peace for a while and refrained from criticizing women; and now you have dealt with them so sharply that it seems as if you were resting to regain your strength, like those who draw back to make a more powerful assault. But truly you are in the wrong, and now you should be more conciliatory.’

  Signora Emilia laughed and turned to the Duchess to say: ‘Just see, madam, how our enemies are beginning to disagree and quarrel among themselves.’

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ said signor Ottaviano, ‘because I am not your enemy. And this dispute has greatly displeased me, not because I am sorry to see the women gain a victory but because it has tempted signor Gaspare to slander them more than he should, and the Magnifico and Cesare to praise them perhaps rather more than their due. Moreover, because of the time taken by this discussion we have missed hearing the many other splendid things still to be said with regard to the courtier.’

  ‘There!’ exclaimed signora Emilia. ‘You are still an enemy of ours. That is why the discussion we have had displeases you and you would not have wished us to fashion so excellent a lady. And this is not because there was anything to add with regard to the courtier, seeing that these gentlemen have already said as much as they knew, and neither you nor anyone else, I think, could add to it, but because you begrudge women their good name.’

  ‘It really is true,’ retorted signor Ottaviano, ‘that in addition to what has been said already I should like to hear much more about the courtier. Still, since everyone is happy with him as he is, I am also satisfied with him; nor would I change anything about him, except perhaps to make him rather more friendly to women than signor Gaspare is, though perhaps not to the extent that some of these gentlemen are.’

  Then the Duchess remarked: ‘By all means let us see if you have the talent to endow the courtier with greater perfection than these gentlemen have given him. So be good enough to say what is in your mind, or otherwise we shall suppose that you too do not know how to add anything to what has been said, and that you have merely wanted to detract from the praises of the Court lady, when it seemed to you that she was the equal of the courtier, whom you wish to be thought, therefore, capable of far more perfection than these gentlemen have given him.’

  Signor Ottaviano laughed and replied: ‘The way women have been praised and blamed beyond their deserts has so occupied the minds and ears of all of us that there is no room left for anything else. In any case, I think the hour is now very late.’

  ‘Then,’ said the Duchess, ‘we shall have more time if we wait till tomorrow. And in the meantime the memory of the exaggerated praise and blame which you say have been given to women from both sides will have disappeared from the minds of these gentlemen, and therefore they will be better attuned to the truths you are going to tell them.’

  And so saying, the Duchess rose to her feet, dismissed everyone with great courtesy and withdrew to her bedroom. And everyone went off to sleep.

  THE FOURTH

  BOOK OF THE COURTIER

  TO ALFONSO ARIOSTO

  AS I prepare to record the discussions held on the fourth evening, following those described in the preceding books, there is one bitter thought among my reflections that assails me with its reminder of human wretchedness and hopelessness and of how when we are midway in our course, or even nearing the end, Fortune frustrates our weak and feeble plans, sometimes wrecking them even before we sight harbour. For I recall that not long after these discussions took place, untimely death deprived our household of three of its finest gentlemen, while they were still in the prime of life and hopeful of honour. Of these, the first was signor Gaspare Pallavicino who, after he had been ravaged by sickness and more than once brought to death’s door, though for a time his resilience kept body and soul together, in his early manhood came to the end of his life: a truly great loss, not only for our Court and all his friends and relations but also for his native land and the whole of Lombardy. Then, not long afterwards, Cesare Gonzaga died; and his death left sad and bitter memories with all those who knew him. For as Nature so rarely produces men of his quality, it seemed outrageous that she should have deprived us of him so soon; because it is undeniable that Cesare was taken away from us just when he was beginning to fulfil his early promise and to win for his outstanding qualities the respect they deserved. By many admirable deeds he had given full proof of his worth, which was brilliantly demonstrated not only in his noble birth but also in his gifts as a writer and a soldier and in so many other commendable ways. His goodness, talent, courage and knowledge were such that there was nothing so great that it might not have been expected of him. A little later, and Roberto da Bari also met his death, to the great sorrow of the whole Court; for everyone rightly grieved over the death of a handsome young man of pleasing manner and faultless behaviour, whose unusually attractive disposition was matched by his robust and manly appearance.

  Had these men lived they would, I believe, have achieved such distinction as to demonstrate plainly to all who knew them how praiseworthy was the Court of Urbino and how adorned it was with noble gentlemen, as indeed have nearly all those who were formed there. Indeed, from the Trojan horse there did not come forth so many lords and captains as from this Court have come men of outstanding merit, held in universal esteem. For, as you know, Federico Fregoso was made Archbishop of Salerno; Count Lodovico, Bishop of Bayeux; signor Ottaviano, Doge of Genoa; Bernardo Bibbiena, Cardinal of Santa Maria in Portico; Pietro Bembo, secretary to Pope Leo. The Magnifico rose to the dukedom of Nemours and to his present eminence. Signor Francesco Maria della Rovere, Prefect of Rome, was made also Duke of Urbino; although the della Rovere Court where he was brought up deserves praise not so much for that as for having produced so rare, outstanding and talented a ruler as the kind he now shows himself to be. And I believe that no small reason for this was the noble company he kept at Urbino, where every day he always saw and heard behaviour above reproach. But it seems to me that the cause, whether it is through chance or the favour of the stars, that has for so long given outstanding rulers to Urbino still endures and produces the same results; and it is to be hoped that good fortune should so continue to foster these brilliant achievements that, far from failing, the happiness of the Court and of the state will rather increase swiftly from day to day. Of these, we have already been given many splendid indications, the chief of which I consider to be the fact that heaven has graciously sent us such a lady as Eleanora Gonzaga,1 the new Duchess. For if ever there were joined together in a single person understanding, grace, beauty, intelligence, refinement, humanity and every other gracious quality,
they are in her; and these qualities are so linked that they form a whole that sustains and informs her every act. So let us continue with our discussions of the courtier, in the hope that in the future there will be no lack of those who find in the present Court of Urbino models of virtue and talent as distinguished and honourable as we are now finding in the past.

  It happened then, as signor Gaspare Pallavicino used to tell, that the day following the discussions contained in the preceding Book, little was seen of signor Ottaviano; because of this, many concluded that he had retired in order to avoid distraction and give serious thought to what he had to say. So when the company gathered at the usual time in the presence of the Duchess, a search had to be made for him, and he appeared on the scene only after some lapse of time; and so in the meanwhile many of the lords and ladies of the Court began to dance and to amuse themselves in various other ways, believing that for that evening the discussion about the courtier would not continue. In fact, all of them were occupied in one way or another when signor Ottaviano arrived, though he was no longer expected. Seeing that Cesare Gonzaga and signor Gaspare were dancing, after he had greeted the Duchess, signor Ottaviano then said with a smile: