The Book of the Courtier, by Count Baldesar Castiglione

LEONARDO DA VINCI
“...ONE OF THE FIRST PAINTERS OF THE WORLD...”
1452-1519

Reduced from Braun’s photograph (no. 79.207) of Leonardo’s drawing in the Royal Library at Windsor. For an account of this and other less authentic portraits, see Müntz’s life of Leonardo da Vinci (London: 1898), ii, 225 et seq.

39.—“That,” said Calmeta, “is not what Nicoletto ^[180] would have done, who was a very excellent philosopher but knew no more about law than about flying. When a Podestà ^[181] of Padua had decided to give him a lectureship in law, he was never willing (although urged thereto by many scholars) to undeceive the Podestà and confess his ignorance,—always saying that he did not agree with the opinion of Socrates in this matter, and that it was not seemly for a philosopher ever to say that he was ignorant of anything.”

“I do not say that of his own notion and unasked by others, the Courtier should volunteer to tell his ignorance; for I too dislike this folly of self-accusal and depreciation. And therefore I sometimes inwardly laugh at certain men, who needlessly and of their own accord narrate things that perhaps occurred without their fault but yet imply a shade of disgrace; like a cavalier whom you all know, and who, whenever he heard mention made of the battle that was fought against King Charles in the Parmesan,^[182] at once began to tell the manner of his flight, nor seemed to have seen or heard aught else that day; again, speaking of a certain famous joust, he always described how he had fallen, and in his conversation he often seemed to seek an opportunity to tell how he had received a sound cudgelling one night as he was on his way to meet a lady.

“I would not have our Courtier tell such follies. It seems to me, however, that when occasion offers for displaying himself in something of which he is quite ignorant, he ought to avoid it; and if compelled by necessity, he ought to confess his ignorance frankly rather than put himself to that risk. And in this way he will escape the censure that many nowadays deserve, who from some perverse instinct or unreasonable design always set themselves to do that which they do not know, and forsake that which they do know. And as an instance of this, I know a very excellent musician, who, having abandoned music, gave himself up wholly to composing verses, and thinks himself very great therein, and makes all men laugh at him; and now he has lost even his music.

“Another man, one of the first painters of the world, despises the art wherein he is most rare, and has set himself to study philosophy; in which he has such strange conceptions and new chimeras, that he could not with all his painter’s art depict them.^[183] And of such as these, a countless number could be found.

“Some indeed there are who know they excel in one thing and yet make their chief business of another, of which they are not ignorant either; but every time they have occasion to display themselves in that wherein they feel themselves proficient, they do it gallantly. And it sometimes comes to pass that the company, seeing them do well in that which is not their profession, think they can do far better in that which they make their profession. This art, if it be accompanied by good judgment, is by no means unpleasing to me.”

“This seems to me not art but mere deceit; nor do I think it fitting for him who would be a man of honour, ever to deceive.”

“It is an embellishment, which graces what he does,” said messer Federico, “rather than deceit; and even if it be deceit, it is not to be censured. Will you not also say that of two men fencing, the one who touches the other, deceives him? And this is because the one has more art than the other. And if you have a jewel that is beautiful without setting, and it afterwards comes into the hands of a good goldsmith, who by skilful setting makes it look far more beautiful, will you not say that this goldsmith deceives the eyes of anyone who sees it? And yet he deserves praise for his deceit, for with good judgment and art his master hand often adds grace and beauty to ivory or silver, or to a beautiful stone by encircling it with fine gold. Therefore let us not say that art,—or such deceit as this, if you will call it so,—deserves any censure.

“Nor is it unseemly for a man who is conscious of doing something well, dexterously to seek occasion for showing himself therein, and at the same time to conceal what he thinks undeserving of praise,—but always with a touch of wary dissimulation. Do you not remember that without appearing to seek them, King Ferdinand^[32] found opportunities now and then to go about in his doublet? and this because he felt himself to be very agile; and that, as his hands were not over good, he rarely or almost never took off his gloves? And there were very few that perceived his cunning. Moreover I think I have read that Julius Cæsar liked to wear the laurel wreath to hide his baldness.^[184] But in all these matters it is needful to be very cautious and to use good judgment, in order not to go beyond bounds; for in avoiding one errour a man often runs into another, and in his wish to win praise, receives censure.

41.—“Hence in our mode of life and conversation, it is a very safe thing to govern ourselves with a certain decorous discretion, which in truth is a very great and very strong shield against envy, which we ought to avoid as much as possible. Moreover I wish our Courtier to guard against getting the name of a liar or a boaster, which sometimes befalls even those who do not deserve it. Therefore in his talk let him always take care not to go beyond the probable, and also not to tell too often those truths that have the look of falsehood,^[185]—like many who never speak save of miracles, and wish to carry such authority that every incredible thing shall be believed from them. Others, at the beginning of a friendship and in order to gain favour with their new friend, swear the first day they speak with him that there is no one in the world whom they love more than him, and that they would gladly die to do him service, and like things beyond reason. And when they part from him, they pretend to weep and to be unable to speak a word from grief. Thus, in their wish to be thought very loving, they come to be esteemed liars and silly flatterers.

“But it would be too long and tedious to recount all the faults that may be committed in our manner of conversation. Hence as regards what I desire in the Courtier, let it suffice to say, besides the things already said, that he should be of such sort as never to be without something to say that is good and well suited to those with whom he is speaking, and that he should know how to refresh the minds of his hearers with a certain sweetness, and by his amusing witticisms and pleasantries to move them cleverly to mirth and laughter, so that without ever becoming tedious or producing satiety, he may give pleasure continually.

“So I say that in the first kind, which is humourous narrative, there is no need of any art, because nature herself creates and fashions men fitted to narrate amusingly, and gives them features, gestures, voice and words proper to imitate what they will. In the other kind, that of arguzie, what can art avail? For whatever it be, a pungent saying must dart forth and hit the mark before he who utters it shall seem to have given it a thought; otherwise it is flat and has no savour. Therefore I think it is all the work of intellect and nature.”

“My lord Prefect does not deny what you say, that nature and intellect play the chief part, especially as regards conception. Still it is certain that every man’s mind, however fine his intellect may be, conceives both good things and bad, and more or less; yet judgment and art then polish and correct them, and cull out the good and reject the bad. So lay aside what pertains to intellect, and explain to us what consists in art; that is, of the pleasantries and witticisms that excite laughter, tell us what are befitting the Courtier and what are not, and in what time and way they should be used; for this is what my lord Prefect asks of you.”

“There is no one of us here to whom I do not yield in everything, and especially in being jocular; unless perhaps nonsense, which often makes others laugh more than bright sayings, be also counted as pleasantry.” And then turning to Count Ludovico and to messer Bernardo Bibbiena, he said: “Here are the masters of witticism, from whom I must first learn what to say if I am to speak of jocose sayings.”^[187]

“Methinks you are already beginning to practise what you say you know nothing of, I mean in that you try to make these gentlemen laugh by ridiculing messer Bernardo and me; for every one of them knows you far excel us in that for which you praise us. If you are fatigued, then, you had better beg my lady Duchess to postpone the rest of our talk until to-morrow, instead of trying to escape fatigue by subterfuge.”

Messer Federico began to make answer, but my lady Emilia quickly interrupted him and said:

“It is not in order for the discussion to spend itself in your praises; it is enough that you are all well known. But as I remember, Sir Count, that you accused me last evening of not distributing the labour equally, it were well to let messer Federico rest awhile, and to give messer Bernardo Bibbiena the task of speaking about pleasantries, because we not only know him to be very amusing in continuous talk, but we remember that he has several times promised us to try to write upon this subject, and hence we may believe that he has already thought much about it, and therefore ought to satisfy us fully. Afterwards, when we have finished discussing pleasantries, messer Federico shall go on with what he has left to say about the Courtier.”

“My Lady, I do not know what I have left to say; but like the wayfarer at noon, weary with the fatigue of his long journey, I will refresh myself with messer Bernardo’s talk and the sound of his words, as if under some delightful and shady tree, with the soft murmur of a plashing spring. Then perhaps, being revived a little, I shall be able to say something more.”

“If I show you my head, you shall see what shade is to be expected from the leafage of my tree.^[188] As for listening to the murmur of that plashing spring, perhaps you may; for I was once turned into a spring, not by any of the ancient gods but by our friend Fra Mariano,^[60] and I have never stood in need of water from then till now.”

Then everyone began to laugh, for this pleasantry referred to by messer Bernardo happened at Rome in the presence of Cardinal Galeotto of San Pietro ad Vincula,^[189] and was well known to all.

“Now stop making us laugh by your use of pleasantries, and teach us how we are to use them, and from what they are derived, and all you know about the subject. And to lose no more time, begin at once.”

BERNARDO DOVIZI DA BIBBIENA
1470-1520

Reduced from Braun’s photograph (no. 42.158) of the portrait, in the Pitti Gallery at Florence, long attributed to Raphael (1483-1520), but regarded by Morelli as the work of a pupil.

“I fear,” said messer Bernardo, “that the hour is late; and to the end that my talk about pleasantries may not itself lack pleasantry and be tedious, perhaps it will be well to postpone it until to-morrow.”

Here many replied together that it was still far from the usual hour for ending the discussion. Then, turning to my lady Duchess and to my lady Emilia, messer Bernardo said:

“I do not wish to escape this task; although, just as I am wont to marvel at the presumption of those who venture to sing to the viol before our friend Giacomo Sansecondo,^[190] so I ought not to talk about pleasantries before an audience who understand what I should say far better than I.

“However, not to give any of these gentlemen a pretext for refusing the charge that may be laid upon them, I will tell as briefly as I can what occurs to me concerning the causes that excite laughter; which is so peculiar to us that in defining man we are wont to say that he is a laughing animal. For laughter is found only among men, and is nearly always the sign of a certain hilarity felt inwardly in the mind, which is by nature drawn towards amusement and longs for repose and recreation; wherefore we see many things devised by men to this end, such as festivals and different kinds of shows. And since we love those who furnish us this recreation, it was the custom of ancient rulers (Roman, Athenian and many others), in order to gain the people’s good will and to feast the eyes and minds of the multitude, to erect great theatres and other public edifices, and therein to exhibit new sports, horse and chariot races, combats, strange beasts, comedies, tragedies and mimes. Nor were such shows eschewed by grave philosophers, who in sports of this kind and banquets often relaxed their minds when fatigued by lofty discourse and spiritual meditation; which thing all kinds of men also like to do: for not only toilers in the field, sailors, and all those who perform hard and rough labour with their hands, but holy priests, and prisoners awaiting death from hour to hour, all seek continually some remedy and solace for their refreshment. Hence everything that moves to laughter, cheers the mind and gives pleasure, and for the moment frees us from the memory of those weary troubles of which our life is full. So laughter, as you see, is very delightful to all, and greatly to be praised is he who excites it reasonably and in a graceful way.

“But what laughter is, and where it abides, and how it sometimes seizes upon our veins, eyes, mouths and sides, and seems as if it would make us burst, so that with all our effort it cannot be restrained,—I will leave Democritus to tell, who could not even if he were to promise.^[191]

46.—“Now the occasion and as it were the source from which the laughable springs, lies in a kind of distortion; for we laugh only at those things that have incongruity in them and that seem amiss without being so. I know not how to explain it otherwise; but if you think of it yourselves, you will see that what we laugh at is nearly always something that is incongruous and yet is not amiss.

“Next I will try to tell you, as far as my judgment shall show me, what the means are that the Courtier ought to use for the purpose of exciting laughter, and within what bounds; because it is not seemly for the Courtier to be always making men laugh, nor yet by those means that are made use of by fools or drunken men, by the silly, the nonsensical, and likewise by buffoons. And although these kinds of men seem to be in demand at courts, yet they deserve not to be called Courtiers, but each by his own name, and to be held for what they are.

“Moreover we must diligently consider the bounds and limits of exciting laughter by derision, and who it is we deride; for laughter is not aroused by jeering at a poor unfortunate nor yet at an open rascal and blackguard, because the latter seems to merit greater punishment than that of being ridiculed, and the mind of man is not prone to flout the wretched, unless they boast of their wretchedness and are proud and saucy. We ought also to treat with respect those who are universal favourites and beloved by all and powerful, for by jeering at these persons a man may sometimes bring dangerous enmities upon himself. Yet it is proper to flout and laugh at the vices of those who are neither so wretched as to excite pity, nor so wicked as to seem worthy of capital punishment, nor so great that a touch of their wrath can do much harm.

47.—“Again, you must know that from the same occasion whence we draw our laughable witticisms, we may likewise draw serious phrases of praise or censure, and sometimes by using the same words. Thus in praising a generous man who shares all he has with his friends, we are wont to say that what he has is not his own; the same may be said in censuring a man who has stolen or by other evil means acquired what he possesses. Also we say, ‘That lady is of great price,’ meaning to praise her for discretion and goodness; the same thing might be said in dispraise of her, implying that anyone may have her.

“But for this purpose we have a chance to use the same situations oftener than the same words. Thus recently a lady being at mass in church with three cavaliers, one of whom served her in love,^[192] a poor beggar came up and taking his stand before the lady began to beg alms of her; and he repeated his petition several times to her with much importunity and pitiful groaning; yet for all that she gave him no alms, nor still did she refuse it to him with a sign to go in peace, but continued to stand abstracted as if she were thinking of something else. Then the cavalier in love said to his two companions:

“‘You see what I have to expect from my lady, who is so hard-hearted that she not only gives no alms to that naked starving wretch who is begging it of her so eagerly and often, but she will not even send him away. So much does she delight to see a man languishing in misery before her and vainly imploring her pity.’

“‘This is not hardness of heart, but a silent lesson from the lady to teach you that she is never pleased with an importunate suitor.’

“‘Nay, it is a warning to him that while she never grants what is asked of her, still she likes to be entreated for it.’

“You see how the lady’s failure to send the poor man away, gave rise to one saying of grave censure, one of moderate praise, and another of biting satire.

48.—“Proceeding now to declare the kinds of pleasantries that are pertinent to our subject, I say that in my opinion there are three varieties, although messer Federico mentioned only two: namely, that which consists in rendering the effect of a thing by means of urbane and amusing long narrative, and that which consists in the swift and keen readiness of a single phrase. But we will add a third sort called practical joking, in which long narratives and short sayings have place, and also some action.

“Now the first, which consists in continuous talk, is of such sort as almost to amount to story-telling. And to give you an instance: just at the time when Pope Alexander the Sixth died and Pius the Third was created pope,^[193] your fellow Mantuan, my lady Duchess, messer Antonio Agnello,^[194] being at Rome and in the palace, happened to speak of the death of the one pope and of the other’s creation, and in discussing this with some of his friends, he said:

“‘My Lords, even in the days of Catullus ^[195] doors began to speak without a tongue and to listen without ears, and thus to reveal adulteries. Now, although men are not of such worth as they were in those times, it may be that the doors (many of which are made of antique marbles, at least here in Rome) have the same powers that they then had; and for my part I believe that these two here could clear away all our doubts if we cared to learn from them.’

“Then the gentlemen present were very curious, and waited to see how the affair was going to end. Whereupon messer Antonio, continuing to walk up and down, raised his eyes as if by chance to one of the two doors of the hall in which they were strolling, stopped a moment, and pointed out to his companions the inscription over it, which was the name of Pope Alexander, followed by a V and an I, signifying Sixth as you know; and he said:

“‘See what the door says: Alessandro Papa vi, which means that he became pope by the violence that he used, and that he accomplished more by violence than by reason. Now let us see if from the other we can learn anything about the new pope.’ And turning to the other door as if by accident, he showed the inscription, N PP V, which signified Nicolaus Papa Quintus;^[196] and he at once said: ‘Alas, bad news; this one says, Nihil Papa Valet.’

POPE ALEXANDER VI
RODERIGO LENZUOLI (BORGIA)
1431-1503

Reduced from Alinari’s photograph (no. 17412) of a part of the fresco, “The Resurrection,” in the Borgian Apartments in the Vatican, by Bernardino di Betto di Biagio, better known as Pinturicchio, (1454-1513).

49.—“Now you see how elegant and admirable this kind of pleasantry is, and how becoming to a Courtier, whether the thing that is said be true or not; because in such a case it is allowable for a man to fabricate as much as he pleases, without blame; and in speaking the truth, to adorn it with a little falsity, overstating or understating as the occasion requires. But in these matters perfect grace and true cleverness consist in picturing forth what we wish to say, with both word and gesture, so well and with such ease that they who hear may seem to see before their eyes the thing we tell them. And this graphic method is so effective that it sometimes adorns and makes highly amusing a thing that in itself is neither very jocular nor clever.

“And although this kind of narrative requires gesture and the aid of the speaking voice, its quality is sometimes found in written compositions also. Who does not laugh, when, in the Eighth Day of his Decameron,^[197] Giovanni Boccaccio tells how the priest of Varlungo tried to chant a Kyrie and a Sanctus on discovering that his Belcolore was in the church. There are amusing narratives also in his stories of Calandrino,^[198] and in many others. Of the same sort seems to be the raising of a laugh by mimicry or imitation, as we say,—wherein I have thus far seen no one more admirable than our friend messer Roberto da Bari.”^[48]

50.—“This would be no small praise,” said messer Roberto, “if it were true; because I should of course try to imitate the good rather than the bad, and if I could make myself like some men I know, I should deem myself very fortunate. I fear, however, that I know how to imitate only those things which excite laughter, and which you just now said consist essentially in the imperfect.”

“Imperfect, yes; but not unpleasantly so. And you must know that this imitation of which we are speaking, cannot be without cleverness; for besides the way of governing words and gestures and setting before our hearers’ eyes the face and manners of the man we are speaking of, we must needs be discreet, and pay great heed to the place and time, and to the persons with whom we are speaking, and not descend to buffoonery or go beyond bounds;—which rules you observe admirably and therefore know them all, I think. For in truth it would little befit a gentleman to make faces, to weep and laugh, and mimic voices, to wrestle with himself as Berto^[65] does, or dress like a clown before everyone, like Strascino,^[199]—and things of that kind, which are very fitting in those men because it is their profession.

“But for us it is needful to give only a fleeting and covert imitation, always preserving the dignity of a gentleman, without uttering foul words or performing acts that are less than seemly, without contorting the face or person beyond measure; but to order our movements in such fashion that whoever hears and sees us may from our words and gestures imagine far more than what he sees and hears, and so be moved to laughter.

“Moreover in our imitation we ought to avoid too stinging jibes, especially at deformities of face or person; for while bodily defects often furnish excellent material for laughter to a man who uses them with discretion, yet to employ this method too bitterly is the act not only of a buffoon but of an enemy. So, although it be difficult, in this regard we must, as I have said, keep to the manner of our friend messer Roberto, who mimics all men and not without marking their defects sharply even to their face, and yet no one is annoyed or seems to take it amiss. And I will give no instance of this, because in him we see countless examples of it every day.

51.—“Another thing excites much laughter, although it is included under the head of narration; and that is to describe gracefully certain defects of others,—unimportant ones however and undeserving greater punishment, such as follies, sometimes mere absurdities or sometimes accompanied by a quick and pungent dash of liveliness; likewise certain extreme affectations; sometimes a huge and well-constructed lie. As when, a few days since, our friend Cesare told of a delightful absurdity, which was that finding himself before the Podestà of this place,^[200] he saw a peasant come in to complain of being robbed of a donkey. The fellow told of his poverty and of the trick played upon him by the thief, and then, to make out his loss the heavier, he said: ‘Masters, if you had seen my donkey, you would have better understood how much cause I have to grieve; for when he had his pack on, he looked like a very Tullius.’^[201]

ERCOLE D’ESTE
DUKE OF FERRARA
1431-1505

Reduced from a photograph, specially made by Mansell, of an anonymous bas-relief in the South Kensington Museum,—possibly the work of Sperandio di Bartolommeo de’ Savelli (1425?-1500?).

“And one of our friends, meeting a flock of goats with a great he-goat at their head, stopped and said with a look of admiration: ‘See what a he-goat! He looks like a Saint Paul.’^[202]

“My lord Gaspar tells of having known an old servant of Duke Ercole of Ferrara,^[203] who offered the duke his two sons as pages; but before they could begin their service, both the boys died. When the duke heard this, he condoled with the father kindly, saying that he was very sorry, for the only time when he had seen them, they had seemed to him very pretty and gentle boys. The father replied: ‘My Lord, you saw nothing; for within the last few days they had grown far handsomer and more virtuous than I could possibly have believed, and already they sang together like two sparrow-hawks.’

“And not long since one of our doctors stood looking at a man who had been condemned to be flogged about the piazza, and taking pity on him, because (although his shoulders were bleeding freely) the poor wretch walked as slowly as if he had been out for a stroll to pass the time, the doctor said to him: ‘Step out, poor fellow, and make haste to be done with your pain.’ Whereat the goodman turned, and gazing at the doctor as if amazed, he stood awhile without speaking, and then said: ‘When you come to be flogged, you will go your own gait; so I choose to go mine now.’

“You surely must still remember that absurd story which my lord Duke^[2] lately told of a certain abbot, who, being present one day when Duke Federico^[26] was discussing what to do with the great mass of earth that had been excavated to lay the foundations of this palace, which was then building, said: ‘My Lord, I have thought of an excellent place to put it. Give orders to have an immense pit made, and it can be put in without further difficulty.’ Duke Federico replied, not without laughter: ‘And where shall we put the earth to be dug out of this pit of yours?’ The abbot continued: ‘Have it made large enough to hold both.’ And so, for all the duke repeated several times that the larger the pit was made, the more earth would be dug out of it, the man could never get it into his brain that it could not be made large enough to hold both, and kept replying: ‘Make it so much the larger.’ Now you see what good judgment this abbot had.”

“And why do you not tell the story of your friend the Florentine commander who was besieged in Castellina ^[204] by the Duke of Calabria? Finding one day some poisoned crossbow missiles that had been shot in from the camp, he wrote to the duke that if the warfare was to be carried on so barbarously, he too would have medicine put on his cannon shot, and then woe to the one who had the worst of it.”^[205]

“Messer Pietro, if you do not hold your peace, I will tell all the things I have seen and heard about your dear Venetians (which are not few), and especially when they try to play the horseman.”

“Do not so, I beg of you,” replied messer Pietro, “and I will keep quiet about two other delightful tales that I know of the Florentines.”^[206]

“They must have rather been Sienese, who often slip in this way; as was recently the case with one, who, on hearing some letters read in council wherein the phrase ‘the aforesaid’ was used (to avoid such frequent repetition of the name of the man who was spoken of), said to the man who was reading: ‘Stop there a moment and tell me, is this Aforesaid a friend to our commune?’”

“Speak out freely then,” added my lady Emilia, “and do not stand so much on ceremony.”

“When the Florentine Signory was waging war against the Pisans,^[207] they sometimes found their money exhausted by their great expenses; and the method of finding money for daily needs being discussed in council one day, after many ways had been proposed, one of the oldest citizens said: ‘I have thought of two methods whereby we could soon get a goodly sum of money without much trouble. And one of these is, that since we have no revenue greater than from the customs levied at the gates of Florence, and since we have eleven gates, let us at once have eleven more made, and thus we shall double our revenue. The other method is to give orders that the mints be forthwith opened in Pistoia and Prato,^[208] just the same as in Florence, and that nothing be done there day and night but mint money, and that all the money be ducats of gold; and in my judgment this course is the quicker and the less costly.’”

53.—There was much laughter at this citizen’s keen sagacity: and the laughter being quieted, my lady Emilia said:

“Messer Bernardo, will you allow messer Pietro to ridicule the Florentines in this fashion, without returning blow for blow?”

“I forgive him this affront,” replied messer Bernardo, still laughing, “for if he has displeased me by ridiculing the Florentines, he has pleased me by obeying you, as I also would always do.”

“I heard a delightful blunder made by a Brescian who had been at Venice this year for the feast of the Ascension, and in my presence was describing to some of his companions the fine things that he had seen there; and how much merchandise there was, and how much silverware, spices, cloth and stuffs; then the Signory went forth with great pomp to wed the sea in the Bucentaur,^[209] on board of which there were so many finely dressed gentlemen, so much music and singing, that it seemed a paradise. And on being asked by one of his companions which kind of music he liked best among those that he had heard, he said: ‘They all were good; but among the rest I saw a man playing on a certain strange trumpet, which he thrust down his throat more than two palms at every flourish, and then he straightway drew it out and thrust it down again; so that you never saw a greater marvel.’”

Then everyone laughed, perceiving the silly mistake of the man, who had imagined that the player thrust down his throat that part of the trombone which disappears by sliding into itself.

“Moreover common affectations are tedious, but they excite much laughter when they are beyond measure: like those we sometimes hear from certain mouths regarding greatness or courage or nobility; or sometimes from women, regarding beauty or fastidiousness. As was not long since the case with a lady who remained sad and abstracted at some great festival; and when asked what she was thinking about that should make her so gloomy, she replied: ‘I was thinking of a matter that troubles me greatly whenever it occurs to me, nor can I lift it from my heart; and this is, that on the universal Judgment Day, when all men’s naked bodies must rise and appear before the tribunal of Christ, I cannot endure the distress I feel at the thought that my body will have to be seen unclothed among the rest.’ Being extravagant, such affectations as these cause laughter rather than tedium.

“You all are familiar with those splendid lies so well composed that they move to laughter. A very excellent one was but lately told me by a friend of ours who never suffers us to be without them.”

“Be that as it may, it cannot be more excellent or more ingenious than one which a fellow-Tuscan of ours, a merchant of Lucca, affirmed the other day as a positive fact.”

“This merchant, so he tells the story, once finding himself in Poland, decided to buy a quantity of sables with the intention of carrying them into Italy and making great profit thereby. And after much effort, being unable to enter Muscovy himself (by reason of the war that was then waging between the King of Poland and the Duke of Muscovy), he arranged with the help of some people of the country, that on an appointed day certain Muscovite merchants should come with their sables to the frontier of Poland, and he promised to be there in order to strike the bargain. Accordingly, proceeding with his companions towards Muscovy, the man of Lucca reached the Dnieper, which he found all frozen as hard as marble, and saw that the Muscovites (who on account of the war were themselves suspicious of the Poles) were already on the other bank, but approached no nearer than the width of the river. So, having recognized each other, the Muscovites after some signalling began to speak with a loud voice, and to ask the price that they wished for their sables; but such was the extreme cold that they were not heard, for before reaching the other bank (where the man of Lucca and his interpreters were) the words froze in the air, and remained there frozen and caught in such manner that the Poles, who knew the custom, set about making a great fire in the very middle of the river; because to their thinking that was the limit reached by the warm voice before it was stopped by freezing, and the river was quite solid enough to bear the fire easily. So, when this was done, the words (which had remained frozen for the space of an hour) in due course began to melt and to fall in a murmur, like snow from the mountains in May; and thus they were at once heard very well, although the men had already gone. But as the merchant thought that the words asked too high a price for the sables, he would not accept the offer and so returned without them.”^[210]

“Of a truth the story I wish to tell you is not so ingenious; however it is a fine one, and runs as follows:

“Speaking a few days since of the country or World recently discovered by the Portuguese mariners,^[211] and of the various animals and other things which they bring back to Portugal, that friend of whom I told you affirmed that he had seen a monkey of a form very different from those we are accustomed to see, which played chess most admirably. And among other occasions, the gentleman who had brought her, being one day before the King of Portugal ^[212] and engaged in a game of chess with her, the monkey made several moves so skilfully as to press him hard and at last checkmated him. Being vexed, as all are wont to be who lose at that game, the gentleman took up the king-piece (which was very large, such as the Portuguese use) and gave the monkey a smart blow upon the head; whereupon she leaped aside crying loudly, and seemed to ask justice of the king for the wrong that had been done her. Then the gentleman invited her to play again; and after refusing awhile by means of signs, she finally began to play once more, and, as she had done the first time, she again had the better of him. At last, seeing that she would be able to checkmate the gentleman, the monkey tried a new trick to guard against being struck again; and without showing what she was at, she quietly put her right paw under the gentleman’s left elbow, which was luxuriously resting on a taffety ^[213] cushion, and (quickly snatching the cushion) with her left paw she at the same time checkmated him with a pawn, while with her right she held the cushion over her head as a shield against his blows; she then leaped joyfully to the king as if to parade her victory. Now you see how wise, wary and discreet the monkey was.”

“It must be that this was a doctor among monkeys, and of great authority; and I think that the Republic of Indian Monkeys sent her to Portugal to make a name in a foreign land.”

Thereupon everyone laughed, both at the story and at the addition given to it by messer Cesare.

“You have now heard what occurs to me concerning those pleasantries that render the effect of a thing by continuous talk; therefore it is now well to speak of those that consist in a single saying and have a quick keenness compressed into a phrase or word. And just as in the first kind,—that of humourous talk,—we must in our narrative and mimicry avoid resembling buffoons and parasites and those who make others laugh by their sheer absurdities, so in these short sayings the Courtier must take care not to appear malicious and spiteful, and not to utter witticisms and arguzie solely to annoy and cut to the quick; because for the sin of their tongue such men often suffer in all their members.

58.—“Now of the ready pleasantries that are contained in a short saying, those are keenest that arise from ambiguity. Yet they do not always move to laughter, for they are oftener applauded as ingenious than as comic. As was said a few days since by our friend messer Annibal Paleotto ^[214] to someone who was recommending a tutor to teach his sons grammar, and who, after praising the tutor as very learned, said that by way of stipend the man desired not only money but a room furnished for living and sleeping, because he had no letto (bed): whereupon messer Annibal at once replied: ‘And how can he be learned if he has not letto (read)?’ You see how well he played upon the double meaning of the phrase, non aver letto [to have no bed, or, not to have read].

“But while this punning witticism has much sharpness, where a man takes words in a sense different from that in which everyone else takes them, it seems (as I have said) to excite wonderment rather than laughter, except when it is combined with some other kind of saying.

“Now that kind of witticism which is most used to excite laughter, is when we are prepared to hear one thing and the speaker says another, and it is called ‘the unexpected.’ And if punning be combined with this, the witticism becomes most spicy: as the other day, when there was a discussion about making a fine brick floor (un bel mattonato) for my lady Duchess’s closet, after much talk you, Giancristoforo, said: ‘If we could fetch the Bishop of Potenza ^[215] and flatten him out well, it would be the very thing, for he is the craziest creature born (il più bel matto nato).’ Everyone laughed heartily, for by dividing the word matto-nato you made the pun. Moreover saying that it would be well to flatten out a bishop and lay him in the floor of a room, was unexpected to the listener; and so the sally was very keen and laughable.

59.—“But of punning witticisms there are many kinds; therefore we must be careful and play very lightly with our words, and avoid those that make the sally flat or that seem forced; and also those (as we have said) that are too biting. As where several companions found themselves at the house of one of their friends who was blind of one eye, and the blind man bade the company stay to dinner, all took their leave save one, who said: ‘I will stay with you because I see you have a vacant place for one;’ and at the same time he pointed with his finger to the empty socket. You see this is too bitter and rude, for it wounded without cause, and the speaker had not first been stung himself. Moreover he said that which might be said of all blind men; and such universal things give no pleasure, because it seems possible that they may have been thought out beforehand. And of this kind was that gibe at a man without nose: ‘And where do you hang your spectacles?’^[216] or ‘With what do you smell the roses in their season?’

60.—“But among other witticisms those have very good grace that are made by taking the very words and sense from another man’s taunt and turning them against him and striking him with his own weapons; as where a litigant—whose adversary had said to him in the judge’s presence: ‘Why do you bark so?’—at once replied: ‘Because I see a thief.’

“And another instance of this was when Galeotto da Narni,^[217] on his way through Siena, stopped in the street to ask for the inn; and a Sienese, seeing how fat he was, said, laughing: ‘Other men carry their wallets behind, but this one carries his in front.’ Galeotto at once replied: ‘That is the way we do in a land of thieves.’

61.—“There is still another kind, which we call playing on words,^[218] and this consists in changing a word by either adding or omitting a letter or a syllable; as when someone said: ‘You are better versed in the Latrin tongue than in the Greek.’ And you, my Lady, had a letter addressed to you, ‘To my lady Emilia Impia.’^[219]

“Moreover it is a pleasant thing to quote a verse or two, applying it to a purpose different from that which the author intends, or some other familiar saw; sometimes to the same purpose, but changing some word. As when a gentleman, who had an ugly and disagreeable wife, was asked how he was, he replied: ‘Judge yourself of my state, when Furiarum maxima juxta me cubat.’^[220] And messer Geronimo Donato,^[221] while going the rounds of the Stazioni^[222] at Rome in Lent with several other gentlemen, met a bevy of beautiful Roman ladies; and one of the gentlemen saying: ‘Quot coelum stellas, tot habet tua Roma puellas,’^[223] he at once replied: Pascua quotque haedos, tot habet tua Roma cinaedos,^[224] pointing to a company of young men who were coming from the other direction.