![[T]](http://darkwing.uoregon.edu/%7Erbear/gifs/t.jpg)
HINKINGE to write oute the communication that was had the
fourth night after the other mentioned in the former bookes, I feele
emong sundry discourses a bitter thought that gripeth me in my minde,
and maketh me to call to remembraunce worldlie miseries and our
deceitfull hopes, and how fortune many times in the verie middes of our
race, otherwhile nighe the ende disapointeth our fraile and vaine
pourposes, sometime drowneth them
before they can once come to have a sight of the haven a
farr of. It causeth me therefore to remember that not long after these
reasoninges were had, cruell death bereved our
house of three moste rare gentilmen, whan in their prosperous
age and forwardnesse of honour they most florished, and of
them the first was the Lord Gaspar Pallavicin, who assaulted
with a sharp disease, and more then once brought to the
| L. Gaspar Pallavicin. L. Cesar Gonzaga. |
| M. Robert of Bari.
The promotinge of certein mentioned in the booke. |
| L. Eleonor Gonzaga Dut. of Urbin. |
It was thought therefore (as the L. Gaspar Pallavicin was wont to reherse) that the next daye after the reasoninges conteined in the laste booke, the L. Octavian was not muche seene: for manye deemed that he had gotten himself out of companye tho thinke well upon that he had to saye without trouble. Therfore whan the company was assembled at the accustomed houre where the Dutchesse was, they made the L. Octavian to be diligentlye sought for, whiche in a good while appered not, so that manye of the Gentilmen and Damselles of the Court fell to daunsynge and to minde other pastymes, supposynge for that night they shoulde have no mre talke of the Courtyer.
And nowe were they all settled about one thinge or an other, whan the L. Octavian came in (almost) no more looked for: and beehouldinge the L. Cesar Gonzaga and the L. Gaspar daunsinge, after he had made his reverence to the Duchesse, he saide smilinge: I had well hoped we shoulde have heard the L. Gaspar speake ill of women this night to, but sins I see him daunce with one, I imagin he is agreede with all. And I am glad that the controversie, or (to terme it better) the reasoninge of the Courtier is thus ended.
Not ended, I warant you, answered the Dutchesse, for I am not such an ennemye to men, as you be to women, and therfore I wil not have the Courtier bereved from his due honour and the fournimentes whiche you youre selfe promised him yester night.
And whan she had thus spoken, she commaunded them all after that daunse was ended to place themselves after the wonted maner, the which was done.
And as they stoode all wyth
heedfull expectation, the
L. Octavian said: Madom, sins for that I wished manye other good
qualities in the Courtier, it foloweth by promise
that I muste entreate uppon them, I am well willinge to
uttre my minde: not with opinion that I can speake all
that might be said in the matter, but only so much as shall
suffice to roote that oute of your mind, which yester night
was objected to me: namely, that I spake it more to withdrawe the
prayses from the Gentilwoman of the Palaice, in
doinge you falselye to beleave that other excellent qualities
might be added to the Courtier, and with that pollicie prefarre
him beefore her, then for that it is so in deede. Therfore
to frame my selfe also to the houre, which is later then
it was wont to be whan we beegane our reasoninges at other
The ende of a Courtier. Great men. Princis of olde time were refourmable.
times, I will be breef. Thus continuinge in the talke that these Lordes
have ministred, whiche I full and wholye alowe
and confirme, I say, that of thinges which we call good, some
there be that simply and of themselves are alwaies good,
as temperance, valiant courage, helth, and all vertues that bring
quietnesse to mens mindes. Other be good for diverse respectes and for
the ende they be applied unto, as
that the Courtier (if he be of the perfection that Count
Lewis and Sir Friderick have described him) maye in deede
be a good thinge and woorthie praise, but for all that not
simplye, nor of himself, but for respect of the ende wherto
he may be applied. For doubtlesse if the Courtier with his
noblenesse of birth, comlie beehaviour, pleasantnesse and
practise in so many exercises, should bringe furth no other
frute, but to be suche a one for himself, I woulde not
thinke
to come by this perfect trade of Courtiership, that a man shoulde of
reason beestowe so much studye and peynes about it, as who so will
compase it must do. But I woulde
say rather that manie of the qualities appointed him, as daunsing,
singinge and sporting, were lightnesse and vanitie, and in a man of
estimation rather to be dispraised
then commended: bicause those precise facions, the settinge
furth ones selfe, meerie talke and such other matters belonginge to
enterteinment of women and love (althoughe
perhappes manie other be of a contrary opinion) do many
times nothinge elles but womannish the mindes, corrupt
youth, and bring them to a most wanton trade of livinge: wherupon
afterwarde ensue these effectes, that the name of Italy is brought into
sclaunder, and few there be that have
the courage, I will not saye to jeoparde their lief, but to entre once
into a daunger.
Thinges good.
And without peradventure there be infinite other thinges, that if a man
beestow his labour
and studie about them, woulde bring furth muche more profit
both in peace and warr, then this trade of Courtiershipp
of it self alone. But in case the Courtiers doinges be directed to the
good ende they ought to be and which I meane: me
thinke then they should not onlye not be hurtfull or vaine,
but most profitable and deserve infinit praise. The ende
therfore of a perfect Courtier (wherof hitherto nothinge hath
bine spoken) I beleave is to purchase him, by the meane of
the qualities whiche these Lordes have given him, in such wise the good
will and favour of the Prince he is in service
withall, that he may breake his minde to him, and alwaies
enfourme him francklye of the trueth of everie matter meete
for him to understande, without fear or perill to displease
him. And whan he knoweth his minde is bent to commit any thinge
unseemlie for him, to be bould to stande with him in
it, and to take courage after an honest sort at the favour
which he hath gotten him throughe his good qualities, to
disswade him from everie ill pourpose, and to set him in
the waye of vertue. And so shall the Courtier, if he have the goodnesse
in him that these Lordes have geven him
accompanied with readinesse of witt, pleasantnesse, wisedome,
knowleage in letters and so many other thinges, understande
how to beehave himselfe readilye in all occurentes to drive
into his Princis heade what honour and profit shall ensue
to him and to his by justice, liberalitie, valiauntnesse of
Dastardlinesse.
courage, meekenesse and by the other vertues that beelong to a good
Prince, and contrarie to them. And therefore in
mine opinion, as musike, sportes, pastimes, and other pleasaunt
facions, are (as a man woulde saye) the floure of Courtlines, even so
is the traininge and the helping forward
of the Prince to goodnesse and the fearinge him from yvell,
the frute of it. And bicause the praise of weldoinge consisteth
cheeflye in two pointes, wherof the one is, in chousinge
out an ende that our pourpose is directed unto, that is
good in deede: the other, the knowleage to find out apt and meete
meanes to bringe it to the appointed good ende:
sure it is that the mind of him which thinketh to worke so, that his
Prince shall not be deceived, nor lead with flaterers,
railers and lyers, but shall knowe both the good and the bad
and beare love to the one and hatred to the other, is directed
to a very good ende. Me thinke again, that the qualities which these
Lordes have given the Courtier, may be a good meanes to compasse it:
and that, bicause emonge manye vices that we see now adayes in manye of
our Princis, the
greatest are ignoraunce and self leekinge: and the roote of
these two mischeeves is nothing elles but lyinge, which vice is
worthelie abhorred of God and man, and more hurtful to Princis then any
other, bicause they have more scarsitye
The floure of courtlines.
The frute of it.
Well doinge.
then of any thinge elles, of that which they neede to have more plenty
of, then of any other thinge: namely, of suche as shoulde tell them the
truth and put them in minde of
goodnesse: for enemies be not driven of love to to do these
offices, but they delite rather to have them live wickedly and never to
amende: on the other side, they dare not rebuke them openlye for feare
they be punished. As for
friendes few of them have free passage to them, and those few have a
respect to reprehende their vices so freelye as
they do private mens: and many times to coorie favour and to purchase
good will, they give themselves to nothinge
elles but to feede them with matters that may delite, and
content their minde, thoughe they be foule and dishonest.
So that of friendes they become flatterers, and to make a
hande by that streict familiaritie, they speake and woorke alwaies to
please, and for the most part open the way with
lyes, which in the Princis minde engender ignorance, not of
outwarde matters onlie, but also of his owne selfe. And
this may be said to be the greatest and fowlest lye of all
Lies engender ignorance and self leeking.
Enemies.
Friendes.
other, bicause the ignorant minde deceiveth himself and
inwardlie maketh lies of himself. Of this it commeth, that
great men, beeside that they never understande the truth of any thinge,
dronken with the licentious libertye that rule
bringeth with it and with abundance of delicacies drowned in pleasures,
ar so far out of the way and their mind is so
corrupted in seeing themselves alwaies obeyed and (as it wer)
woorshipped with so much reverence, and praise,
without not onlye anye reproof at all, but also gainsayinge, that
through this ignoraunce they wade to an extreeme self
leekinge, so that afterwarde they admitt no counsell nor
advise of others. And bicause they beleave that the
understandinge howe to rule is a most easye matter, and to compasse
it there needeth neyther arte nor learninge, but onlye
stoutenesse, they bende their minde and all their thoughtes
to the maintenance of that port they kepe, thinking it the
true happynese to do what a man lusteth. Therfore do
some abhorr reason and justice, bicause they weene it a
bridle and a certeine meane to bringe them in bondage and
to minishe in them the contentation and hartes ease that
they have to bear rule, if they should observe it: and their
rule were not perfect nor wholl if they shoulde be compelled
to obey unto dutie and honetie, bicause they have an
opinion that Whoso obeyeth, is no right Lord in deede.
Therfore taking these principles for a president and suffering them
selves to be lead with selfe leekinge, they wexe loftie, and with a
statlye countenance, with sharpe and cruell
condicions, with pompous garmentes, golde and jewelles, and with
comminge (in a maner) never abrode to be seene, they
thinke to gete estimation and authoritie emong men, and to
be counted (almost) Goddes: but they are (in my
judgement) like the Colosses that were made in Roome the last
yeere upon the feast day of the place of Argone, which outwardlye
declared a likenesse of great men and horses of
Flattery.
triumph, and inwardly were full of towe and ragges. But
the Princis of this sort are so muche woorse, as the Colosses
by their owne waightye pese stande upright of them selves,
and they bicause they be yll counterpesed and without line or levell
placed upon unequall grounde, throughe their owne waightinesse
overthrowe them selves, and from one errour
renn into infinit. Bicause their ignoraunce beeinge annexed
with this false opinion that they can not err, and that the
port they kepe commeth of their knowleage, leadeth of them every waye
by right or by wronge to lay hande upon
possessions bouldly, so they may come by them. But in case they woulde
take advisemente to knowe and to woorke
that that they ought, they would aswell strive not to reigne
as they doe to reigne, bicause they shoulde perceyve what a naughtye
and daungerous matter it were for Subjectes that
ought to be governed, to be wyser then the Princis that shoulde
governe. You may see that ignorance in musike, in daunsinge, in ridinge
hurteth no man, yet he that is no musitien is ashamed and aferde to
singe in the presence of others, or to daunse, he that can not, or he
that sitteth
not wel a horse, to ride: but of the unskilfulnes to govern
people arrise so manie yvelles, deathes, destructions, mischeeffes
and confusions, that it may be called the deadliest
plagu upon the earth. And yet some princes most ignorant
Images of horrible greatnesse.
in government, are not bashfull nor ashamed to take upon
them to govern I wil not say in the presence of foure or half
a dosen persons, but in the face of the world: for their
degree is sett on loft, that all eyes beehould them, and
therfore not their great vices only, but their least faultes of
all are continuallie noted. As yt is written that Cimon was
yll spoken of bicause he loved wine, Scipo, sleepe, Lucullus,
bancketinges. But wolde God, the Princis of these oure times wolde
coople their vices wyth so many vertues as did
they of olde time: which yf they were out of the way in any
point, yet refused they not the exhortations and lessons of such as
they deemed meete to correct those faultes: yea
they saught with great instance to frame their lief by the
rule of notable personages: as Epaminondas by Lisias of Pythagoras
sect: Agesilaus by Xenophon: Scipio by Pan&elig;tius,
and infinit others. But in case a grave Philosopher
shoulde come beefore enie of our Princes, or who ever beeside,
that wolde showe them plainlie and without enie circomstance
the horrible face of true vertue and teache them
good maners and what the lief of a good Prince ought to
be, I ame assured they wolde abhorr him at the first sight,
as a most venimous serpent, or elles they wolde make him
a laughinge stocke, as a most vile matter. I saye therfore
that sins nowadayes Princis are so corrupt through yl
usages, ignoraunce and false self leekinge, and that yt is so harde a
matter to geve them the knoweleage of the truth
and to bende them to vertue, and men with lyes and flatterie
and such naughtye meanes seeke to coorie favour wyth them,
the Courtier by the meane of those honest qualities that
Count Lewis and Sir Friderick have given hym, may soone,
and ought to go about so to purchase him the good will and allure unto
him the minde of his Prince, that he maye
make him a free and safe passage to commune with him in
every matter without troublinge him. And yf he be suche
a one as is said, he shall compase yt with smalle peine, and so may he
alwayes open unto the truth of everie matter
at ease. Besyde this by litle and litle distille into his minde
goodnesse, and teache him continencie, stoutnesse of courage,
justice, temperance, makinge him to taste what sweetenesse
is hid under that litle bitternesse, which at the first sight
appeereth unto him that withstandeth vices: which are alwaies hurtfull,
displeasant and accompanied wyth yl report
and shame, even as vertues are profitable, pleasant and
praisable, and enflame him to them with the examples of
manie famous Capitanes, and of other notable personages,
unto whom they of old time used to make ymages of mettal
and marble, and sometime of gold, and to set them up in commune haunted
places, aswell for the honoure of them,
as for an encouragynge of others, that with an honest envie
Igorance of rules.
they might also endevour them selves to reach unto that
glorie. In this wise maye he leade him throughe the roughe
way of vertue (as it were) deckynge yt about with boowes to
shadowe yt and strawinge it over wyth sightlye flouers, to
ease the greefe of the peinfull journey in hym that is but of
a weake force. And sometyme with musike, somtime with armes, and
horses, somtyme with rymes and meeter, otherwhyle
wyth communication of love, and wyth all those
wayes that these Lordes have spoken of, continuallye keepe
that mynde of his occupyed in honest pleasure: imprintynge
notwythstandynge therin alwayes beesyde (as I have said) in companie
with these flickeringe provocations some vertuous
condicion, and beeguilinge him with a holsome craft, as the warie
phisitiens do, who manye times whan they minister to yonge and tender
children in ther sicknesse, a medicin of
a bitter taste, annoint the cupp about the brimm with some
sweete licour. The Courtier therefore applyinge to such a
pourpose this veile of pleasure, in everie time, in everie
place, and in everye exercise he shall attaine to his ende,
and deserve muche more praise and recompence, then for
anie other good woorke that he can do in the worlde, bicause
there is no treasure that doeth so universallie profit, as
doeth a good Prince, nor anie mischeef so universallie hurt, as an yll
Prince. Therfore is there also in peine so bitter
and cruell that were a sufficient punishment for those naughtie and
wicked Courtiers, that make their honest and
pleasant maners and their good qualities a cloke for an ill
ende, and by meane of them seeke to come in favour with
their Princis for to corrupte them and to straye them from
the way of vertue and to lead them to vice. For a man
may say, that such as these be, do infect with deadlie poyson,
not one vessel wherof one man alone drinketh, but the commune fountain
that all the people resorteth to.
Images in the honour of men.
The L. Octavian helde his peace
as though he would have said no more, but the L. Gaspar: I can not see,
my L. Octavian
(said he) that this goodnesse of minde and continincie, and
the other vertues whiche you will have the Courtier to showe
his Lorde, may be learned: but I suppose that they are given
the men that have them, by nature and of God. And that
it is so, you may see that there is no man so wicked and of
so ill condicions in the world, nor so untemperate and unjust,
which if he be asked the question, will confesse him self
such
a one. But everie man be he never so wicked, is glad to be counted
just, continent and good: which shoulde not be so, in case these
vertues might be learned, bicause it is no shame not to know the thinge
that a man hath not studied, but a
rebuke it is not to have that which we ought to be indowed
withal of nature. Therefore doeth ech man seeke to cover
the defaultes of nature, aswell in the minde, as also in the
bodie: the which is to be seene in the blind, lame, crooked
and other may[m]ed and deformed creatures. For although
these imperfections may be layed to nature, yet doeth it
greeve ech man to have them in him self: bicause it seemeth
by the testimonie of the self same nature that a man hath
that default or blemishe (as it were) for a patent and token
of his ill inclination. The fable that is reported of Epimetheus
doeth also confirme myne opinion, whiche was so unskilfull in dividinge
the gyftes of nature unto men, that
he left them much more needie of everye thinge then all
other livinge creatures. Wherupon Prometheus stole the
politike wysdome from Minerva and Vulcan that men have
to gete their livinge withall. Yet had they not for all that,
civill wisdome to gather them selves into Cities,
and the knowleage to live with civility, bicause it was kept in the
Castle of Jupiter by most circumspect overseears,
whiche put Prometheus in suche feare, that he durst not approch nygh
them. Wherupon Jupiter takinge pitye upon
the miserye of men, that could not felowshipp together for
lacke of civill vertue, but were torne in peeces by wielde beastes, he
sent Mercury to the earth to carie justice and
shame, that these two thinges might fournish Cities and
gather Citizins together: and willed that they shoulde be
given them, not as other artes were, wherin one counning
man sifficeth for manie ignorant, as phisike, but that they
should be imprinted in everie man. And ordeyned a lawe,
that all such as were without justice and shame, should be
banished and put to death, as contagious to the Citie.
Beehoulde then (my L. Octavian) God hath graunted
these vertues to men, and are not to be learned but be naturall.
Fable of Epimetheus.
Then the L.
Octavian somwhat
smiling: Will you then,
my L. Gaspar (quoth he) have men to be so unfortunate and
of so pevish a judgement, that with policie they have found
out an art to tame the natures of wield beastes, as beares,
wolves, Lions, and may with the same teach a prety bird to
fle as a man lust, and retourne back from the wood and from
his naturall libertye of his owne accord to snares and bondage,
and with the same pollicy can not, or will not finde out artes
whereby they maye profit themselves, and with studie and
diligence make their mind more perfect? This (in
mine opinion) were like as if Phisitiens shoulde studie with
all diligence to have the art onlie to heale fellonies in fingers
and the read gumme in yonge children, and lay aside the
cure of fevers, pleurisie and other sore diseases, the which
how out of reason it were everie man may consider. I
beleave therfore that the morall vertues are not in us all
together by nature, bicause nothinge can at anye time be
accustomed unto it, that is naturallie his contrarie: as it is seene in
a stone, the whiche though it be cast upward ten
thousand times, yet will he never accustome to go up of him selfe.
Therefore in case vertues were as natural to us,
as heavinesse to the stone, we shoulde never accustome our selves to
vice. Nor yet are vices naturall in this sort, for
then shoulde we never be vertuous: and a great wickednesse
and folie it were, to punishe men for the faultes that came of
nature without oure offence: and this errour shoulde the
lawes committ, whiche appoint not punishment to the offenders for the
trespace that is past, bicause it can not
be brought to passe that the thinge that is done, maye not
be done, but they have a respect to the time to come, that who so hath
offended maye offende no more, or elles with
A difference beetween that a man hath by
nature and by custome.
yll president give not a cause for others to offende. And thus
yet they are in opinion that vertues maye be learned, whiche is most
true, bicause we are borne apt to receive them, and
in like maner vices: and therfore there groweth a custome
in us of bothe the one and the other throughe longe use,
so that first we practise vertue or vice, after that, we are
vertuous or vitious. The contrarie is knowen in the thinges
that be geven us of nature, for firste we have the pour
to practise them, after that, we do practise: as it is in
the senses, for first we can see, heere, feele, after that, we
do see, heere and feele: although notwithstandinge many of these
doinges be also sett oute more sightle with teachinge.
Whereupon good Schoolmaisters do not only instruct their children in
letters, but also in good nourtour in eatinge,
drinkinge, talking, and goinge with certein gestures meete
for the pourpose. Therefore even as in the other artes, so
also in the vertues it is behoufful to have a teacher, that
with lessons and good exhortations may stirr up and quicken
in us these morall vertues, wherof we have the seede inclosed
and buried in the soule, and like the good husbande man,
till them and open the waye for them, weedinge from about
them the briers and darnell of appetites, which many times
so shadow and choke our mindes, that they suffre them not to budd nor
to bringe furth the happie frutes, which alone
ought to be wished to grow in the hartes of men. In this
sort then is naturally in everie one of us justice and shame,
which (you saye) Jupiter sent to the earth for all men.
But even as a bodye without eyes, how sturdie ever he be,
if he remove to anie certein place, often times faileth: so
the roote of these vertues that be potentiallie engendred
in our mindes, yf it be not aided with teaching, doth often
come to nought. Bicause if it shoulde be brought into
doinge and to his perfect custome, it is not satisfied (as is
said) with nature alone: but hath neede of a politike usage
and of reason, whiche maye clense and scoure that soule,
takinge away the dymm veile of ignorance, wherof arrise (in
a maner) all the erroures in men. For in case good and ill
were well knowen and perceived, every man would alwaies
chouse the good and shonn the yl. Therfore may vertue
be said to be (as it were) a wisdome and an understanding
to chouse the good: and vice, a lacke of foresight and
Vertues many be learned.
an ignorance that leadeth to judge falsely. Bicause men
never chouse the il with opinion that it is ill, but they are
deceived through a certein likenesse of good.
Vertue.
Vice.
Then answered the L. Gaspar: Yet are there many that know plainlie they do ill, and do it notwithstanding, and that bicause thei more esteame the present pleasure which they feele, then the punishment that they doubt shall fall upon them, as theeves, murtherers and such other.
The L. Octavian said: True
pleasure is alwaies good, and true sorow, evell: therfore these be
deceived in taking
false pleasure for true, and true sorowe for false: wherupon
True knowleage.
manye times through false pleasures, they renn into true
displeasures. The art therfore that teacheth to discerne
this trueth from falshood, maye in like case be learned: and
the vertue by the which we chouse this good in deede, and
not that which falsely appeereth to be, may be called true
knowleage, and more available for mans lief, then anye
other, bicause it expelleth ignorance, of the which (as I
have said) springe al evelles.
True pleasure.
True sorow.
Then M. Peter Bembo: I wot not,
my L. Octavian
(quoth he) how the L. Gaspar should graunt you, that of
ignoraunce should springe all evelles, and that there be not
manye which in offendinge knowe for certeintie that they
do offende, neyther are they anye deale deceived in the true
pleasure nor yet in the true sorow: bicause it is sure that
such as be incontinent judge with reason and uprightly, and
know it, wher unto they are provoked by lust contrary to
due, to be ill, and therfore they make resistance and sett
reason to matche greedy desire, wherupon arriseth the
battaile of pleasure and sorow against judgement. Finally
reason overcome by greedie desire far the mightier, is cleane
without succour, like a shippe, that for a time defendeth herself from
the tempestuous Seastormes, at the end beaten
with the to raginge violence of windes, her gables and
tacklinges broken, yeldeth up to be driven at the will of
fortune, without occupying helme or any maner help of
Incontinency.
Pilott for her safegard. Furthwith therefore commit they
the offences with a certein doubtfull remorse of conscience
and (in a maner) whether they will or no, the which they
would not do, onlesse they knew the thing that they do to
be ill, but without striving of reason would ren wholy headlonge
after greedy desire, and then shoulde they not be
incontinent, but untemperate, which is much woorse. Therfore
is incontinencie said to be a diminished vice, bicause it
hath in it a part of reason, and likewise continency an
unperfect vertue, bicause it hath in it part of affection:
therefore (me thinke) that it can not be said that the offences
of the incontinent come of ignorance, or that they be deceived
and offende not, whan they know for a truth that they do offende.
Reason.
Continency.
The L. Octavian answered:
Certesse (M. Peter) youre argument is good, yet (in my minde) it is
more apparant
then true. For although the incontinent offend with that doubtfulnesse,
and reason in their minde striveth againste
greedye desire, and that that is yll, seemeth unto them to
be ill in deede, yet have they no perfect knowleage of it,
nor understand it so throughly as nede requireth. Therefore
of this, it is rather a feeble opinion in them, then certeine
knowleage, wherby greedie desire overcometh reason, is ignorance,
neyther can true knowleage be ever overcome by affection, that
proceadeth from the body and not from the mind, and
Reason.
in case it be wel ruled and governed by reason it becommeth
a vertue: if not it becommeth a vice. But such force
reason hath, that she maketh the sense alwaies to obey and
by wonderous meanes and wayes perceth least ignorance
shoulde possesse that, which she ought to have: so that
althoughe the spirites and the sinewes, and the bones have no reason in
them, yet whan there springeth in us that
motion of minde, that the imagination (as it were) pricketh
forward and shaketh the bridle to the spirites, all the members are in
a readinesse, the feete to renn, the hands to take or to doe that which
the minde thinketh upon, and this is
also manifestlye knowenn in many, which unwittingly otherwhile
eate some lothesome and abhorring meat, but so well
dressed that to their taste it appeereth moste delicate:
afterwarde understandinge what maner thynge it was, it doeth not only
greeve them and loth them in their minde,
but the bodie also agreeth with the judgement of the minde, that of
force they cast that meate up again.
Ignorance.
The L. Octavian folowed on still in his talke, but the L. Julian interruptinge him: My L. Octavian (quoth he) yf I have well understoode, you have said that continencie is an unperfect vertue, bicause it hath in it part of affection: and me seemeth that the vertue (where there in in oure minde a variance beetweene reason and greedie desyre) whiche fighteth and giveth the victorye to reason, ought to be reckened more perfect, then that which overcommeth havinge neyther greedie desire nor anie affection to withstand it: bicause (it seemeth) that that minde absteyneth not from yll for vertues sake, but refrayneth the doing it, bicause he hath no will to it.
Then the L. Octavian: Which (quoth he) wolde you esteame the valianter Capitain, eyther he that hasardeth him selfe in open fight, and notwithstanding vanquisheth his enemies, or he that by his vertue and knowleage weakeneth them in bringinge them in case not able to fight, and so without battaile or anie jeopardie discomfetethe them?
He, quoth the L. Julian, that overcommeth with most suretie, is out of doubt most to be praised, so that this assured victorie of his proceade not through the slackenesse of the ennemies.
The L. Octavian answered: You
have judged aright.
And therfore I say unto you, that continencie may be compared
to a Capitain that fighteth manlie, and though his ennemies be stronge
and well appointed, yet geveth he them
the overthrowe, but for al that not without much a do
and daunger. But temperance free from all disquietinge, is
like the Capitain that without resistance overcommeth and
reigneth. And havinge in the mynde where she is, not onlie
assuaged, but cleane quenched the fire of gredie desire, even
as a good Prince in civill warr dispatcheth the sedicious
inward ennemies, and giveth the scepter and wholl rule to
reason, so in like case this vertue not enforcing the mind,
but powringe therinto through most quiet waies a vehement
persuasion that may incline him to honestie, maketh him
quiet and full of rest, in everie part equall and of good
proportion: and on everie side framed of a certein agreement with him
self, that filleth him with such a cleare
caulmenesse, that he is never out of pacience: and becommeth
full and wholy most obedient to reason, and readie to
tourn unto her all his motions, and folow her where she lust
to leade him, without anie resistance, like a tender lambe
that renneth, standeth and goith alwaies by the ewes side,
and moveth only as he seeth her do. This vertue therefore
is most perfect, and is cheeflie requisit in Princis, bicause of
it arrise manie other.
Temperance.
Then the L. Cesar Gonzaga: I wott not (quoth he) what vertues requisit for Princis may arrise of this temperance, yf it be she that riddeth the mind of affections (as you say) which perhappes were meete for some Monke or Heremite: but I can not see how it should be requisit for a Prince that is couragious, freeharted and of prowesse in marciall feates, for whatsoever is done to him, never to have angre, hatred, good will, disdeigne, lust, nor any affeccion in him: nor how without this he can get him authoritie emonge the people and souldiers.
The L. Octavian answered: I
have not said that
temperance shoulde throughlye ridd and roote oute of mens
mindes, affections: neyther shoulde it be well so to do,
bicause there be yet in affections some partes good: but
that which in affections is corrupt and striving against
honestie, she bringeth to obey unto reason. Therefore it is
not meete, to ridd the troublesome disquietnesse of the mind, to roote
up affections cleane, for this were as if to
avoide dronkennesse, there shoulde be an act established,
that no man shoulde drinke wine: or bicause otherwhile in
renninge a man taketh a fall, everie man should be forbed
renning. Marke them that breake horses, they breake
them not from their renninge and comminge on loft, but
they will have them to do it at the time and obedience of
the rider. The affections therefore that be clensed and tried
by temperance are assistant to vertue, as angre, that helpeth
manlinesse: hatred against the wicked, helpeth justice, and
likewise the other vertues are aided by affections, which in
case they were cleane taken away, they woulde leave reason
verie feeble and feint, so that it shoulde litle prevaile, like
a shipp maister that is without winde in a great caulme.
Marvaile ye not then (my L. Cesar) if I have said, that of
temperance arrise manie other vertues: for whan a minde
is in tune with this harmonie, by the meane of reason he
easely receiveth afterward true manlinesse, which maketh
him boulde and safe from all daunger, and (in a maner)
above worldly passions. Likewise Justice, an undefiled
virgin, friend to sobermoode and goodnesse, queene of all
other vertues, bicause she teacheth to do that, which a man
Stoutnesse of courage. Wisdome. The reigne of a good prince.
ought to do, and to shon that a man ought to shonn, and
therfore is she most perfect, bicause through her the
woorkes of the other vertues are brought to passe, and she
is a helpe to him that hath her both for him selfe and for
others: without the which (as it is commanlye said) Jupiter
him selfe coulde not well govern his kingdome. Stoutnesse
of courage doeth also folowe after these, and maketh them
all the greater, but she can not stand alone, bicause whoso
hath not other vertues can not be of a stoute courage. Of these then
wisdome is guide, which consisteth in a certein
judgement to chouse well. And in this happie chayne are also lincked
liberalitie, sumptuousnesse, the desire to save
a mans estymation, meekenesse, pleasantnesse, courtesie in
talke, and manie other which is nowe no time to speake of.
But in case oure Courtier wyll do as we have saide, he
shall finde them all in his Princis minde: and daylie he
shall see springe suche beawtifull floures and frutes, as all
the delicious gardeins in the world have not the like: and
he shall feele verie great contentacion within him self, whan
he remembreth that he hath given him, not the thinges
whiche foolish persons give, whiche is, golde, or silver, plate,
garmentes, and such matters, wherof he that giveth them
hath him self verie great scarsitie, and he that receiveth
True manlinesse.
Justice.
them exceading great store: but that vertue, which perhappes
among all the matter that belong unto man, is the
cheeffest and rarest, that is to say, the maner and way to
rule and to reigne in the right kinde. Which alone were
sufficient to make men happie, and to bring once again into
the worlde the golden age, whiche is written to have bine
whan Saturnus reigned in the olde time.
The way to govern well.
Here whan the L. Octavian paused a litle as though he would have taken respite, the L. Gaspar said: Whiche recken you (my L. Octavian) the happiest government and that were most to pourpose to bring into the world again that golden age whych you have made mention of, eyther the reigne of so good a Prince, or the governance of a good Commune weale?
The L. Octavian answered: I woulde alwayes prefarr the reigne of a good Prince, bicause it is a government more agreeable to nature, and (if it be lawfull to compare small matters with infinit) more like unto Goddes, whiche one and alone governeth the universall. But leavinge this, ye see that in whatsoever is broughte to passe with the pollicie of man, as armies, great saylinge vesselles, buildynges and other lyke matters, the wholl is committed to one alone, to dyspose therof at his will. Likewise in oure bodye all the membres travaile and are occupied as the hart thinketh good. Beeside this it seemeth meete that people shoulde aswell be governed by one Prince, as manye other livinge creatures be, whom nature teacheth this obedience, as a moste soveraign matter. Marke ye whether deere, cranes and maye other foules, whan thei take their flight do not alwaies set a Prince beefore, whom they folowe and obey. And bees (as it were) with discourse of reason and with such reverence honour their kinge, as the most obedientest people in the world can do. And therefore this is a verie great argument that the soveraigntie of a Prince is more accordinge to nature, then a Commune weales.
Then M. Peter Bembo: And me
thinke (quoth he) that
sins God hath given us libertie for a soveraigne gifte, it is not
reason that it should be taken from us: nor that one man
should be partner of it more then an other, which happeneth
under the rule of princis, who for the most part keepe their
people in most streict bondage. But in Commune weales
well in order this libertie is well kept. Beeside that, both in
judgementes and in advisementes it happeneth oftner that
the opinion of one alone is false, then the opinion of many,
bicause troublous affection either through anger, or throughe
spite, or through lust, sooner entreth into mind of one
alone then into the multitudes, whiche (in a maner) like a
greate quantitie of water, is lesse subject to corruption,
then a smalle deale. I saye again that the example of the
beastes and foules doth not make to pourpose, for both
Deere and Cranes and the rest doe not alwaies sett one and
the self formost for them to folowe and obey, but they still
chaunge and varie, givinge this prefarment somtime to one,
otherwhile to an other, and in this maner it beecommeth
rather the fourme of a Commune weale, then of a kingdome,
and this maye be called a true and equall libertie, whan
they that sometime commaunde, obey again an other while.
The example likewise of the bees (me thinke) is not alike,
bicause that kinge of theirs is not of their owne kinde: and
therefore he that will give unto men a worthie head in deede, must be
faine to finde him of an other kinde, and of
a more noble nature then mans, if menne (of reason) shoulde
obey him, as flockes and heardes of cattell that obey, not a
beast their like, but a sheppharde and a hardman, which is
a man and of a more woorthie kinde, then theirs. For these
respectes, I thynke (my L. Octavian) the government of a
Commune weale is more to be coveted, then of a kinge.
Libertye.
Then the L. Octavian: Against
your opinion, M. Peter
(quoth he) I will alleage but one reason: whiche is, that of
wayes to rule people well, there be onlye three kindes. The
one a kingdome: the other, the rule of good men, whiche
they of olde tyme called Optimates, the third, the governance
of the people. And the transgressinge (to terme it
so) and contrarie vice that every one of these is chaunged
into beeinge apayred and corrupted, is whan the kingdome
beecommeth a Tyrannie: and whan the governance of good
men is chaunged into the handes of a few great men and
not good: and whan the rule of the people is at the disposition
of the communaltye, whiche making a meddlie of the
ordres, suffreth the governance of the wholl at the wil of the
multitude. Of these three yll governmentes (it is sure) the
Tyrannie is the woorst of al, as it may be proved by many
reasons. It foloweth then, that of the three good, the kingdome
is the best, bicause it is contrarye to the woorste, for
(as you knowe) the effectes of contrarie causes, they be also contrarye
emong them selves.
Three kindes of wayes to rule.
Nowe as touchinge it, that you
have spoken of libertye, I
answere, that true liberty ought not to be saide to live as a
manne will, but to lyve accordynge to good lawes. And to
obey, is no lesse naturall, profitable and necessarye then to
commaunde. And some thinges are borne and so appointed
and ordeyned by nature to commaunde, as some other to obeysance. Truth
it is, that there be two kyndes of bearinge
rule, the one Lordlye and forsyble, as maisters over
How good men be to be ruled.
slaves, and in this doeth the soule commaunde the bodye.
The other more milde and tractable, as good Princis by
waye of the lawes over their Subjectes, and in this reason
commaundeth greedie desire. And ech of these two wayes
is profitable: bicause the bodye is created of nature apte to
obey the soule, as so is desire, reason. There be also manye
menne whose doinges be applied onlye about the use of the
body: and such as these be are so farr wide from the vertuous,
as the soule from the bodye, and yet bicause they be
reasonable creatures, they be so much partners of reason, as they
doe no more but know it, for they possesse it not, ne yet
have they the use of it. These therefore be naturallye
bondemen, and better it is for them and more profitable
to obeye, then to beare swey.
Two kindes of wayes to beare swinge.
Then saide the L. Gaspar: In what maner wise be they then to be commaunded that be discreete and vertuous and not by nature bonde?
The L. Octavian answered: With
that tractable commaundment
kinglye and civill. And to such it is well
done otherwhile to committe the bearinge of suche offices
as be meete for them, that they maye likewise bere swey
and rule over others of lesse witt then they be, yet so that the
principal governement maye full and wholye depende
uppon the cheef Prince. And bicause you have said,
that it is an easier matter to corrupt the minde of
one, then of a great sort, I saye, that it is also an easier
matter to finde one good and wise, then a great sorte.
Both good and wise ought a man to suppose a kinge maye
be, of a noble progenie, inclined to vertue of hys owne
A good Prince an Image of God.
naturall motion, and throughe the famous memorye of his
auncestoures, and brought up in good condicions. And
though he be not of an other kinde then man, as you
have saide is emonge the bees, yet yf he be helped forwarde
with the instructions, bringinge up, and art of the Courtier,
whom these Lordes have facioned so wise and good, hee shall
be moste wise, moste continent, moste temperate, moste
manlye and most juste, full of liberalitie, majestie, holynesse,
and mercye: finallye he shall be moste glorious and
moste deerely beloved both to God and manne: throughe
whose grace he shall atteine unto that heroicall and noble
vertue, that shall make him passe the boundes of the nature
of manne, and shall rather be called a Demy God, then a
manne mortall. For God deliteth in and is the defendour
A kinge.
not of those Princis that will folowe and counterfeit him in
showinge great poure, and make themselves to be woorshipped
of menne, but of such as beeside poure, whereby they are
mightye, endevour themselves to resemble him also in
goodnesse and wisdome, wherby the maye have a will and a
knowleage to doe well and to be his ministers, distributinge
for the beehouf of manne the benifittes and giftes that they
receive of him. Therefore even as in the firmamente the sonne
and the moone and the other sterres show to the world (as
it were) in a glasse a certeine likenesse of God: so uppon
the earth a muche more liker image of God are those good
Princis that love and woorshippe him, and showe unto the
people the cleere light of his justice, accompanied with a
shadowe of the heavenlye reason and understandinge: and
suche as these be doeth God make partners of his true dealing,
rightuousnesse, justice and goodnesse, and of those other
happy benifittes which I can not name, that disclose unto
the worlde a much more evident proof of the Godhead then
doeth the light of the sonne, or the continuall tourninge of
the firmament with the sundrye course of the sterres. It is
God therfore that hath appointed the people under the custodie
of Princis, which ought to have a diligent care over
them, that they may make him accompt of it, as good
stewardes do their Lord, and love them and thinke their
owne, all the profit and losse that happeneth to them, and
pricipally above all thing provide for their good astate and
welfare. Therefore ought the prince not only to be good,
but also to make others good, like the Carpenters square,
that is not only straight and just it self, but also maketh
Straight and just whatsoever it is occupied about. And the
greatest proofe that the Prince is good, is whan the people
are good: bicause the lief of the Prince is a lawe and
God the defendour of good Princis.
ringleader of the Citizins, and upon the condicions of him must
needes al others depende: neyther is it meete for one that is
ignorant, to teach: nor for him that is out of order, to give
order: nor for him that falleth, to help up an other. Therfore
if the Prince will execute these offices aright, it is
requisit that he apply all his studie and diligence to get
knowleage, afterward to facion within him selfe and observe
unchageablye in everye thinge the lawe of reason, not
written in papers, or in mettall, but graven in his owne
minde, that it maye be to him alwayes not onlie familier,
but inwarde, and live with, as a percell of him: to
the intent it may night and day, in everye time and place
admonish him and speake to him with his hart, riddinge
him of those troublous affections that untemperate mindes
feele, whiche bycause on the one side they be (as it were)
cast into a moste deepe sleepe of ignorance, on the other
overwhelmed with the unquietnesse which they feele through
their weyward and blind desires, they are stirred with an
unquiet rage, as he that sleepeth otherwhile with straunge
and horrible visions: heaping then a greater poure upon
their noughtie desire, there is heaped also a greater trouble
withall. And whan the Prince can do what he will,then is
it great jeopardie least he will the thing that he ought not.
Therefore said Bias well, that promotions declare what
men be: for even as vesselles while they are emptie, though
they have some chinke in them, it can ill be perceived, but
The lief of the kinge a lawe to the people.
if they be filled with licour, they showe by and by on what
side the fault is, so corrupt and il disposed mindes syldome
discover their vices, but whan they be filled with authoritie.
For then they are not able to carie the heavie burdien of
poure, but forsake them selves and scatter on every side
greedie desire, pride, wrath, solemnesse and such tirannicall
facions as they have within them. Whereupon without regard they
persecute the good and wise, and promote the
wicked. And they can not abide to have frendshippes,
assemblies and conferences among Citizens in Cities. But
maintein spies, promoters, murtherers and cutthrotes to put
men in reare and to make them become feintharted. And
they sowe debate and streife to keepe them in division and
weake. And of these maners insure infinit damages and the
uttre undoinge of the poore people, and often times cruell
slaughter or at the least continuall feare to the Tirannes
them selves. For good Princis feare not for them selves
but for their sakes whom they rule over: and Tyrannes feare
verie them whom they rule over. Therfore the more numbre
of people they rule over and the mightier they are, the more
is their feare and the more ennemies they have. How fearefull
(think you) and of what an unquiet mind was Clearus Tirann of Pontus
every time he went into the market place,
or into the theatre, or to anie banket, or other haunted
Bias sayinge.
Authorities disclose vices.
Tirannes.
place? For (as it is written) he slept shutt into a chest.
Or Aristodemus of Argos? which of his bed had made to
him self a prison (or litle better) for in his palaice he had a
litle roume hanginge in the aer, and so high that he should
clime to it with a ladder, and there slept he with a woman
of his, whose mother overnight tooke away the ladder, and
in the morning sett it to again. Cleane contrarie to this
therfore ought the lief of a good Prince to be, free and safe
and as deere to his subjectes as their owne: and so framed,
that he may have a parte of both the doinge and beeholdinge
lief, asmuche as shall be beehoufful for the benefit of
hys people.
Clearus.
Then the L. Gaspar: And whiche of the two lives, my L. Octavian (quoth he) do you thinke most meete for a Prince?
The L. Octavian answered smilinge: Ye thinke perhappes that I stand in mine owne conceite to be the excellent Courtier that ought to knowe so manye matters, and to applye them to the good end I have spoken of. But remembre your selfe, that these Lordes have facioned him with manie qualityes that be not in me: therefore let us firste doe our best to finde him out, for I remytt me to him both in this and in al other thinges that belong to a good Prince.
Then the L. Gaspar: I thinke (quoth he) that if anye of the qualities geven the Courtier want in you, it is rather musike and daunsinge and the rest of smalle accompt, then such as beelong to the instructing of a Prince and to this ende of Courtlines.
The L. Octavian answered: They are not of small accompt all of them that help to purchase a man the favour of a Prince, which is necessarie (as we have said) before the Courtier aventure to teach him vertue, the which (I trowe) I have showed you may be learned, and profiteth asmuch as ignorance hurteth, whereof springe all vices, and speciallye that false leekinge a man hath of him selfe. Therefore (in mine opinion) I have sufficientlye said, and perhappes more then my promise was.
Then the Dutchesse: We shal be so much the more bounde (quoth she) to your gentilnesse, as ye shall satisfye us more then promise. Therfore sticke not to speake your fansye concerninge the L. Gaspars request. And of good fellowshippe showe us beside whatsoever you woulde teache your Prince, if he had neede of instructions: and sett the case that you have throughlye gotten his favour, so as it maye be lawfull for you to tell him francklye what ever commeth in your minde.
The L. Octavian laughed and
said: Yf I had the favour
of some Prince that I knowe, and shoulde tell him franckly
mine opinion (I doubt me) I shoulde soone lose it: beeside
that, to teach hym, I should neede firste to learne my selfe.
Notwithstandinge sins it is youre pleasure that I shall
answere the L. Gaspar in this also, that (in my
minde)
The ende of lawes.
Princis ought to give them selves both to the one
and the other of the two lyves, but yet somewhat more to
the beehouldinge: bicause this in them is divided into two
partes, whereof the one consisteth in knoweynge well and
judgeing: the other in commaundinge aryght, and in suche
wyse as it shoulde be done, and reasonable matters and suche
as they have authoritye in, commaunding them to hym, that
of reason ought to obeye, and in time and place accordingely.
And of thys spake Duke Friderick, whan he said, He that
can commaunde, is alwayes obeyed. And to commaunde is
evermore the principall office of Princis, which notwithstandinge
ought manye times also to see with their eyes and to
be present at the deede doynge, and accordinge to the time
and the busenesse otherwhile also be doynge them selves,
and yet hath all thys a part wyth action or practise. But
the ende of the actyve or doinge lief ought to be the beehouldinge,
as of warr, peace, and of peynes, rest.
Vita contemplativa.
Therfore
is it also the office of a good Prince so to trade his people
and with such lawes and statutes, that they maye lyve in rest
and in peace, without daunger and with encrease of welth,
and injoye praisablye this ende of their practises and actions,
which ought to be quietnesse. Bicause there have bine often
times manye Commune weales and Princis, that in warr
were alwayes most florishinge and mightie, and immediatlye
after they have had peace, fell indecaye and lost their puissance and
brightnesse, like yron unoccupied. And this
came of nothing elles, but bicause they had no good trade of
lyving in peace, nor the knowleage to injoie the benefit of
ease. And it is not a matter lawfull to be alwayes in warr
without seekinge at the ende to come to a peace: although
some Princis suppose that their drift ought principally to
be, to bringe in subjection their borderers, and therfore
traine up their people in a warlyke wyldenesse of spoyle, and
murther, and suche matters: they wage them to exercise it,
and call it vertue. Wherupon in the olde tyme it was an
usage emonge the Scythes, that whoso hadde not slayne
some ennemie of his, could not drinke in solemne banckettes
of the gobblet that was caried about to his companions. in
Vita activa.
How to trade people.
other places the maner was to reare about ones sepulture so
manye Obeliskes, as he that laye there buryed had slain of
his ennemies. And all these thinges and many mo, were
invented to make men warlike, onlye to bring others in subjection,
which was a matter (almost) unpossible, bicause it is
an infinite peece of woorke, untill all the worlde be brought
under obeysance: and not very reasonable, accordinge to the
lawe of nature which will not have, that in others the thinge
should please us, whiche in our selves is a greefe to us.
Therfore ought Princis to make their people warlyke, not
for a greedie desire to rule, but to defende themselves the
better and their owne people, from whoso woulde attempt
to bringe them in bondage, or to do them wrong in any
point. Or els to drive out Tirans, and to govern the people
well, that were yll handled. Or elles to bringe into bondage
them, that of nature were suche, that they deserved to be
made bondmen, with entent to govern them well, and to
give them ease, rest and peace. And to this ende also ought
to be applied the lawes, and al statutes of justice, in punishing
the yll, not for malice, but bicause there should be no
yll, and least they shoulde be a hinderaunce to the quiet
livinge of the good: because in very deede it is an uncomelye
matter and woorthie blame, that in warr (which of it selfe is
nought) men shoulde showe themselves stout and wise, and
in peace and rest (which is good) ignoraunt, and so blockishe
that they wiste not howe to injoye a benefit. Even as therfore
in warr they ought to bende their people to the profitable
and necessarye vertues to come by that ende (which is,
peace) so in peace, to come by the end therof also (which is,
quietnes) they ought to bend them to honest vertues, which
be the end of the profitable. And in this wise shal the
sujectes be good, and the Prince shall have manye mo to
commende and to rewarde, then to chastise. And the rule
both for the subjectes and for the Prince shall be most
happye, not Lordly, as the maister over his bondeman, but
softe and meeke, as a good father over his good childe.
A custome among the Scythes.
Greate high square stones smaller and smaller unto the top.
Why Princis should make their people warlike.
Then the L. Gaspar: Gladly (quoth he) woulde I understande what maner vertues these are, that be profitable and necessarye in warr, and what honest in peace.
The L. Octavian answered: All
be goode and helpe the
tourne, bicause they tende to a good ende. Yet cheeflye in
warr is much set by that true manlines, which maketh the
minde voide from all passions, so that he not onlye feareth
not perilles, but passeth not upon them. Likewise steadfastnesse, and
pacyence, abidinge with a quiet and untroubled
minde all the strokes of fortune. It is beehouffull likewise
in warr and at all other times to have all the vertues that
beelonge to honestye, as justice, staidnesse, sobermoode:
but muche more in peace and rest, because often times men
in prosperitie and rest, whan favourable fortune fauneth
upon them, wexe unrighteous, untemperate, and suffre themselves
to be corrupted with pleasures. Therfore suche as be
in this state have verie greate neede of these vertues, bicause
rest bringeth yll condicyons to soone into mens mindes:
wherupon arrose a Proverbe in olde time, that Rest is not
to be given to bondmen. And it is thought that the Piramides
of AElig;gipt were made to kepe the people occupied, bicause Unto
everie manne, use to abide peynes is most
Manlinesse.
Steadfastnesse.
profitable. There be more over manie other vertues, all
helpfull, but it sufficeth for this time to have spoken this
muche: for if I could teach my Prince and traine him in
this maner and so vertuous a bringinge uppe (as we have
sett furth) in doinge it without anye more (I woulde beeleave)
that I had sufficientlye well compased the ende of a good Courtier.
Rest.
Hugious great stones steeplewise.
Then the L. Gaspar: My L. Octavian (quoth he) bicause you have muche praysed good bringing up, and seemed (in a maner) to beleave that it is the cheef cause to make a man vertuous and good, I would knowe, whether the Courtiers instructing of hys Prince, ought to beegine firste of use and (as it were) daylye facions, that unawares to him may make him to accustome himselfe to weldoinge: or elles whether he ought to beegine it himself in opening unto him with reason the proprety of good and yll, and in makinge him to perceive, beefore he take the matter in hand, which is the good waye and to be folowed and which the yll, and to be shonned: finallye whether into that minde of his, the vertues ought to be driven and grounded with reason and understanding first, or with custome.
The L. Octavian said: You
bringe me into overlonge a
discourse. yet bicause you shall not thinke that I will
slacke for that I am not willing to make answere to your
requestes, I saye, that like as the soule and the bodye in us
are two thinges, so is the soule divided into two partes:
whereof the one hath in it reason, and the other appetite.
Even as therefore in generation the body goith beefore the
soule, so doeth the unreasonable part of the soule go before
the reasonable: the whiche is plainlye to be descerned in
yonge babes, who (in a maner) immediatelye after their
birthe uttre angre and fervent appetite, but afterwarde in
processe of time reason appeereth. Therfore first must the
bodye be cherished beefore the soule: after that, the appetite
beefore reason: but the cherishinge of the bodye for a
respect to the soule, and of the appetite for a respect to
reason. For as the vertue of the minde is made perfecte
with learninge, so is the civill wyth custome. Therefore
ought there to be a grounde made firste wyth custome,
whiche maye governe the appetites not yet apt to conceyve
reason: and wyth that good use leade them to goodnesse:
afterwarde settle them wyth understandynge, the whyche
althoughe she be laste to showe her light, yet doeth she the
more perfectlye make the vertues to be injouyed of whoso
hathe his mynde well instructed wyth maners, wherein (in
mine opinion) consisteth the wholl.
Reason.
Appetite.
The L. Gaspar said: Beefore ye
proceade anye farther, I
woulde knowe howe the body should be cherished: bicause
you have saide that we must cherishe it beefore the soule.
Cherishing of the bodye.
The L. Octavian answered smiling: Know of these men that make much of it and are faire and rounde, as for mine (as you see) it is not half well cherished. Yet may there also be much said in this beehalf: as, the time meete for mariage, that children be neither to nigh nor to farr of from the fathers age: exercises, and bringinge up soone after there birth, and in the rest of their lief to make them handsome, towardlie, and livelie.
The L. Gaspar answered: The thing that woulde best please women to make their children handsome and wel-favoured (in my minde) were the felowship that Plato will have of them in his Commune weale, and in that wise.
Then the Lady Emilia smilinge: It is not in the covenaunt (quoth she) that ye shoulde a freshe fall to speake yll of women.
I suppose, answered the L. Gaspar, that I give them a great praise, in sainge that they shoulde desire to have a custome brought up, which is alowed of so woorthye a man.
The L. Cesar Gonzaga said laughing: Let us see whether amonge the L. Octavians lessons (yet I wott not whether he have spoken at all or no) this may take place: and whether it were well done the Prince should establish it for a lawe or no.
The few that I have spoken, answered the L. Octavian, may perhappes be inough to make a good Prince, as Princes go nowadayes. Although if a man would go more narrowly to woorke in the matter, there were muche more for him yet to saye.
Then said the Dutchesse: Sins it costeth us nothinge but woordes, show us of good felowshippe that, that woulde come in youre mind to teach your Prince.
The L. Octavian answered: Manie
other matters I woulde
teache hym (madam) if I knew them my selfe: and amonge
the rest, that he should pike out a certein numbre of Gentilmen emonge
his subjectes, of the noblest and wisest, wyth
A counsell of the commons. Cares
in a Prince. Equalitye. Extortion of the higher powers. Lacke of wisdome in princis. That the evell wexe not great. Il customes. Goodes of the minde, of the bodye and of
fortune.
whom he shoulde debate all matters, and give the authority
and free leave to uttre their minde francklye unto him
without respect: and take suche order wyth them that they
maye well perceive, that in everie thinge he woulde knowe
the truth and abhorr lyinge. And beeside this Counsell of
the nobilitie, I woulde perswade him to chouse out others
amonge the people of a baser degree, of whom he shoulde
make an honest substanciall Counsell, that shoulde debate
with the Counsell of the nobilitye the affaires of the Citye
beelonginge to the commune and private astate. And in this wise shoulde
be made, of the Prince, as of the head, of
the nobilite and communes, as of the membres, one bodie
alone knitt together, the governance wherof should cheeflie
depende upon the Prince, yet shoulde the rest beare a stroke
also in it: and so shoulde this state have the fourme and
maner of the three good governmentes, which is, a kingdome, men of the
best sorte, and the people. Afterward I
woulde showe him, that of cares beelonging to a Prince, the
cheefest is of justice: for maintenance wherof wise and well
tryed men shoulde be chosen out for officers, whose wisdome
were verie wisdome in deede, accompanied with goodnesse,
for elles it is no wisdome, but craft. And where there is a want of
this goodnesse, alwayes the art and subtill practise
of lawyers is nothing elles, but the uttre decay and destruction
of the lawes and judgementes: and the fault of very
offence of theirs is to be layed in him that put them in
office. I would tell him how that of justice also dependeth
the zeale toward God, which beelongeth unto all men and
especiallye to Princis, who ought to love him above all
A counsell of noble men.
thinges, and to direct all their doinges unto him, as unto
the true ende: and (as Xenophon saith) to honoure and
love him alwayes, but much more now in prosspiritie, bicause
they may afterwarde lefullye with a more confidence call to
him for assistance whan they bee in anye adversitye: for it
is not possible to govern either himself or others well, without
the help of God, wo unto the good sendeth otherwhile
good fortune for his minister, to helpe them out of great
daungers, sometime adversitye leaste they shoulde slumber
so much in prosperity that they myght happen to forgete
him, or the wisdome of man, which manie times redresseth
ill fortune, as a good player the ill chaunces of the dice,
with counninge play at tables. I woulde not forgete also to
put the Prince in minde to be devoute indeede, not
superstycious, nor given to the vanitie of nigromancy and
prophecies: for in case he have accompanied with the wisdome
of manne, a godlye zeale and true religion, he shall also
have good lucke, and God his defendour, who will alwayes
encrease his prospiritie both in peace and warr. Beeside, I
woulde declare unto him how he shoulde love his Countrey
and his people, keapinge them not in tomuch bondage, for
beeing hated of them wherof arrise sedicions, conspiracies,
and a thowsand mischeeves beeside: nor yet in to much
Godly affections.
libertye, lest he be set at nought, wherof proceadeth the
licencious and riotus livinge of the people, theft, robberye
and murther withoute anye feare of lawes, often tymes the
decay and uttre destruction of cities and kingdoms. Moreover how he
shoulde love them that be nighest to him from
one degree to an other, observinge among them all in certein
matters a like equalitie, as in justice and libertye, and in some
matters a reasonable partiality as in beeing liberal, in
recompensing, in bestowinge promotions and honours according
to the unequalnesse of desertes, which ought not alwaies
to exceade, but to be exceaded with recompences. And that in thus doing
he should not only be beloved, but (in a
maner) worshipped of his subjectes, neither should he neede
to commit the guarde of his person to straungers for his
own (for the better safegard and profit of them selves)
would guarde him with their own person: and ech man
woulde willinglye obey the lawes, whan they shoulde see him
to obey them him self, and bee (as it were) an uncorrupted
keaper and minister of them: and so shall he make all men
to conceive suche an assured confidence of him, that if he
shoulde happen otherwhile to go biyonde them in anye
point, everie one woulde know it were done for a good entent: the self
same respect and reverence they woulde
have to his will, as they have to the lawes. And thus
To love his Country and people.
Partialitye.
shoulde the Citizens mindes be tempered in suche sort, that the good
woulde not seeke for more then is requisit, and the
badd shoulde not perishe: bicause manie times abundance
of wealth is cause of great destruction, as in poore Italy,
which hath bine and still is, a prey and bootie in the teeth
of straunge nations, aswell for the ill government, as for
the abundaunce of riches that is in it. Therfore the best
way were, to have the greater part of the Citizins, neyther
verye wealthie, nor verye poore: bicause the over wealthy
many times were stiff necked and recklesse, the poore,
desperate and pikinge. But the meane sort lye not in
waite for others, and live with a quiet minde that none lye
in waite for them. And where this meane sort are the
greater number, they are withall the mightier. And therfore neyther the
poore nor riche can woorke anie conspiracie
against the Prince, or against others, nor move sedicion.
Wherfore to avoide this evyll, the most surest way is
universally to maintein a meane. I would counsell him therfore
to use these and many other remedies for the pourpose, that
in the minde of the subjectes there springe not a longing
after newe matters and alteracion of state, whiche most
communly they do, either for gain, or elles for promotion
that they hope upon, or for losse, or elles for some toile that
they be a ferde of. And these sturres in their mindes be
engendred some time of hatred and despite that maketh
them desperate for the wronges and unshameful dealing
that they receive through the covetisenesse, pride, and
crueltye, or unlefull lust of the higher powers: otherwhile
of a contempt and litle regard that ariseth in theem through
To much welth.
How to ordre his citizins.
the negligence and ill handlinge and lack of foresight in
Princis. ANd these two faultes must be prevented with
purchasing him the love of the people, and authoritye,
whiche is done in rewardinge and promotinge the good and
in finding wiselie a remedy, and sometime with rigour, that
the evil and sedicious wexe not great: the whiche thinge is
easier to be stopped beefore they come to it, then to plucke
theym downe againe after they are once come on loft. And I
would saye, to restraine the people from renninge into those
inconveniences, there is no better way, then to keepe them
from yll custommes, and speciallye suche as be put in use
and creepe in unawares by litle and litle, bycause they be
secrete infections that corrupte Cities beefore a manne can
not onlye remedye them, but spie them out. With suche
meanes I woulde counsell the Prince to do his best to preserve his
subjectes in quiet astate, and to give them the
goddes of the mynde, and of the bodye and of fortune:
but them of the bodye and of fortune, that they maye
exercise them of the minde, whiche the greater and plentier
they be, so much the more profitable be they: that happeneth not in
them of the bodye, nor of fortune: in case
therefore the subjectes bee good and of worthynesse and
well bent to the ende of happynes, that Prince shall be a verye great
Lorde: for that is a true and a greate governement, under the whyche
the subjectes be good, well ruled
and well commaunded.
Alteracion of state.
Then the L. Gaspar: I suppose (quoth he) that he shoulde be but a small Lorde, under whom the subjectes were all good. For in everye place there be fewe good.
The L. Octavian answered: In case some serein Circe shoulde tourne into wilde beastes all the French Kinges subjectes, woulde not you thinke him a smalle Lorde for all he reigned over so manye thousande beastes? And contrarywyse yf onelye the Cattell that scattre abrode feadynge aboute oure Mountaignes here, might become wise menne, and valiaunt Gentilmen, woulde not you thinke that heardmenne that should governe them and have them obedient to them, of heardmen were become great Lordes? you maye see then, that not the multytude of Subjectes, but the woorthynesse of them makes Princis greate.
| Not the multitude, but the woorthy. |
| Markq. of Mantua.
S. Peters church. Belvedere. The great Alexander. Plutar. Athos a hill in Thracia of a wonderfull height. |
The L. Octavian answered them
smilinge: Such as had
not these respectes shoulde have done the better in case
had hadd them: althoughe if ye consider well, ye shall
finde that manie had them, and especiallye those auntientest
of olde time, as Theseus and Hercules. And thinke not
Alexander profited the vanquished. King Francis the first. Kinge Henry the VIII.
that Procrustes, Scyron, Caccus, Diomedes, Antheus, and
Gerion were anye other then cruell and wicked Tirannes
againste whom these noble couraged Demigoddes kept continual and
mortall war, and therfore, for ridding the world
of such intollerable monstres (for Tyrannes ought not to be
called by other name) unto Hercules were made Temples,
and sacrifices, and godlye honours given him, bicause the
benefit to roote up Tiranes is so profitable to the worlde,
that who so doeth it, deserveth a farre greater rewarde,
then whatsoever is meete for a mortall man. And of
them you have named, do you not thinke that Alexander
did profit with his victories the vanquished? sins he so
traded those barbarous nations whiche he overcame, with
such good maners, that of wylde beastes he made them
men? He built manye beawtifull Cities in Countreis ill
inhabited, plantinge therin civill kinde of living, and (as it
were) coopled Asia and Europe together with the bonde of
amitie and holy lawes, so that the vanquished by him were
more happie then the rest, bicause emong some he brought
in matrimonie: emong other, husbandrie: emong other,
religion: emonge other, not to sley, but to make muche of
their parentes in their olde age: emong other, the refraining
from bedding with their mothers, and a thousand other
matters, that might be said for a witnesse of that profit
which his victories brought to the world. But leaving
aside them of olde time, what enterprise were more noble,
more glorious, and more profitable then if Christians would bend their
force to conquerr the infidelles. WOuld you not
thinke that this warr, prosperously acheved, and beeing the
cause of so manye a thousande to be brought from the false
sect of Mahumet to the light of the Christian truth, it
should be a profit aswel to the vanquished, as to the subduers?
And undoubtedly, as Themistocles in times past,
being banished out of his Countrey, and imbraced of the
king of Persia, and much made of, and honoured with infinit
and most rich giftes, said unto his traine: Oh sirs we had
Tirannes
Monstres.
bine undone, had we not bine undone, even so might then
the Turkes and the Moores speake the very same with good
cause, for that in their losse should consist their welfare.
This happinesse therfore (I hope) we shall come to the sight
of, if God graunt so long lief to Monseigneur d'Angoulesme
that he may come to the Crowne of Fraunce, who showeth
suche a hope of him selfe, as foure nightes agoe the L. Julian
spake of. And to the Crowne of England the L. Henry
Prince of Wales, who presentlye groweth under his most
noble father, in all kinde of vertue, like a tender ympe
under the shadow of an excellent tree and laden with frute,
to renue him much more beautiful and plentuous whan
time shal come, for as our Castilio writeth from thens, and
promiseth at hys retourn to tell us more at the full, a man
can judge no lesse, but that nature was willing in this
Prince to show her counning, planting in one body alone
so many excellent vertues, as were sufficient to decke out
infinit.
Xerxes.
Then said M. Bernard Bibiena: a
very great hope of him self promiseth also the L. Charles Prince of
Spaine,
who not yet fullye tenn yeeres of age, declareth now such a
wit, and so certein tokens of goodnes, wisdome, modesty,
noble courage and of every vertue, that if the Empire of
Emulation emonge Kinges.
Christendome (as it is thought) come to his handes, it is to
be reckened upon, that he will darken the name of many
Emperours of olde time, and in renowme be compared to
the most famous that ever were in the worlde.
The Emperour Charles the V.
The L. Octavian proceaded: I
beeleave therefore that
God hath sent suche an so heavenly Princis upon the earth,
and made them one like an other in youth, in mightines of
armes, in state, in handsomnes and disposition of person, that
they may also be minded alike in this good pourpose: and
in case anye maner envye or strife of matching others arrise
at any time emong them, it shall be, who shall be the first,
and most inclined and most couragious in so glorious an
enterprise. But let us leave this kinde of talke, and retourne
unto our owne. Unto you therfore (my L. Cesar) I say,
that such thinges as you would have the Prince to do, be
very great and worthye muche praise. But you must understand
that if he be not skilfull in that I have saide he
ought to have a knowleage in, and have not framed his
minde in that wise, and bent it to the waye of vertue, it
shall be harde for him to have the knowleage to be noble
couraged, liberall, just, quicke-spirited, wise, or to have any
other of those qualities that beelong unto him: neither
would I have him to be suche a one for anye other thinge,
but to have the understanding to put in use these condicions
(for as they that build, be not all good workemen, so they
that give, be not all liberall) for vertue never hurteth anye
man: and manye there be, that laye hande on other mens
gooddes to give, and so are lavish of an other mans substance.
Knowleage. Vertue in the middle. Extremities, vices. Mistrustinge. The Prince towarde his subjectes. Marchaunt men. Excesse of women. Good Princes verye scant.
Some give to them they ought not, and leave in
wretchednesse and miserie such as they be bound to. Other
give with a certein yll will and (as it were) with a dispite,
so that it is knowen they do it, bicause they can do none
other. Other do not onlye kepe it secrete, but they
call witnesse of it, and (in a maner) cause their liberalities
to be cried. Other foolishlye at a sodeine emptye the fountain of
liberalitye, so that afterwarde they can use it no
more. Therefore in this point (as in all other matters) he
must have a knowleage, and govern him self with the wisdome that is a
companion unto all the other vertues whiche
for that they are in the midle, be nygh unto the two
extremities, that be vices. Wherefore he that hath not
knoweleage renneth soone into them. For as it is a harde
matter in a circle to find out the pricke in the centre, whiche
is the middle, so it is harde to find out the pricke of vertue
placed in the middle beetweene two extreme vyces, the one
for the overmuch, and the other for the overlittle, and unto
these we are inclined sometime to the one, sometime to the other, and
this is knowen by the pleasure and greef that is
felt within us, for through the one we doe the thinge that
we ought not, and through the other we leave undone that,
which we ought to do: although pleasure be muche more
daungerous, bicause oure judgement is soone lead by it to
be corrupted. But bicause the perseverance how farr a man
is wide from the centre of vertue, is a hard matter, we ought
by litle and litle to drawe backe of our selves to the
contrarie part of this extrmytye, whiche we know we be
inclined unto, as they do, that make straight crooked staves,
for by that meane we shall draw nighe unto vertue, which
is placed (as I have said) in that pricke of the meane:
wherby it commeth that by manye wayes we be wide, and
by one alone we do oure office and dutye: like as Archers
by one waye alone hitte the marke, and by manye mysse
the pricke. Therefore oftentimes a Prince to be gentle and
lowelye, doeth manye thinges contrarie to comelinesse, and
so humbleth him selfe that he is nought sett by. Some other
to show a grave majestye with authoritye according, beecommeth
cruell and untollerable. Some one, to be counted eloquente, entreth
into a thowsande straunge matters and
longe processes with curious woordes giving ear to hym
selfe, so that other men can not for lothsomenesse heare
him. Therfore (my L. Cesar) do you not call a smalle
matter anye thing that maye better a Prince how small so
ever it be. Nor thinke that I judge it to be in the reproofe
of my lessons where you say, that a good Governour were
Liberalitye.
rather instructed therewithall, then a good Prince: for perhappes there
can not be a greater praise nor more comlye
for a Prince, then to call him a good Governour. Therfore
if it shoulde fall to my lott to instruct him, he should have
a care not only to govern the matters already spoken of,
but also farre lesser, and understande in peecemeale whatsoever
belongeth to his people, asmuch as were possible: and
never credite nor trust any officer so muche, as to give him
the bridle wholy into his handes, and the disposinge of the wholl
government. For no man is most apt to all thinges.
And much more hurt commeth of the light beeleaf of
Princis, then of mistrusting, whiche otherwhile doeth not
onlye not hurt, but oftentimes profiteth exceadingly. Yet
in this point a good judgement is verye necessarye in a Prince to
descern who deserveth to be put in trust, and
who not. I woulde he shoulde have a care to understande
the doinges and to be an overseear of his officers
ministers. To breake and to ende controversies emonge his
subjectes. To take up matters beetweene them and to
knitte them together in alliance by marriage. To provide
so, that the Citye may be all joyned together and agreeinge
in amitye, lyke a private house, well peopled, not poore,
quiet, and full of good artificers. To show favour to
A good Prince a good governour.
marchaunt men and to helpe them also with stokkes. To
be liberall and honourable in housekeepinge towarde straungers
and religious persons. To tempre all superfluous
matters, bicause throughe the offences committed in these
thinges, albeit they appeere but small, cities manye times
fall in decay: therefore it is reason that the prince set a stint to
the oversumptuous buildinges of private men,
bancquettinges, unmesurable doweries of women, their riotous
excesse, their pompe in jeweles and apparaile, whiche
is nothinge elles but a token of their foly: for (beeside that
throughe ambicion and malice that one of the beareth an
other, they many times lavish out their livelode and husbandes
substance, otherwhile for some pretye jewell or other
matter of fansye) sometime they sell their honestie to him
that will buye it.
Citye.
Houskeepinge
Superfluous thinges..
Then said M. Bernarde Bibiena smilinge: You beegine (my L. Octavian) to to take my L. Gaspars and Phrisios part.
Then the L. Octavian answered in like maner smilyng: The controversye is ended and I entende not nowe to renue it. Therefore wil I speake no more of women, but retourn to my prince.
Phrisio answered: You may now leave him hardely, and be contented to have him suche a one as you have instructed him. For doubtles it wer an easier matter to find out a woman of the qualities the L. Julian hath spoken of, then a prince of the qualities that you would have in him. Therfore (I feare me) he is like the Commune weale of Plato, and we shall never see suche a one, onlesse it bee perhappes in heaven.
The L. Octavian answered: Thinges possible, though they be hard, yet is it to be hoped that they maye be: therefore maye we yet parhappes see him upon the earth in oure time. For althoughe the heavens be so scante in bringinge furth excellent Princis, that in so manye hundreth yeeres we do scantlye see one, yet may this good lucke happen to us.
Then said Count
Lewis: I have a
good hope of it. For
beeside the three great ones that we have named, of whom
may be hoped it, that beelongeth to the high degree of a
perfect Prince, there be also nowadayes in Italy certein
Princes children, which although they be not like to have
such power, may happe will supply it with vertue: and he
that emonge them all declareth a more towardenesse and
promiseth of him selfe a greater hope then anye of the reste
(me think) is the L. Fridereick Gonzaga, sonn and heyr so
the marquesse of Mantua, and nephewe to oure Dutchesse
here. For beeside the honest inclination to good nourtour
and the discreation that he declareth in these tendre yeeres,
they that have the bringing upp of him, reporte suche
wonderous thinges as touchinge his beeing wittye, desirous
of glory, stouthearted, courteious, freeharted, frindlye to
justice, so that of so good a beeginning, there can not be loked for
but a verye good ende.
L. Fridericke Gonzaga Duke of Mantua.
Then Phrisio: Well, no more of this (quoth he) we will pray unto God that we may se this your hope fulfilled.
Here the L. Octavian tourning him toward the dutches, after a sort as though he had ended as much as he had to saye: You have now heard, madam (quoth he) what I am able to say of the ende of the Courtier, wherin though I have not satisfied in all pointes, it shall suffice me yet, that I have showed, that some other perfection may be given him beside the matters whych these Lordes have spoken of, who (I beleave) have lefte out both this and what so ever I am able to saye, not bycause they knew it not better then I, but bicause they were loth to take the peynes: therefore will I give them leave to go forward, if they have anye thinge elles lefte beehinde to be saide.
Then said the Dutchess: Beeside that it is late (for within a while it will be time for us to make an ende for this night) me thinke, we ought not to mingle anye other talke with this wherin you have gathered together suche sundrye and goodlye matters, that concerninge the ende of Courtlinesse, it may be said, that you are not onlie the perfect Courtier whom we seke for, and able to instruct your Prince well, but also (if fortune be so favourable on your side) ye maye be the good Prince your self, whiche shoulde not be withoute great profit to your Countrey.
The laughed the L. Octavian and said: Perhappes (madam) were I in that astate, it woulde be with me as it is with maye others that can better saye well, then do well.
Here after a little debatinge of the matter to and fro emonge the company, with certein contentions tending to the commendacion of that that had bine spoken, and agreeinge on all handes not yet to be bed time, the L. Julian saide smilinge: Madam, I am so verie an ennemye to crafte and guile, that needes must I speake against the L. Octavian: who for that he is (as I muche doubt him) a secrete conspiratour with the L. Gaspar againste women, hath overshott himselfe in committing of two errours (in mine opinion) very great: wherof the one is, that meaninge to preferr this Courtier beefore the Gentilwoman of the Palaice, and to make him to passe those boundes that she is not able to reache to, he hath also preferred him beefore the Prince, whiche is most unseemlye. The other, that he hath given him suche an ende, that it is evermore harde and otherwhile unpossible for him to comebye it: and yet whan he doeth come by it, he ought not to have the name of a Courtier.
I can not see, quoth the L. Emilia, howe it is harde or unpossible for the Courtier to come bye this his ende, nor yet howe the L. Octavian hath prefarred him beefore the Prince.
Graunt it him not, answered the L. Octavian: for I have not preferred the Courtier beefore the Prince. And as touchinge the ende of Courtlinesse, I dare undertake that I am not overseene in any point.
Then answered the L. Julian: You can not say (my L. Octavian) that alwaies the cause, by which the effect is such as it is, is no more suche as the effect is. Therfore needes must the Courtier, by whose instruction the price must be of such an excellencye, be more excellente then the prince: and in this wise shall he be also of a more woorthinesse then the prince himselfe, which is most unsittinge. Then concerninge the ende of Courtlinesse, that which you have spoken may folowe whan there is litle betwene the age of the prince and the Courtiers: yet verye hardlye, for where there is smalle difference of age, it is likelye there is also smalle difference of knowleage. But in case the prince be olde and the Courtier yong: it is meete that the olde prince knowe more then the yonge Courtier, and where this foloweth not alwaies, it foloweth somtime, and then is the ende which you have appointed to the Courtier unpossible. In case againe the prince be yonge and the Courtier aged, muche a doe shall the COurtier have to wynne him the good will of the prince with those qualities that you have given him. For (to saye the truth) feates of armes and the other exercises beelonge unto yonge menne and be not comelye in age: and musike, daunsinge, feastinges, sportinges, and love, be matters to be laughed at in olde menne, and (me thinke) to an instructor of the lief and maners of a prince, who ought to be a grave person and of authoritie, ripe in yeeres and experience and (if it were possible) a good Philosopher, a good Capitain and to have the knowleage almost of every thinge, they are most unseemly. Wherfore he that instructeth a Prince (I beleve) ought not to be called a Courtier, but deserveth a far greater and a more honourable name. Therfore (my L. Octavian) perdon me in case I have opened this your craftye conveiance, which I thinke my self bounde to do for the honour of my woman, whom you would have to be of lesse worthines then this Courtier of yours, and I wil none of that.
The L. Octavian laughed and
saide: A more praise it
were for the Gentilwoman of the Palaice (my L. Julian)
to exalt her so muche that she maye be equall with the
Courtier, then so much to debase the Courtier that he
shoulde be equall with the Gentilwoman of the Palaice: for
it were not unfitt for the woman also to instruct her ladye,
and with her to drawe to the same ende of Courtlinesse, whiche I have
said is meete for the Courtier with his prince.
The ende of the Courtier harde. Olde Courtiers. Achilles. Aristotell and Plato were Courtiers. Both the Dionysses. The office of a good Courtier. Aristotel wayed the nature of Alexander. Stagira destroyed by Philip Alexanders father. The Courtier ought not to serve the wicked.
But you seeke more to dispraise the Courtier, then to praise
the Gentilwoman of the Palaice, therfore shall it become
me also to take part with the Courtier. Now to make you
answere to youre objections, you shall understande that I
have not saide, that the instruction of the Courtier ought
to be the onelye cause why the Prynce shoulde be such a one,
for in case he be not inclined of nature and apt to be suche
a one, all diligence and exhortacion of the Courtier were in
vaine. As in like maner every good husband man should
labour in vaine, that would take in hande to tyll and sowe
with good graine the barraine sande of the Sea, bicause this
barrainnesse in that place is naturall. But whan to the good seede in a
frutefull soile with the temperatnesse of aer
and rayne meete for the season of the yeere, ther is also
applied the diligence of mans husbandinge the grounde,
alwaies great abundance of corne is seene to springe
plentuouslye: yet for all this, it is not to be saide, that the
husbande man alone is the cause of it, although without
him all the other thinges do litle or nothinge helpe the
pourpose. There be therfore manie Princis, that would be
good, in case their myndes were well tylled, and of theym
speake I, not of suche as be like the barraine Countrey, and
of nature so farr wide from good condicions that no teaching were able
to frame their minde to a right trade. And
forsomuch as (as we have already said) such custommes
This ende of the Courtyer serveth also for a
Gentil woman
with her Lady.
and properties be ingendred in us, as oure doinges are, and
vertue consisteth in doing and practise, it is not unpossible
nor any marveile, that the Courtier should traine his Prince
in many vertues, as justice, liberality, noble courage, the
practisinge wherof he, through his greatnesse, maye lightlye
put in use and make it custome, whiche the Courtier can not
do, bicause he hath no meanes to practise theym, and thus
the Prince inclined to vertue by the Courtyer, may beecome
more vertuous then the Courtier: beesyde that, you muste
conceyve that the whettstone which cutteth not a whitt,
doeth yet make a toole sharpe: therfore althoughe the
Courtier instructeth his Prince, yet (me thinke) it is not to
be said that he is of a more woorthynes then his Prince.
That the ende of this Courtier is harde and somtime unpossible, and
that whan the Courtier doeth come bye it, he
ought not to be named a Courtier, but deserveth a greater
name, I tell you plainlye, that I denye not this hardnesse,
bicause it is no lesse harde to find out so excellent a
point that you have alleaged. For in case the Courtier be so
yong that he hath not understanding in the thinge, which
he ought to have a knowleage in, it is not to the pourpose
to speake of him, bicause he is not the Courtier that we
entreate upon, neyther is it possible for him that must have
a sight in so many thinges to be very yonge. And if it
happen moreover the Prince to be so wise and good of him
selfe, that he needeth no exhortations or counsell of others
(although it be so harde a matter as everye man knoweth)
it sufficeth that the Courtier be such a one, as if his Prince
had neede, he coulde make him vertuous: and then may
he in effect fulfill the other part, not to suffre him to be
deceived, and to worke that evermore he may understande
the truth of everye thinge, and bolster him against flatterers
and raylers, and all suche as shoulde endevour to corrupt
his minde with unhonest delites. And in this wise shall
he comebye a part of his ende though he can not practise
the wholl, which can not be justlye layde to him for a fault,
sins he refrayneth the doinge of it upon so good a ground.
For were an excellent Phisitien in place where al were sound
and in helth, a man ought not therefore to saye, that the
Phisitien (althoughe he cured no diseased) wanted of his
end. Wherefore as the Phisitiens respect ought to be the
Virtus in actione.
helthe of men, even so the Courtiers, the vertue of his
Prince: and it sufficeth them both to have this end inwardlye
grafte in them, whan the want of uttringe it outwardelye
in practise, is occasioned by the subjecte, to the
whiche thys ende is directed. But in case the Courtier were
so olde, that it became him not to be doing in musike,
feastinges, sportinges, marcialfeates, and the other slightes
of the bodye, yet can it not be saide not wythstandinge,
that it were unpossible for him to entre that way in favour
with his Prince: for where his age taketh awaye the
practisinge of those thinges, it taketh not away the understandinge
of them, and if he have practised them in his youth, it
maketh him to have so muche the more perfect judgement in
them, and giveth a knoweleage to teach theim his Prince so
muche the more perfectlye, as yeares and experience bringe
knowleage of all thinges with them. And thus shal the
aged Courtier, although he exercise not the qualities that
he is indowed withal, comebye his ende at length, to instructe
well hys Prince. And in case you will not call
him a Courtier, it shall nothing offende me, for nature hath
not appointed suche narrowe boundes to the dignities of
men, that one maye not come up from one to an other:
therfore many times meane souldiers arrise to be Capitaines:
private men, kinges: priestes, Popes: and scolers, maisters:
and so with there degree or dignitie they take their name
accordinglye. Wherfore perhappes a man may say that to
beecome the Instructer of a Prince were the ende of a Courtier,
althoughe I perceive not who should refuse this
name of a Perfect Courtier, whiche (in my minde) is woorthie
verye great praise. And I can not see but Homer, as he
The Courtiers respect, the vertue of his
Prince.
facioned two most excellent personages for example of mans
lief, the one in practises (whiche was Achilles) the other in
passions and sufferances (which was Ulisses): even so in like
maner he minded to facion a perfect Courtier (whiche was
Phoenix) who after rehersall of his loves and manye other
matters of youth, declareth that he was sent to Achilles by
his father Peleus, to be in his companye and to teache him
to speake and to do: whiche is nothinge elles but the ende
that we have appointed for oure Courtier. Neyther can I
thinke that Aristotel and PLato tooke scorne of the name of
a perfect Courtier, bicause it is plainlye to be seene that
they practised the deedes of Courtiershippe and gave them
selves to this ende, the one with the greate Alexander, the
other with the kinges of Sicilia. And bicause it is the
office of a good Courtier to knowe the nature and inclination
of his Prince, and so accordynge to the busynesse and
as occasion serveth with slightnesse to entre in favour with
him (as we have saide) by those wayes that make him a
sure entry, and afterward bend him to vertue, Aristotel so
well knew the nature of Alexander, and with slightnesse
framed him selfe so well thereafter, that he was beloved and
honoured of him more then a father. Wherfore emong
many other tokens that Alexander showed him, for a witnesse
of his good will, he caused Stagira the citye where he was borne once
destroied, to be builded new again. And
Aristotel, beeside the directinge him to that glorious end,
that was to make the worlde onelye a generall countrey, and
all men, as one people, that shoulde live in amitye and
agreement together, under one goverment and one lawe,
that (like the sonn) should generally geve light to all, he
instructed hym in the naturall sciences and in the vertues
of the minde full and wholy, that he made him most wise,
most manlie, moste continent, and a true morall Philosopher,
not in woordes onelye, but in deedes. For there can not be
imagined a more noble Philosophy, then to bringe to a civill
trade of living such wild people as were the inhabitauntes
of Bactria and Caucasus, India and Scithia, and to teache
them matrimonie, husbandrye, to honour their fathers, to
abstaine from robbing and killinge and from other noughty
condicions, and to builde so many noble Cities in
straunge Countries, so that infinit throughe those lawes
were brought from a wilde lief to live lyke men. And of
these thinges in Alexander the Author was Aristotel in
practisinge the wayes of a good Courtier. The which
Calisthenes coulde not do, for all Aristotel showed him the way
of it, who bicause he was a right philosopher and so sharpe
a minister of the bare truth without mynglinge it with
Courtlinesse, he lost his lief and profited not, but rather
Instructer of a Prince.
Ulisses.
Phoenix.
gave a sclaunder to Alexander. With the very same way
of Courtlinesse Plato framed Dion the Syracusan. But
when he mett afterwarde with Dionysius the Tyrann, like a
booke all full of faultes and errours, and rather needful to be cleane
blotted out, then altered or corrected, bicause it
was not possible to scrape out of him that blott of tiranny
wherwithall he was stained so long together, he would not
practise therein the wayes of Courtiership, for he thought
they shoulde be all in vaine: the whiche our Courtier ought
to do also, if his chaunce be to serve a Prince of so ill a
nature, that by longe custome is growen in use with vices,
as they that have the consumption of the lunges with their
desease. For in this case he ought to forsake his service, least
he beare the blame of his Lordes yll practises, or feele the
hartgreefe that all good men have which serve the wicked.
He rebuked Alexander for beeinge woorshipped
as a god, and therfore died upon the rack.
Q. Curt. lib. 8.
Here whan the L. Octavian had made a staye, the L. Gaspar sayde: I had not thought oure Courtier hadd bene so woorthy a personage. But sins Aristotel and PLato be his mates, I judge no man ought to disdeigne this name anye more. Yet wott I not whether I may beleave that Aristotel and Plato ever daunsed or were musitiens in all their lief time, or practised other feates of chivalrye.
The L. Octavian answered: Almost it is not lawfull to thinke that these two divine wittes were not skilfull in everye thinge, and therfore it is to be presupposed that they practised what ever beelongeth to Courtlynesse. For where it commeth to pourpose they so penn the matter, that the very craftes maisters them selves know by theyr writinges that they understoode the whol even to the pith and innermost rootes. Wherefore to a Courtier or instructer of a Prince (howe ever ye lust to terme him) that tendeth to the good ende, which we have spoken of, it is not to be said but that all the good qualities which these Lordes have given him do beelonge, though he were never so grave a Philosopher or holie in his maners: bicause they strive not against goodnesse, discreation, knoweleage and will, in all age, and in all time and place.
Then the L. Gaspar: I remembre
(quoth he) that these Lordes
yesternight reasoninge of the Courtiers qualities,
did alowe him to be a lover, and in makinge rehersall of
asmuche as hitherto hath bene spoken, a manne maye pike out
a conclusion, That the Courtier (whiche with his worthynesse
and credit must incline his Prince to vertue) must in maner
of necessite be aged, for knoweleage commeth very syldome times beefore
yeeres, and speciallye in matters that bee
learned wyth experyence: I can not see, whan hee is well
drawen in yeeres, howe it wyll stande well wyth hym to be a lover,
considerynge (as it hath bine said the other night)
Love frameth not with olde men, and the trickes that in
yonge men be galauntnesse, courtesie and precisenesse so
acceptable to women, in them are meere folies and fondnesse
to be laughed at, and purchase him that useth them hatred
of women and mockes of others. Therfore in case this your
Aristotel an old Courtier were a lover, and practised the
feates that yong lovers do) as some that we have sene in our
daies) I feare me, he woulde forgete to teach his Prince: and
paraventure boyes would mocke him behinde his backe, and
women would have none other delite in him but to make him a jestinge
stocke.
The Courtier a lover.
Then said the L. Octavian: SIns all the other qualities appointed to the Courtier are meete for him, althoughe he be olde, me thinke we shoulde not then barr him from this happinesse to love.
Nay rather, quoth the L. GAspar, to take this love from him, is a perfection over and above, and a makynge him to lyve happilie out of miserie and wretchednesse.
M. Peter Bembo said: Remember you not (my L. Gaspar) that the L. Octavian declared the other nighte in his divise of pastymes, although he be not skilfull in love, to knowe yet that there be some lovers, which recken the disdeignes, the angres, the debates and tourmentes whiche they receive of their Ladies, sweete? Wherupon he required to be taught the cause of this sweetenesse. Therefore in case oure Courtier (thoughe he be olde) were kendled with those loves that be sweete without any bitter smacke, he should feele no miserie nor wretchednesse at all. And beeing wise, as we set case he is, he shoulde not be deceived in thinkinge to be meete for him what so ever were meete for yonge men, but in lovinge shoulde perhappes love after a sorte, that might not only not bringe him in sclaunder but to muche praise and great happinesse, without any lothsomnes at all, the which verie sildome or (in maner) never happeneth to yonge men: and so should he neyther lay aside the teachinge of his Prince, nor yet commit any thinge that should deserve the mockinge of boyes.
Then spake the Dutchesse: I am glad (M. Peter) that you have not bine muche troubled, in oure reasoninges this night, for now we maye be the boulder to give you in charge to speake, and to teache the Courtier this so happie a love, which bringeth with it neither sclaunder, nor any inconvenience: for perhappes it shall be one of the necessariest and profitablest qualities that hitherto hath bine given him, theerfore speake of good felowship asmuch as you know therin.
M. Peter laughed and saide: I would be loth (Madam) where I say that it is lefull for olde men to love, it should be an occasion for these Ladyes to thinke me olde: therefore hardely give ye this enterprise to an other.
The Dutchesse answered: You ought not to refuse to be counted olde in knowleage, thoughe ye be yonge in yeeres. Therfore saye on, and excuse your selfe no more.
M. Peter said: Surelye (madam) if I must entreate upon this matter, I must first go aske counsell of my Heremite Lavinello.
The L. Emilia said then halfe in angre: There is never a one in al the company so disobedient as you be (M. Peter) therfore shoulde the Dutchesse doe well to chastice you somewhat for it.
M. Peter said smilinge: For love of God (madam) be not angrye with me, for I will say what ever you will have me.
Goo to, saye on then, answered the L. Emilia.
Then M. Peter after a whiles
silence, somewhat settlinge
hymselfe as thoughe he shoulde entreat uppon a waightie
What love is. Knowleage. Sense.
matter, said thus: My Lordes, to showe that olde menne
maye love not onlie without sclaunder, but otherwhile more
happilye then yonge men, I must be enforced to make a
litle discourse to declare what love is, and wherein consisteth
the happinesse that lovers maye have. Therefore I beseche
ye give the hearynge wyth heedefulnesse, for I hope to make
you understand, that it were not unsitting for anye man
here to be a lover, in case he were xv. or xx. yeeres elder
then M. Morello.
Olde men may love without sclaunder.
Coveting.
And here after they had laughed
a while, M. Peter proceaded: I saye therefore that accordinge as it is
defined of the
wise menn of olde time, Love is nothinge elles but a certein covetinge
to enjoy beawtie: and forsomuch as covetinge
longeth for nothinge, but for thinges knowen, it is requisite
that knowleage go evermore before coveting, which of his
owne nature willeth the good, but of him self is blind, and
knoweth it not. Therfore hath nature so ordeined, that to
every vertue of knowleag ther is annexed a vertue of longing.
And bicause in oure soule there be three maner wayes to know,
namelye, by sense, reason, and understandinge: of sense, there
arriseth appetite or longinge, which is commune to us with
brute beastes: of reason arriseth election or choise, which is
proper to man: of understanding, by the which man may be
partner with Aungelles, ariseth will. Even as therfore the
sense knoweth not but sensible matters and that which may
be felt, so the appetyte, or covetinge onlye desireth the same:
Beawtie. The face. They that love sensuallye.
and even as the understanding is bent but to beehoulde
thinges that may be understoode, so is that wil only fead
with spirituall gooddes. Man of nature indowed with
reason, placed (as it were) in the middle beetwene these two
extremities, may through his choise inclinynge to sense, or
reachynge to understandynge, come nigh to the covetinge
sometime of the one sometime of the other part. In these
sortes therfore may beawtie be coveted, the general name
wherof may be applied to al thinges, eyther naturall or artificiall,
that are framed in good proportion, and due tempre,
as their nature beareth. But speakynge of the beawtie
that we meane, which is onlie it, that appeereth in bodies,
and especially in the face of mann, and moveth thys fervent
covetinge which we call Love, we will terme it an influence
of the heavenlie bountifulness, the whiche for all it stretcheth
over all thynges that be created (like the light of the Sonn)
yet whan it findeth out a face well proportioned, and framed
with a certein livelie agreement of severall colours, and
set furth with lightes and shadowes, and with an orderly distaunce and
limites of lines, therinto it distilleth it self
and appeereth most welfavoured, and decketh out and
lyghtneth the subject where it shyneth wyth a marveylous
grace and glistringe (like the Sonne beames that strike
against beawtifull plate of fine golde wrought and sett wyth
precyous jewelles) so that it draweth unto it mens eyes with
pleasure, and percing through them imprinteth him selfe in
the soule, and wyth an unwonted sweetenesse all to stirreth
her and delyteth, and settynge her on fire maketh her to
covett him. Whan the soule then is taken wyth covetynge
to enjoye thys beawtie as a good thynge, in case she suffre
her selfe to be guyded with the judgement of sense, she
falleth into most deepe erroures, and judgeth the bodie in
whyche Beawtye is descerned, to be the principall cause
therof: wherupon to enjoye it, she reckeneth it necessarye
to joigne as inwardlye as she can wyth that bodye, whyche
is false: and therefore who so thinketh in possessynge the
Reason.
Understandinge.
bodye to injoye beawtie, he is farr deceived, and is moved to
it, no wyth true knowleage by the choise of reason, but
wyth false opinyon by the longinge of sense. Wherupon
the pleasure that foloweth it, is also false and of necessytye
full of erroures. And therefore into one of the two vyces
renn all those lovers that satisfye theyr unhonest lustes with
the women whom they love: for eyther assone as they be
come to the coveted ende, they not onely feele a fulnesse
and lothesomnesse, but also conceyve a hatred against the
wyght beloved, as thoughe longinge repented hym of hys
offence and acknowleaged the deceite wrought hym by the
false judgement of sense, that made hym beleave the yll to
be good: or elles they contynue in the verye same covetynge
and greedynesse, as thoughe they were not in deede come to
the ende, whyche they sought for. And albeit throughe the
blynde opynyon that hath made them dronken (to their
seeminge) in that instante they feele a contentation, as the
deseased otherwhile, that dreame they drinke of some cleare
spring, yet be they not satisfied, nor leave of so. And
bicause of possessing coveted goodnes there arriseth alwayes
quietnesse and satisfaction in the possessors minde, in case
this were the true and righte end of there covetinge, whan
they possesse it they would be at quietnesse and throughlye
satisfied, whiche they be not: but rather deceyved through
that likenesse, they furthwith retourn again to unbridled
covetinge, and with the very same trouble, which they felt
at the first, they fall again into the raginge and most
burninge thirst of the thinge, that they hope in vaine to
possesse perfectlye. These kind of lovers therfore love most
unluckely, for eyther they never comebye their covetinges,
whiche is a great unluckinesse: or elles if the do comebye
them, they finde the comebye their hurt, ande ende their
myseryes with other greater miseries, for both in the
In possessing the body beawtie is not
enjoied.
beginninge and middle of this love, there is never other
thinge felt, but afflictions, tourmentes, greeffes, pining,
travaile, so that to be wann, vexed with continuall teares,
and sighes, to lyve with a discontented minde, to be alwaies
dumbe, or to lament, to covet death, in conclusion to be
most unlucky are the propreties which (they saye) beelonge
to lovers. The cause therfore of this wretchednesse in mens
mindes, is principally sense, whiche in youthfull age bereth
moste swey, bicause the lustinesse of the fleshe and of the
bloode, in that season addeth unto him even so much force,
as it withdraweth from reason: therfore doeth it easelye
traine the soule to folowe appetite or longinge, for when she
seeth her selfe drowned in the earthly prison, bicause she is
sett in the office to govern the body, she can not of her
self understand plainly at the first the truth of spirituall
behouldinge. Wherfore to compasse the understanding of
thinges, she must go begg the beginning at the senses, and
therfore she beleaveth them, and giveth ear to them, and is
contented to be lead by them, especiallye whan they have
so much courage, that (in a maner) they enforce her and
bicause they be deceitfull they fyll her with errours and
false opinions. Wherupon most communlye it happeneth,
that yonge men be wrapped in this sensual love, which is
a very rebell against reason, and therfore thei make them
selves unwoorthy to enjoy the favoures and benifites, which
love bestoweth upon his true subjectes, neither in love feele
they any other pleasure, then what beastes without reason
do, but much more grevous afflictions. Setting the case
therfore this to be so, which is most true, I say, that the contrary
chaunseth to them of a more ripe age. For in case
they, whan the soule is not nowe so much wayed downe
with the bodyly burdein, and whan the naturall burning
asswageth and draweth to a warmeth, if thei be inflamed
with beawty, and to it bend their coveting guided by
reasonable choise, they be not deceived, and posses beawtye
Properties of lovers.
perfectly, and therefor through the possessing of it, alwaies
goodnes ensueth to them: bicause beauty is good and
consequently the true love of it is most good and holy, and
evermore bringeth furth good frutes in the soules of them,
that with the bridle of reason restraine the yll disposition
of sense, the which old men can much sooner do then yong.
Yt is not therfore out of reason to say, that olde men may
also love without sclaunder and more happily, then yong
men: taking notwithstanding this name Olde, not for the
age at the pittes brinke, nor when the canelles of the body
be so feble, that the soule can not through them worke her
feates, but when knowleage in us is in his right strength.
And I wil not also hide this from you: namely, that I suppose,
where sensuall love in every age is naught, yet in
yonge men it deserveth excuse, and perhappes in some case
lefull: for although it putteth them in afflictions, daungeres,
travailes, and the unfortunatenes that is said, yet are there
many that to winne them the good will of their Ladies
practise vertuous thinges, which for all they be not bent
to a good end, yet are they good of them selves, and so of
that much bitternesse they pike out a litle sweetnesse, and
through the adversities which they susteine, in the ende
they acknowleage their errour. As I judge therfore those
yong men that bridle their appetites, and love with reason,
to be godlye: so do I houlde excused suche as yelde to
sensuall love, wherunto they be so inclined through the
weakenesse and frailtie of man: so they showe therin meekenesse,
courtesie, and prowesse, and the other worthie condicions that these
Lordes have spoken of, and whan those
youthfull yeeres be gone and past, leave it of cleane, keapinge
alouf from this sensuall covetinge as from the lowermost
steppe of the stayers, by the whiche a man may ascende to
true love. But in case after they drawe in yeeres once they
reserve in their colde hart the fire of appetites, and brynge
stoute reason in subjection to feeble sense, it can not bee
said how much they are to be blamed: for lyke men without
sense they deserve with an everlasting shame to be put in the numbre of
unreasonable living creatures, bicause the
thoughtes and wayes of sensuall love be farr unsittinge for
ripe age.
Beawtie.
Here Bembo paused a while as though he woulde brethe him, and whan all thinges were whist M. Morello of Ortona saide: And in case there were some olde man more freshe and lustye and of a better complexion then manye yonge men, whie woulde you not have it lefull for him to love with the love that yonge men love?
The Dutchesse laughed and said: Yf the love of yong men be so unluckye, why would you (M. Morello) that old men should also love with this unluckinesse? But in case you were old (as these men say you be) you woulde not thus procure the hurt of olde men.
M. Morello answered: The hurt of olde men (me seemeth) M. Peter Bembo procureth, who will have them to love after a sort, that I for my part understande not: and (me think) the possessing of this beawtye, whiche he prayseth so muche, without the body, is a dreame.
Do you beeleave M. Morello, quoth then Count Lewis, that beauty is alwaies so good a thing as M. Peter Bembo speaketh of?
Not I in good sooth, answered M. Morello: but I remembre rather that I have seene manie beautifull women of a mostly yll inclination, cruell, and spitefull, and it seemeth that (in a maner) it happeneth alwaies so, for beawtie maketh them proude: and pride, cruell.
Count Lewis saide smilinge: To you perhappes they seeme cruell, bicause they content you not with it, that you would have. But cause M. Peter Bembo to teach you in what sort old men ought to covet beawtye and what to seeke at their Ladies handes, and what to content them selves withall: and in not passinge out of these boundes, ye shal se that they shal be neither proud nor cruell: and wil satisfy you with what you shal require.
M. Morello seemed then somwhat out of pacience, and said: I will not knowe the thinge that toucheth me not. But cause you to be taught how the yonge men ought to covet this beawty, that are not so fresh and lusty as olde men be.
Here Sir Fridericke to pacifie M. Morello and to breake their talke, would not suffer Count Lewis to make answere, but interrupting him said: Perhappes M. Morello is not altogether out of the way in saing that beawty is not alwayes good, for the beautye of women is manye times cause of infinit evilles in the worlde, hatred, warr, mortality, and destruction, wherof the rasinge of Troy can be a good witnesse: and beawtifull women for the most part be eyther proude and cruell (as is saide) or unchast, but M. Morello woulde finde no faulte with that. There be also manye wicked men that have the comelinesse of a beautifull countenance, and it semeth that nature hath so shaped them, bicause they may be the redier to deceive, and that this amiable looke were like a baite that covereth the hooke.
Then M. Peter Bembo: Beleave not (quoth he) but beautie is alwayes good.
Here Count Lewis bicause he woulde retourn again to his former pourpose interrupted him and said: Sins M. Morello passeth not to understand that, which is so necessary for him, teache it me, and showe me howe olde men maye come bye this hapinesse of love, for I will not care to be counted olde, so it may profit me.
M. Peter Bembo laughed and
said: First will I take the
errour out of these gentilmens minde: and afterwarde will I
satisfie you also. So beeginning a fresh: My Lordes (quoth
he) I would not that with speakynge ill of beawtie, which is
a holy thinge, any of us as prophane and wicked shoulde
purchase him the wrath of God. Therfore to give M.
Judgment by the face. Foulnesse. De Orat. lib. 3. Foules. Buildinges. The rouffes of houses.
Morello and Sir Fridericke warninge, that they lose not
their sight, as Stesichorus did, a peine most meete for who
so dispraiseth beawtie, I saye, that beawtie commeth of
God, and is like a circle, the goodnesse wherof is the Centre.
and therefore, as there can be no circle without a centre,
no more can beawty be without goodnesse. Wherupon
doeth verie sildome an ill soule dwell in a beawtifull bodye.
And therefore is the outwarde beawtie a true signe of the
inwarde goodnes, and in bodies thys comelynesse is
imprynted more and lesse (as it were) for a marke of the soule,
whereby she is outwardlye knowen: as in trees, in whiche
the beawtye of the buddes giveth a testimonie of the goodnesse of the
frute. And the verie same happeneth in bodies,
as it is seene, that Palmastrers by the visage knowe manye
tymes the condicions, and otherwhile the thoughtes of
menne. And which is more, in beastes also a manne may
descerne by the face the qualitie of the courage, whiche in
the bodye declareth it selfe as muche as it can. Judge you
howe plainlye in the face of a Lion, a horse and an Egle,
a manne shall descerne anger, fiersenesse and stoutenesse: in
Lambes and Doves simplenesse and verie innocencye: the
craftye subtiltye in Foxes and Wolves, and the like (in
a maner) in all other livinge creatures. The foule therefore
for the most part be also yvell and the beawtifull, good. therfore it
maye be said that Beawtie is a face
pleasant, meerie, comelye, and to be desired for goodnesse:
A notable Poet whiche lost his sight for
writing against Helena, and recanting, had his sight restored him
again.
and Foulness a face darke, uglesome, unpleasant and to be
shonned for yll. And in case you will consider all thinges,
ye shall finde, that what so ever is good and profitable
hath also evermore the comelinesse of Beawtie. Behoulde
the state of this great Inginn of the world, which God
created for the helth and preservation of every thing that
was made. The heaven rounde besett with so many heavenly
lightes: and in the middle, the Earth invironed wyth the
Elementes, and uphelde wyth the verye waight of it selfe:
the sonn, that compassinge about giveth light to the wholl,
and in winter season draweth to the lowermost signe, afterward by title
and litle climeth again to the other part: the
Moone, that of him taketh her light, accordinge as she
draweth nigh, or goith farther from him: and the other five
sterres, that diversly keepe the very same course. These
thinges emong them selves have such force by the knitting
together of an order so neccessarilye framed, that with altering them
any one jott, they shoulde be all lewsed, and the
worlde would decaye. They have also suche beawtie and
comelinesse, that all the wittes men have, can not imagin a
more beawtifull matter. Thinke nowe of the shape of man,
which may be called a litle world: in whom every percell of
Beawtie.
The worlde.
The heaven.
The earth.
The moone.
The planettes.
his body is seene to be necessarily framed by art and not by
happ, and then the fourme all together most beawtifull, so
that it were a harde matter to judge, whether the members,
as the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the eares, the armes, the
breast and in like maner the other partes: give eyther more
profit to the countenance and the rest of the body, or
comelinesse. The like may be said of all other livinge creatures.
Beehoulde the fethers of foules, the leaves and bowes of trees,
which be given them of nature to keepe them in their
beeinge, and yet have they withall a verye great
sightlinesse.
Leave nature, and come to art. What thinge is so necessaries
in saylynge vesselles, as the forepart, the side, the mainyardes,
the mast, the sayles, the sterne, owers, ankers, and
tacklinges? all these thinges notwithstanding are so welfavoured in the
eye, that unto who so beehouldeth them they seeme to have bine found
out aswell for pleasure, as for
profit. Pillars and great beames uphoulde high buildinges
and Palaices, and yet are they no lesse pleasurfull unto the
eyes of the beehoulders, then profitable to the buyldinges.
When men beegane first to build, in the middle of Temples
Man.
Aristot. 8. Phisic.
Trees.
and houses they reared the ridge of the rouffe, not to make
the workes to have a better show, but bicause the water
might the more commodiouslie avoide on both sides: yet
unto profit there was furthwith adjoined a faire sightlinesse,
so that if under the skye where there falleth neyther haile
nor rayne a mann should builde a temple, without a reared
ridge, it is to be thought, that it coulde have neyther a sightly
showe nor any beawtie. Beeside other thinges therfore, it
giveth a great praise to the world, in saiynge that it is beawtifull.
It is praised, in saiynge, the beawtifull heaven, beawtifull earth,
beawtifull sea, beawtifull rivers, beawtifull wooddes,
trees, gardeines, beawtifull Cities, beawtifull Churches, houses,
armies. In conclusion this comelye and holye beawtie is
a wonderous settinge out of everie thinge. And it may be
said that Good and beawtifull be after a sort one selfe thinge,
especiallie in the bodies of men: of the beawtie
wherof the nighest cause (I suppose) is the beawtie of the
soule: the which as a partner of the right and heavenlye
beawtie, maketh sightlye and beawtifull what ever she
toucheth, and most of all, if the bodye, where she dwelleth,
be not of so vile a matter, that she can not imprint in it her
propertye. Therfore Beawtie is the true monument and
spoile of the victorye of the soule, whan she with heavenlye
influence beareth rule over materiall and grosse nature, and
with her light overcommeth the darkeness of the bodye. It
is not then to be spoken that Beawtie maketh women proude
or cruel, although it seeme so to M. Morello. Neyther yet
ought beawtifull women to beare the blame of that hatred,
mortalytie, and destruction, which the unbridled appetites
of men are the cause of. I will not nowe denye, but it is
possible also to finde in the worlde beawtifull women unchast,
yet not bicause beawtie inclineth them to unchast livinge,
for it rather plucketh them from it, and leadeth them into
the way of vertuous condicions, throughe the affinitie that
beawtie hath with goodnesse: but otherwhile yll bringinge
up, the continuall provocations of lovers, povertie,
hope, deceites, feare, and a thousande other matters overcome the
steadfastnesse, yea of beawtifull and good women:
and for these and like causes may also beawtifull menn
beecome wicked.
Shippes.
Then said the L. Cesar: In case the L. Gaspars sayinge be true of yesternight, there is no doubt but the faire women be more chast then the foule.
And what was my sayinge? quoth the L. Gaspar.
The L. Cesar answered: If I do well beare in minde, your saiynge was, that the women that are suide to, alwaies refuse to satisfie him that suith to them, but those that are suide to, sue to others. There is no doubt but the beautiful women have alwaies more suyters, and be more instantlye laide at in love, then the foule. Therefore the beawtifull alwayes deny, and consequentlye be more chast, then the foule, whiche not beeinge suied to, sue unto others.
M. Peter Bembo laughed and said: This argument can not be answered to.
Afterwarde he proceaded: It chaunseth also oftentimes, that as the other senses, so the sight is deceyved, and judgeth a face beawtyfull, which in deede is not beawtifull. And bicause in the eyes and in the wholl countenance of some women, a man behouldeth otherwhile a certein lavish wantonnes peincted with dishonest flickeringes, many, whom that maner deliteth bicause it promiseth them an easines to come by the thing, that they covet, cal it beawty: but in deed it is a cloked unshamefastnes, unworthy of so honorable and holy a name.
M. Peter Bembo held his peace, and those Lordes still were earnest upon him to speake somewhat more of this love and of the waye to enjoy beautye aright, and at the last: Me thinke (quoth he) I have showed plainly inough, that olde men may love more happelye then yonge, whiche was my drift, therfore it belongeth not me to entre anye farther.
Count Lewis answered: You have better declared the unluckinesse of yonge men, then the happynesse of olde menn, whom you have not as yet taught, what waye they must folow in this love of theirs: onelye you have saide, that they must suffre them selves to bee guided by reason, and the opinion of many is, that it is unpossible for love to stand with reason.
Bembo notwithstanding saught to
make an ende of
reasoning, but the Dutchesse desired him to say on, and he
beegane thus afreshe: Too unluckie were the nature of man,
if oure soule (in the whiche this so fervent covetinge may
lightlie arrise) should be driven to nourish it with that
onelye, whiche is commune to her with beastes, and coulde
not tourn it to the other noble parte, whiche is propre to
her. Therfore sins it is so your pleasure, I wil not refuse
to reason upon this noble matter. And bicause I know my
self unworthy to talke of the most holye misteries of love, I
beseche him to leade my thought and my tunge so, that I
may show this excelent Courtier how to love contrarye to
the wonted maner of the commune ignorant sort. And
even as from my childhode I have dedicated all my wholl
lief unto him, so also now that my wordes may be answerable
to the same intent, and to the prayse of him: I say
therfore, that sins the nature of man in youthfull age is so
much inclined to sense, it may be graunted the Courtier,
while he is yong, to love sensuallye. But in case afterwarde
also in his riper yeres, he chaunse to be set on fire with this
coveting of love, he ought to be good and circumspect, and
heedful that he beeguyle not him self, to be lead willfullye
into the wretchednesse, that in yonge men deserveth more
to be pitied then blamed: and contrarywise in olde men,
more to be blamed then pitied. Therfore whan an amiable
countenance of a beautiful woman commeth in his sight,
that is accompanied with noble condicions and honest
behaviours, so that as one practised in love, he wotteth
well that his hewe hath an agreement with herres, assoone
as he is a ware that his eyes snatch that image and carie it
to the hart, and that the soule beeginneth to beehoulde it
with pleasure, and feeleth within her self the influence that
stirreth her and by litle and litle setteth her in heate, and
that those livelye spirites, that twinkle out throughe the
eyes, put continually freshe nourishment to the fire: he
ought in this beginninge to seeke a speedye remedye and to
raise up reason, and with her, to fense the fortresse of his
hart, and to shutt in such wise the passages against sense
and appetites, that they maye entre neyther with force nor
subtill practise. Thus if the flame be quenched, the jeopardye
is also quenched. But in case it continue or encrease,
then must the Courtier determine (when he perceiveth he is
taken) to shonn throughlye all filthinesse of commune love,
and so entre into the holye way of love with the guide of
reason, and first consider that the body, where that beawtye
shyneth, is not the fountaine frome whens beauty springeth,
but rather bicause beautie is bodilesse and (as we have said)
an heavenlie shyning beame, she loseth much of her honoure
whan she is coopled with that vile subject and full of
corruption, bicause the lesse she is partner therof, the more
perfect she is, and cleane sundred frome it, is most perfect.
Sense.
Reason.
And as a mann heareth not with his mouth, nor smelleth
with hys eares: no more can he also in anye maner wise
enjoye beawtye, nor satisfye the desyre that shee stirreth up
in oure myndes, with feelynge, but wyth the sense, unto
whom beawtie is the very butt to levell at: namelye, the
vertue of seeinge. Let him laye aside therefore the blinde
judgemente of the sense, and injoye wyth his eyes the
bryghtnesse, the comelynesse, the lovynge sparkles, laughters,
gestures and all other pleasant fournitours of beawty:
especially with hearinge the sweetenesse of her voice, the
tunablenesse of her woordes, the melodie of her singinge and
playinge on instrumentes (in case the woman beloved be a
musitien) and so shall he with most deintie foode feede the
soule through the meanes of these two senses, which have
litle bodelye substance in them, and be the ministers of
reason, without entringe farther towarde the bodye with
covetinge unto anye longinge otherwise then honest.
Afterward let him obey, please, and honoure with all reverence
his woman, and recken her more deere to him then his owne
lief, and prefarr all her commodities and pleasures beefore his owne,
and love no lesse in her the beauty of the mind,
then of the bodye: therfore let him have a care not to suffer
her to renn into any errour, but with lessons and good
exhortations seeke alwaies to frame her to modestie, to
temperance, to true honestye, and so to woorke that there
maye never take place in her other then pure thoughtes and
farr wide from all filthinesse of vices. And thus in sowinge
of vertue in the gardein of that mind, he shall also gather
the frutes of most beautifull condicions, and savour them
with a marveilous good relise. And this shall be the right
engendringe and imprinting of beawtie, the whiche
some houlde opinion to be the ende of love. In this maner
shall oure Courtier be most acceptable to his Lady, and she
will alwayes showe her selfe towarde him tractable, lowlye
and sweete in language, and as willinge to please him, as to
be beloved of him: and the willes of them both shall be
most honest and agreeable, and they consequently shall be
most happy.
Beawtye severed from the body is most
perfect.
Here M. Morello: The engendringe (quoth he) of beawtye in beawtye aright, were the engendringe of a beawtyfull chylde in a beautifull woman, and I woulde thinke it a more manifest token a great deale that she loved her lover, if she pleased him with this, then with the sweetenesse of language that you speake of.
M. Peter Bembo laughed and said: You must not (M. Morello) passe your boundes. I may tell you, it is not a small token that a woman loveth, whan she giveth unto her lover her beawtye, which is so precious a matter: and by the wayes that be a passage to the soule (that is to say, the sight and the hearinge) sendeth the lookes of her eyes, the image of her countenance, and the voice of her woordes, that perce into the lovers hart, and give a witnes of her love.
M. Morello said: Lookes and woordes may be, and oftentimes are, false witnesses. Therefore whoso hath not a better pledge of love (in my judgement) he is in an yll assurance. And surelye I looked still that you would have made this woman of yours somewhat more courteyous and free towarde the Courtier, then my L. Julian hath made his: but (me seemeth) ye be both of the propretie of those judges, that (to appeere wise) give sentence against their owne.
Bembo said: I am well pleased
to have this woman muche
more courteyous towarde my Courtier not yonge, then the
L. Julians is to the yong: and that with good reason,
bicause mine coveteth but honest matters, and therfore may
the woman graunt him them all without blame. But my
L. Julians woman that is not so assured of the modestye of
the yonge man, ought to graunt him the honest matters onlye, and deny
him the dishonest. Therefore more
happye is mine, that hath graunted him whatsoever he
requireth, then the other, that hath parte graunted and parte
denyed. And bicause you may moreover the better understande, that
reasonable love is more happye then sensuall, I
saye unto you, that self same thinges in sensuall ought to
be denyed otherwhile, and in reasonable, graunted: bicause
in the one, they be honest, and in the other dishonest.
Therfore the woman to please her good lover, beside the
graunting him merie countenances, familiar and secret talke,
jesting, dalying, hand in hand, may also lawfullye and
without blame come to kissinge: whiche in sensuall love,
accordinge to the L. Julians rules, is not lefull. For sins a
kisse is a knitting together both of body and soule, it is to
be feared, least the sensuall lover will be more inclined to
the part of the bodye, then of the soule: but the reasonable
lover woteth well, that although the mouthe be a percell of
the bodye, yet is it an issue for the wordes, that be the
enterpreters of the soule, and for the inwarde breth, whiche
is also called the soule: and therfore hath a delite to joigne
hys mouth with the womans beloved with a kysse: not to
stirr him to anye unhonest desire, but bicause he feeleth
that, that bonde is the openynge of an entrey to the soules,
whiche drawen with a coveting the one of the other, power
them selves by tourn, the one into the others bodye, and be
so mingled together, that ech of them hath two soules, and
one alone so framed of them both ruleth (in a maner) two
bodyes. Wherupon a kisse may be said to be rather a
cooplinge together of the soule, then of the bodye, bicause
it hath suche force in her, that it draweth her unto it, and
(as it were) seperateth her from the bodye. For this do all
chast lovers covett a kisse, as a cooplinge of soules together.
And therfore Plato the divine lover saith, that in kissing,
his soule came as farr as his lippes to depart out of the
body. And bicause the separatinge of the soule from the
matters of the sense and the through coopling her with
matters of understanding may be betokened by a kisse,
Salomon saith in his heavenlye boke of Balattes, Oh that he
would kisse me with a kisse of his mouth, to expresse the
desire he had, that hys soule might be ravished through
heavenly love to the behouldinge of heavenly beawtie in such
maner, that cooplyng her self inwardly with it, she might
forsake the body.
A kisse.
They stoode all herkening
heedfullie to Bembos reasoninge, and after he had staide a while and
sawe that none
spake, he sadie: Sins you have made me to beegine to
showe oure not yonge Courtier this happye love, I will
leade him somewhat farther forwardes, bicause to stande
styll at this stay were somewhat perillous for him, consideringe
(as we have often times said) the soule is most inclyned
to the senses, and for all reason with discourse chouseth
well, and knoweth that beawtie not to spring of the bodye,
and therfore setteth a bridle to the unhonest desires, yet to
beehould it alwaies in that body, doeth oftentimes corrupt
the right judgement. And where no other inconvenience
insueth upon it, ones absence from the wight beloved carieth
a great passion with it: bicause the influence of that beawtie
whan it is present, giveth a wonderous delite to the lover,
and settinge his hart on fire, quickeneth and melteth certein
vertues in a traunce and congeled in the soule, the which
nourished with the heat of love, floow about and go bubbling
nigh the heart, and thrust out through the eyes those
spirites, whiche be most fyne vapoures made of the purest
and cleerest parte of the bloode, which receive the image of beawtie,
and decke it with a thousande sundrye fournitures.
Wherupon the soule taketh a delite, and with a certein
wonder is agast, and yet enjoyeth she it, and (as it were)
astonied together with the pleasure, feeleth the feare and
reverence that men accustomably have towarde holy matters,
and thinketh her self to be in paradise. The lover therfore
that considereth only the beawtie in the bodye, loseth
this treasure and happinesse, assoone as the woman beloved
with her departure leaveth the eyes without their brightnes,
and consequently the soule, as a widowe without her joye.
For sins beawtie is farr of, that influence of love setteth not
the hart on fire, as it did in presence. Wherupon the pores
be dryed up and wythered, and yet doeth the remembraunce
of beawty somwhat stirr those vertues of the soule in such
wise, that they seeke to scattre abrode the spirites, and they
fyndinge the wayes closed up, have no yssue, and still they
seeke to gete out, and so with those shootinges inclosed
pricke the soule, and tourment her bitterlye, as yonge
chilldren, whan in their tender gummes they beegin to
breede teeth. And hens come the teares, sighes, vexations
and tourmentes of lovers: bicause the soule is alwayes in
affliction and travaile and (in a maner) wexeth woode, untill
the beloved beawtie commeth beefore her once again, and
then is she immediatlye pacified and taketh breth, and
throughlye bent to it, is nouryshed wyth most deintye foode,
and by her will, would never depart from so sweete a sight.
to avoide therfore the tourment of this absence, and to
enjoy beawtie without passion, the Courtier by the helpe of
reason muste full and wholy call backe again the coveting
of the body to beawtye alone, and (in what he can) beehoulde
it in it self simple and pure, and frame it within in
his imagination sundred from all matter, and so make it
frindlye and lovinge to hys soule, and there enjoye it, and
have it with him daye and night, in every time and place,
without mystrust ever to lose it: keapinge alwayes fast in
minde, that the bodye is a most dyverse thynge from
beawtie, and not onlie not encreaseth, but diminisheth the
perfection of it. In this wise shall our not yonge Courtier
be out of all bitternesse and wretchednes that yong men
feele (in a maner) continuallye, as jelousies, suspicions,
disdeignes, angres, desperations and certein rages full of
madnesse, wherby manye times they be lead into so great
errour, that some doe not onely beate the women whom they
love: but rid them selves out of their lief. He shal do no
wrong to the husband, father, brethren or kinsfolke of the
woman beloved. He shall not bringe her in sclaunder. He
shall not be in case with much a do otherwhile to refraine
hys eyes and tunge from discoverynge his desires to others.
He shall not take thought at departure or in absence,
bicause he shall ever more carye his precious treasure about
wyth him shut fast within his hert. And beeside, through
the vertue of imagination he shall facion within himself
that beawty muche more faire, then it is in deede. But
emong these commodities the lover shal finde an other yet
far greater, in case he will take this love for a stayer (as it
were to clime up to an other farr higher then it. The
whiche he shall bring to passe, if he will go and consider
with himself, what a streict bonde it is to be alwaies in the
trouble to beehoulde the beawtie of one bodye alone. And
therfore to come out of this so narrow a rowme, he shall
gather in his thought by litle and litle so manye ornamentes,
that meddlinge all beawties together, he shall make an
universall concept, and bringe the multitude of them to the
unitye of one alone, that is generally spred over all the
nature of man. And thus shall he beehoulde no more the
particuler beawtie of one woman, but an universall, that
decketh out all bodies. Wherupon beeing dymm
with this greater light, he shall not passe upon the lesser,
and burnynge in a more excellent flame, he shall litle
esteame it, that he sett great store by at the first. This
stayer of love, though it be verye noble, and such as fewe
arrive at it, yet is it not in this sort to be called perfect,
forsomuch as where the imagination is of force to make
conveiance and hath no knowleage, but through those
beeginninges that the senses helpe her wythall, she is not
cleane pourged from grosse darkenesse: and therefore
though she do consider that universall beawtie in sunder
and in it self alone, yet doeth she not well and cleerlye
descerne it, nor without some doubtfulness, by reason of the agreement
that the fansyes have with the bodye. Wherefore
suche as come to thys love, are lyke yonge Birdes almost
flushe, whyche for all they flytter a litle their tender wynges,
yet dare they not stray farr from the neste, nor commytt
theym selves to the wynde and open weather. Whan oure
Courtier therfore shall be come to this point, although he
maye be called a good and happye lover, in respect of them
that he drowned in the miserye of sensuall love, yet wil I
not have him to set his hart at rest, but bouldlye proceade
farther, folowinge the high way after his guyde, that leadeth
him to the point of true happinesse. And thus in steade of going out of
his witt with thought, as he must do that
will consider the bodilye beawty, he may come into his
witt, to behoulde the beawty that is seene with the eyes of
the minde, which then beegin to be sharpe and thorough
seeinge, whan the eyes of the body lose the floure of their
sightlynesse. Therefore the soule rid of vices, purged with
the studyes of true Philosophie, occupied in spirituall, and
exercised in matters of understandinge, tourninge her to the
beehouldyng of her own substance, as it were raysed out of
a most deepe sleepe, openeth the eyes that all men have,
and fewe occupy, and seeth in her self a shining beame of
that lyght, which is the true image of the aungelike beawtye
partened with her, whereof she also partneth with the bodye
a feeble shadoe: therfore wexed blinde about earthly
matters, is made most quicke of sight about heavenlye.
And otherwhile whan the stirringe vertues of the body are
withdrawen alone through earnest behouldinge, eyther fast
bounde through sleepe, whan she is not hindred by them,
she feeleth a certein previe smell of the right aungelike
beawtie, and ravished with the shining of that light,
beeginneth to be inflamed, and so greedilye foloweth after, that
(in a maner) she wexeth dronken and beeside her self, for
coveting to coople her self with it, havinge founde (to her
wening) the footsteppes of God in the beehouldinge of
whom (as in her happy end) she seeketh to settle her self.
And therfore burninge in this most happye flame, she
arryseth to the noblest part of her (which is the understanding)
and there no more shadowed with the darke night
of earthlye matters, seeth the heavenlye beawtye: but yet
doeth she not for all that enjoye it altogether perfectlye,
bicause she behouldeth it onlye in her perticular under
standinge, which can not conceive the passing great universall
beautye: wherupon not throughlye satisfied with this benifit,
love giveth unto the soule a greater happines. For like as
throughe the perticular beawtye of one bodye he guydeth
her to the universall beawtye of all bodies: evenso in the
last degree of perfection throughe perticular understandinge
he guideth her to the universall understandinge. Thus the
soule kindled in the most holy fire of true heavenlye love,
fleeth to coople her selfe with the nature of Aungelles, and
not onlye cleane forsaketh sense, but hath no more neede of
the discourse of reason, for being chaunged into an Aungell,
she understandeth al thinges that may be understoode:
and without any veile or cloude, she seeth the meine sea of
the pure heavenlye beawtye and receveth it into her, and
enjoyeth that soveraigne happinesse, that can not be
comprehended of the senses. Sins therfore the beawties, which
we dayly see with these our dimm eyes in bodies subject to
corruption, that neverthelesse be nothinge elles but dreames
and most thinne shadowes of beauty, seme unto us so wel
favoured and comely, that oftentimes they kendle in us a
most burning fire, and with such delite, that we recken no
happinesse may be compared to it, that we feele otherwhile
through the only looke which the beloved countenance of
a woman casteth at us: what happy wonder, what blessed
abashement may we recken that to bee, that taketh the
soules, whiche come to have a sight of the heavenly beawty?
what sweete flame? What soote incense maye a mann
beleave that to bee, whiche arriseth of the fountaine of the
soveraigne and right beawtye? Whiche is the origin of all other
beawtye, whiche never encreaseth nor diminisheth,
alwayes beawtyfull, and of it selfe, aswell on the one part as
on the other, most simple, onelye like it self, and partner
of none other, but in suche wise beawtifull, that all other
beawtifull thinges, be beawtifull, bicause they be partners
of the beawtie of it. This is the beawtye unseperable from
the high bountye, whiche with her voyce calleth and
draweth to her all thynges: and not onlye to the indowed
with understandinge giveth understandinge, to the reasonable
reason, to the sensuall sense and appetite to live, but
also partaketh with the plantes and stones (as a print of her
self) stirring, and the natural provocation of their properties. So
much therfore is this love greater and happier
then others, as the cause that stirreth it, is more excellent.
And therefore, as commune fire trieth golde and maketh it
fyne, so this most holye fire in soules destroyeth and
consumeth what so ever there is mortall in them, and relieveth
and maketh beawtyfull the heavenlye part, whyche at the
first by reason of the sense was dead and buried in them.
This is the great fire in the whiche (the Poetes wryte) that
Hercules was burned on the topp of the mountaigne Oeta:
and throughe that consumynge with fire, after hys death
Heavenlye beawtie.
was holye and immortall. Thys is the fyrie bushe of Moses:
the divided tunges of fire: the inflamed Chariot of Helias:
whych doobleth grace and happynesse in their soules that
be worthy to see it, whan they forsake thys earthly basenesse
and flee up into heaven. Let us therefore bende all oure
force and thoughtes of soule to this most holye light, that
showeth us the waye which leadeth to heaven: and after it,
puttynge of the affections we were clad withall at our comminge downe,
let us clime up the stayers, which at the
lowermost stepp have the shadowe of sensuall beawty, to
the high mansion place where the heavenlye, amiable and
right beawtye dwelleth, which lyeth hid in the innermost
secretes of God, least unhalowed eyes shoulde come to the
syght of it: and there shall we fynde a most happye ende
for our desires, true rest for oure travailes, certein remedye
for myseryes, a most healthfull medycin for sickenesse, a
most sure haven in the troublesome stormes of the tempestuous sea of
this life. What tunge mortall is there then
(O most holy love) that can sufficientlye prayse thy woothynesse? Thou
most beawtifull, most good, most wise, art
dirived of the unity of heavenly beautie, goodnesse and
wisedome, and therin doeth thou abide, and unto it through
it (as in a circle) tournest about. Thou the most sweete
bonde of the worlde, a meane beetwext heavenlye and earthlye thynges,
wyth a bountifull tempre bendest the
High vertues to the government of the lower, and tourninge
backe the mindes of mortall men to their beeginning,
coolest them with it. Thou with agreement bringest the
Elementes in one, stirrest nature to brynge furth, and that,
which arriseth and is borne for the succession of the lief.
Thou bringest severed matters into one, to the unperfect
givest perfectyon, to the unlyke likenesse, to enimitye
amitye, to the Earth frute, to the Sea calmnesse, to the
heaven lyevelie light. Thou art the father of true pleasures,
of grace, peace, lowlynesse and good will, ennemye to rude
wildenesse and sluggishnesse, to be short, the beginninge
and ende of all goodnesse. And forsomuche as thou delitest
to dwell in the floure of beawtyfull bodyes and beawtyfull
soules, I suppose that thy abydinge place is nowe here
emonge us, and from above otherwhyle showest thy selfe a
litle to the eyes and mindes of them that be woorthye to
see thee, Therfore vouchsafe (Lorde) to harken to oure
prayers, power thy selfe into oure hartes, and wyth the
bryghtnesse of thy most holye fire lyghten oure darkenesse,
and like a trustie guide in thys blynde mase, showe us the
right waye: refourme the falsehoode of the senses, and after
longe wandringe in vanitye gyve us the ryght and sounde
joye. Make us to smell those spirituall savoures that relieve the
vertues of the understandinge, and to heare the heavenlye
harmonie so tunable, that no discorde of passion take place
anye more in us. Make us dronken with the bottomlesse
fountain of contentation that alwaies doeth delite, and never
giveth fill, and that giveth a smacke of the right blisse unto
who so drinketh of the renning and cleere water therof.
Pourge wyth the shininge beames of thy light our eyes
from mysty ignoraunce, that they maye no more set by
mortall beawty, and wel perceive that the thinges which at
the first they thought themselves to see, be not in deede,
and those that they saw not, to be in effect. Accept oure
soules, that be offred unto thee for a sacrifice. Burn them
in the livelye flame that wasteth al grosse filthines, that
after they be cleane sundred from the body, thei may be
copled with an everlastinge and most sweet bonde to the
heavenly beawty. And we severed from oure selves, may
be chaunged like right lovers into the beloved, and after we
be drawen from the earth, admitted to the feast of the
aungelles, where fed with immortall ambrosia and nectar,
A mounteign betweene Thessalia and Macedonia
where is the sepulchre of Hercules.
in the ende we maye dye a most happie and livelye death,
as in times past died the fathers of olde time, whose soules
with most fervent zeale of beehouldinge thou diddest hale
from the bodye and coopleddest them with God.
The poetes feigne to be the meate and drinke
of the Goddes.
When Bembo had hitherto spoken with such vehemencye, that a man woulde have thought him (as it were) ravished and beeside himselfe, he stoode still without once mooving, houldynge his eyes towarde heaven as astonied, whan the Lady Emilia, whiche together with the rest gave most diligent care to this talke, tooke him by the plaite of hys garment and pluckinge hym a litle, said: Take heede (M. Peter) that these thoughtes make not your soule also to forsake the bodye.
Madam, answered M. Peter, it shoulde not be the first miracle that love hath wrought in me.
Then the Dutchesse and all the rest beegan a fresh to be instant upon M. Bembo that he woulde proceade once more in his talke, and every one thought he felt in his minde (as it were) a certein sparkle of that godly love that pricked him, and they all coveted to heare farther: but M. Bembo: My Lordes (quoth he) I have spoken what the holye furie of love hath (unsaught for) indited to me: now that (it seemeth) he inspireth me no more, I wot not what to say. And I thinke verelie that love will not have his secretes discovered and farther, nor that the Courtier shoulde passe the degree that his pleasure is I shoulde show him, and therfore it is not perhappes lefull to speak anye more in this matter.
Surelye, quoth the Dutchesse, if the not yonge Courtier be such a one that he can folowe this way which you have showed him, of right he ought to be satisfied with so great a happines, and not to envie the yonger.
Then the L. Cesar Gonzaga: The way (quoth he) that leadeth to this happines is so stiepe (in my mind) that (I beleave) it will be much a do to gete to it.
The L. Gaspar said: I beleave it to be harde to gete up for men, but unpossible for women.
The L. Emilia laughed and said: If ye fall so often to offende us, I promise you, ye shall be no more forgiven.
The L. Gaspar answered: it is no offence to you, in saiynge, that womens soules be not so pourged from passions as mens be, nor accustomed in behouldinges, as M. Peter hath said, is necessary for them to be, that will tast of the heavenly love. Therfore it is not read that ever woman hath had this grace: but manie men have had it, as Plato, Socrates, Plotinus, and manie other: and a numbre of our holye fathers, as Saint Francis, in whom a fervent spirite of love imprinted the most holie seale of the five woundes. And nothinge but the vertue of love coulde hale up Saint Paul the Apostle to the sight of those secretes, which is not lawfull for man to speake of: nor show Saint Stephan the heavens open.
Here answered the L. Julian: In this point men shall nothinge passe women, for Socrates him selfe doeth confesse that all the misteries of love which he knew, were oped unto him by a woman, which was Diotima. And the Aungell that with the fire of love imprinted the five woundes in Saint Francis, hath also made some women woorthy of the same print in our age. You must remembre moreover that S. Mari Magdalen had manye faultes forgeven her, bicause she loved muche: an perhappes with no lesse grace then Saint Paul, was she manye times through Aungelyke love haled up to the thirde heaven. And manye other (as I showed you yesterdaye more at large) that for love of the name of Chryste have not passed upon lief, nor feared tourmentes, nor any other kinde of death, how terrible and cruell ever it were. And they were not (as M. Peter wyll have his Courtier to be) aged, but soft and tender maidens, and in the age, when he saith that sensuall love ought to be borne withal in men.
The L. Gaspar began to prepare himself to speake, but the Dutchesse: of this (quoth shee) let M. Peter be judge, and the matter shal stand to his verdite, whether women be not as meete for heavenlie love as men. But bicause the pleade beetweene you may happen to be to longe, It shall not be amisse to deferr it untill to morow.
Nay, to nyght, quoth the L. Cesar Gonzaga.
And how can it be to night? quoth the Dutchesse.
The L. Cesar answered: Bicause it is day already, and showed her the light that begane to entre in at the cliftes of the windowes. Then everie man arrose upon his feete with much wonder, bicause they had not thaught that the reasoninges had lasted longer then the accustomed wont, savinge onelye that they were beegon much later, and with their pleasantnesse had deceived so the Lordes mindes, that they wist not of the going away of the houres. And not one of them felt any heavinesse of slepe in his eyes, the which often happeneth whan a man is up after his accustomed houre to go to bed. Whan the windowes then were opened on the side of the Palaice that hath his prospect toward the high top of Mount Catri, they saw alredie risen in the East a faire morninge like unto the colour of roses, and all sterres voided, savinge onelye the sweete Governesse of the heaven, Venus, whiche keapeth the boundes of the nyght and the day, from whiche appeered to blowe a sweete blast, that filling the aer with a bytinge cold, begane to quicken the tunable notes of the prety birdes, emong the hushing woodes of the hilles at hande. Wherupon they all, takinge their leave with reverence of the Dutchesse, departed toward their lodginges without torche, the light of the day sufficing.
And as they were now passing out at the great chambre doore, the L. Generall tourned hym to the Dutches, and said: Madam, to take up the variance betweene the L. Gaspar and the L. Julian, we will assemble this night with the judge sooner then we did yesterdaye.
The Lady Emilia answered: Upon condicion, that in case my L. Gaspar wyll accuse women, and geve them (as his wont is) some false reporte, he wil also put us in suretye to stand to triall, for I recken him a waveringe starter.
