Castiglione's Allegory

Veiled Policy in The Book of the Courtier (1528)

W.R. Albury

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781317169475
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Medieval & Early Modern Literary Criticism
• Index: Literature

Castiglione's Book of the Courtier (Il libro del cortegiano, 1528), a dialogue in which the interlocutors attempt to describe the perfect courtier, was one of the most influential books of the Renaissance. In recent decades a number of postmodern readings of this work have appeared, emphasizing what is often characterized as the playful indeterminacy of the text, and seeking to detect inconsistencies which are interpreted as signs of anxiety or bad faith in its presentation. In contrast to these postmodern readings, the present study conducts an experiment. What understanding does one gain of Castiglione's book if one attempts an early modern reading? The author approaches The Book of the Courtier as a text in which some of its most important aspects are intentionally concealed and veiled in allegory. W.R. Albury argues that this early modern reading of The Book of the Courtier enables us to recover a serious political message which has a great deal of contemporary relevance and which is lost from sight when the work is approached primarily as a courtly etiquette book, or as a lament for the lost influence of the aristocracy in an age when autocratic nation-states were coming into being, or as an impersonal textual field upon which a free play of transformations and deconstructions may be performed.

Chapter 1
Introduction: Audience, Interpretation, and Allegory

Baldassare Castiglione’s Book of the Courtier (Il libro del cortegiano, 1528) was one of the most important texts of the Renaissance, a work that was translated into many different European languages and published repeatedly in new editions for over a century after its first printing (P. Burke). Written in dialogue form, it is chiefly concerned with a game played over four nights by the courtiers of Urbino, which consists of attempting to describe the perfect courtier. Castiglione’s text is divided into four “books,” each devoted to one night’s discussions. In very schematic terms, the principal topics considered in these books can be characterized as: the qualities of the perfect courtier (book 1); how the perfect courtier should best display these qualities (book 2); the qualities of the perfect court lady (book 3); and the perfect courtier’s higher purposes (book 4).

1 Readings and Interpretations

As with any significant text which continues to attract critical attention, the Courtier has been the subject of multiple and often incompatible interpretations. Woodhouse identified what he considered to be the four major lines of interpretation (1), which we summarize here with some elaboration of our own. These approaches have regarded the Courtier as being primarily:

1. A handbook on elegant manners and techniques of self-promotion for those seeking advancement at court;

2. An idealized memorial portrait of the court of Urbino at the height of its refinement;

3. A treatment of ethical but not political concerns that arise in the context of princely absolutism;¹

4. A work of escapist fiction, nostalgic for the era of small, autonomous courts as they existed in northern Italy before the French invasion of 1494, and oblivious to the political realities of its own time.

To Woodhouse’s list we can also add his own interpretation and some other, additional ones which have treated Castiglione’s book as predominantly:

5. A realistic manual for surviving in and influencing the hostile sociopolitical environment of Castiglione’s day (Woodhouse);

6. A treatise on the aesthetics of Renaissance self-fashioning, concentrating on developing the outward appearance rather than the inner substance of a person;

7. A literary entertainment, beautifully written and full of classical allusions and fashionable contemporary themes, providing a light diversion for the humanistically-trained reader;

8. An exercise in dialogic openness, airing a multiplicity of opinions on the subjects discussed without ever coming to any firm conclusions about anything.

There is naturally some textual warrant for each of these interpretations which, taken together, still represent only a sample of the range of critical response. The Book of the Courtier, then, is clearly a work that can bear diverse readings and be made amenable to diverse interpretive schemes. Indeed, Peter Burke has suggested that the book’s “polysemy, its capacity to lend itself to different interpretations, is an essential reason for the dialogue’s popularity over the centuries” (36). But it is not only the quality of the text itself—whatever openness and ambiguity it may intrinsically contain—that accounts for these different interpretations; it is also the variety of reading styles that readers deploy when coming to the book.

These reading styles differ not only over time and in different cultural settings, but also among different groups of readers within the same broad cultural milieu. Enenkel and Papy note, for example, that “an Italian courtier of the style of Castiglione’s Cortegiano would read the Canzoniere [of Petrarch] or the [Petrarchan] treatise De remediis utriusque fortunae in a different way from a Lutheran citizen of a German town; a Latin humanist would interpret Petrarch’s De vita solitaria differently from an adherent of the Netherlandish Devotio Moderna” (5); and Kintgen shows how reading practices varied according to social context in Tudor England, and the extent to which these early modern practices differed from the ones that are familiar to readers today.

This reflection on historically- and culturally-specific reading styles raises a question, however, which the present study will seek to answer; and that is: What understanding do we gain of Castiglione’s book if we attempt an early modern reading of this work? Such an undertaking ought to be revealing, since, as Darnton has put it, “nothing could be more misleading in an attempt to recapture the experience of reading in the past than the assumption that people have always read the way we do today” (210). I stress that I am speaking here of an early modern reading and not the early modern reading, because of the variety of reading styles that were prevalent at the time. But the choice of approach taken here will not be wholly arbitrary because the text of the Courtier provides some guidance as to how at least one type of reader—the reader in whom we are most interested—should proceed.

A potential objection against attempting what purports to be an early modern reading of any sort is the assertion that it is never possible for contemporary scholars to dissociate themselves entirely from the beliefs and preconceptions of their own culture, or to situate themselves perfectly within the mental world of the earlier culture which they are seeking to understand. This objection would have some merit if it were meant to serve as a reason for proceeding cautiously; but it is usually meant to serve as a reason for not proceeding at all, thus raising an unrealistic obstacle which most early modern authors and readers would have found irrelevant. With their worldview underpinned by both Platonic and Christian conceptions, they treated perfection as something that was ideal and could only be approximated, but not fully realized, in the material world. As Ascham wrote in Toxophilus:

Good ſhooters alſo, yat can not whan they would hit the marke, will labour to come as nigh as they can. All thinges in this worlde be vnperfite and vnconſtant, therefore let euery man acknowlege hys owne weakeneſſe, in all matters great and ſmal, weyghtye and merye, and glorifie him, in whome only perfyte perfitneſſe is. (150–51)

So within early modern elite culture, the unlikelihood of attaining perfection in an undertaking was never considered a valid reason to refrain from attempting it. Like the “perfect courtier” described in Castiglione’s book, whose qualities may never be fully manifested by any aspirant, a perfect early modern reading of Castiglione’s book may never be fully achieved by any contemporary scholar. But in both cases, “even if they fail to attain … perfection, … he that approaches nearest to it will be the most perfect; just as when many archers shoot at a target and none hit the very mark, surely he that comes nearest to it is better than the rest” (0.3). We therefore have some warrant for attempting a reading which we hope will at least come near to the mark, even if we cannot guarantee to hit it. And perhaps this attempt will make it easier for someone else to come nearer still.

The present study involves close analysis of Castiglione’s published text, but devotes only occasional attention to earlier drafts and successive revisions of Castiglione’s manuscripts. It is less concerned with literary criticism for its own sake than with history and political philosophy. It does not seek to apply psychoanalytic terminology to the author or the characters in his book, nor does it project current academic and cultural controversies onto the text. The approach taken here results from the methodological decision noted above and not from an antiquarian lack of regard for important issues in contemporary life. Indeed, I believe that the early modern reading of The Book of the Courtier attempted here enables us to recover a serious political message which has a great deal of contemporary relevance and which is lost from sight when the work is approached primarily as a courtly etiquette book, or as a lament for the lost influence of the old feudal aristocracy in an age when autocratic nation-states were coming into being, or as a textual field largely constituted by repressed desires and disavowed anxieties. These other interpretive schemes have their own contributions to make to our understanding of the Courtier, but they do not provide the tools needed for the job undertaken here.

Castiglione (1478–1529), like his older contemporary Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527), was humanistically-educated, an experienced diplomat, and deeply involved in the political and military affairs of the Italian peninsula. Both men were concerned with the relevance of classical political philosophy to the world around them. But whereas Machiavelli in The Prince—addressing the ruler and speaking bluntly—rejected the fundamental principles of that philosophy, Castiglione in The Courtier—addressing the ruler’s advisor and speaking subtly—adapted those principles to the political circumstances of his time. Despite the many culturally-specific features of Castiglione’s presentation, however, the political doctrine which emerges from his work is not limited to the particular setting in which it was first developed. It can be applied, mutatis mutandis, to anyone who works closely with or acts as an advisor to a person with significant decision-making authority, and not just to the Renaissance courtier who undertakes to counsel his prince.²

2 Multiple Audiences for the Text

It was common practice for Renaissance dialogues to be written with more than one audience in view. Cox suggests that “the Renaissance court dialogue was addressed to a double audience: first, to the inner circle of patrons and friends actually named as speakers or dedicatees and, secondly, beyond this charmed circle, the wider, anonymous public of the printed word” (The Renaissance Dialogue 36). The first of these audiences may be relevant to Castiglione’s ambitions as a writer, but apart from references to the two dedicatees (Don Miguel de Silva [ca. 1480–1556] and Alfonso Ariosto [1475–1526]) it is not acknowledged in The Book of the Courtier and will not be considered here. The second audience mentioned by Cox is, however, explicitly acknowledged, along with two others which are “constructed” by Castiglione’s text—one explicitly and one implicitly. It is only to the last of these audiences that the text provides some indication as to how it should be read, but Castiglione’s characterization of the previous two audiences does reveal how he believes they will approach his work. So his text gives us some insight into the expected reading practices of all three of the audiences which we shall consider.

2.1 The Many (la moltitudine)

The first of the book’s audiences, for our analysis, is the general literate public, without whose approval it cannot survive to carry its message to current and future readers. Even in Castiglione’s day, this group was more inclusive than is often realized.

The reading public of the Renaissance consisted not only of people who had received a humanist or university education and hence were able to read Latin, but also of many intelligent and curious people, especially merchants, craftsmen and women, who knew no Latin but were eager to read not only poems and narratives but also works of varied instruction in their native vernacular. Many humanists catered to this audience, which also included many princes and noblemen, and made vernacular translations of both classical and humanist writings, or even composed some of their own works in the vernacular. (Kristeller, “Humanism” 121)

Castiglione identifies this broad audience in his presentation letter to Don Miguel de Silva, which serves as a prologue to his book. Speaking of criticisms which had earlier been leveled against his work when it circulated in manuscript, Castiglione says:

My defense against these and perhaps many other accusations (accusazioni), I leave for the present to the consensus (parere) of public opinion (commune opinione); for while the many (la moltitudine) may not perfectly understand, yet oftener than not they sense (sente) by natural instinct (instinto di natura) the savour of good and bad, and without being able to explain why, they relish one thing and like it, and reject another and hate it. Therefore if my book wins general favour (universalmente … piacerà), I shall think it must be good and ought to live; but if it fails to please, I shall think it must be bad and soon to be forgot. And if my accusers (accusatori) be not satisfied with this common judgment (questo commun giudicio), let them rest content with that of time. … (0.3)

This passage tells us a little about what Castiglione expects the reading strategy of “the many” to be, and since he needs to satisfy this audience it also tells us something about his writing strategy. In order for his book to remain in circulation it must give pleasure (piacere) in almost every case (universalmente) to the superficial reader, the reader who does not perfectly understand the things with which the book is concerned but who can appreciate or “sense” its aesthetic and entertainment value on an intuitive, instinctive level “without being able to explain why.” This is the kind of reader who does not study a text intensively but who engages in “a much more leisurely form of ‘extensive’ reading that follows little pattern beyond the individual reader’s tastes, personal concerns, and daily whims” (Woolf 9).

Whatever other aims Castiglione may have for his book are dependent for their success on his ability to make a favorable impression on these relatively unsophisticated readers; but their lack of sophistication does not mean that he is treating them with condescension in this passage or that he is being ironic when he says that he will take his work to be good if it pleases the multitude. Rather, he is applying a principle which Aristotle twice states in the Politics, that the multitude, collectively, is a better judge than any individual, even in artistic matters like literature and music (2033–4, 2041; 1281b7–10, 1286a31). Thus in the Courtier discussions, Count Ludovico Canossa encourages the cultivation of physical skills which can be demonstrated in public, “whence good esteem is to be won, especially with the multitude (moltitudine), who must be taken into account withal” (1.22). Shortly afterward, the same speaker also advises the courtier to use words which are “precise, choice, rich and rightly formed, but above all, in use even among the masses (populo)” (1.33). If the courtier uses such words, he continues, then even though his speech is elegant and grave “he will be understood by everyone, because facility is no impediment to elegance” (1.34).

Castiglione undoubtedly had “the Renaissance awareness of the lasting value of a work of elegance and the unreadable (and short-lived) quality of stylistically bad writing” (Woodhouse 61). The beauty and polish of Castiglione’s prose, then, and perhaps even some of the fashionable or apparently trivial topics which his interlocutors at times discuss, can be understood as features of his work which will contribute to its surface appeal and thus preserve it when, to use his nautical image, “fortune, often in mid-course and sometimes near the end, shatters our frail and vain designs, and sometimes wrecks them before the port (porto) can be even seen afar” (4.1). Using a similar nautical metaphor, Gide in the twentieth century noted that it is the exterior appeal, the “skin-deep” beauty rather than the profound intellectual content of a work of art that keeps it alive when the immediate context of its creation has passed. Speaking of Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665) in this regard, he says that without beauty the intellectual merits of this artist’s paintings,

however extraordinary they might be, would not have sufficed to assure Poussin a lasting reputation, to permit his canvasses to reach ages remote from his own (d’aborder aux époques lointaines) and come down to us. In the great shipwreck of time, it is by their skin that masterpieces float. The same for literature. Without the inimitable beauty of his prose, who would still be interested in Bossuet? (“Teaching” 161; “Enseignement” 1–2)

This is not to say that the only interest which anyone might take today in the writings of Bossuet or the paintings of Poussin is purely aesthetic and not intellectual, but rather that the aesthetic appeal which these works have for a large number of people allows them to be preserved so that a much smaller number of intellectually-interested people can continue to have access to them. And the same considerations apply, it seems, to Castiglione’s understanding of the fate of his Courtier. Contrary to Floriani’s suggestion (Bembo e Castiglione 113), it is not with weary resignation that Castiglione relies on the judgment of the multitude, but with a definite purpose in mind.

2.2 Noble Cavaliers and Virtuous Ladies (nobili cavalieri e valorose donne)

A second and more narrowly-defined audience for the Courtier is identified in the prologue to book 3, where Castiglione in his persona as narrator speaks of his desire to show “how superior the court of Urbino was to all others in Italy.” Because of this superiority, he says,

I hold myself bound, as far as I can, to strive with every effort to rescue this bright memo...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• List of Tables and Figures
• Preface
• Acknowledgments
• Note on Texts and Translations
• 1 Introduction: Audience, Interpretation, and Allegory
• 2 Castiglione’s Francescopaedia: Pope Julius II and Francesco Maria della Rovere
• 3 Philosophers on the Ladder of Love?: Pietro Bembo and Ottaviano Fregoso
• 4 Incitements to Folly: Gaspar Pallavicino and Cesare Gonzaga
• 5 Medicine and Statecraft: The Courtier as Physician
• 6 The Courtier and the Statesman: Structural Relations
• 7 Castiglione’s Impresa and the Veiled Policy of the Courtier
• Epilogue: The Silence of the Archive
• Works Cited
• Index