Part 13

For one man to pledge another in the wine-cup is not an Italian usage, nor yet rightly nationalized, and should be avoided. Decline such an invitation; or confess yourself the worse drinker, and give but one sip to your wine. ‘Thank God, among the many pests which have come to us from beyond the mountains, this vilest one has not yet reached us, of regarding drunkenness as not merely a laughing-matter, but even a merit.’ The only time when you should wash hands in company is before going to table: you should do it then even though your hands be quite clean, ‘so that he who dips with you into the same platter may know that for certain.’

Well-bred servitors, serving at table, must on no account scratch their heads or any other part of the body, nor thrust their hands anywhere under their clothes out of sight, but keep them ‘visible and beyond all suspicion,’ and scrupulously clean. Those who hand about plates or cups must abstain from spitting or coughing, and most especially from sneezing. If a pear or bread has been set to toast, the attendant must not blow off any ash-dust, but jog or otherwise nick it off. He must not offer his pocket-handkerchief to any one, though it be clean from the wash; for the person to whom it is offered has no assurance of that fact, and may find it distasteful. The usher must not take it upon himself to invite strangers, or to retain them to dine with his lord: if he does so, no one who knows his place will act on the invitation.

Scraping the teeth together, whistling, screaming, grinding stones, and rubbing iron, are grievous noises: and a man who has a bad voice should eschew singing, especially a solo. Coughing and sneezing must not be done loud. ‘And there is also to be found such a person as, in yawning, will howl and bray like an ass; and another who, with his mouth still agape, will go on with his talk, and emits that voice, or rather that noise, which a mute produces when he tries to speak.’ Indeed, much yawning should be altogether avoided: it shows that your company does not amuse you, and that you are in a vacant mood. ‘And thus, when a man yawns among others who are idle and unoccupied, all they, as you may often have observed, yawn forthwith in response; as if the man had recalled to their memory the thing which they would have done before, if only they had recollected it.’ Other acts discourteous to the company you are in are—to fall asleep; to pace about the room, while others are seated in conversation; to take a letter out of your pouch, and read it; to set about paring your nails; or to hum between your teeth, play the devil’s tattoo, or swing your legs. Also you must not nudge a man with your elbow in talking to him. Let us have no showing of tongue, nor overmuch stroking of beard, nor rubbing-together of hands, nor heaving of long-drawn sighs, nor shaking oneself up with a start, nor stretching, and singing-out of ‘Dear me!’

Having used your pocket-handkerchief, don’t open it out to inspect it.

‘They are in the wrong whose mouths are always full of their babies, and their wife, and their nurse. “My little boy yesterday made me laugh so—only hear.” “You never saw a sweeter child than my Momus.” “My wife is so-and-so.” “Said Cecchina: and could you ever believe it of such a scatterbrain?” There is no man so unoccupied that he can either reply or attend to such nonsense: and the speaker becomes a nuisance to everybody.’

In walking, you should not indulge in too much action, as by sawing with your arms; nor should you stare other passers-by in the face, as if there were some marvel there.

‘Now what shall I say of those who issue from the desk into company with a pen behind the ear? or those who hold a handkerchief in the mouth? or who lay one leg along the table? or who spit on their fingers?’

Some people offend by affected humility, which is indeed a practical lying. ‘With these the company has a bad bargain whenever they come to a door; for they will for no consideration in the world pass on first, but they step across, and return back,—and so fence and resist with hands and arms that at every third step it becomes necessary to battle with them, and this destroys all peace and comfort, and sometimes the business which is in hand.’

This last caveat leads on the author to a passage of importance regarding ceremoniousness in general; from which we learn that that extreme of etiquette was still almost an innovation in Italy in the middle of the sixteenth century, and contrary to the national bias. This may surprise some readers; for certainly the courteous Italian of the later period, for all his characteristic ‘naturalness,’ has not been wanting in ceremony, and the elaboration of politeness of phrase in his writing is something observable—at least to Englishmen, the least ceremonious nation, I suppose, under heaven (and that is by no means a term of disparagement). I subjoin the passage from Della Casa, not a little condensed; followed by another, still more abridged, concerning the essence and right of elegant manners.

‘And therefore ceremonies (which we name, as you hear, by a foreign word, as not having one of our own—which shows that our ancestors knew them not, so that they could not give them any name)—ceremonies, I say, differ little, to my thinking, from lies and dreams, on account of their emptiness. As a worthy man has more than once shown me, those solemnities which the clergy use in relation to altars and the divine offices, and towards God and sacred things, are properly called “ceremonies.” But, as soon as men began to reverence one the other with artificial fashions beyond what is fitting, and to call each other “master” and “lord,” bowing and cringeing and bending in sign of reverence, and uncovering, and naming one another by far-sought titles, and kissing hands, as if theirs were sacred like those of priests,—somebody, as this new and silly usage had as yet no name, termed it “ceremoniousness”: I think, by way of ridicule. Which usage, beyond a doubt, is not native to us but foreign and barbarous, and imported, whencesoever it be, only of late into Italy,—which, unhappy, abased, and spiritless in her doings and influence, has grown and gloried only in vain words and superfluous titles. Ceremonies, then,—if we refer to the intention of those who practise them—are a vain indication of honour and reverence towards the person to whom they are addressed, set forth in words and shows, and concerned with titles and proffers. I say “vain” in so far as we honour in seeming those whom we hold in no reverence, and do sometimes despise. And yet, that we may not depart from the customs of others, we term them “Illustrissimo Signor” so-and-so, and “Eccellentissimo Signor” such-a-one: and in like wise we sometimes profess ourselves “most devoted servants” to some one whom we would rather dis-serve than serve. This usage, however, it is not for us individually to change—nay, we are compelled (as it is not our own fault, but that of the time) to second it; but this has to be done with discretion. Wherefore it is to be considered that ceremonies are practised either for profit, or for vanity, or by obligation. And every lie which is uttered for our own profit is a fraud and sin and a dishonest thing (as indeed one cannot in any sort of case lie with honour): and this sin do flatterers commit. And, if ceremonies are, as we said, lies and false flatteries, whenever we practise them with a view to gain we act like false and bad men: wherefore, with that view, no ceremony ought to be practised. Those which are practised by obligation must in no wise be omitted; for he who omits them is not only disliked but injurious. And thus he who addresses a single person as “You” (if it is not a person of the very lowest condition) does him no favour: nay, were he to say “Thou,” he would derogate from his due, and act insultingly and injuriously, naming him by the word which is usually reserved for poltroons and clodhoppers. And these I call “ceremonies of obligation”: since they do not proceed from our own will, nor freely of our own choice, but are imposed upon us by the law—that is, by common usage. And he who is wont to be termed “Signore” by others, and himself in like manner to address others as “Signore,” assumes that you contemn him or speak affrontingly when you call him simply by his name, or speak to him as “Messere,” or blurt out a “You.” However, in these ceremonies of obligation, certain points should be observed, so that one may not seem either vain or haughty. And first, one should have regard to the country one lives in; for every usage is not apposite in every country. And perhaps that which is adopted by the Neapolitans, whose city abounds in men of great lineage, and in barons of lofty station, would not suit the Lucchese or Florentines, who for the most part are merchants and simply gentlemen, having among them neither princes nor marquises nor any baron. Besides this, regard must be paid to the occasion, to the age and condition of the person towards whom we practise ceremony, and to our own; and, with busy people, one should cut them off altogether, or at any rate shorten them as much as one can, and rather imply than express them: which the courtiers in Rome are very expert in. Neither are men of great virtue and excellence in the habit of practising many; nor do they like or seek that many be practised towards them, not being minded to waste much thought over futilities. Nor yet should artisans and persons of low condition care to practise very elaborate ceremonies towards great men and lords: for these rather than otherwise dislike such demonstrations at their hands—for their way is to seek and expect obedience more than civilities. And thus the servant who proffers his service to his master makes a mistake: for the master takes it amiss, and esteems that the servant wants to call in question his mastership,—as if his right were not to dictate and command. If you show a little suitable abundance of politeness to those who are your inferiors, you will be called courteous. And, if you do the same to your superiors, you will be termed well-bred and agreeable. But he who should in this matter be excessive and profuse would be blamed as vain and frivolous; and perhaps even worse would befall him, for he might be held evil and sycophantic. And this is the third kind of ceremonies, which does indeed proceed from our will, and not from usage. Let us then recollect that ceremonies (as I said from the first) were naturally not necessary,—on the contrary, people got on perfectly well without them: as our own nation, not long ago, did almost wholly. But the illnesses of others have infected us also with this and many other infirmities. For which reasons, when we have submitted to usage, all the residue in this matter that is superfluous is a kind of licit lying: or rather, from that point onwards, not licit but forbidden—and therefore a displeasing and tedious thing to noble souls, which will not live on baubles and appearances. Vain and elaborate and superabundant ceremonies are flatteries but little covert, and indeed open and recognized by all. But there is another sort of ceremonious persons who make an art and trade of this, and keep book and document of it. To such a class of persons, a giggle; and to such another, a smile. And the more noble shall sit upon the chair, and the less noble upon the settle. Which ceremonies I think were imported from Spain into Italy. But our country has given them a poor reception, and they have taken little root here; for this so punctilious distinction of nobility is a vexation to us: and therefore no one ought to set himself up as judge, to decide who is more noble, and who less so.—To speak generally, ceremoniousness annoys most men; because by it people are prevented from living in their own way—that is, prevented from liberty, which every man desires before all things else.’

‘Agreeable manners are those which afford delight, or at least do not produce any vexation, to the feelings, appetite, or imagination, of those with whom we have to do. A man should not be content with doing that which is right, but should also study to do it with grace. And grace [leggiadria] is as it were a light which shines from the fittingness of things that are well composed and well assorted the one with the other, and all of them together; without which measure even the good is not beautiful, and beauty is not pleasurable. Therefore well-bred persons should have regard to this measure, both in walking, standing, and sitting, in gesture, demeanour, and clothing, in words and in silence, and in rest and in action.’

Besides the Galateo, Monsignor della Casa has left another and shorter Tractate on Amicable Intercourse between Superiors and Inferiors (Trattato degli Uffici Comuni tra gli Amici Superiori e Inferiori). This deals not so much with the relation between those who are rich and those who are poor in the gifts of fortune, taken simply on that footing, as with the connection between master and servant, patron and client, magnate and dependent. The tone is grave and humane, with an adequate share of worldly wisdom interspersed. The opening is interesting and suggestive; and shows that the great ‘Servant Controversy,’ of which the pages of English daily newspapers are now almost annually conscious in the dull season, was by no means unknown to Italy in the sixteenth century:—

‘I apprehend that the ancients were free from a great and continual trouble; having their households composed, not of free men, as is our usage, but of slaves, of whose labour they availed themselves, both for the comforts of life, and to maintain their repute, and for the other demands of society. For, as the nature of man is noble, copious, and erect, and far more apt to commanding than obeying, a hard and odious task do those undertake who assume to exercise masterdom over it, while still bold and of undiminished strength, as is done now-a-days. To the ancients, in my judgment, it was no difficult or troublesome thing to command those who were already quelled and almost domesticated—people whom either chains, or long fatigues, or a soul servile from very childhood, had bereaved of pride and force. We on the contrary have to do with souls robust, spirited, and almost unbending; which, through the vigour of their nature, refuse and hate to be in subjection, and, knowing themselves free, resist their masters, or at least seek and demand (often with reason, but sometimes also without) that in commanding them some measure be observed. Whence it arises that every house is full of complaints, wranglings, and questionings. And certainly this is the fact; because we are unjust judges in our own cause,—and, as it is true that everybody unfairly prizes his own affairs higher than those of others, albeit of equal value, and consequently always persuades himself that he has given more than he has received, the thing cannot go on pari passu. Hence comes the wearisome complaint of the one, “I have worn myself out in your house;” and the rebuke of the other, “I have maintained and fed you, and treated you well.”’

I can afford only one more extract from this treatise; which indeed handles its general subject-matter more on the ground of fairness, good-feeling, and expedient compromise of conflicting claims, than as a question of courtesy—though neither is that left out of view.

‘In giving orders and assigning duties which have to be fulfilled, let regard be paid to the condition of the individuals; so that, if anything uncleanly is to be done, that be allotted to the lowest, and it come not to pass (as some perverse-natured people will have it) that noblemen should sweep the house, and carry slops out of the chambers. Let not things of much labour be committed to the weak, nor the degrading to the well-mannered, nor the frivolous and sportful to the aged. Moreover let the masters be heedful not to impose upon any one anything of uncommon difficulty or labour or painstaking, unless of necessity or for some great cause; for the laws of humanity command us not to make a call upon a man’s diligence and solicitude beyond what is reasonable, or as if in levity—especially if it exceeds the ordinary bounds.’

With this I shut up Della Casa’s volume, and take final leave of my reader—trusting that, after perusing, skimming, or skipping, so much matter concerning Courtesy, he will part from me on the terms of (at lowest) a ‘courteous reader,’ in more than the merely conventional sense.

FOOTNOTES

As mentioned below, the first German work including something by way of Courtesy-Book, ab. 1210 A.D., Der Wälsche Gast, was written by an Italian, Tomasin von Zirclaria.

Possibly this notion prompted Dante to represent himself, in the opening of the Commedia, as also lost in a forest.

The line here translated as one forms two in the Italian, and the like with our sequel; Brunetto’s metre being an ungracefully short one—thus:

‘Sie certo che Larghezza È’l capo e la grandezza,’ &c.

Indeed the metre keeps up such a perpetual jingling as almost to reduce to doggerel what might, in a different rhythmical form, be accepted as very fair rhyme and reason indeed. I have thrown the several couplets into single lines, in the translation, simply with a view to saving space.

The original runs

‘Che, siccome dell’ arti, Qualche vizio non prendi.’

This phrase is not quite clear to me; but I suppose the word ‘arti’ is to be understood as meaning ‘crafts, trades, or professions,’ and that Brunetto had been sharp enough to see that people become ‘shoppy’ according to their respective shops. ‘Vous êtes orfèvre, Monsieur Josse.’

‘Mercennaio’—literally, mercenary or hireling.

‘Picciolini.’ These were, I gather, coins of a particular denomination, but I have not been able to ascertain their precise value.

‘Credesi far la croce, Ma e’ si fa la fica.’