Part 2

There is one side of personal manners, however, in which there has been much change. When Bacon says that "cleanness of body was ever deemed to proceed from a due reverence to God," he can hardly be said to summarize theological opinion on the subject of cleanliness in the preceding fifteen hundred years. The rules of St. Benedict permit bathing only to invalids and the very old, except on rare occasions; although an eighteenth century French ecclesiastic insists that the church never objected to bathing, "provided one indulges in it because of necessity and not for the sake of pleasure." But our concern is only with secular society, and there we find that cleanliness was considered only in so far as it was a social necessity, if indeed then; as an individual necessity or habit it scarcely appears at all. Della Casa's standard of social manners applies here, too: cleanliness was dictated by the need of pleasing others, and not because of any inner demand of individual instinct. But even in this Italy was in advance of her neighbours, if personal cleanliness represents social advance. In France, odorous greatness was the rule, and contemporary chronicles record the filthy personal habits of Henry of Navarre, the great Condé, and Louis XIII. The "Loix de la Galanterie," nearly a century after the "Galateo," advises the gallant to wash his hands every day--and "his face almost as often." All this has changed. Personal cleanliness, because of its complete acceptance as an individual necessity, has virtually ceased to touch the problem of social manners at any point; and cultivated society simply acts from time to time by formulating new delicacies of neatness and cleanliness, makes them the habit of life, and, forgetting them completely, passes on to new trifles of perfection. Perhaps we can judge this modern change without too great an exaggeration of its importance, if we bear in mind the paradox of the modern wit, that "dirt is evil chiefly as evidence of sloth, but the fact remains that the classes that wash most are those that work least."

I have already pointed out that one of the limitations of that code of good breeding which we have inherited from the Renaissance and which it is almost the mission of modern life to destroy, is that it looks merely to the comfort of those around us at any accidental point of time or place, often if not always at the expense of other groups, other classes, and wider interests. Those who inveigh against democracy as destructive of the "finer graces" of life have hit upon what is, for good or evil, the very essence of its reformative programme. A modern idealist sums up this newer attitude when he says of the old code that it asks us "rather to let a million pine than hurt the feelings of a single man." But wholly apart from this, codes and rules have no more justification in the art of life than in the arts of poetry and painting. Each individual soul must express its past and its present, its inheritance and its aspiration, in its own way; and it is as futile and vulgar to apply "rules" in the estimate of a life as it is in the criticism of a poem or a picture. Children and novices and immature societies may obtain practical guidance from the empirical observations of those who have had experience, but in order to create a real life of their own, a real social atmosphere, they must reach the point where the very rules that nurtured them no longer apply. To disregard every rule of good breeding is the symbol of real attainment in the creative art of living.

But this is no place to wage a battle for old codes or new ones. The "Galateo" describes habits and impulses that for centuries have moved the souls of men, dictated their conduct, given them pleasure and pain, and that probably for centuries will continue to do so. Nothing that has so stirred men and women, however trifling it may seem, can fail to hold a little human interest for those who call themselves Humanists.

J. E. S.

New York, February, 1914.

Galateo of Maister John Della Casa, Archebishop of Benevento.

Or rather, A Treatise of the Manners and Behaviours, it behoveth a Man to use and eschewe, in his Familiar Conversation. A Worke very necessary & profitable for all Gentlemen, or Other.

First written in the Italian Tongue, and now done into English by Robert Peterson, of Lincolnes Inne Gentleman. Satis, si sapienter.

Imprinted at London for Raufe Newbery dwelling in Fleetestreate litle above the Conduit. An. Do. 1576.

THE DEDICATION

To the Right Honorable my singular good Lord, the Lord Robert Dudley, Earle of Leicester, Baron of Denbigh, Knight of the Honorable order of the Garter, Maister of the Queenes Majesties Horses, and one of her Highnesse privie Counsell: Robert Peterson wisheth perfect felicitie.

Lighting of late (Right Honorable) upon this treatise of courtesie, penned by an experienced Italian, & drawn for the profit therof, in to so many languages: I thought his lessons fit for our store, & sought to make him speake Englishe.

Wise was that Cato, that ended bothe his learning, and living day together. And truly, Courtesie and Courtiership, be like Hippocrates twinnes, that laughe together, and grow together: and are so one affected, that who so divorceth them, destroyeth them. But yet, seeing moe redie to condemne the least trip then commend the best meaning, and knowing that the Scarre sticketh thogh good desert do hele the wound: & perceiving that Naevus in articulo pueri delectat Alcaeum, & Roscii oculi perversissimi catulum, That is, many dote on their fansie: I durst not send this, mine Heire and firste fruites of my toile, to the view of the world, without the guarde of your Patronage, wherin there is no presumption to teach them that are perfected, but may serve either as Simonides Characters, to stablish memory, or as an Index, to point them to other behaviours enrolled whersoever. Spread therefore (I beseeche your honour) the winges of wel liking over this worke, which presseth to you, as not only the patrone to protect, but the patterne to expresse any courtesie therin conteined. Mine Authour reporteth one Maestro Chiarissimo a perfect Mason, when he had described the finest precepts of his art, to have made his Regolo a piller so exactly, as would beare the proofe of every demonstration, thinking it learned speedely, where the mind and the eye, precept and experience joined hands together: whose steps I tread (though with better successe then mine Author, who could not finde a Regolo) hoping, when others shall come to trie these preceptes, not by showe or sound, as fooles do their Golde: but, by your behaviour, as by the touchstone: when they shal come, not to ken aloofe, but at hand, to view your so singular demeanour, so civil, so courteous, as maketh you renoumed abrode, and honored at home: coveted of the Noblest, & wonderful of the learnedst: when they shall in the glasse of your courtesie, see the blots that blemishe the dignitie of their estate: when they compare these lessons with the Regolo, they shal herein see no lesse commoditie, then was in Alcibiades Sileni (whereunto Socrates was compared) whiche though they bare not, in the front, any shewe of singularitie: yet within, bare they pictures of excellent wit & delight. This worke, if it please your honour to vouchsafe as a companion of ease to trace the pathes, which you have already so well beaten, (which presumeth not to be guide for conduction) or if your honour daine at highe leasure to peruse it (whiche is not cunningly but faithfully translated) I doubt not, but your countenance will so credit the Author, as wil embolden him to presse amongst the thickest throng of Courtiers: And herewithall beseeche your honour, to accept the humble and dutifull meaning minde of him: who, not satisfied, till he might by some meanes give shewe of his thankefull minde, for your honorable favours shewed unto him, hathe offered this small, though as faithfull a gifte as Sinaetes did to Cyrus: hoping, that your honour will take it as well in worth, as Artaxerxes did his poore Persians handfull of water. Thus with hartie prayer, for the advauncement of your estate, increase of honor, & attainement of perfect and perpetual felicitie: I commend your Lordship, to the patronage and protection of the Almightie. Your Lordships moste humble to dispose and commaunde.

Robert Peterson

COMMENDATORY VERSES

Al Signor Ruberto Peterson, esortandolo A tradurre in Inghilese il Galateo

Ben posson dirsi avventurate carte Quelle ch' el dotto, e gentil Casa spese: Quand' in breve discors' à insegnar prese Del honesta creanza la prima arte. Poi che tanto si apprezz' in ogni parte Quel ch' ei ne scrisse, e ch' ei si ben intese E ch' ogn' un con maniére più cortese Dal bel trattato suo tosto si parte. Esso à Donn' e donzelle, & cavallieri Non sol d'Italia: ma di Francia, e Spagna Di gentilezza mostr' i modi veri. Venga per voi felice anco in Brettagna E parli Inglese ne Palazzi alteri Del regn' invitto che 'l Tamigi bagna.

Francesco Pucci

Le creanze, e i costumi, Tanto splendenti lumi, Ch'a gli huomini fan l'huom superiore, Eccoli tratti fore De l'Italico seno E piantati ne l'Anglico terreno. Or se li goda ogniun, che porta amore A 'l suo decoro, e a 'l suo compiuto onore.

Alessandro Citolini

Edouardus Cradoccus, S. Theologiae Doctor & Professor

Moribus quisquis rudis est ineptis, Nescit is vitam placidam tueri: Nemini gratus, sociusque nulli Charus habetur.

Quisquis at pulchre simul & decore Se gerit, mentis studio repellens Rusticos mores, popularis ille Jure videtur.

Hoc Petersoni liber hic venustus Praestat, ostendens habitu decoro Possit ut quisque probitate splendens Utilis esse.

Idque dum magno satagit labore, Italum fecit patria loquela Hunc perornatas meus hic amicus Fundere voces.

Thomas Drant, Archedeacon in praise of this Booke

An happy turne that Casa once did hatche, Of haviours choice this booke in Ital' phrase: An Archebishop, and writer without matche In this he was, and peereles pight with praise. Such he his lore so well and wise doth lend: It heare ne reade we can, but must amend.

This booke by Tiber, and by Po hath past, Through all Italia Townes and Country lands. Iberus, throughe thy Spanishe coasts as fast It after yoade: and Gauls it held in hands, Throughe Rhenus realmes it spred in prosperous speede, To Lordes and Ladies reaching comly reede.

It Peterson, to Britain eyes doth bring Translated true and trimme: and fit to frame Faire maners fine for men. This prety Ring Bedecketh feate our life: discourse and game It ordereth apt with grace. The booke is grave, Eke wise and good, for civil folke to have.

To his friend Maister Robert Peterson Gent.

Thy Galateo (Peterson) doth shrowd him selfe to long. What? shall it sleepe Endymions yeares? thou dost thy countrie wrong. She hath a childs parte, Plato saies, and with the Author cries, That both thy toile, and this her gaine, may reare his skill to skies. What thoughe thou thinke thy present small, for view of gallant ones This litle Diamond, shall out prize, a quarry full of stones. And Noble Cyrus (Man) will daine cold water in Sinaetaes hand: Then fray not, if thy booke, in pure, unfiled termes doe stand. Translatours can not mount: for though, their armes with wings be spread, In vaine they toile to take the flight, their feete are clogd with lead. This faith, that makes the Authour, speake his owne in language new: Renoumes the more, then if thou blazdst it out, in painted hew. For, serpents lurke in greenest grasse, and with a garishe gloze, The Strumpet pounts in pride, where matrones marche in comelie clothes. Go publishe it, and dreade not scowling Momus poisond spite. And though Archilochus Iambes fly, or Theons taunts doe bite: Thinke, winds doe haunt the gallauntst trees, and Envy things of state. And lightning checks, Cerauniaes tops, whome no hils els do mate. The best have borne the bob, and Zoiles brutes durst geve the charge: But Zoile hangs, and Callisthen keepes in cage for talking large. And yet, wordes they be winde: but as erst Plinies Draconite No toole could pierce or carve: or as the gemme Chalazias hight, Keepes cold, though it in Aetna frie, or Adiantons flowers Drawes not a drop, though skies distill downe everlasting showers: So good desert, doth chalenge good reporte by reasons rate, Though oft they beare the checkes and taunts, they cannot take the mate. Yet seeke Mecaenas wings to shroude thy toile: Virgilio Found his Augustus: Ennie thou maist finde thy Scipio. This trump shall sound thy praise. Sir Phoebus golden rayes shall turne To foggie mistes, and seas that beare their ysie crust, shall burne: And lumpishe lowte, with country shares shall salte Sea fome divide, And sowe his graine in Afrik Syrtes that wallow every tide, Before this worke shall die: which neither Joves thundering threate, Nor fierie flames shall waste, nor rustie, cankred age shall freate. Nolo Persium nolo Laelium.

Your friend. I. Stoughton Student

The vine is praisde, that daintie grape doth give Although the fruite more please then holsome be, Each fertil tree, is favord for the fruite, So is the hearb that gallant is to see.

If this be trueth, he needes must merit well, That gives us groundes to guide our erring wayes, And trades us truely in the golden maze, Where vertue growes, and courtlike manner stayes.

Galateo first did frame this golden booke In Ital land. From thence it went to Spaine. And after came into the coasts of Fraunce. And nowe at last in England doth remaine.

The Authour sure deserveth more renoume, That so could spend his time for our behoofe, Then my poore wit or cunning can recite, As thou thy selfe by reading shalt finde proofe.

And as the Authour merits passing well, So doth my friend deserve as greate a meede: That makes a worke so hard to understand, So easie that each simple may it reede.

I say no more: for (lo) it were in vaine To praise good wine by hanging up a bushe, The best will give (I hope) my friende his due. As for the bad, I way them not a rushe.

Thomas Browne of L. I. Gent.

THE TREATISE OF MASTER JHON DELLA CASA

Wherin under the person of an old unlearned man, instructing a youthe of his, he hath talke of the maners and fashions, it behoves a man to use or eschewe, in his familiar conversation: intituled Galateo, of fashions and maners.

For as muche as thou doste now enter the journy, wherof I have allredy ronne forth the better parte (as thou seest) I meane the transitorie waye of this mortall life: I have determined (such is the Love I beare thee) to shewe all the daungerous straights thou must passe: For my experience maketh me feare, y^t walking that way thou mayst easily either fall, or by some meanes or other go astray. To the ende thou maist once, taughte both by my instructions and experience, be able to keepe the right waye, as well for the helthe of thy Soule, as the commendation and praise of the Honourable and Noble house thou doest come of. And bycause thy tender Age, is unfit (as yet) to receave more principall and higher precepts, reserving them for fitter time, I will beginn to discourse of such things as many men will deeme, perchaunce, but trifles: I meane what manner of Countenance and grace, behoveth a man to use, that hee may be able in Communication and familiar acquaintance with men, to shewe him selfe plesant, courteous, and gentle: which neverthelesse is either a vertue, or the thing that comes very nere to vertue. And albeit Liberalitie, or magnanimitie, of themselves beare a greater praise, then, to be a well taught or manored man: yet perchaunce, the courteous behaviour and entertainement with good maners and words, helpe no lesse, him that hath them: then the high minde and courage, advaunceth him in whome they be. For these be such things as a man shall neede alwayes at all hands to use, because a man must necessarily be familiar with men at all times, & ever have talk & communication with them: But justice, fortitude, and the other greater, and more noble vertues, are seldome put in uze. Neither is y^e liberall and noble minded man, caused every hower to doe bountifull things: for to use it often, cannot any man beare the charge, by any meanes. And these valiant men y^t be so full of highe minde and courage: are very seldome driven to trye their valour & vertue by their deeds. Then as muche as these last, doe passe those first, in greatnes (as it were) & in weight: so much do the other surmount these in number, & often occasion to use them. And, if I could wel intend it, I could name you many, whoe, (being otherwise of litle account) have ben & be still, muche estemed & made of, for their cherefull & plesaunt behaviour alone: which hath bin suche a helpe & advauncement unto them, that they have gotten greate preferments, leaving farre behinde them, such men as have bin endowed with those other noble and better vertues, spoken of before. And as these plesaunt & gentle behaviours, have power to draw their harts & minds unto us, with whome we live: so contrariwise, grosse and rude maners, procure men to hate and despise us. Wherby albeit the lawes, have injoined no paine for unmanerly & grose behaviours, as the fault that is thought but light (& to saye a trueth, it is not greate) yet we see notwithstanding, y^t nature herselfe punisheth them w^t sharpe & shrewde correction, putting them by this meanes, besydes y^e companie & favour of men. And truly even as greate & foule faults, doe muche harme: so doe these light, much hurt, or hurte at least more often. For, as men doe commonly fere y^e beasts y^t be cruell & wild, & have no maner of feare of som litle ones, as y^e gnats and the flies, & yet by y^e continual noiaunce they find by them, complaine them selves more of thes then of y^e other: so it chaunceth y^t most men do hate in maner asmuche, y^e unmanerly & untaught, as y^e wicked, & more. So y^t there is no doubte, but who so disposeth himselfe to live, not in solitarie and deserte places, as Heremites, but in fellowship with men, and in populous Cities, will think it a very necessarie thing, to have skill to put himselfe forth comely and seemely, in his fashions, gestures and maners: the lacke of which parts doth make those other vertues lame, and litle or nothing can they work to good effect, without other helpes: wheare this civilitie and courtesie, without other releefe or patrimonie, is riche of it selfe, & hath substance enough, as a thing y^t standeth in speache and gestures alone.

And that y^u mayst now more easily learne the way unto it, thou must understand, it behoves thee, to frame and order thy maners and doings, not according to thine owne minde and fashion: but to please those, with whome thou livest, and after that sort direct thy doings: And this must be done by Discretion and Measure. For who so applieth himself to much, to feede other mens humors, in his familiar conversation, and behaviour with men, is rather to be thought a Jester, a Jugler or flatterer, then a gentleman wel taught and nourtured: As contrariwise, whoe so hath no care or mind to please, or displese, is a rude, untaught, and uncourteous fellowe. For asmuche then, as our maners, have some pleasure in them when we respect other men, and not our owne pleasure: if we diligently searche forthe what those things be, that most men do generally like or dislike: we shall in suche sorte wisely and easily finde out, the meanes & wayes, to choose and eschewe, those fashions and maners, we are to leave or take, to live amongest men. We say then, that every act that offendeth any the common senses, or overthwarteth a mans will and desire, or els presenteth to the Imagination and conceite, matters unpleasaunt, & that likewise, which y^e minde doth abhorre, such things I say bee naught, and must not be used: for we must not only refraine from such thinges as be fowle, filthy, lothsome and nastie: but we must not so muche as name them. And it is not only a fault to dooe such things, but against good maner, by any act or signe to put a man in minde of them. And therefore, it is an ilfavoured fashion, that some men use, openly to thrust their hands in what parte of their bodye they list.