SUMMARY OF BONVICINO.

As far as I know (though I cannot affect to speak with authority) this poem by Fra Bonvicino, and those by Francesco da Barberino of which we shall next take cognisance, are considerably the oldest still extant Courtesy-Books (expressly to be so termed) of Christianized Europe;[26] except one, partly coming under the same definition, which has been mentioned to me by a well-read friend, Dr Heimann (of University College), but of which I have no direct personal knowledge.[27] This also, though written in the German language, is the production of an Italian. It is entitled Der Wälsche Gast (the Italian Guest), and dates about 1210. The author’s name is given as Tomasin von Zirclaria, born in Friuli. The book supplies various rules of etiquette, in a very serious and well-intentioned tone, as I am informed.—Fra Bonvicino would, on the ground of his antiquity alone, be well deserving of study. His precepts moreover (with comparatively few exceptions) cannot even yet be called obsolete, though some of them are unsophisticated to the extent of being superfluous. In order that the reader may see in one coup d’œil the whole of this curious old monument I subjoin a classified abridgment of the injunctions:—

1. Moral and Religious.

To think of the poor first of all.

To remember grace before meat.

To eat enough, and not too much.

Not to get drunk.

To pass over for the time any cause of quarrel.

To say grace after meat.

2. Practical Rules still fairly operative.

To offer water for washing the hands before dinner.

Not to plump into a seat at table at haphazard.

To sit at table decorously and in good humour.

Not to tilt oneself forward on the table.

Not to gorge or bolt one’s food.

To subordinate talking to eating.

Not to drink with one’s mouth full.

To remain seated at table, even though fresh guests should arrive.

Not to suck at solid food eaten with a spoon.

To use up one’s bread.

To abstain from raising objections to the dinner.

Not to scrutinize one’s neighbour’s plate.

To cut bread as it comes, not in all sorts of ways.

To carve for the ladies.

To give the guests prime cuts.

To make the guests thoroughly welcome, without oppressive urgencies.

To abstain at dinner from stroking cats and dogs.

Not to speak with one’s mouth full.

To abstain from imparting bad news at dinner.

To keep down any symptoms of pain or illness.

To avoid calling attention to anything disagreeable which may accidentally be in the dishes.

The attendants to hold the dishes by their rims.

Not to hand round the bowl by its upper edge.

Not to overload the dishes, goblets, &c.

Not to hurry through with one’s eating, so that others, who are left behind, would feel uncomfortable.

To wash hands and drink the best wine after dinner.

3. Rules equally true and primitive.

Not to tilt one’s legs on the table between-whiles.

To turn aside if one sneezes or coughs.

Not to set down before the guests utensils fresh from the kitchen.

The attendants to be clean—not to spit, &c.

To blow one’s nose on ‘foot-cloths,’ not through the fingers.

Not to scratch at one’s head or elsewhere.

Not to pick one’s teeth with the fingers.

Not to lick one’s fingers clean.

4. Rules which may be regarded as over-punctilious or obsolete.

Not to sit at table with one’s legs crossed.

To offer the cup to others only when they want it. (The rules as to drinking seem throughout to contemplate that two or more guests are using one cup or vessel.)

To use both hands in drinking.

Never to decline the cup when another offers it, but to drink no more than one wishes. (This rule still has its analogue at tables where the custom lingers of requesting ‘the pleasure of taking wine with’ some one else.)

Not to rummage about in the dish from which one is eating along with others.

Not to dip bread into the wine of which one is drinking along with others.

To suspend eating while a man of importance is drinking.

To postpone drinking till the man of importance has finished.

Not to speak to a man who is in the act of drinking. (This rule seems to contemplate ‘potations pottle-deep,’ such as engage all one’s energies for some little while together: for a mere modern sip at a wine-glass such a rule would be superfluous.)

To retain one’s spoon when one’s plate is removed for another help, (One spoon, it may be inferred, is to last all through the meal, serving as a fork.)

Not to eat an excessive quantity of bread with the viands.

Not to re-place one’s knife in its sheath prematurely. (It may be presumed that each guest brings his own knife.)

The reader who considers these rules in their several categories, and with due allowance for difference of times, manners, and ‘properties,’ will, I think, agree with me in seeing that the essentials of courtesy at table in Lombardy in the thirteenth century, and in England in the nineteenth, are, after all, closely related; and that, while some of our Friar’s tutorings would now happily be supererogatory, and others are inapplicable to present dining conveniences, not one is ill-bred in any correct use of that word. The details of etiquette vary indefinitely: the sense of courtesy is substantially one and the same. In Fra Bonvicino’s manual, it appears constantly in its genuine aspect, and prompted by its truest spirit—not so much that of personal correctness, each man for his own credit, as of uniform consideration for others.

FRANCESCO DA BARBERINO.

The same is eminently the case with some of the precepts given by our next author, Francesco da Barberino. Nothing, for instance, can go beyond the true rationale of courtesy conveyed in the following injunction[28] (which we must not here degrade from its grace of Tuscan speech and verse):

‘Colli minor sì taci,
E prendi il loco che ti danno; e pensa
Che, per far qui difensa,
Faresti lor, per tuo vizio, villani.’

Or this:[29]

‘E credo che fa male
Colui che taglia essendo a suo maggiore:
Chè non v’ è servitore
S’ el non dimanda prima la licenza.’

Indeed, I think that the tone prevalent throughout Barberino’s maxims of courtesy on all sorts of points is fairly to be called exquisite. Our extract from him brings us (it may be well to remember) into the closest contact with the social usages which Dante in his youth must have been cognisant of and conforming to; for, in passing from Bonvicino to Barberino, we have passed from Lombardy to Tuscany—the latter poet being a native of the Val d’Elsa, in the same district as Boccaccio’s birth-place, Certaldo. The date assigned to Barberino’s work, the Documenti d’Amore, is just about the same as that of Bonvicino’s, or from 1290 to 1296. Yet I apprehend we must receive this early date with some hesitation. In 1290 Barberino was but twenty-six years of age; whereas the Documenti d’Amore, a lengthy and systematic treatise on all kinds of moral and social duties and proprieties, seems to be rich with the hoarded experience of years. That so young a man should even have sketched out for himself a work of such axiomatic oracularity seems à priori unlikely, though one has to accept the fact on authority: that he should towards that age have completed the poem as we now possess it appears to me barely compatible with possibility. His other long poem, still more singular on the like account, is referred to nearly the same date. I observe in it, however, one passage (Part 6) which must have been written after 1308, and probably after 1312. It refers to a story which had been narrated to Barberino ‘one time that he was in Paris.’ Now his journey on a mission to Provence and France began in 1309, and ended in 1313.

I shall here give place to my brother, and extract verbatim the notice of Barberino contained in his book of translations, The Early Italian Poets.[30]

‘Francesco da Barberino: born 1264, died 1348.

‘With the exception of Brunetto Latini (whose poems are neither very poetical nor well adapted for extract), Francesco da Barberino shows by far the most sustained productiveness among the poets who preceded Dante, or were contemporaries of his youth. Though born only one year in advance of Dante, Barberino seems to have undertaken, if not completed, his two long poetic treatises some years before the commencement of the Commedia.

‘This poet was born at Barberino di Valdelsa, of a noble family, his father being Neri di Ranuccio da Barberino. Up to the year of his father’s death, 1296, he pursued the study of law chiefly in Bologna and Padua; but afterwards removed to Florence for the same purpose, and became one of the many distinguished disciples of Brunetto Latini,[31] who probably had more influence than any other one man in forming the youth of his time to the great things they accomplished. After this he travelled in France and elsewhere; and on his return to Italy in 1313, was the first who, by special favour of Pope Clement V., received the grade of Doctor of Laws in Florence. Both as lawyer and as citizen, he held great trusts, and discharged them honourably. He was twice married, the name of his second wife being Barna di Tano, and had several children. At the age of eighty-four he died in the great plague of Florence. Of the two works which Barberino has left, one bears the title of Documenti d’Amore, literally Documents[32] of Love, but perhaps more properly rendered as Laws of Courtesy; while the other is called Del Reggimento e dei Costumi delle Donne,—of the Government and Conduct of Women. They may be described, in the main, as manuals of good breeding or social chivalry—the one for men, and the other for women. Mixed with vagueness, tediousness, and not seldom with artless absurdity, they contain much simple wisdom, much curious record of manners, and (as my specimens show) occasional poetic sweetness or power—though these last are far from being their most prominent merits. The first-named treatise, however, has much more of such qualities than the second, and contains moreover passages of homely humour which startle by their truth, as if written yesterday. At the same time, the second book is quite as well worth reading, for the sake of its authoritative minuteness in matters which ladies now-a-days would probably consider their own undisputed region, and also for the quaint gravity of certain surprising prose anecdotes of real life with which it is interspersed. Both these works remained long unprinted; the first edition of the Documenti d’Amore being that edited by Ubaldini in 1640, at which time he reports the Reggimento &c. to be only possessed by his age “in name and in desire.” This treatise was afterwards brought to light, but never printed till 1815. I should not forget to state that Barberino attained some knowledge of drawing; and that Ubaldini had seen his original MS of the Documenti, containing, as he says, skilful miniatures by the author.

‘Barberino never appears to have taken a very active part in politics, but he inclined to the Imperial and Ghibelline party. This contributes with other things to render it rather singular that we find no poetic correspondence or apparent communication of any kind between him and his many great countrymen, contemporaries of his long life, and with whom he had more than one bond of sympathy. His career stretched from Dante, Guido Cavalcanti, and Cino da Pistoia, to Petrarca and Boccaccio: yet only in one respectful but not enthusiastic notice of him by the last-named writer (Genealogia degli Dei) do we ever meet with an allusion to him by any of the greatest men of his time. Nor in his own writings, as far as I remember, are they ever referred to. His epitaph is said to have been written by Boccaccio, but this is doubtful. On reviewing the present series, I am sorry, on the whole, not to have included more specimens of Barberino; whose writings, though not very easy to tackle in the mass, would afford an excellent field for selection and summary.’

Thus far my brother. I will only add to his biographical details that, at the very end of Francesco da Barberino’s life, he and one of his sons were elected the Priori, or joint chief-magistrates of the Florentine Republic; and that the Barberini who came to the papal chair in 1623 as Urban VIII. was of the same family. His patronymic is enshrined to many loose memories in the epigram ‘Quod non fecere Barbari fecere Barberini.’ To all that my brother has said of the qualities, and especially the merits, of Francesco, I cordially subscribe. The Documenti d’Amore is really a most capital book,—I should suppose, unsurpassed of its kind, and also in its interest for students of the early mediæval manners, and modes of thought. Its diction is remarkably condensed—(Italian scholars say that it shows strong traces of the author’s Provençal studies and predilections)—and it is proportionately stiff work to hasty readers. Those who will peruse it deliberately, and weigh its words, find many niceties of laconism, and much terse and sententious good sense as well—lengthy as is the entire book. This is indeed no slight matter—twelve sections, and something like 8500 lines. It is exactly the sort of work to elicit and to account for editorial enthusiasm.

THE DOCUMENTI D'AMORE.

I extract in full the stanzas bearing directly upon that which (following the impulsion of Fra Bonvicino) has become our more immediate subject—the Courtesies of the Table. The tone of society which we find here is visibly in advance of the Lombard Friar’s, though the express precepts of the two writers have a good deal of general resemblance: the superiority in this respect is very much the same as in the language. Barberino’s diction seems quite worthy of a Tuscan contemporary of Dante, and his works are still drawn upon as a ‘testo di lingua.’

‘The third point of good manners
Which thou art to observe at table
Thou mayst receive thus;
Thinking out for thyself the other details from these few.
And, in entering to table,
If he who says to thee “Go in” is a man of distinction,
On account of his dignity
It behoves thee not to dispute the going.
With thine equals, it beseems to decline
For awhile, and then to conform to their wish:
With superiors, affect
Just the least demur, and then acquiesce.
With inferiors, keep silence,
And take the place which they give thee: and reflect
That, by resisting here,
Thou, by thy default, wouldst be making them rude.
In thine own house, remain
Behind, if they are thy superiors or equals:
And, if thine inferiors, thou shalt seem
No other than correct if thou dost the same.
Understand the like, if thou givest
To eat to any persons out of thine own home:
Also remain behind when it happens
That thou art entertaining women.
Next consider about placing
Each person in the post that befits him.
Between relatives it behoves
To place others midway sometimes.
And, in this, honour the more
Those who are strangers, and retain the others by thyself:
And keep cheerful
Thy face and demeanour, and forbear with all.
Now I speak for every one.
He who is helping, let him help in equal portions.
He who is helped, let him not manœuvre
For the best, but take the less good.
They must not be pressed;
For this is their own affair, and choice is free,
And one forces the preference
Of him who was abstaining, perhaps purposely.
He makes a fool of himself who prematurely lays aside
His plate, while the others are still eating;
And he who untidily
Turns the table into a receptacle for scraps;
And he who sneers
At what he does not like; and he who hurries;
And he who picks and chooses
Out of the viands which are in common;
And those who seem more hungry
At the end than at the beginning;
And also he who sets to
At fortifying himself,[33] or exploring the bottom of the platter.
Nor do I think it looks quite well
To gnaw the bone with the teeth, and still worse
To drop it into the saucepan;[34]
Nor is salt well deposited on the dish.
And I think that he does amiss
Who carves, being at the table of his superior;
For none can perform service
If he does not first ask leave.
With thine equal, begin,
If the knife lies at thy right hand:
If not, leave it to him.
With fruit, thou canst not fitly help thy companion.
With women, I need not tell thee:
But thou must help them to everything,
If there is not some one who undertakes
Both the carving and other details.
But always look to it
That thou approach not too close to any of them.
And, if one of them is a relative of thine,
Thou wilt give more room to the other.
And, in short, thou wilt then
Do and render honour to thine utmost:
And here always mind
That thou soil not their dress.
Look them in the face but little,
Still less at their hands while eating,
For they are apt to be bashful:
And with respect to them, thou mayst well say “Do eat.”
When sometimes there come
Dishes or fruits, I praise him who thinks of avoiding
To take of those
Which cannot with cleanliness be handled.
Ill does the hand which hurries
To take a larger help out of a dish in common;
And worse he who does not well avoid
To loll, or set leg upon leg.
And be it observed
That here thou shouldst speak little and briefly:
Nor here must there be speech
Of aught save elegant and cheerful pleasantness.
I have shown thee above
Concerning the respect due to [thy lord], and saluting him.
I will now tell thee
More than I before said concerning service.
Take care that, in every operation
Or service that thou dost before him,
Thou must think steadily
Of what thou art about, for it goes ill if thou art absent-minded.
Thou shouldst keep thine eye,
When thou servest him, on that which he likes.
The silent tongue is aright,
Always without questioning, during service;
Also that thou keep thyself,
Thou who hast to serve, clean in dress and hands.
And I would have thee also serve strangers,
If they are at the meal with him.
Likewise have an eye to it
That thou keep things clean before him thou servest.
And thou dost well if thou keepest
The slice entire, if thou canst, in carving;
And amiss if neglectfully
Thou makest too great a lump of the carved viands;
And worse if thou art so long about it
That they have nothing to eat.
And, when there may be
Viands which make the hands uncleanly,
In some unobtrusive way
Get them washed by the time the next come on.
Thou shalt always be observant of the same
In bringing forward the fruits:
For to offer these about,
As I said before, befits not the guests.
Also I much complain
Of thee who wouldst then be correcting others:
For the present it must suffice thee,
In this case, to do right for thyself only.
He puts me out who has
So awkward a manner in cutting
That, in peeling a pear,
He takes up from three to nine o’clock;
And also he who keeps not good guard
Over his hand, and slips in cutting;
For he is prevented from serving,
And his lord sometimes has no one to serve him.
I dislike that he who serves
Should, in serving, speak of the doctor;
Unless maybe by way of obeying,
When he has it in command from him.
In giving water thou shalt be careful,
Considering the time and place:
Where there is little, little;
In the cold time, less cold—and, if very cold, warm.
When the sun is very hot,
Bring it abundantly, but mind the people’s clothes.
Observe the station and the ages,
With regard to whom thou shalt begin with, if there is none to tell thee.[35]
At table it behoves
Not to give bad or offensive news;
Unless delay might produce
Danger—and then only to the person concerned.
Be thy mouth abstinent
From eating while the first table is set.
In drinking do likewise,
So far as gratification goes, but thirst excuses thee:
Which if thou feelest, accustom thyself
Not to drink underhand, nor of the best.
Neither is a servant liked
Who afterwards is long over his eating,
If he is where he can do this;
And still less he who sulks if he is called
When he has not yet done eating;
For he serves best who serves other than his gullet.’

Before parting from the Documenti d’Amore, I will summarize a few more of Barberino’s dicta on points of courtesy and demeanour in general.

There are seven offences in speaking: 1. Prolixity; 2. Curtness; 3. Audacity; 4. Mauvaise Honte; 5. Stuttering; 6. Beating about the bush; 7. Restlessness of gesture, and this is the least supportable of all. Remedies against all these evils are assigned. For the 6th, as we are told, the (then) modern usage is to speak out what you have to say with little or no proem. As to the 7th, the moving about, as a child would do, the hands, feet, or head, or the using action in speech, shows deficient firmness. See that you stand firm. Yet all this is to be modified according to place, time, and the auditory. (It is amusing to find the dignified Tuscan of the thirteenth to fourteenth century reprobating that luxuriance of gesture which is one of the first things to strike an English eye in Italy down to our own day—more especially in the southern parts of the country. To have striven to obey Barberino’s precept, under pain of being pronounced bad company, must have proved hard lines to some of his contemporaries and catechumens.)

If you chance into uncongenial company, take the first opportune occasion for getting away, with some parting words that shall not bewray your antipathy.

To casual companions speak on their own respective subjects; as of God to the clergy, health to doctors, design to painters. ‘With ladies of refinement and breeding, laud and uphold their honour and state by pleasant stories not oftentimes told already. And, if any one is contrary and froward, reply in excuse and defence; for it is derogatory to contend against those the overcoming of whom is loss.’

If you come into the company of a great lord, or of persons who are all your superiors, and if they invite you to speak, inquire what the topic shall be. If you find nothing to say, wait for some one else to start you; and at worst be silent. In such company, be there no gesturing (again!).

If you are walking with a great lord in any country, conform in a measure to the usages there prevalent.

Following your superior, be respectful; to your equal, complaisant, and treat him as superior; and, even with your inferior, tend towards the same line of conduct. This, however, does not apply to your own servant. Better exceed than fall short in showing respect to unknown persons. If your superior, in walking with you, wants to have you by his side, go to his left as a general rule, so that he may have the full use of his sword hand. If it rains, and he has no cloak, offer him yours; and, even if he declines, you must still dispense with it yourself. The like with your hat. Pay similar attentions to your equal, or to one that is a little your inferior: and even to your positive inferiors you must rather overdo courtesy than fall short. Thus also with women: you must explore the way for them, and attend on them, and in danger defend them with your life.

In church, do not pray aloud, but silently.

Wait not to be saluted. Be first in saluting; but do not overdo this, and never reiterate a salutation. Your own lord you must not salute, unless he comes from afar. You should uncover to him: then, if he is covered, cover again. Do not exceed in saluting an intimate, but enter at once into conversation; and do not hug him, unless he and you are indeed one.[36] Bow to ladies without much speaking: and in towns ascertain the ordinary practice in such cases, and observe it. If you see a female relative in your own town, she being alone, or in company with only one person, and if she is handsome, accost her as though she were not your relative, unless your relationship is a fact known to the bystanders, (This is a master-touch: and here is another, of a nearly similar sort)—

In serving a man of distinction, if you meet his wife, affect not to observe her; and, if she gives you any commission to fulfil, don’t show that it gratifies you.

The 16th ‘Documento’ sets forth ‘the method of making presents so that the gift be acceptable.’ It is so admirable in point of both sense and expression that I quote the original in a note, secure that that will be a gift acceptable to all such readers of these pages as may be readers of Italian also.[37] What can be more perfect than the censure awarded to those who are in a chafe until, by reciprocating any service rendered to them, they shall have wiped it out?

‘Be all aware
That it is no small flaw to mislike
Remaining under an obligation:
Nay, it then seems that one is liberal by compulsion.’
THE REGGIMENTO DELLE DONNE.

Barberino’s second work, Del Reggimento e dei Costumi delle Donne, furnishes, strange to say, hardly any express rules for conduct, at table; but some details may, for our general purpose, be picked out of an emporium whose abundance can be surmised from the following programme.

‘I will divide this work into 20 parts:
And each part
Shall present certain distinct grades,
As the foregoing reading shows,
The 1st will relate how a girl
Should conduct herself
When she begins to appreciate right and wrong,
And to fear shame.
2nd, How, when
She comes to a marriageable age.
3rd, How, when she has passed.
The period for marriage.
4th, if, after she has given up the hope of ever
Obtaining a husband, it happens
That yet she gets one, and remains
At home awhile before going to him.
The 5th, How, after she is married;
And how the first, and how
The second and third,
Up to fifteen days; and the first month,
And the second and third;
And how on to her end:
Both before having children, and afterwards, and if she
Has none: and how in old age.
The 6th, How, if she loses her husband:
And how if she is old;
And how if she is of middle age;
And how if she is left young;
And how if she has children;
And how if she is a grandmother;
And how if she still
Remains mistress of her husband’s property;
And if she, being a widow, takes
The garb of religion.
The 7th sets forth
How she should comport herself
If she marries again;
And how if to a better [husband],
And how if to a worse
And less wealthy one;
And how if she yet goes to a third;
And how, after she has become a widow,
And has again taken a husband,
She remains awhile at home
Before going to him;
And how far re-marrying is praised or blamed.
8th, How, she
Who assumes the habit
Of a religious order at home;
And how this is praised or no.
9th, How, being shut up in a monastery
In perpetual reclusion;
And how the Abbess, Superior, and Prioress,
And every other Portress or Nun.
10th, How she
Who secludes herself alone
Is named a Hermitess; and wherein this is to blame.
11th, How
The maid who is
In companionship with a lady;
And how if she is alone,
And how if one among others in the like office.
12th, How
Every serving-woman shall conduct herself,
Whether serving a lady alone, or a lady along
With the master; and also if any, by herself,
Serves a master; and how
This is to be praised, and how not.
13th, How,
A nurse in the house, and how apart.
14th, How,
The female serf or slave;[38]
And how, being a serf,
She may afterwards, through her conduct, obtain her liberty.
15th, How
Every kind of woman
Of the common sort should behave,
And of a lower and poorer sort; and all
Save the bad ones of dissolute life
Who sell their honour for money,—
Whom I do not purpose
To put in writing,
Nor to make any mention of them,
For they are not worthy to be named.
16th treats
Of certain general precepts
To all women; and of their ornaments,
And their adventures.
17th, of their consolations.
18th, because sometimes
They must know how to speak and converse
And answer, and be in company,
Here will be treated upon questions of love
And courtesy and breeding.
19th treats
Of certain motetts and messages[39]
Of ladies to knights,
And of other sorts
Of women and men.
The 20th treats
Of certain orisons.
And in this part is the conclusion
Of the book; and how I carry this book
To the Lady who is above-named,[40]
And how she receives it;
And how the Virtues
Come before her.’

The promise here is rich indeed, and the performance also is rich; though it may fairly be said that various sections fall considerably below one’s expectations, and some of them are jejune enough. But, after every deduction has been made, the work fills a niche of its own, and without competitor.

I add a few of the details most germane to our purpose.

A young girl should drink but little, and that diluted. She must not loll at table, nor prop her arms thereon. Here she should speak even less than at other times. The daughters of Knights (Cavalier da Scudo), Judges, Physicians, or others of similar condition, had better learn the art of cooking, though possibly circumstances will not call upon them to put it in practice.

A Princess approaching the marriageable age should not go out to church; as she ought, as far as possible, to avoid being seen about. (The marriageable age, be it understood, is very early by Barberino’s reckoning, being twelve years.) A woman should never go out alone.

An unmarried young lady had better wear a topaz, which is proved by experience to be an antidote to carnal desire.

A Provençal gentleman, who was praising his wife for her extreme simplicity in attire, was asked, ‘Why then does she comb her hair?’ He replied: ‘To show that she is a woman, whose very nature it is to be trim in person.’

A Lady’s-maid should not tell tales to her mistress of any peccadilloes of the husband: still less should she report to the husband anything against his wife, unless it be a grave and open misdoing.

The section concerning Nurses (Part 13) contains much curious matter: especially as showing how much reliance was placed upon swaddling and other details of infant management, for the improvement of good looks, and correction of blemishes. Here we find also that the system against which Rousseau waged such earnest war, of mothers’ not suckling their own children, was already in full vigour in Barberino’s time. He enters no protest against it; but does recommend mothers to follow the more natural plan, if they can, and so please God, and earn the children’s love.[41]

A she-Barber must not ogle or flirt with her customers, but attend to her washes and razors. A Fruiteress must not put green leaves with old fruits, nor the best fruits uppermost, to take her customers in. A Landlady must not sell re-cooked victuals.

A shrew earns the stick sometimes; nor should that form of correction be spared to women who gad about after fortune-tellers.

Beware of a Doctor who scrutinizes your pretty face more than your symptoms. Also of a Tailor who wants to serve you gratis, or who is over-officious in trying on your clothes: and beware still more of a Tailor who is tremulous. If you go to any balls where men are present, let it be by day, or at any rate with abundance of light.

The use of thick unguents is uncleanly, especially in hot weather; it makes the teeth black, the lips green, and the skin prematurely old-looking. Baths of soft water, not in excess, keep the skin young and fresh: but those in which hot herbs are boiled scorch and blacken it. Dark hair becomes lighter by being kept uncovered, especially in moonlight.

‘Courtesy is liberal magnificence, which suffers not violence, nor ingenuity, nor obligation, but pleases of itself alone.’

To these brief jottings I subjoin one extract of some length, descriptive of the marriage-festivity of a Queen. To abridge its details would be to strip it of its value: but I apprehend that some of these details require to be taken cum grano salis, Barberino having allowed himself a certain poetical license.

Now it behoves to dine.
The trumpets sound, and all the instruments,
Sweet songs and diversions around.
Boughs, with flowers, tapestries, and satins,
Strewn on the ground; and great lengths of silk
With fine fringes and broiderings on the walls.
Silver and gold, and the tables set out,
Covered couches, and the joyous chambers,
Full kitchens and various dishes;
Donzels deft in serving,
And among them damsels still more so.
Tourneying in the cloisters and pathways;
Closed balconies and covered loggias;
Many cavaliers and people of worth,
Ladies and damsels of great beauty.
Old women hidden in prayer to God,
Be they served there where they stay.
Wines come in, and abundant comfits;
There are the fruits of various kinds.
The birds sing in cages, and on the roofs:
The stags leap, and fawns, and deer.
Open gardens, and their scent spreads.
There greyhounds and braches run in the leash.
Pretty spaniel pets with the ladies:
Several parrots go about the tables.
Falcons, ger-falcons, hawks, and sparrow-hawks,
Carry various snakes all about.
The palfreys houselled at the doors;
The doors open, and the halls partitioned
As suits the people that have come.
Expert seneschals and other officers.
Bread of manna only, and the weather splendid.
Fountains rise up from new springs:
They sprinkle where they are wanted, and are beautiful.
The trumpet sounds, and the bridegroom with his following
Chooses his company as he likes.
Ladies amorous, joyous, and lovely,
Trained, and noble, and of like age,
Take the bride, and usher her as befits:
They give her place to sit at table.
Now damsels and donzels around,
The many ladies who have taken their seats,
All prattle of love and joy.
A gentle wind which keeps off the flies
Tempers the air, and refreshes hearts.
From the sun spring laughs in the fields:
Nowhere can the eye settle.
At your foot run delightful rills:
At times the fish leap from the water.
Jongleurs[42] clad by gift:
Here vestments of fashion unprecedented,
There with pearls and precious stones
Upon their heads, and solemn garb:
Here are rings which emit a splendour
Like that of the sun outside.
Now all the men and all the ladies have washed,
And then the water is given to the bride:
And I resume speaking of her deportment.
Let her have washed her hands aforetime,
So that she may then not greatly bedim the water.
Let her not much set-to at washing in the basin,
Nor touch mouth or teeth in washing:
For she can do this afterwards in her chamber,
When it shall be needful and fitting.
Of the savoury and nicest viands
Let her accept, but little, and avoid eating many:
And let her, several days before, have noted
The other customs above written;
Here let her observe those which beseem the place.
Let her not intervene to reprehend the servitors,
Nor yet speak, unless occasion requires.
Let it appear that she hardly minds any diversion,
But that only timidity quenches her pleasure:
But let her, in eating, so manage her hands
That, in washing, the clear water may remain.
The table being removed, let her stay with the ladies
Somewhat more freely than at her arrival:
Yet for this day let her, I pray,
Abstain from laughing as far as she can, keeping
Her countenance so as not to appear out of humour,
But only timid, as has often been said.
If the other ladies sleep that day,
Let her also repose among them,
And prepare herself the better for keeping awake.
Let her drinking be small. I approve a light collation,
Eating little: and in like wise at supper
Let her avoid too many comfits or fruits:
Let her make it rather slight than heavy.
Some ladies make ready to go,
And some others to retire to their chambers.
Those remain who are in charge of her:
All approach to cheer her.
She embraces her intimates:
Let her make the kindest demonstrations to all—
‘Adieu, adieu’—tearful at parting.
They all cheer her up, and beg her to be
Confident, and many vouch
That her husband has gone to a distance:
Her guardians say the same.
They bring her inwards to a new chamber,
Whose walls are so draped
That nothing is seen save silk and gold;
The coverlets starred, and with moons.
The stones shine as it were the sun:
At the corners four rubies lift up a flame
So lovely that it touches the heart:
Here a man kindles inside and out.
Richest cambrics cover the floor.
Here baldaquins and the benches around
All covered with woven pearls;
Pillows all of smooth samite,
With the down of griffin-birds[43] inside;
Many topazes, sapphires, and emeralds,
With various stones, as buttons to these.
Beds loaded on beds with no bedstead,
Draped all with foreign cloths:[44]
Above the others the chiefest and soft,
With a new covering of byssus.[45]
Of this the down is from the phœnix-bird:[46]
It has one bolster and no more,
Not too large, but of fine form.
Over it sheets of worked silk,
Soft, yielding, delicate, and durable:
A superb quilt, and cuttings-out[47] within;
And, traced with the needle and of various cutting,
Fishes and birds and all animals,
A vine goes round the whole,
The twigs of pearls, and the foliage of gems,
Among which are those of all virtues,
Written of or named as excellent,
In the midst of it turns a wheel
Which represents the figure of the world;
Wherein birds, in windows of glass,
Sing if you will, and if not they are all mute.
There puppies of various kinds,
Not troublesome, and they make no noise:
If you call them, they make much of you.
On the benches flowers heaped and strewn—
Great is the odour, but not excessive:
Much balsam in vessels of crystal.
A nurse says: ‘All things are yours.
You will lie by yourself in that bed:
We will all be sleeping here.’
They show her the wardrobe at one side,
Wherein they say that they remain keeping watch.
They wash the Lady’s face and hands
With rose-water mixed with violets,
For in that country such is the wont.
They dress her hair, wind up her tresses,
Stand round about her, help her to disrobe.
Who takes her shoes off, happy she!
Her shoes are by no means of leather.
They look her in the face whether she is timorous:
She prays them to stay.
They tell her that they will sleep outside the bed,
At her feet, on the cloths I have spoken of.
‘They make-believe to do so, and the Lady smiles.
They put her to bed: first they hold her,—
They turn the quilt over: and, her face being displayed,
All the shows of gems and draperies
Wane before that amorous beauty
Which issues from the eyes she turns around.
Her visage shines: the nurses disappear:
The Lady closes her eyes, and sleeps.
Then these nurses trick the Lady.
They leave by the door which they had not shown her:
They go to the bridegroom who is waiting outside.
Him they tell of the trick.
There come around the new knight,
Young lord, puissant crown,
Many donzels and knights who wait
Solely for his chamber-service.
They give him water, as to the Lady:
His blond head each adorns,
Bright his countenance. Every one
Has gladness and joy, glad in his happiness.
They leave him in his jerkin, they bring him within:
They take off his shoes at the draped entry.
They all without, and the nurses at one side,
Stay quiet. A réveillée begins,
And so far off that it gives no annoy.
The comely King crosses himself, and looks:
The Lady and the gems make a great splendour,
And it seems to him that this Queen is asleep.
He enters softly, and wholly undresses:
It appears that the Lady heaves a sigh.
The King is scared: he covers himself up in the bed.
He signals to the birds to sing:
They all begin, one by one, and low.[48]
The signal tells them to raise their note:
Higher they rise in singing—and perchance
This noise may wake the Lady up.
Again he signals that they should all trill louder.
The Lady heaves a sigh, and asks,
‘Who is there?’—Says the King: ‘I am one
Whom thy beauties have brought hither.’
She is troubled, and calls the nurses.
The King replies: ‘I have turned them all out.’
She moves, wanting to get up:
She finds no clothes, for they have carried them away.
The King remains quiet, and waits to see
In what way he may be able to please her,
And says to her: ‘I have only come hither
To speak to thee a few words:
Listen a little, and then I will go.’

An elaborate dialogue ensues, conducted on the most high-paced footing of enamoured courtesy. It contains the strangely beautiful passage translated in my brother’s Early Italian Poets, and which I reproduce here; taking therewith my leave both of this singular specimen of how Kings and Queens might, would, could, or should confer on their bridal-night, and also of Francesco da Barberino himself. The Queen is the speaker.