Chapter II: Part 2

‘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.

[Sidenote: 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.’

[Sidenote: 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.

‘Do not conceive that I shall here recount
All my own beauty: yet I promise you
That you, by what I tell, shall understand
All that befits and that is well to know.
My bosom, which is very softly made,
Of a white even colour without stain,
Bears two fair apples, fragrant, sweetly savoured,
Gathered together from the Tree of Life
The which is in the midst of Paradise.
And these no person ever yet has touched;
For out of nurse’s and of mother’s hands
I was when God in secret gave them me.
These ere I yield I must know well to whom;
And, for that I would not be robbed of them,
I speak not all the virtue that they have:
Yet thus far speaking— Blessed were the man
Who once should touch them, were it but a little;
See them I say not, for that might not be.
My girdle, clipping pleasure round-about,
Over my clear dress even unto my knees
Hangs down with sweet precision tenderly;
And under it Virginity abides.
Faithful and simple and of plain belief
She is, with her fair garland bright like gold,
And very fearful if she overhears
Speech of herself; the wherefore ye perceive
That I speak soft lest she be made ashamed.
Lo! this is she who hath for company
The Son of God, and Mother of the Son.
Lo! this is she who sits with many in heaven:
Lo! this is she with whom are few on earth.’

[Sidenote: SANDRO DI PIPPOZZO. GRAZIOLO DE’ BOMBAGLIOLI. UGOLINO BRUCOLA.]

Tiraboschi mentions a book which might perhaps be useful in further illustrating Italian manners at the end of the 13th century: but I have no direct knowledge of it,—a Treatise on the Governing of a Family, written by Sandro di Pippozzo in 1299. A treatise on Moral Virtues (_Sopra le Virtù Morali_) was composed by Graziolo de’ Bombaglioli, a Bolognese, in Italian verse, with a comment in Latin, the date being about the middle of the 14th century; and was published in 1642, being at that time mistakenly attributed to King Robert of Naples. It is not a Courtesy-Book; but, referring back to what has been said (on p. 12) regarding the definitions of nobility given by Brunetto Latini, Dante, and Barberino, I may cite part of what Bombaglioli says on the same subject:

‘Neither long-standing wealth nor blood confers nobility;
But virtue makes a man noble (_gentile_);
And it lifts from a vile place
A man who makes himself lofty by his goodness.’

A third and older book, no doubt very much to our purpose, would be one which Ubaldini (in his edition of Barberino’s _Reggimento_) refers to as having been laid under contribution by that poet in compiling his _Documenti d’Amore_—viz. a rhymed composition, in the Romagnole dialect, on Methods of Salutation, by Ugolino Brucola (or Bruzola). This work, again, is unknown to me; and, as I can trace no mention of it even in Tiraboschi, a writer of most omnivorous digestion, I infer that it may not improbably have perished.

Skipping therefore about a century and a quarter, within which Italian literature was made for ever illustrious by the _Commedia_ of Dante, and the writings of Petrarca and Boccaccio, not to speak of others, we come to the early 15th century, still in Florence.

[Sidenote: AGNOLO PANDOLFINI.]

Agnolo Pandolfini wrote on the same subject as Sandro di Pippozzo, the Governing of a Family (_Del Governo della Famiglia_). He died in 1446, aged about 86; and the date of his treatise seems to be towards 1425-30. This work must not be confounded with one bearing the same title, frequently cited in the Dizionario della Crusca, and which deals more particularly with morals and religion. Pandolfini, both by birth and doings, was a very illustrious son of Florence: in 1414, 1420, and 1431, he held the highest dignity of the state, that of Gonfalonier of Justice. He opposed the banishment of Cosmo de’ Medici, and was treated with distinguished honour by that great though dangerous citizen on his return. His treatise takes the form of a dialogue, wherein Agnolo holds forth _ore rotundo_ to his sons and grandsons. The old gentleman is indeed fearfully oracular, and possessed with a fathomless belief in himself. He writes well, and with plenty of good sense. His book is not, in the straitest acceptation of the term, a Courtesy-Book, but rather a cross between the moral and the prudential—a dissertation of Œconomics. Here are some samples of his lore.

[Sidenote: THE GOVERNO DELLA FAMIGLIA.]

To choose a house wherein one can settle comfortably for life
is a great consideration. A locality with good air and good
wine should be sought out: better to buy it than to rent it.
The whole family should have one roof, one entrance-door, one
fire, and one dining-table: this subserves the purposes both of
affection and of thrift.

The family and household should be well dressed. Even when
living a country life, they should keep on the town dress: good
cloth and cheerful colours, but without fancy-ornaments save
for the women.

The head of the family should commit to his wife the immediate
care of the household goods: men, however careful, should not
be poking and prying into every corner, and looking whether the
candles have too thick a wick. ‘It is well for every lady to
know how to cook, and prepare all choice viands; to learn this
from cooks when they come to the house for banquets; to see
them at work, ask questions, learn, and bear in mind, so that,
when guests come who ought to be received with welcome, the
ladies may know and order all the best things—and so not have
to send every time for cooks. This cannot be done at a moment’s
notice, and especially when one is in the country, where good
cooks are not to be had, and strangers are more in the way
of being asked. Not indeed that the lady is to cook; but she
should order, teach, and show the less skilful servants to do
everything in the best way, and make the best dishes suitable
to the season and the guests.’

‘I [the infallible Agnolo Pandolfini] always liked so to order
the household that, at whatever hour of day or night, there
should always be some one at home to look after all casualties
that might happen to the inmates. And I always kept in the
house a goose and a dog—wakeful animals, and, as we see,
suspicious and attached; so that, one of them rousing the
other, and calling up the household, the house might always be
secure.’

Always buy of the best—food, clothes, &c., &c. ‘Good things
cost less than the not good.’

[Sidenote: MATTEO PALMIERI.]

That Agnolo Pandolfini was regarded as a great authority not by himself alone is proved by the fact that Matteo Palmieri, the author of a Dialogue on Civil Life (_Della Vita Civile_), makes him the principal speaker. And this was perhaps even during Agnolo’s lifetime: the assumed date of the colloquy being 1430 (very much the same as that of Pandolfini’s own book), and the actual date of composition being probably enough not many years later. Palmieri was born in Florence in 1405, and died in 1475, honoured for conspicuous integrity, and distinguished by many public employments. The _Vita Civile_ is regarded as his most important literary work. The interlocutors, besides Pandolfini, are a Sacchetti and a Guicciardini. The subject-matter is more grave and weighty than that of a Courtesy-Book strictly so called, though we may dip into it for a detail or two. The following is Palmieri’s own account of the work:

‘The whole performance is divided into four books. In the 1st
the new-born boy is diligently conducted up to the perfect age
of man; showing by what nurture and according to what arts he
should prove more excellent than others. The following two
books are written concerning Uprightness; and express in what
manner the man of perfect age should act, in private and in
public, according to every moral virtue. Whence, in the former
of these, Temperance, Fortitude, and Prudence, are treated of
at large—also other virtues comprised in these. The next is 3rd
in order, and is all devoted to Justice, which is the noblest
part of men, and above all others necessary for maintaining
every well-ordered commonwealth. Wherefore here is diffusely
treated of Civil Justice; how people should conduct themselves
in peace; and how wars are managed; how, within the city by
those who hold the magistracies, and beyond the walls by the
public officials, the general well-being is provided for. The
last book alone is written concerning Utility, and provides
for the plenty, ornament, property, and abundant riches, of
the whole body politic. Then in the final portion, as last
conclusion, is shown, not without true doctrine, what is the
state of the souls which in the world, intent upon public good,
have lived according to the precepts of life here set forth
by us; in reward whereof they have been by God received into
heaven, to be happy eternally in glory with his saints.’

[Sidenote: THE VITA CIVILE.]

Palmieri would have boys eschew any sedentary pastimes. They may jump, run, and play at ball; and music is highly suitable for them. To beat them is a barbarism. This may indeed, sometimes and perhaps, be necessary with boys ‘who are to follow mechanical and servile arts,’ but not with those who are carefully brought up by father and preceptor. Begin with encouragements to the well-behaved, and admonitions to the naughty: and the severer punishments should be ‘to shut him in; to withhold such food and other things as he best likes, to take away his clothing, and so on; to make him ponder long while over his misdoing.’ (This is singularly gentle discipline for A.D. 1430: indeed Palmieri intimates that ‘almost all people’ advocated manual correction in his time. Had any other writer, of so early a date, discovered that ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ is not the sum-total of management for minors?)

A dinner-party is considered well made up, in point of numbers, if the persons present are not less than three, nor more than nine. A larger number than the latter cannot all join together in united conversation.

‘The expenses of a munificent man should be in things that bring honour and distinction; not private, but public—as in buildings, and ornaments of churches, theatres, loggias, public feasts, games, entertainments; and in such like magnificences he should not compute nor reckon how much he spends, but by what means the works may be to the utmost wonderful and ‘beautiful.’ (Nice doctrine this for some of our conscript fathers in England, whose perennial diligence is, as Carlyle says, ‘preserving their game.’ But the Florentine Republic was in that outcast condition that the noblemen were not only not hereditary legislators, but were _ipso facto_ excluded from all public employment, unless they enrolled themselves in the commonalty by belonging to one of the legislating guilds.)

[Sidenote: BALDASSAR CASTIGLIONE.]

Both Pandolfini and Palmieri are authors of good repute in Italian literature: but by no means equal to the writer next on our list, Baldassar Castiglione, with his book named _The Courtier_ (_Il Cortigiano_). This is a remarkably choice example of Italian prose; which is the more satisfactory because Castiglione was not a Tuscan, but a Mantuan, and a proclaimed enemy of that narrow literary creed, the palladium of pedants and ever-recurring bane of strong individualism among Italian writers, that, save in the Florentine-Tuscan language (or dialect) of the ‘_buon secolo_,’ the days of Petrarca and Boccaccio, there is no orthodoxy of diction. Some noticeable details on this point are to be found in the _Cortigiano_: showing that the ultra-purists of that time insisted upon the use by writers, whether Tuscan or belonging to other parts of Italy, of words occurring in Petrarca and Boccaccio already quite obsolete and hardly intelligible even in Tuscany—and also upon the use of corrupt forms of words framed from the Latin, because these pertained to the Tuscan idiom, even although correct forms of the same words were in current use in other Italian regions. In all such regards Castiglione claims for himself unfettered latitude of choice: the verbal precisian, scared at his theoretic license, is surprised and relieved to find that after all the book is not only endurable in style, even to his own punctilious ears, but particularly elegant.

Baldassar Castiglione was born on the 6th of December 1478[49] at Casatico, in the Mantuan territory. Noble and handsome, he grew up almost universally accomplished and learned; a distinguished connoisseur; and valued by all the most eminent men of his time. His full-length portrait appears in one of the frescoes of Raphael in the Stanze of the Vatican. He went on many embassies—among others, to England. Henry VIII., of whose youthful promise he speaks in the most rapturous terms, knighted him: the Emperor Charles V. said that by Castiglione’s death chivalry lost its brightest luminary. His career closed at Toledo on the 2nd of February 1529. Among his writings are poems in Latin and Italian, but his chief work is the _Cortigiano_. This was composed between the years 1508 and 1518; and published in 1528, in a state which its author regarded as somewhat hurried and incomplete. It is written in the narrative form, but consisting principally of dialogue, or indeed of successive monologues; and purports to relate certain _conversazioni_ (rightly to be so called) which were held in 1506 in the court of Urbino, for the delectation of the Duchess Elisabetta della Rovere (by birth a Gonzaga) and her ladies. The topic proposed for treatment is—what should a perfectly qualified Courtier be like? The principal speakers on the general subject are the Conte Lodovico da Canossa, Federico Fregoso, and Ottavian Fregoso; Bernardo Bibiena takes up the special question of _facetiæ_, and Giuliano de’ Medici speaks of the Court Lady, and generally in honour of women.

The term Courtier has not a very exalted sound to a modern or English ear: but Castiglione’s ideal Courtier is a truly noble and gallant gentleman, furnished with all sorts of solid no less than splendid qualities. His ultimate _raison d’être_ is that he should always, through good and evil report, tell his sovereign the strict truth of all things which it behoves him to know—certainly a sufficiently honourable and handsomely unfulfilled duty. The tone throughout is lofty, and of more than conventional or courtly rectitude:[50] indeed, the book as a whole is hardly what one associates mentally with the era of Pagan Popes,—of a Cæsar Borgia just cleared off from Romagna, and an Alessandro de’ Medici impending over Florence.

[Sidenote: THE CORTIGIANO.]

Almost the only illustration which Castiglione supplies of the art of dining is the following anecdote:

‘The Marquis Federico of Mantua, father of our Lady Duchess,
being at table with many gentlemen, one of them, after he had
eaten a whole stew, said, “My Lord Marquis, pardon me;” and, so
saying, he began to suck up the broth that was left. Forthwith
then said the Marquis: “You should ask pardon of the pigs, for
to me there is no harm done at all!”’

Some other points I take as they come.

‘Having many a time reflected wherefrom Grace arises (not
to speak of those who derive it from the stars), I find one
most universal rule, which seems to me to hold good, in this
regard, in all human things done and said, more than aught
else; and this is—to avoid affectation as much as one can, and
as a most bristling and perilous rock, and (to use perhaps a
new-coined word) to do everything with a certain slightingness
[_sprezzatura_], which shall conceal art, and show that what
is done and said comes to one without trouble and almost
without thinking.’ Yet there may be as much affectation in
slightingness itself as in punctilio. Instances adduced of the
latter, as regards the care of the person, are the setting a
scrap of looking-glass in a recess of one’s cap, and a comb
in one’s sleeve, and keeping a page to follow one perpetually
about with a sponge and a clothes-brush. Female affectations
were ‘the plucking out the hair of eyebrows and forehead, and
undergoing all those inconveniences which you ladies fancy to
be altogether occult from men, and which nevertheless are all
known.’

The perfect Courtier ought to know music—sing at sight, and
play on various instruments; he ought also to have a practical
knowledge of drawing and painting. Better even than singing at
sight is singing solo to the viol, and most especially thus
singing in recitative [_per recitare_], ‘which adds to the
words so much grace and force that great marvel it is.’ All
stringed instruments are well suited for the Courtier; not so
wind-instruments, ‘which Minerva interdicted to Alcibiades,
because they have an unseemly air.’ The Court Lady also ought
to have knowledge of letters, music, and painting, as well
as of dancing, and how to bear her part in entertainments
[_festeggiare_].

‘Old men blame in us many things which, of themselves, are
neither good nor bad, but only because _they_ used not to do
them: and they say that it is unbefitting for young men to go
through the city riding, especially on mules; to wear in the
winter fur linings and long robes; to wear a cap [_berretta_],
at any rate until the man has reached eighteen years of
age,—and other the like things. Wherein in sooth they mistake:
for these customs, besides being convenient and serviceable,
are introduced by fashion, and universally accepted,—as
aforetime to dress in the open tunic [_giornea_], with open
hose and polished shoes, and for gallantry to carry all day a
hawk on the fist for no reason, and to dance without touching
the lady’s hand, and to adopt many other modes which, as they
would now be most awkward, so then were they highly prized.’

Federico Fregoso, the chief speaker of the second evening, is
of opinion that a man of rank ought not to honour with his
presence a village feast, where the spectators and company
would be coarse people. To this Gaspar Pallavicino demurs;
saying that, in his native Lombardy, many young noblemen will
dance all day under the sun with country people, and play with
them at wrestling, running, leaping, and so on—exercises of
strength and dexterity in which the countrymen are often the
winners. Fregoso rejoins that this, if done at all, should
be not by way of emulation but of complaisance, and when the
nobleman feels tolerably sure of conquering; and generally, in
all sorts of exercises save feats of arms, he should stop short
of anything like professional zeal or excellence. [A concluding
hint worth consideration in these days of ‘Athletic Clubs.’]

The discourse of Bernardo Bibiena on _facetiæ_ is a magazine of good things, both anecdotic, epigrammatic, and critical. The speaker is particularly severe on ‘funny men’ and ‘jolly dogs’; concerning whom I venture to introduce one consecutive extract of some little length.