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diff --git a/75723-0.txt b/75723-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a483b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/75723-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3304 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75723 *** + +=Transcriber’s Note:= Since the original book did not have headings in the +text, selected page headers have been used as sidenotes to indicate the +sections set out in the table of contents. + +The Italian and English versions of the ‘Zinquanta Cortexie’ on pp. 16-31 +were originally printed on alternating pages, which is impractical to +display in an ebook, so the Italian is here presented first in full followed +by the English in full. Line numbers assist with comparing the two versions. + + + + + ITALIAN COURTESY-BOOKS. + + FRA BONVICINO DA RIVA’S + Fifty Courtesies for the Table + (ITALIAN AND ENGLISH) + + WITH OTHER + TRANSLATIONS AND ELUCIDATIONS + + BY + WILLIAM MICHAEL ROSSETTI. + + + + + TO THE ENGLISH PAINTER + WHO HAS MADE CIVILIZED MANKIND HIS DEBTOR + BY RECOVERING THE PORTRAIT OF + Dante BY Giotto, + THE TWO DII MAJORES OF ITALIAN MEDIÆVALISM, + TO THE + BARONE KIRKUP, + MY FATHER’S HONOURED FRIEND AND MY OWN, + I AM PERMITTED TO DEDICATE + THIS SLIGHT ATTEMPT IN A BRANCH OF ITALIAN STUDY + LONG FAMILIAR TO HIMSELF. + + W. M. R. + +_June 1869._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + + ITALY AND COURTESY 7 + + BRUNETTO LATINI 8 + THE TESORETTO:—EXTRACT 10 + + FRA BONVICINO DA RIVA 14 + THE ZINQUANTA CORTEXIE DA TAVOLA—ITALIAN AND ENGLISH 16 + SUMMARY OF THE CORTEXIE 32 + + FRANCESCO DA BARBERINO 35 + THE DOCUMENTI D’AMORE:—EXTRACT 38 + THE REGGIMENTO E COSTUMI DELLE DONNE:—EXTRACT 45 + + SANDRO DI PIPPOZZO, GRAZIOLO DE’ BOMBAGLIOLI, AND UGOLINO BRUCOLA 56 + + AGNOLO PANDOLFINI 57 + THE GOVERNO DELLA FAMIGLIA:—EXTRACT 57 + + MATTEO PALMIERI 58 + THE VITA CIVILE:—EXTRACT 58 + + BALDASSAR CASTIGLIONE 60 + THE CORTIGIANO:—EXTRACT 61 + + GIOVANNI BATTISTA POSSEVINI 65 + THE DIALOGO DELL’ ONORE:—EXTRACT 66 + + MONSIGNOR GIOVANNI DELLA CASA 66 + THE GALATEO:—EXTRACT 68 + THE TRATTATO DEGLI UFFICI COMMUNI:—EXTRACT 74 + + +[Sidenote: EARLY REFINEMENT IN ITALY.] + +In connection with the many samples of English and some French and +Latin Courtesy-Books which the pains of other Editors have set before +the members of the Early English Text Society, I have been asked to do +something to exhibit what Italian literature has to show for itself +in the same line. The request is one which I gladly close with; only +cautioning the reader at starting that he must not expect to find in +my brief essay any deep or exhaustive knowledge of the subject, or +anything beyond specimens of the works under consideration, picked out +one here and one there. Italy, it is tolerably well known, was, together +with Provence, in the forefront of civilization—or ‘civility,’ as it +might here be more aptly phrased—in the middle ages; and I should not +be surprised to learn that, in the refinements of life and niceties +of method, the Italy of the thirteenth century, as traceable in her +Courtesy-Books, was quite on a par with the France or Germany[1] of the +fourteenth, or the England of the fifteenth, and so progressively on. +This, however, is a matter which I must leave to be determined by more +diligent and more learned researches than my own. The materials for the +comparison are now, to some extent, fairly before the editing and reading +members of our Society. + +As regards date, at all events, Italy is greatly in advance. What is the +date of the earliest French Courtesy-Book included in our series? Not +far, I presume, from the close of the fourteenth century. What of the +earliest English one? About 1450. Against these we can set an Italian +Courtesy-Book—or rather a Courtesy section of an Italian book—dating +about 1265. Of a date prior to this (the birth-year of Dante), there is +little of either prose or poetry in Italian. + +[Sidenote: BRUNETTO LATINI.] + +The author of our specimen is a man illustrious in the literature of +Italy, though comparatively little read for some centuries past—Brunetto +Latini; remembered chiefly among miscellaneous readers as the preceptor +of Dante, and as consigned by that affectionate but unaccommodating +pupil to a very ugly circle of his Hell. There, if we may believe the +‘Poet of Rectitude,’ Ser Brunetto, with a ‘baked aspect,’ is at this +moment unremittingly walking under an unremitting rain of fire: were he +to pause, he would remain moveless for a century, and the torture of +the flames would persecute him in aggravated proportion. On the same +authority (which it is futile to fence with), I am compelled to say +that Brunetto is the last person from whom one need wish to learn the +practice, or as a consequence the theory, of modern or European morals. + +However, Brunetto seems to have considered that he had a gift that way. +Both his leading works may be termed moral-scientific treatises. The +longer of the two, the _Tesoro_, was written in French prose, and is +much of a compilation from classic authors in some sections. It had +hitherto only been preserved to the public in an old Italian translation, +but quite recently the French text has been printed. Sacred, profane, +and natural history, geography, oratory, politics, and morals, are the +main subject-matter of this encyclopædic labour; than which probably no +contemporary produced anything more widely learned, according to the +standard of that age. The _Tesoretto_ is a shorter performance, written +in Italian verse; shorter, yet still of substantial length, numbering, +even in its extant incomplete state, 22 sections or ‘_capitoli_.’ This +is the work upon which I shall draw for our first specimen of an Italian +Courtesy-Book. Something bearing upon the like questions might also be +gleaned from the _Tesoro_, but, as that is properly a French book, I +leave it aside. + +The _Tesoretto_ sets forth that its author, being at Roncesvalles on +his return from an embassy in Spain, received the bad news of the battle +of Montaperti. Getting astray in a forest,[2] he finds himself in the +presence of no less a personage than Dame Nature, who proceeds to +give him practical and theoretic demonstrations on all sorts of lofty +subjects. She then tells him to explore the forest, where he would find +Philosophy, the four Moral Virtues (Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, +and Justice), Love, Fortune, and Over-reaching (Baratteria). He follows +her instructions, searching out these personages from Philosophy on to +Love: the four Virtues are attended by many ladies, among whom Brunetto +specifies particularly Liberality, _Courtesy_, Good-faith, and Valour. +After his interview with Love, he resolves to reconcile himself with God, +and makes a full confession at Montpélier. Having received absolution, +he does not return after Fortune and Over-reaching, but goes back to the +forest, and thence reaches the summit of Mount Olympus. Here he sees +Ptolemy, who is about to harangue him, when suddenly the _Tesoretto_ +comes to an end. Its best editor, the Abate Zannoni, supposes that +the concluding portion of the poem was written, but has been lost to +posterity. + +A few words must be added as to the incidents of the author’s life. He +was born (probably) not much later than 1220 in the Florentine state, and +died in 1294. After the great defeat of the Guelphs by the Ghibellines +at Montaperti in 1260, Brunetto, with others of the Guelph party, which +was almost uninterruptedly uppermost in Florence, found it expedient to +emigrate from that capital. He went to Paris, and there wrote both the +_Tesoro_ and _Tesoretto_. Towards 1265 he was again re-established in his +native country, exercising with great credit his profession of a notary, +and also (by or before the year 1273) holding the post of secretary to +the Commune of Florence. He became, as already mentioned, the preceptor +of Dante. As the pupil has damned him to all time at any rate, if not in +effect to all eternity, for one offence, let us at least preserve some +memory of his countervailing merits, as set forth by Giovanni and Filippo +Villani. The former affirms that Brunetto ‘was the initiator and master +in refining the Florentines, and cultivating their use of language; +and in regulating the justice and rule of our Republic according to +policy.’ And, according to Filippo, ‘Brunetto Latini was by profession a +philosopher, by occupation a notary, and of great name and celebrity. He +showed forth how much of rhetoric he could add to the gifts of nature: a +man, if it be permitted to say so, worthy of being reckoned along with +those skilled and ancient orators. He was facetious, learned, and acute, +and abounded in certain pleasantries of speech; yet not without gravity, +and the reserve of modesty, which bespoke a most cordial acceptance for +his humour: of agreeable discourse, which often moved to laughter. He was +obliging and decorous, and by nature serviceable, reserved, and grave; +and most happy in the habit of all virtues, had he been wisely able to +endure with a more steadfast mind the outrages of his infuriated country.’ + +[Sidenote: EXTRACT FROM B. LATINI'S _TESORETTO_.] + +The _Tesoretto_ is of course a mine of curiosities of various kinds, +tempting to the literary explorer. To call it distinctly a fine poem, or +even the performance of a strictly poetic mind, might be the exaggeration +of an enthusiast; but at all events it contains much sound matter well +put, and by no means destitute of entertainment. The section that falls +in best with our present purpose is the speech assigned to Lady Courtesy: +I present it in its entirety. + + ‘Be sure that Liberality is the head and greatness[3] + Of my mystery; so that I am little worth, + And, if she aids me not, I should find scant acceptance. + She is my foundation; and I am her gilding, + And colour, and varnish. But, to say the very truth, + If we have two names, we are well-nigh one thing. + + But to thee, gentle friend, I say first + That in thy speech thou be circumspect. + Be not too great a talker, and think aforehand + What thou wouldst be saying; for never + Doth the word that is spoken return,—like the arrow + Which goes and returns not. He who has a goodly tongue, + Little sense suffices him, if by folly he spoils it not. + Be thy speech gentle; and see it be not harsh + In any position of command, for thou canst not + Give people any graver annoy. I advise that he should die + Who displeases by harshness, for he never conquers the habit: + And he who has no moderation, if he acts well, he filches that. + Be not exasperating; neither be a tell-tale + Of what another person has spoken in thy presence; + Nor yet use contumely; nor tell any one a lie, + Nor slander of any,—for in sooth there is no one + Of whom one might not say something offensive offhand. + Neither be so self-sufficient as that even one hard word + Affecting another person should issue from thy mouth; + For too much self-sufficiency is contrary to good usage. + And let him who is on the highway beware of speaking folly. + + But thou knowest that I command thee, and put it as a strict precept, + That thou honour to the utmost thy good friend + On foot and on horseback: and be sure that for a small fault + Thou bear no grudge—let not love fail on thy part. + And have it always in mind to associate with people of honour, + And from others hold aloof; so that (as with the crafts[4]) + Thou mayst not acquire any vice, whereof, before thou couldst amend it, + Thou shalt have scathe and shame. Therefore at all hours + Hold fast to good usage; for that advances thee + In credit and honour, and makes thee better, + And gives fair seeming,—for a good nature + Becomes the clearer and more polished if it follows good habits. + But see none the less that, if thou shouldst appear tedious + To such or such a company, thou venture to frequent it no more, + But procure thyself some other to which thy ways are pleasing. + Friend, heed this well: with one richer than thyself + Seek not to associate,—for thou shalt be as their merry-maker, + Or else thou wilt spend as much as they; for, if thou didst not this, + Thou wouldst be mean,—and reflect always + That a costly beginning demands perseverance. + Therefore thou must provide, if thy means allow it, + That thou do this openly. If not, then mind + Not to make such expenditure as shall afterwards be reproved; + But adopt such a system as to be consistent with thyself. + And, if thou art a little better off [than thy comrades], do not get + away, + But spend on the same scale; take no advantage:— + And at all times take heed, if there is in thy company + A man, in thine opinion, of inferior means, + That, for God’s sake, thou force him not into more than he can meet; + For, if, for thy convenience, he spends his money amiss, + And comes to poverty, thou wilt be blamed therefor. + + And in sooth there are persons of high condition + Who call themselves “noble”: all others they hold cheap + Because of this nobility. And, in that conceit, + They will call a man “tradesman”[5] who would sooner spend a bushel + Of florins than _they_ of halfpence,[6]— + Although the means of both might be of like amount. + And he who holds himself noble, without doing any other good + Save of the name, fancies he is making the cross to himself, + But he _does_ make the fig to himself.[7] He who endures not toil + For honour’s sake, let him not imagine that he comes + Among men of worth, because he is of lofty race; + For I hold him noble who shows that he follows the path + Of great valour and of gentle nurture,— + So that, besides his lineage, he does deeds of worth, + And lives honourably so as to make himself beloved. + I admit indeed that, if the one and other are equal in good deeds, + He who is the better born is esteemed the higher: + Not through any teaching of mine, but it seems to be the usage, + Which conquers and overthrows many of my ways, + So that I can no otherwise; for this world is so dense + That the right is even judged of according to a little talking, + For the great and the lesser live therein by rumour. + + Therefore be heedful to keep among them so silent + That they may have nothing to laugh at. Adopt their modes, + For I rather advise thee to follow their wrongfulness.[8] + For, though thou shouldst be in the right, yet, as soon as it pleases + not them, + It avails thee nothing to speak well, nor yet ill. + Therefore recount no tale, unless it appears good and fair + To all who hear it; for somebody will censure thee for it, + And add lies thereto when thou art gone, + Which must assuredly grieve thee. So thou must know, + In such company, to play the prudent part, + And be heedful to say what will please. + And as for the good, if thou knowest it, thou wilt tell it to others + Where thou art known and held dear; + For thou wilt find among people many fools + Who take greater pleasure in hearing something scurrilous + Than what is profitable. Pass on, and heed not, + And be circumspect. + If a man of great repute + Should at any time do something that is out of bounds + In street or church, follow not the example: + For he has no excuse who conforms to the wrong-doing of others. + And see that thou err not if thou art staying or going + With a lady or lord, or other superior,— + Also that, although he be but thine equal, thou observe to honour him, + Each according to his condition. Be so heedful of this, + Both of less and more, that thou lose not self-restraint. + To thine inferior, however, render not more honour + Than beseems him, nor such that he should hold thee cheap for it: + And so, if he is the inferior, always walk a step in advance. + And, if thou art on horseback, avoid every fault; + And, if thou goest through the city, I counsel thee to go + Very courteously. Ride decorously, + With head a little bowed, for to go in that loose-reined way + Looks most boorish; and stare not up at the height + Of every house thou comest to. Mind that thou move not about + Like a man from the country—wriggle not like an eel: + But go steadily along the road and among the people. + + When thou art asked for a loan, delay not. + If thou art willing to lend, make not the man linger so long + That the favour shall be lost before it is rendered. + + And, when thou art in company, always follow + Their modes and their liking; for thou must not want + To be just suiting thine own taste, nor to be at odds with them. + + And always be heedful that thou give not any gross glances + At any woman living, in house or street; + For he who does thus, and calls himself a lover, + Is esteemed a blackguard.[9] And I have seen before now + A man lose position by a single act of levity;[10] + For in this country such goings-on are not admired. + And take heed in every case that Love, with his arts, + Inflame not thy heart. With severest pain + Wouldst thou consume thy life; nor couldst thou be numbered + In my following, wert thou in his power.[11] + + Now return in-doors, for it is the time; + And be liberal and courteous, so that in every country + All thy belongings be deemed pleasurable.’ + +[Sidenote: BONVICINO DA RIVA.] + +We now pass from Florence to Lombardy—from Ser Brunetto Latini to +Fra Bonvicino da Riva—from the lawyer and official to the friar and +professor. The poem of Fra Bonvicino, _The Fifty Courtesies for the +Table_, will be our principal _pièce de résistance_, and presented +accordingly in its own garnishing of old Italian as well as in English. +Not that it is by any means the best or most important piece of work +that we have to bring forward; but its rarity, its dialectic interest +for students of old Italian, and its precision and detail with regard to +one of the essentials of courtesy—the art of dining—give it exceptional +value for our direct purpose. The poem is supposed to have been written +about 1290. + +Unpolished as he is in poetic development, Fra Bonvicino is not to be +altogether slighted from a literary point of view. Tiraboschi (_Storia +della Letteratura Italiana_) believes that Bonvicino and one other were +the two sole verse-writers of the Lombard or Milanese State in this +opening period of Italian poesy; and Signor Biondelli, whom we have +to thank for the publication of Bonvicino’s production after so many +centuries of its hybernation in MS, can point to the choiceness of the +old Friar’s vocabulary. In one couplet that well-qualified editor is +able to find five expressions ‘which, for propriety and purity, would +even at the present day beseem the most careful of writers;’ and hence +he pronounces Bonvicino ‘the elegant writer of his time.’ It should +be understood, however, that the MS reproduced by Signor Biondelli, +and now again in the present volume, gives but an inadequate idea of +the primitiveness of Bonvicino’s own actual idiom. Tiraboschi cites a +harsher version of the first stanza from an earlier MS then existing +in the Library of Santa Maria Incoronata in Milan, but which is now +undiscoverable: the MS used by Signor Biondelli is of a much later date, +the fifteenth century. It pertains to the Ambrosian Library in Milan. + +Bonvicino belonged to the third order of the Friars named Umiliati, and +lived (as he himself informs us) in Legnano, a town of the Milanese +district. Hence he went to Milan, and became a distinguished professor of +grammar in the Palatine schools. The only other poem of his published in +Signor Biondelli’s volume[12] is _On the dignity of the Glorious Virgin +Mary_: but Tiraboschi specifies other productions in verse—Dialogues in +praise of Almsgiving, between the Virgin and Satan, between the Virgin +and the Sinner, between the Creator and the Soul, between the Soul and +the Body, between the Violet and the Rose, between the Fly and the Ant; +also the Legends of Job and of St Alexius; and various works in Latin, of +which some have been published. + + +DE LE ZINQUANTA CORTEXIE DA TAVOLA + +DE FRA BONVEXINO DA RIVA + + Fra bon Vexino da Riva, che stete in borgo Legniano + De le cortexie da descho ne dixe primano; + De le cortexie cinquanta che se den servare a descho + Fra bon Vexino da Riva ne parla mo’ de frescho. 4 + + La primiera è questa: che quando tu è a mensa, + Del povero bexognoxo imprimamente inpensa; + Che quando tu pasci lo povero, tu pasci lo tó Segnore, + Che te passerà, poxe la toa morte, in lo eternal dolzore. 8 + + La cortexia segonda: se tu sporze aqua alle man, + Adornamente la sporze; guarda no sia vilan; + Asay ghe ne sporze, no tropo, quando el è tempo d’estae; + D’inverno per lo fregio in pizina quantitae. 12 + + La terza cortexia si è: no sì tropo presto + De corre senza parola per asetare al descho; + Se alchun te invida a noxe, anze che tu sie asetato, + Per ti no prende quello axio, d’onde tu fuzi deschazato. 16 + + L’ oltra è: Anze che tu prendi lo cibo aparegiao + Per ti, over per tò mayore, fa sì ch’ el sie segniao. + Tropo è gordo e vilan, e incontra Cristo malegna + Lo quale alli oltri guarda, ni lo sò condugio no segna. 20 + + La cortexia zinquena: sta aconzamente al descho, + Cortexe, adorno, alegro, e confortoxo e frescho; + No di’ sta convitoroxo, ni gramo, ni travachao; + Ni con le gambe in croxe, ni torto, ni apodiao. 24 + + La cortexia sexena: da poy che l’ omo se fiada, + Sia cortexe no apodiasse sovra la mensa bandia; + Chi fa dra mensa podio, quello homo non è cortexe, + Quando el gh’apodia le gambe, over ghe ten le braze destexe. 28 + + La cortexia setena si è: in tuta zente + No tropo mangiare, ni pocho; ma temperadamente; + Quello homo en ch’ el se sia, che mangia tropo, ni pocho, + No vego quentro pro ghe sia al’anima, ni al corpo. 32 + + La cortexia ogena si è: che Deo n’ acrescha, + No tropo imple la bocha, ni tropo mangia inpressa; + Lo gordo che mangia inpressa, e che mangia a bocha piena, + Quando el fisse apellavo, no ve responde apena. 36 + + La cortexia novena si è: a pocho parlare, + Et a tenire pox quello che l’ à tolegio a fare; + Che l’ omo tan fin ch’ el mangia, s’ el usa tropo a dire, + Le ferguie fora dra bocha sovenzo pon insire. 40 + + La cortexia dexena si è: quando tu è sede, + Travonde inanze lo cibo, e furbe la bocha, e beve. + Lo gordo che beve inpressa, inanze ch’ el voja la chana; + Al’ oltro fa fastidio che beve sego in compagnia. 44 + + E la undexena è questa: no sporze la copa al’ oltro, + Quando el ghe pò atenze, s’ el no te fesse acorto; + Zaschuno homo prenda la copa quando ghe plaxe; + E quando el l’ à beudo, l’ à de mete zoxo in paxe. 48 + + La dodexena è questa: quando tu di’ prende la copa, + Con dove mane la rezeve, e ben te furbe la bocha; + Con l’una conzamente no se pò la ben receve; + Azò ch’ el vino no se spanda, con doe mane di’ beve. 52 + + La tredexena è questa: se ben tu no voy beve, + S’ alchun te sporze la copa, sempre la di’ rezeve; + Quando tu l’à receuda, ben tosto la pò mete via; + Over sporze a un’ altro ch’ è tego in compagnia. 56 + + L’ oltra che segue è questa: quando tu è alli convivi, + Onde si à bon vin in descho, guarda che tu no t’ invrie; + Che se invria matamente, in tre maynere offende; + El noxe al corpo e al’ anima, e perde lo vin ch’ el spende. 60 + + La quindexena è questa: seben verun ariva, + No leva in pè dal descho, se grande cason no ghe sia; + Tan fin tu mangi al descho, non di’ moverse inlora, + Per amore de fare careze a quilli che te veraveno sovra. 64 + + La sedexena apresso con veritae: + No sorbilar dra bocha quando tu mangi con cugial; + Quello fa sicom bestia, chi con cugial sorbilia; + Chi doncha à questa usanza, ben fa s’ el se dispolia. 68 + + La desetena apresso si è: quando tu stranude, + Over ch’ el te prende la tosse, guarda con tu làvori + In oltra parte te volze, ed è cortexia inpensa, + Azò che dra sariva no zesse sor la mensa. 72 + + La desogena è questa: quando l’ omo sente ben sano, + No faza onde el se sia del companadego pan; + Quello ch’ è lechardo de carne, over d’ove, over de formagio, + Anche n’ abielo d’avanzo, perzò no de ’l fa stragio. 76 + + La dexnovena è questa: no blasma li condugi + Quando tu è alli convivi; ma dì, che l’in bon tugi. + In questa rea usanza multi homini ò za trovao, + Digando: _questo è mal cogio, o questo è mal salao_. 80 + + E la XX.ª è questa: ale toe menestre atende; + Entre altru’ no guarda, se no forse per imprende + Lo menistrante, s’ el ghe manca ben de guardà per tuto; + Mal s’ el no menestresse clave e se lovo è bruto. 84 + + La XXI.ª è questa: no mastrulare per tuto + Como avesse carne, over ove, over semiante condugio; + Chi volze, over chi mastrulia sur lo taliere zerchando, + È bruto, e fa fastidio al compagnon mangiando. 88 + + La XXII.ª è questa: no te reze vilanamente; + Se tu mangi con verun d’uno pan comunamente, + Talia lo pan per ordine, no va taliando per tuto; + No va taliando da le parte, se tu no voy essere bruto. 92 + + La XXIII.ª: no di’ metere pan in vino, + Se tego d’un napo medesmo bevesse Fra Bon Vexino; + Chi vole peschare entro vin, bevando d’un napo conmego, + Per meo grao, se eyo poesse, no bevereve consego. 96 + + La XXIIII.ª è: no mete in parte per mezo lo compagnon + Ni grelin, ni squela, se no ghe fosse gran raxon; + Over grelin, over squela se tu voy mete inparte, + Per mezo ti lo di’ mete pur da la toa parte. 100 + + La XXV.ª è: chi fosse con femene sovra un talier mangiando, + La carne a se e a lor ghe debia esser taliata; + Lo homo de’ plu esse intento, plu presto e honoreure, + Che no de’ per raxon la femena agonzente. 104 + + La XXVI.ª è questa: de grande bontà inpensa, + Quando lo tò bon amigo mangia alla toa mensa; + Se tu talie carne, over pesso, over oltre bone pitanze, + De la plu bella parte ghe debie cerne inanze. 108 + + La XXVII.ª è questa: no di’ tropo agrezare + L’amigo a caxa tova de beve, ni de mangiare; + Ben di’ tu receve l’amigo e farghe bella cera, + E darghe ben da spende e consolare voluntera. 112 + + La XXVIII.ª è questa: apresso grande homo mangiando, + Astalete de mangiare tan fin che l’ è bevando; + Mangiando apresso d’un vescho, tan fin ch’ el beve dra copa, + Usanza drita prende; no mastegare dra bocha. 116 + + La XXVIIII.ª è questa: se grande homo è da provo, + No di’ beve sego a una hora, anze ghe di’ dà logo; + Chi fosse a provo d’un vescho, tan fin ch’ el beverave, + No di’ levà lo sò napo, over ch’ el vargarave. 120 + + E la trentena è questa: che serve, abia neteza; + No faza in lo prexente ni spuda, ni bruteza; + Al’ homo tan fin ch’ el mangia, plu tosto fa fastidio; + No pò tropo esse neto chi serve a uno convivio. 124 + + Pox la XXX.ª è questa: zaschun cortese donzello + Che se vore mondà lo naxo, con li drapi se faza bello; + Chi mangia, over chi menestra, no de’ sofià con le die; + Con li drapi da pey se monda vostra cortexia. 128 + + L’ oltra che ven è questa; le toe man siano nete; + Ni le die entro le oregie, ni le man sul cho di’ mete; + No de’ l’omo che mangia habere nudritura, + A berdugare con le die in parte, onde sia sozura. 132 + + La terza poxe la XXX.ª: no brancorar con le man, + Tan fin tu mangi al descho, ni gate, ni can; + No è lecito allo cortexe a brancorare li bruti + Con le man, con le que al tocha li condugi. 136 + + L’ oltra è: tan fin tu mangi con homini cognosenti, + No mete le die in bocha per descolzare li dingi. + Chi caza le die in bocha, anze che l’abia mangiao, + Sur lo talier conmego no mangia per mè grao. 140 + + La quinta poxe la trenta: tu no di’ lenze le die; + Le die chi le caza in bocha brutamente furbe; + Quello homo che se caza in bocha le die inpastruliate, + Le die no én plu nete, anze son plu brute. 144 + + La sesta cortexia poxe la trenta: + S’ el te fa mestere parlà, no parla a bocha plena; + Chi parla, e chi responde, se l’ à plena la bocha, + Apena ch’ el possa laniare negota. 148 + + Poxe questa ven quest’ oltra: tan fin ch’ el compagno + Avrà lo napo alla bocha, no ghe fa domando, + Se ben tu lo vo’ apelare; de zò te fazo avezudo; + No l’impagià, daghe logo tan fin che l’avrà beudo. 152 + + La XXXVIII.ª è questa: no recuntare ree novelle, + Azò che quilli ch’ în tego, no mangiano con recore; + Tan fin che li oltri mangiano, no dì nove angosoxe; + Ma taxe, over dì parole che siano confortoxe. 156 + + L’ oltra che segue è questa: se tu mangi con persone, + No fa remore, ni tapie, se ben gh’ avise raxone; + S’ alchun de li toy vargasse, passa oltra fin a tempo, + Azò che quilli ch’ ìn tego, no abiano turbamento. 160 + + L’ oltra è: se dolia te prende de qualche infirmitade, + Al più tu poy conprime la toa necesitade; + Se mal te senti al descho, no demostrà la pena; + Che tu no fazi recore a quilli che mangiano tego insema. 164 + + Pox quella ven quest’ oltra: se entro mangial vegisse + Qualche sghivosa cossa, ai oltri no desisse; + Over moscha, over qual sozura entro mangial vezando, + Taxe, ch’eli no abiano sghivo al descho mangiando. 168 + + L’ oltra è: se tu porte squelle al descho per servire, + Sur la riva dra squella le porexe di’ tenire: + Se tu apili le squelle cor porexe sur la riva, + Tu le poy mete zoxo in sò logo senza oltro che t’ ayda. 172 + + La terza poxe la quaranta è: se tu sporzi la copa, + La sumità del napo col polexe may no tocha; + Apilia lo napo de soto, e sporze con una man; + Chi ten per altra via, pò fi digio, che sia vilan. 176 + + La quarta poxe la quaranta si è: chi vol odire: + Ni grelin, ni squelle, ni ’l napo no di’ trop’ inplire; + Mesura e modo de’ esse in tute le cosse che sia; + Chi oltra zò vargasse, no ave fà cortexia. 180 + + L’ oltra che segue è questa: reten a ti lo cugiale, + Se te fi tolegio la squella per azonzere de lo mangiale; + Se l’ è lo cugial entro la squella, lo ministrante inpilia; + In tute le cortexie ben fa chi s’ asetilia. 184 + + L’ oltra è questa: se tu mangi con cugial, + No debie infolcire tropo pan entro mangiare; + Quello che fa impiastro entro mangià da fogo, + El fa fastidio a quilli che ghe mangiano da provo. 188 + + L’ oltra che segue è questa: s’ el tò amigo è tego, + Tan fin ch’ el mangia al descho, sempre bochona sego; + Se forse t’ astalasse, ni fosse sazio anchora, + Forse anchora s’ astalarave per vergonza inlora. 192 + + L’ oltra è: mangiando con oltri a qualche inviamento, + No mete entr’ a guayna lo tò cortelo anze tempo; + No guerna lo cortello anze ch’ alo compagno; + Forse oltro ven in descho d’onde tu no fè raxon. 196 + + La cortexia seguente è: quando tu è mangiao, + Fa sì che Jesu Xristo ne sia glorificao. + Quel che rezeve servixio d’alchun obediente, + S’elo no lo regratia, tropo è deschognosente. 200 + + La cinquantena per la darera: + Lavare le man, poy beve dro bon vino dra carera: + Le man poxe lo convivio per pocho pòn si lavae, + Da grassa e da sozura e l’in netezae. 204 + + +THE FIFTY COURTESIES FOR THE TABLE, + +OF FRA BONVESINO[13] DA RIVA. + + Fra Bonvesino da Riva, who lived in the town of Legnano, + First treated of the Courtesies for the Table. + Of the Fifty Courtesies which should be observed at the board + Fra Bonvesino da Riva now speaks afresh.[14] 4 + + The first is this: that, when thou art at table, + Thou think first of the poor and needy; + For, when thou feedest the poor, thou feedest thy Lord, + Who will feed thee, after thy death, in the eternal bliss. 8 + + The second Courtesy. If thou offerest water for the hands, + Offer it neatly: see thou be not rude. + Offer enough water, not too much, when it is summer-time: + In winter, for the cold, in small quantity. 12 + + The third Courtesy is—Be not too quick + To run without a word to sit down at the board. + If any one invites thee to a wedding,[15] before thou art seated, + Take not for thyself a place from which thou wouldst be turned out. 16 + + The next is—Before thou takest the food prepared, + See that it be signed [with the cross] by thyself or thy better. + Too greedy and churlish is he, and he offends against Christ, + Who looks about at others, and signs not his dish.[16] 20 + + The fifth Courtesy. Sit properly at the board, + Courteous, well-dressed, cheerful, and obliging and fresh. + Thou must not sit anxious, nor dismal, nor lolling, + Nor with thy legs crossed, nor awry, nor leaning forward. 24 + + The sixth Courtesy. When people are at a pause, + Be careful not to lean forward on the laid-out table. + He who uses the table as a prop, that man is not courteous, + When he tilts his legs upon it, or stretches out his arms along it. 28 + + The seventh Courtesy is—For all people + Not to eat too much nor little, but temperately. + That man, whoever he may be, who eats too much or little, + I see not what good it can be to his soul or his body. 32 + + The eighth Courtesy is—So may God favour us, + Fill not thy mouth too much, nor eat in too great a hurry. + The glutton who eats in a hurry, and who eats with his mouth stuffed, + If he were addressed, he scarcely answers you. 36 + + The ninth Courtesy is—To speak little, + And stick to that which one has set-to at doing; + For a man, as long as he is eating, if he has the habit of talking + too much, + Scraps may often spurt out of his mouth. 40 + + The tenth Courtesy is—When thou art thirsty, + First swallow down thy food, and wipe thy mouth, and drink. + The glutton who drinks in a hurry, before he has emptied his gullet, + Makes himself disagreeable to the other who is drinking in his + company. 44 + + And the eleventh is this: Do not offer the cup to another + When he can himself reach it, unless he asks thee for it. + Let every man take the cup when he pleases; + And, when he has drunk, he should set it down quietly. 48 + + The twelfth is this: When thou hast to take the cup, + Hold it with both hands, and wipe thy mouth well. + With one [hand] it cannot well be held properly: + In order that the wine be not spilled, thou must drink using both + hands. 52 + + The thirteenth is this: If even thou dost not want to drink, + If anybody offers thee the cup, thou must always accept it. + When thou hast accepted it, thou mayst very soon set it down, + Or else offer it to another who is in company with thee. 56 + + The next that follows is this: When thou art at entertainments + Where there is good wine on the board, see that thou get not drunk. + He who gets mad-drunk offends in three ways: + He harms his body and his soul, and loses the wine which he consumes. 60 + + The fifteenth is this: If any one arrives, + Rise not up from the board unless there be great reason therefor. + As long as thou eatest at the board, thou shouldst not then move + For the sake of making much of those who may come in to thee. 64 + + The sixteenth next in good sooth. + Suck not with the mouth when thou eatest with a spoon.[17] + He acts like a beast who sucks with a spoon: + Therefore whoever has this habit does well in ridding himself of it. 68 + + The seventeenth afterwards is this: When thou dost sneeze, + Or if a cough seizes thee, mind thy lips: + Turn aside, and reflect that that is courtesy, + So that no saliva may get on the table. 72 + + The eighteenth is this: When a man feels himself quite comfortable, + Let him not leave bread over after the victuals.[18] + He who has a taste for meat, or for eggs, or for cheese, + Even though he should have a residue, he should not on that account + waste it. 76 + + The nineteenth is this: Blame not the dishes + When thou art at entertainments, but say that they are all good. + I have detected many men erewhile in this vile habit, + Saying ‘This is ill cooked,’ or ‘this is ill salted.’ 80 + + And the twentieth is this: Attend to thine own sops; + Peer not into those of others, unless perchance to apprize + The attendant if anything is wanting. He must look well all round: + Things would go much amiss if he were not to attend.[19] 84 + + The twenty-first is this: Do not poke about everywhere, + When thou hast meat, or eggs, or some such dish. + He who turns and pokes about on the platter, searching,[20] + Is unpleasant, and annoys his companion at dinner. 88 + + The twenty-second is this: Do not behave rudely. + If thou art eating from one loaf in common with any one, + Cut the loaf as it comes, do not go cutting all about; + Do not go cutting one part and then another, if thou wouldst not be + uncouth. 92 + + The twenty-third. Thou must not dip bread into wine + If Fra Bonvesino has to drink out of the same bowl with thee. + He who _will_ fish in the wine, drinking in one bowl with me, + I for my own liking, if so I could, would not drink with him. 96 + + The twenty-fourth is—Set not down right before thy companion + Either pan or pot, unless there be great reason therefor. + If thou wantest to introduce either pan or pot, + Thou must set it down at thine own side, before thyself. 100 + + The twenty-fifth is—One who may be eating from a platter with women, + The meat has to be carved for himself and for them. + The man must be more attentive, more prompt in honouring, + Than the woman, in reason, has to reciprocate. 104 + + The twenty-sixth is this: Count it as a great kindness + When thy good friend eats at thy table. + If thou carvest meat, or fish, or other good viands, + Thou must choose of the best part for him. 108 + + The twenty-seventh is this: Thou must not overmuch press + Thy friend in thy house to drink or to eat. + Thou must receive thy friend well, and make him welcome, + And heartily give him plenty to eat and enjoy himself with. 112 + + The twenty-eighth is this: Dining with a great man, + Abstain from eating so long as he is drinking. + Dining with a Bishop, so long as he is drinking from the cup, + Right usage requires thou shouldst not be chewing with the mouth. 116 + + The twenty-ninth is this: If a great man is beside thee, + Thou must not drink at the same time with him, but give him precedence. + Who may be beside a Bishop, so long as he is drinking + Or pouring out, must not raise his bowl. 120 + + And the thirtieth is this: He who serves, let him be cleanly. + Let him not make in presence [of the guests] any spitting or nastiness: + To a man as long as he is eating, this is all the more offensive. + He who serves at an entertainment cannot be too nice. 124 + + Next after the thirtieth is this: Every courteous donzel[21] + Who wants to wipe his nose, let him embellish himself with a cloth. + He who eats, or who is serving, must not blow through the fingers. + Be so obliging as to clean yourselves with the foot-cloths.[22] 128 + + The next that comes is this: Let thy hands be clean. + Thou must not put either thy fingers into thine ears, or thy hands + on thy head. + The man who is eating must not be cleaning + By scraping with his fingers at any foul part. 132 + + The third after the thirtieth. Stroke not with hands, + As long as thou eatest at the board, cat or dog. + A courteous man is not warranted in stroking brutes + With the hands with which he touches the dishes. 136 + + The next is—As long as thou art eating with men of breeding, + Put not thy fingers into thy mouth to pick thy teeth. + He who sticks his fingers in his mouth, before he has done eating, + Eats not, with my good-will, on the platter with me. 140 + + The fifth after the thirtieth. Thou must not lick thy fingers. + He who thrusts his fingers into his mouth cleans them nastily. + That man who thrusts into his mouth his besmeared fingers, + His fingers are none the cleaner, but rather the nastier. 144 + + The sixth Courtesy after the thirtieth. + If thou hast occasion to speak, speak not with thy mouth full. + He who speaks, and he who answers, if he has his mouth full, + Scarcely can he chop out a word. 148 + + After this comes this other: As long as thy companion + Has the bowl to his mouth, ask him no questions + If thou wouldst address him: of this I give thee notice. + Disturb him not: pause until he has drunk. 152 + + The thirty-eighth is this: Tell no bad news, + In order that those who are with thee may not eat out of spirits. + As long as the others are eating, give no painful news; + But keep silence, or else speak in cheerful terms. 156 + + The next that follows is this: If thou art eating with others, + Make no uproar or disturbance, even though thou shouldst have + reason therefor. + If any of thy companions should transgress, pass it by till the + time comes, + So that those who are with thee may not be put out. 160 + + The next is—If the pain of any ill-health seizes thee, + Keep down thy distress as much as thou canst. + If thou feelest ill at the board, show not the pain, + That thou mayst not cause discomfort to those who are eating along + with thee. 164 + + After that comes this other: Shouldst thou see in the viands + Any disagreeable thing, tell it not to the others. + Seeing in the viands either a fly or any uncleanliness, + Keep silence, that they may not feel disgust, eating at the board. 168 + + The next is—If thou bringest dishes to the board in serving, + Thou must keep thy thumbs on the rim of the dish. + If thou takest hold with the thumb on the rim of the dishes, + Thou canst set them down in their place without any one else to + help thee. 172 + + The third after the fortieth is—If thou offerest the cup, + Never touch with the thumb the upper edge of the bowl. + Hold the bowl at the under end, and present it with one hand: + He who holds it otherwise may be called boorish. 176 + + The fourth after the fortieth is—hear who will— + Neither frying-pan nor dishes nor bowl should be overfilled. + Measure and moderation should be in all things that are: + He who should transcend this will not have done courtesy. 180 + + The next which follows is this: Keep thy spoon, + If thy plate is removed for the adding of some viands. + If the spoon is in the plate, it puts out the helper. + In all courtesies he does well who is heedful.[23] 184 + + The next is this: If thou art eating with a spoon, + Thou must not stuff too much bread into the victuals. + He who lays it on thick upon the cooked meats, + Is distasteful to those who are eating beside him. 188 + + The next that follows is this: If thy friend is with thee, + As long as he eats at the board, always keep up with him. + If thou perchance wert to leave off, and he were not yet satisfied, + Maybe he also would then leave off through bashfulness. 192 + + The next is—Dining with others by some invitation, + Put not back thy knife into the sheath before the time: + Deposit not thy knife ere thy companion. + Perhaps something else is coming to table which thou dost not + reckon for. 196 + + The succeeding Courtesy is—When thou hast eaten, + So do as that Jesus Christ be glorified therein. + He who receives service from any that obeys,[24] + If he thanks him not, is too ungrateful. 200 + + The fiftieth for the last. + Wash hands, then drink of the good and choice wine.[25] + After the meal, the hands may be a little washed, + And cleansed from grease and impurity. 204 + +[Sidenote: 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. + +[Sidenote: 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. + +[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. + + ‘The Courtier should be very heedful of his beginnings, so as + to leave a pleasing impression, and should consider how baneful + and fatal it is to fall into the contrary. And this danger do + they more than others run who make it their business to be + amusing, and assume with these their quips a certain liberty + authorizing and licensing them to do and say whatever strikes + them, without any consideration. Thus these people start off on + matters whence, not knowing their way out again, they try to + help themselves off by raising a laugh: and this also they do + so scurvily that it fails; so that they occasion the severest + tedium to those who see and hear them, and they themselves + remain most crestfallen. Sometimes, thinking thus to be witty + and lively, in the presence of ladies of honour, and often even + in speaking to them, they set-to at uttering most nasty and + indecent words: and, the more they see them blush, so much the + more do they account themselves good courtiers: and ever and + anon they laugh and plume themselves at so bright a gift which + they think their own. But for no purpose do they commit so many + imbecilities as in order to be thought “boon companions.” This + is that only name which appears to them worthy of praise, and + which they vaunt more than any other; and, to acquire it, they + bandy the most blundering and vile blackguardisms in the world. + Often will they shove one another down-stairs; knock ribs with + bludgeons and bricks; throw handfuls of dust into the eyes; + and bring down people’s horses upon them in ditches, or on the + slope of a hill. Then, at table, soups, sauces, jellies, all + do they flop in one another’s face: and then they laugh! And + he who can do the most of these things accounts himself the + best and most gallant courtier, and fancies he has gained great + glory. And, if sometimes they invite a gentleman to these their + pleasantries, and he abstains from such horse-play, forthwith + they say that he makes himself too sage and grand, and is not a + “boon companion.” But worse remains to tell. There are some who + vie and wager which of them can eat and drink the most nauseous + and fetid things; and these they hunt up so abhorrent to human + senses that it is impossible to mention them without the + utmost disgust.—“And what may these be?” said Signor Lodovico + Pio.—Messer Federico replied: “Let the Marquis Febus [da Ceva] + tell you, as he has often seen them in France; and perhaps the + thing has happened to himself.”—The Marquis Febus replied: “I + have seen nothing of the sort done in France that is not also + done in Italy. But, on the other hand, what is praiseworthy in + Italian habits of dress, festivities, banqueting, fighting, + and whatever else becomes a courtier, is all derived from the + French.”—“I deny not,” answered Messer Federico, “that there + are among the French also most noble and unassuming cavaliers: + and I for my part have known many truly worthy of all praise. + Yet some are to be found by no means well-bred: and, speaking + generally, it appears to me that the Spaniards get on better + in manner with the Italians than the French do; since that + calm gravity peculiar to the Spaniards seems to me much more + conformable to us than the rapid liveliness which is to be + recognized almost in every movement of the French race—which + in them is not derogatory, and even has grace, because to + themselves it is so natural and appropriate that it indicates + no sort of affectation in them. There are indeed many Italians + who would fain force themselves to imitate that manner; and + they can manage nothing else than jogging the head in speaking, + and bowing sideways with a bad grace, and, when they are + walking about, going so fast that the grooms cannot keep up + with them. And with these modes they fancy they are good French + people, and partake of their offhand ways: a thing indeed which + seldom succeeds save with those who have been brought up in + France, and have got into these habits from childhood upwards.” + +The reader will probably agree with me in thinking that Castiglione’s own +opinion is expressed here rather in the speech of Federico Fregoso than +of the Marquis Febus; and that the all-accomplished Italian patrician +of the opening sixteenth century by no means regarded the French as the +courteous nation _par excellence_. Elsewhere it is remarked that the +French recognize nobility in arms only, and utterly despise letters and +literary men; and that presumption is a leading trait in the national +character. + +Castiglione does not seem to have entertained the same objection to +gesturing that Francesco da Barberino did. In amusing narration or +story-telling, at any rate, he approves of this accompaniment; speaking +of people who ‘relate and express so pleasantly something which may have +happened to them, or which they have seen or heard, that with gestures +and words they set it before your eyes, and make you almost lay your hand +upon it.’ + +The banefulness of a wicked Courtier is set forth in strong terms. + + ‘No punishment has yet been invented horrid and tremendous + enough for chastising those wicked Courtiers who direct to a + bad end their elegant and pleasant manners and good breeding, + and by these means creep into the good graces of their + sovereigns, to corrupt them, and divert them from the path of + virtue, and lead them into vice: for such people may be said + to infect with mortal poison, not a vessel of which one only + person has to drink, but the public fountain which the whole + population uses.’ + +[Sidenote: GIOVANNI BATTISTA POSSEVINI.] + +The last two authors on our list, Giovanni Battista Possevini and +Giovanni della Casa, will bring us to about the middle of the sixteenth +century; beyond which I do not propose to pursue the subject of Italian +Courtesy-Books. We are now fairly out of the middle ages, and in the +full career of transition from the old to the new. Indeed, were it not +that Della Casa’s work, _Il Galateo_, is so peculiarly apposite to our +purpose, I might have been disposed to leave both these writers aside as +a trifle too modern in date: but, coming closer as that does to the exact +definition of a Courtesy-Book than any other of the compositions which we +have been considering, it must perforce find admission here,—and a few +words may at the same time be spared to Possevini, who introduces us to a +special department of manners. And first of Possevini. + +This writer was (like Castiglione) a Mantuan, and died young—perhaps +barely aged thirty. A famous man of letters, Paolo Giovio, found him to +be ‘a son of melancholy, and so learned, according to the title of Christ +on the cross,[51] as to make one marvel: he is a good poet.’ The book +we have to deal with is of considerable size, a _Dialogue concerning +Honour_ (_Dialogo dell’ Onore_): it was published in 1553, after the +author’s death, which seems to have occurred towards 1550. Possevini is +charged with having borrowed freely from another writer, who devoted +himself to the denunciation of duelling, Antonio Bernardi; although +indeed the _publication_ of Bernardi’s book did not take place till some +years after the posthumous work of Possevini was in print. The special +subject of the latter, as we have said, is honour—the quality and laws +of honour, with a leading though not exclusive reference to the duelling +system. Many other Italian writers of this period discussed that latter +question, some upholding and some reprobating the institution. Possevini +is certainly not one of its adversaries, but debates many of the +ancillary points with the particularity of a casuist. The few items which +I shall extract are cited more as curiosities than as fairly representing +the substance of the book. + +[Sidenote: THE DIALOGO DELL’ ONORE.] + + A man of letters affronted by a military man is not—so + Possevini lays it down—bound to call him out, for the duel + is not his vocation. If he is depreciated in his literary + character, it is in writing that he should respond: if he is + otherwise damnified, let him appeal to the magistrate. But this + latter course is not permitted to a soldier: fighting is his + business, and he must have recourse to the sword. The maxim + that, in duel, one is bound either to slay one’s adversary, + or take him prisoner, is barbarous: it should suffice to make + him recant or apologize, or to wound him, or to reduce him to + surrender and humiliation. + + A man who marries a professional courtesan lowers himself; yet + not so far as that he can properly be refused as a duellist, or + as a magistrate, or in other matters pertaining to honour. A + husband who connives at his own dishonour, either by positive + intention or by stupidity exceeding a certain limit, should + be refused as above; not so a betrayed husband who has taken + any ordinary precautions. The husband who detects his wife in + adultery, without resenting it, is a dishonoured man: yet to + kill her is beyond the mark,—to divorce her, contrary to canon + law. He should obtain a legal abrogation of the wife’s dowry, + or else, as a milder course, send her back to her own people, + and have no sort of knowledge of her thenceforth. + +[Sidenote: GIOVANNI DELLA CASA.] + +Monsignor Giovanni della Casa, created Archbishop of Benevento in 1544, +was born of noble Florentine parentage on the 28th of June 1503, and +died on the 14th of November 1556. He ranks as one of the best Latin +and Italian poets of his century; but some of his poems are noted for +licentiousness, and are even reputed to have damaged his ecclesiastical +career, and lost him a Cardinal’s hat. The works thus impugned appear all +to belong to his youth. He had already obtained some church-preferment, +and was settled in Rome, by the year 1538. On the election of Pope Julius +III., in 1550, Della Casa lived privately in the city or territory of +Venice, in great state, and distinguished for courteous and charitable +munificence. Paul IV., who succeeded to the papacy in 1555, recalled him +to Rome, and created him Secretary of State. + +[Sidenote: THE GALATEO.] + +The _Galateo_ (written, I presume, somewhere about 1550) has always been +a very famous book in Italy; and of that sort of fame which includes +great general as well as literary acceptance. It is a model of strong +sententious Tuscan; approaching the pedantic, yet racily idiomatic at +the same time. The title in full runs _Galateo, or concerning Manners; +wherein, in the Character of an Elderly Man [Vecchio Idiota] instructing +a Youth, are set forth the things which ought to be observed and avoided +in ordinary intercourse_. The paragraphs are numbered, and amount to +180.[52] The name _Galateo_ is given to the book in consequence of a +little anecdote which it introduces, apparently from real life. There +was once a Bishop of Verona named Giovanni Matteo Giberti, noted for +liberality. He entertained at his house a certain Count Ricciardo—a +highly accomplished nobleman, but addicted (_proh pudor!_) to eating +his victuals with ‘an uncouth action of lips and mouth, masticating at +table with a novel noise very unpleasing to hear.’ The Bishop therefore +deemed it the kindest thing he could do to have the Count escorted on +his homeward way by a remarkably discreet, well-bred, and experienced +gentleman of the episcopal household, named Galateo, who wound up a +handsome compliment at parting with a plain exposition of the guest’s +peccadillo. His own misdoing was news to the Count: but he took the +information altogether in good part, and seriously promised amendment. + +Let us now dip into the _Galateo_ for a few axioms; first on dining, and +afterwards on other points of manners. + + You must not smell at the wine-cup or the platter of any one, + not even at your own; nor hand the wine which you have tasted + to another, unless your very intimate friend; still less offer + him any fruit at which you have bitten. Some monsters thrust + their snouts, like pigs, into their broth, and never raise + their eyes or hands from the victuals, and gorge rather than + eat with swollen cheeks, as if they were blowing at a trumpet + or a fire; and, soiling their arms almost to the elbows, make + a fearful mess of their napkins.[53] And these same napkins + they will use to wipe off perspiration, and even to blow + their noses. You must not so soil your fingers as to make + the napkin nasty in wiping them: neither clean them upon the + bread which you are to eat: [we should hope not]. In company, + and most especially at table, you should not bully nor beat + any servants; nor must you express anger, whatever may occur + to excite it; nor talk of any distressful matters—wounds, + illnesses, deaths, or pestilence. If any one falls into this + mistake, the conversation should be dexterously changed: + ‘although, as I once heard said by a worthy man our neighbour, + people often would be as much eased by crying as by laughing. + And he affirmed that with this motive had the mournful fictions + termed tragedies been first invented: so that, being set forth + in theatres, as was then the practice, they might bring tears + to the eyes of those who had need of this, and thus they, + weeping, might be cured of their discomfort. But, be this as + it may, for us it is not befitting to sadden the minds of + those with whom we converse, especially on occasions when + people have met for refreshment and recreation, and not to cry: + and, if any one languishes with a longing to weep, right easy + will it be to relieve him with strong mustard, or to set him + somewhere over the smoke.’ You should not scratch yourself at + table, nor spit; or, if spit you must, do it in a seemly way. + Some nations have been so self-controlling as not to spit at + all.[54] ‘We must also beware of eating so greedily that hence + comes hiccupping or other disagreeable act; as he does who + hurries so that he has to puff and blow, to the annoyance of + the whole company.’ Rub not your teeth with the napkin—still + less with your fingers: nor rinse out your mouth, nor spit + forth wine. ‘Nor, on rising from table, is it a nice habit to + carry your toothpick[55] in your mouth, like a bird which is + in nest-building,—or behind the ear, like a barber.’ You must + not hang the toothpick round your neck: it shows that you are + ‘overmuch prepared and provided for the service of the gullet,’ + and you might as well hang your spoon in the same way. Neither + must you loll on the table; nor by gesture or sound symbolize + your great relish of viands or wine—a habit fit only for + tavern-keepers and topers. Also you should not put people out + of countenance by pressing them to eat or drink. + + ‘To present to another something from the plate before oneself + does not seem to me well, unless he who presents is of much + the higher grade, so that the recipient is thereby honoured. + For, among equals in condition, it looks as if he who offers + the gift were setting himself up somehow as the superior: and + sometimes that which a man gives is not to the taste of him + it is given to. Besides, it implies that the dinner has no + abundance of dishes, or is not well distributed, when one has + too much, and another too little: and the master of the house + might take it as an affront. However, in this one should do as + others do, and not as it might be best to do in the abstract: + and in such fashions it is better to err along with others than + to be alone in well-doing. But, whatever may be the best course + in this, you must not refuse what is offered you; for it would + seem as if you slighted or reproved the donor.’ + + For one man to pledge another in the wine-cup is not an + Italian usage, nor yet rightly nationalized, and should be + avoided. Decline such an invitation; or confess yourself the + worse drinker, and give but one sip to your wine. ‘Thank God, + among the many pests which have come to us from beyond the + mountains, this vilest one has not yet reached us, of regarding + drunkenness as not merely a laughing-matter, but even a merit.’ + The only time when you should wash hands in company is before + going to table: you should do it then even though your hands + be quite clean, ‘so that he who dips with you into the same + platter may know that for certain.’ + + Well-bred servitors, serving at table, must on no account + scratch their heads or any other part of the body, nor thrust + their hands anywhere under their clothes out of sight, but + keep them ‘visible and beyond all suspicion,’ and scrupulously + clean. Those who hand about plates or cups must abstain from + spitting or coughing, and most especially from sneezing. If a + pear or bread has been set to toast, the attendant must not + blow off any ash-dust, but jog or otherwise nick it off. He + must not offer his pocket-handkerchief to any one, though it + be clean from the wash; for the person to whom it is offered + has no assurance of that fact, and may find it distasteful. The + usher must not take it upon himself to invite strangers, or to + retain them to dine with his lord: if he does so, no one who + knows his place will act on the invitation. + + Scraping the teeth together, whistling, screaming, grinding + stones, and rubbing iron, are grievous noises: and a man who + has a bad voice should eschew singing, especially a solo. + Coughing and sneezing must not be done loud. ‘And there is + also to be found such a person as, in yawning, will howl and + bray like an ass; and another who, with his mouth still agape, + _will_ go on with his talk, and emits that voice, or rather + that noise, which a mute produces when he tries to speak.’ + Indeed, much yawning should be altogether avoided: it shows + that your company does not amuse you, and that you are in a + vacant mood. ‘And thus, when a man yawns among others who are + idle and unoccupied, all they, as you may often have observed, + yawn forthwith in response; as if the man had recalled to + their memory the thing which they would have done before, if + only they had recollected it.’ Other acts discourteous to the + company you are in are—to fall asleep; to pace about the room, + while others are seated in conversation; to take a letter out + of your pouch, and read it; to set about paring your nails; or + to hum between your teeth, play the devil’s tattoo, or swing + your legs. Also you must not nudge a man with your elbow in + talking to him. Let us have no showing of tongue, nor overmuch + stroking of beard, nor rubbing-together of hands, nor heaving + of long-drawn sighs, nor shaking oneself up with a start, nor + stretching, and singing-out of ‘Dear me!’ + + Having used your pocket-handkerchief, don’t open it out to + inspect it. + + ‘They are in the wrong whose mouths are always full of + their babies, and their wife, and their nurse. “My little + boy yesterday made me laugh so—only hear.” “You never saw + a sweeter child than my Momus.” “My wife is so-and-so.” + “Said Cecchina:[56] and could you ever believe it of such a + scatterbrain?” There is no man so unoccupied that he can either + reply or attend to such nonsense: and the speaker becomes a + nuisance to everybody.’ + + In walking, you should not indulge in too much action, as by + sawing with your arms; nor should you stare other passers-by in + the face, as if there were some marvel there. + + ‘Now what shall I say of those who issue from the desk into + company with a pen behind the ear? or those who hold a + handkerchief in the mouth? or who lay one leg along the table? + or who spit on their fingers?’ + + Some people offend by affected humility, which is indeed + a practical lying. ‘With these the company has a bad + bargain whenever they come to a door; for they will for no + consideration in the world pass on first, but they step across, + and return back,—and so fence and resist with hands and arms + that at every third step it becomes necessary to battle with + them, and this destroys all peace and comfort, and sometimes + the business which is in hand.’ + +This last caveat leads on the author to a passage of importance regarding +ceremoniousness in general; from which we learn that that extreme of +etiquette was still almost an innovation in Italy in the middle of the +sixteenth century, and contrary to the national bias. This may surprise +some readers; for certainly the courteous Italian of the later period, +for all his characteristic ‘naturalness,’ has not been wanting in +ceremony, and the elaboration of politeness of phrase in his writing +is something observable—at least to Englishmen, the least ceremonious +nation, I suppose, under heaven (and that is by no means a term of +disparagement). I subjoin the passage from Della Casa, not a little +condensed; followed by another, still more abridged, concerning the +essence and right of elegant manners. + + ‘And therefore ceremonies (which we name, as you hear, by a + foreign word, as not having one of our own—which shows that our + ancestors knew them not, so that they could not give them any + name)—ceremonies, I say, differ little, to my thinking, from + lies and dreams, on account of their emptiness. As a worthy man + has more than once shown me, those solemnities which the clergy + use in relation to altars and the divine offices, and towards + God and sacred things, are properly called “ceremonies.” + But, as soon as men began to reverence one the other with + artificial fashions beyond what is fitting, and to call each + other “master” and “lord,” bowing and cringeing and bending in + sign of reverence, and uncovering, and naming one another by + far-sought titles, and kissing hands, as if theirs were sacred + like those of priests,—somebody, as this new and silly usage + had as yet no name, termed it “ceremoniousness”: I think, by + way of ridicule. Which usage, beyond a doubt, is not native to + us but foreign and barbarous, and imported, whencesoever it be, + only of late into Italy,—which, unhappy, abased, and spiritless + in her doings and influence, has grown and gloried only in vain + words and superfluous titles. Ceremonies, then,—if we refer to + the intention of those who practise them—are a vain indication + of honour and reverence towards the person to whom they are + addressed, set forth in words and shows, and concerned with + titles and proffers. I say “vain” in so far as we honour in + seeming those whom we hold in no reverence, and do sometimes + despise. And yet, that we may not depart from the customs + of others, we term them “Illustrissimo Signor” so-and-so, + and “Eccellentissimo Signor” such-a-one: and in like wise we + sometimes profess ourselves “most devoted servants” to some one + whom we would rather dis-serve than serve. This usage, however, + it is not for us individually to change—nay, we are compelled + (as it is not our own fault, but that of the time) to second + it; but this has to be done with discretion. Wherefore it is to + be considered that ceremonies are practised either for profit, + or for vanity, or by obligation. And every lie which is uttered + for our own profit is a fraud and sin and a dishonest thing + (as indeed one cannot in any sort of case lie with honour): + and this sin do flatterers commit. And, if ceremonies are, as + we said, lies and false flatteries, whenever we practise them + with a view to gain we act like false and bad men: wherefore, + with that view, no ceremony ought to be practised. Those which + are practised by obligation must in no wise be omitted; for he + who omits them is not only disliked but injurious. And thus + he who addresses a single person as “_You_” (if it is not a + person of the very lowest condition) does him no favour: nay, + were he to say “_Thou_,” he would derogate from his due, and + act insultingly and injuriously, naming him by the word which + is usually reserved for poltroons and clodhoppers. And these I + call “ceremonies of obligation”: since they do not proceed from + our own will, nor freely of our own choice, but are imposed + upon us by the law—that is, by common usage. And he who is wont + to be termed “Signore” by others, and himself in like manner + to address others as “Signore,” assumes that you contemn him + or speak affrontingly when you call him simply by his name, or + speak to him as “Messere,” or blurt out a “_You_.”[57] However, + in these ceremonies of obligation, certain points should be + observed, so that one may not seem either vain or haughty. And + first, one should have regard to the country one lives in; + for every usage is not apposite in every country. And perhaps + that which is adopted by the Neapolitans, whose city abounds + in men of great lineage, and in barons of lofty station, would + not suit the Lucchese or Florentines, who for the most part + are merchants and simply gentlemen, having among them neither + princes nor marquises nor any baron. Besides this, regard must + be paid to the occasion, to the age and condition of the person + towards whom we practise ceremony, and to our own; and, with + busy people, one should cut them off altogether, or at any + rate shorten them as much as one can, and rather imply than + express them: which the courtiers in Rome are very expert in. + Neither are men of great virtue and excellence in the habit + of practising many; nor do they like or seek that many be + practised towards them, not being minded to waste much thought + over futilities. Nor yet should artisans and persons of low + condition care to practise very elaborate ceremonies towards + great men and lords: for these rather than otherwise dislike + such demonstrations at their hands—for their way is to seek and + expect obedience more than civilities. And thus the servant who + proffers his service to his master makes a mistake: for the + master takes it amiss, and esteems that the servant wants to + call in question his mastership,—as if his right were not to + dictate and command. If you show a little suitable abundance + of politeness to those who are your inferiors, you will be + called courteous. And, if you do the same to your superiors, + you will be termed well-bred and agreeable. But he who should + in this matter be excessive and profuse would be blamed as vain + and frivolous; and perhaps even worse would befall him, for he + might be held evil and sycophantic. And this is the third kind + of ceremonies, which does indeed proceed from our will, and not + from usage. Let us then recollect that ceremonies (as I said + from the first) were naturally not necessary,—on the contrary, + people got on perfectly well without them: as our own nation, + not long ago, did almost wholly. But the illnesses of others + have infected us also with this and many other infirmities. For + which reasons, when we have submitted to usage, all the residue + in this matter that is superfluous is a kind of licit lying: or + rather, from that point onwards, not licit but forbidden—and + therefore a displeasing and tedious thing to noble souls, which + will not live on baubles and appearances. Vain and elaborate + and superabundant ceremonies are flatteries but little covert, + and indeed open and recognized by all. But there is another + sort of ceremonious persons who make an art and trade of this, + and keep book and document of it. To such a class of persons, + a giggle; and to such another, a smile. And the more noble + shall sit upon the chair, and the less noble upon the settle. + Which ceremonies I think were imported from Spain into Italy. + But our country has given them a poor reception, and they have + taken little root here; for this so punctilious distinction of + nobility is a vexation to us:[58] and therefore no one ought to + set himself up as judge, to decide who is more noble, and who + less so.—To speak generally, ceremoniousness annoys most men; + because by it people are prevented from living in their own + way—that is, prevented from liberty, which every man desires + before all things else.’ + + ‘Agreeable manners are those which afford delight, or at least + do not produce any vexation, to the feelings, appetite, or + imagination, of those with whom we have to do. A man should + not be content with doing that which is right, but should also + study to do it with grace. And grace [_leggiadria_] is as it + were a light which shines from the fittingness of things that + are well composed and well assorted the one with the other, + and all of them together; without which measure even the good + is not beautiful, and beauty is not pleasurable. Therefore + well-bred persons should have regard to this measure, both in + walking, standing, and sitting, in gesture, demeanour, and + clothing, in words and in silence, and in rest and in action.’ + +[Sidenote: THE TRATTATO DEGLI UFFICI COMUNI.] + +Besides the _Galateo_, Monsignor della Casa has left another and shorter +_Tractate on Amicable Intercourse between Superiors and Inferiors_ +(_Trattato degli Uffici Comuni tra gli Amici Superiori e Inferiori_). +This deals not so much with the relation between those who are rich and +those who are poor in the gifts of fortune, taken simply on that footing, +as with the connection between master and servant, patron and client, +magnate and dependent. The tone is grave and humane, with an adequate +share of worldly wisdom interspersed. The opening is interesting and +suggestive; and shows that the great ‘Servant Controversy,’ of which +the pages of English daily newspapers are now almost annually conscious +in the dull season, was by no means unknown to Italy in the sixteenth +century:— + + ‘I apprehend that the ancients were free from a great and + continual trouble; having their households composed, not of + free men, as is our usage, but of slaves, of whose labour they + availed themselves, both for the comforts of life, and to + maintain their repute, and for the other demands of society. + For, as the nature of man is noble, copious, and erect, and far + more apt to commanding than obeying, a hard and odious task do + those undertake who assume to exercise masterdom over it, while + still bold and of undiminished strength, as is done now-a-days. + To the ancients, in my judgment, it was no difficult or + troublesome thing to command those who were already quelled + and almost domesticated—people whom either chains, or long + fatigues, or a soul servile from very childhood, had bereaved + of pride and force. We on the contrary have to do with souls + robust, spirited, and almost unbending; which, through the + vigour of their nature, refuse and hate to be in subjection, + and, knowing themselves free, resist their masters, or at least + seek and demand (often with reason, but sometimes also without) + that in commanding them some measure be observed. Whence it + arises that every house is full of complaints, wranglings, + and questionings. And certainly this is the fact; because we + are unjust judges in our own cause,—and, as it is true that + everybody unfairly prizes his own affairs higher than those + of others, albeit of equal value, and consequently always + persuades himself that he has given more than he has received, + the thing cannot go on _pari passu_. Hence comes the wearisome + complaint of the one, “I have worn myself out in your house;” + and the rebuke of the other, “I have maintained and fed you, + and treated you well.”’ + +I can afford only one more extract from this treatise; which indeed +handles its general subject-matter more on the ground of fairness, +good-feeling, and expedient compromise of conflicting claims, than as a +question of courtesy—though neither is that left out of view. + + ‘In giving orders and assigning duties which have to be + fulfilled, let regard be paid to the condition of the + individuals; so that, if anything uncleanly is to be done, + that be allotted to the lowest, and it come not to pass (as + some perverse-natured people will have it) that noblemen[59] + should sweep the house, and carry slops out of the chambers. + Let not things of much labour be committed to the weak, nor the + degrading to the well-mannered, nor the frivolous and sportful + to the aged. Moreover let the masters be heedful not to impose + upon any one anything of uncommon difficulty or labour or + painstaking, unless of necessity or for some great cause; for + the laws of humanity command us not to make a call upon a man’s + diligence and solicitude beyond what is reasonable, or as if in + levity—especially if it exceeds the ordinary bounds.’ + +With this I shut up Della Casa’s volume, and take final leave of my +reader—trusting that, after perusing, skimming, or skipping, so much +matter concerning Courtesy, he will part from me on the terms of (at +lowest) a ‘courteous reader,’ in more than the merely conventional sense. + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +[1] As mentioned below, the first German work including something by way +of Courtesy-Book, ab. 1210 A.D., _Der Wälsche Gast_, was written by an +Italian, Tomasin von Zirclaria. + +[2] Possibly this notion prompted Dante to represent himself, in the +opening of the _Commedia_, as also lost in a forest. + +[3] The line here translated as one forms two in the Italian, and the +like with our sequel; Brunetto’s metre being an ungracefully short +one—thus: + + ‘Sie certo che Larghezza + È’l capo e la grandezza,’ &c. + +Indeed the metre keeps up such a perpetual jingling as almost to reduce +to doggerel what might, in a different rhythmical form, be accepted as +very fair rhyme and reason indeed. I have thrown the several couplets +into single lines, in the translation, simply with a view to saving space. + +[4] The original runs + + ‘Che, siccome dell’ arti, + Qualche vizio non prendi.’ + +This phrase is not quite clear to me; but I suppose the word ‘_arti_’ +is to be understood as meaning ‘crafts, trades, or professions,’ and +that Brunetto had been sharp enough to see that people become ‘shoppy’ +according to their respective shops. ‘Vous êtes orfèvre, Monsieur Josse.’ + +[5] ‘_Mercennaio_’—literally, mercenary or hireling. + +[6] ‘_Picciolini._’ These were, I gather, coins of a particular +denomination, but I have not been able to ascertain their precise value. + +[7] + + ‘Credesi far la croce, + Ma e’ si fa la fica.’ + +I have translated literally; but that of course makes something very +like nonsense in English. To ‘make the fig’ is a gesture of the thumb +and fingers, understood as gross and insulting in the highest degree. +The general sense of the passage is therefore—‘He fancies he is thus +testifying in his own honour, whereas it really does redound to his own +extreme shame.’ Readers of Dante, remembering the splendid canzone + + ‘Le dolci rime d’amor ch’ io solia,’ + +in which he refutes the false and defines the true bases of ‘nobility’ +(_gentilezza_), will perceive that the illustrious pupil had been to +a great extent anticipated by the teaching of his early instructor. +Francesco da Barberino (_Reggimento e Costumi delle Donne_) adopts a +middle course, discriminating ‘_gentilezza_’ thus: ‘Nobility is twoform +in quality and in origin. The first is a state of the human soul +contented in virtue, hostile to vice, exulting in the good of others, and +pitiful in their adversity. The second is mastery over men or riches, +derived from of old, sensitive to shame when brought low.’ + +[8] Here, on the contrary, we come to a precept the reverse of Dantesque. +Yet, on combining this passage with that which opens the ensuing +paragraph, it would seem that Brunetto does not mean to recommend +connivance with anything that is positively evil, but only with current +habits and fashions, objectionable though they may be, in matters +essentially indifferent—as of speech and deportment. + +[9] ‘_Briccon_’—the colloquial term still in daily use among Italians. + +[10] ‘_Solo d’una canzone_:’ literally, ‘merely for one song.’ The Abate +Zannoni understands this to mean ‘_per aver una sola volta canzonato +femmina_.’ He admits that this sense of the phrase is not discoverable in +that fetish of the Italian pedant, the Dizionario della Crusca; but as +I have no superior authority to oppose to that of Abate Zannoni, I have +followed his interpretation. + +[11] This seems strange doctrine—that love of courtesy and love of women +cannot co-exist in the same man—if we are to accept it in its amplest +sense. Perhaps, however, we are to understand that the speaker is still +confining his censures to miscellaneous and unsanctioned amours or +flirtations, especially with married women. + +[12] Poesie Lombarde Inedite del Secolo 13, publicate ed illustrate +da B. Biondelli. Milano: Bernardoni. 1856. We are indebted to Signor +Biondelli’s courtesy for a copy of this curious and interesting work. + +[13] Bonvexino (pronounced Bonv_es_ino) is, in modern Italian, +Bonvicino—i.e. good neighbour. + +[14] ‘Afresh’ represents the Italian ‘de frescho.’ Signor Biondelli +considers that the phrase means ‘afresh,’ indicating that Fra Bonvesino +had written his Courtesies in Latin before turning them into Italian. +Signor Biondelli, however, admits that ‘de frescho’ may also mean ‘now +recently,’ ‘just now’; and, but for his contrary preference, I should +attribute that meaning to the word in the present instance. + +[15] ‘Noxe.’ I _suppose_ this must represent the modern-Italian word +‘nozze,’ nuptials, though the incident of a wedding seems rather suddenly +introduced at this point, and does not re-appear afterwards. + +[16] Signor Biondelli understands this stanza in a somewhat different +sense, as applying to the _assigning_ of dishes, not the _signing_ of +the cross as a grace before meat. The reference to Christ seems to me to +create a strong presumption in favour of my interpretation. + +[17] It is clear from the general context that the victuals here spoken +of as to be eaten with a spoon are solid edibles—not merely soups or the +like: the spoon corresponding to the modern fork. The word translated +‘suck’ is ‘sorbilar:’ perhaps ‘mumble’ would convey the force of the +precept more fully though less literally. + +[18] I feel some doubt as to the meaning of this passage. + +[19] This appears to be the general sense of the last two lines. In the +final one Signor Biondelli gives up two words as unintelligible: he +infers that they must be miscopied. + +[20] This seems to contemplate the plan of the several guests helping +themselves off the dish brought to table. At any rate, so Signor +Biondelli understands it. + +[21] ‘Donzello.’ This precept seems to be especially addressed to the +servitors. Uguccione Pisano, quoted by Muratori, says: ‘Donnicelli +et Domicellæ dicuntur quando pulchri juvenes magnatum sunt sicut +servientes.’ Such Donzelli were not allowed to sit at table with the +knights; or, if allowed, had to sit apart on a lower seat. + +[22] ‘Drapi da pey.’ I confess to some uncertainty as to what sort of +thing these ‘foot-cloths’ may have been. Signor Biondelli terms them ‘the +cloths wherewith the feet were wrapped round and dried.’ He adds: ‘This +precept apprizes us that at that time the use of a pocket-handkerchief +was not yet introduced, and perhaps not even the use of stockings.’ One +would fain hope that the summit of Lombardic good breeding in 1290 was +not the wiping of noses on cloths actually and at the moment serving +for the feet. Possibly _drapi da pey_ is here a generic term; cloths or +napkins at hand for use, and which _might have_ served for foot-cloths. +Thus the word ‘duster’ might be employed in a similar connection, without +our being compelled to suppose that the individual duster had first been +used on the spot for dusting the tables or floors, and then for wiping +the nose. Or indeed, we moderns, who wipe our noses on _hand_-kerchiefs, +do not first use said kerchiefs for wiping our _hands_, nor yet for +_covering our heads_ (‘_couvre chef_’).—Reverting to Signor Biondelli’s +observation as to ‘the use of stockings,’ I may observe that Francesco +da Barberino, in a passage of his _Reggimento e Costumi delle Donne_, +speaks of ‘the beautiful foot shod in silk’—‘_calzato in seta_’—which +_may_ imply either a stocking or else a shoe. This poem, as we shall see +further on, is but little later than Bonvicino’s.—The reader may also +observe, at p. 68, the horror with which a much later writer, Della Casa, +contemplated the use of a dinner-napkin as a pocket-handkerchief. + +[23] ‘Chi s’ asetilia.’ Signor Biondelli cannot assign the exact sense of +this verb. I should suppose it to be either a form of ‘Assettarsi,’ to +settle oneself, to keep one’s place, or a corruption of ‘Assottigliarsi,’ +to subtilize, to be punctilious, to ‘look sharp.’ + +[24] ‘D’alchun obediente.’ This phrase, if directly connected with the +‘Jesu Xristo’ of the previous line, seems peculiar. I am not quite clear +whether the whole stanza is to be understood as an injunction to render +grace after meat, in thankfulness for what Christ has given one—or to +thank the _servants_ who have been waiting at table, and so to glorify +Christ by an act of humility. + +[25] ‘Dro bon vino dra carera.’ The general sense is evidently near what +the translation gives: but Signor Biondelli is unable to assign the +_precise_ sense. No wonder therefore that I am unable. + +[26] Several others must nevertheless have been written before or about +the same time; for Barberino himself, in the exordium to his _Reggimento +e Costumi delle Donne_, says— + + ‘There have been many who wrote books + Concerning the elegant manners of men, but not of women.’ + +[27] A full account of it by Mr Eugene Oswald follows the present Essay. + +[28] This injunction forms stanza 4 in our extract from Barberino +beginning at p. 38. + +[29] See at p. 40, the stanza beginning ‘And I think that he does amiss.’ + +[30] _The Early Italian Poets, from Ciullo d’Alcamo to Dante Alighieri +(1100-1200-1300), in the Original Metres: together with Dante’s Vita +Nuova. Translated by D. G. Rossetti. Smith and Elder, 1862._ + +[31] There is evidently something erroneous in this statement: Brunetto +died in 1294. The Editor of a collection of Italian Poets (_Lirici del +Secolo secondo, & c.—Venezia, Antonelli, 1841_) says: ‘Francesco went +through his _first_ studies under Brunetto Latini. _Hence he passed_ to +the Universities of Padua and of Bologna.’ Barberino being a Tuscan, this +seems the natural course for him to adopt, rather than to have gone to +Padua and Bologna _before_ Florence. My brother’s remark, as to the death +of Neri in 1296, and as to Francesco’s _subsequent_ sojourn in Florence, +agrees, however, with the statement made by Tiraboschi: apparently we +should understand that Francesco had been in Florence both before and +after his stay in Padua and Bologna, and that his studies under Brunetto +pertain to the earlier period. + +[32] _Teachings_ or _Lessonings of Love_ might probably express the sense +more exactly to an English ear. + +[33] ‘Chi vuol fare merli.’ The phrase means literally ‘he who wants to +make battlements’—or possibly ‘to make thrushes,’ I can only _guess_ +at its bearing in the present passage, having searched for a distinct +explanation in vain. It seems to be one of the myriad ‘_vezzi di lingua_’ +of old Italian, and especially old Tuscan, idiom. + +[34] ‘Di mandar a laveggio.’ I am far from certain as to the real meaning. + +[35] This precept, and especially a preceding one (p. 39) which enjoins +the host to place the guests in their appropriate seats, keeping by +himself those of less account, would seem to show that at this period the +seats at the right and left of the host (or hostess) were by no means +understood to be posts of honour. The absence of all mention, either in +Bonvicino or in Barberino, of the hostess or her especial duties, strikes +one as a singularity. That the hostess is nevertheless understood to be +present may be fairly inferred from the clearly expressed presence of +other ladies. + +[36] Prettily worded in the Italian: + + ‘Nè abbracciar stringendo, + Se non sei ben una cosa con quello.’ + +[37] + + Ancor c’ è molta gente + Ch’ han certi vizj in dono ed in servire, + Sì che poco gradire + Vediamo in lor quando ne fanno altrui: + + Chè non pensano a cui, + Nè che nè come, nè tanto nè quanto. + Altri fanno un procanto + Di sue bisogne, e poi pur fanno il dono. + + Ed altri certi sono + Che danno indugio, e credon far maggiore. + E molti che colore + Pongon a scusa, e poi pur fanno e danno. + + Ed altri che, com’ hanno + Servigio ricevuto, affrettan troppo + Disobbligar lo groppo + Col qual eran legati alli serventi: + + Onde sien tutti attenti + Che non è picciol vizio non volere + Obbligato manere; + Anzi par poi che sforzato sia largo. + + Dicemi alcuno: ‘Io spargo + Li don, per mia libertate tenere; + Non per altrui piacere.’ + Questo è gran vizio: ed è virtù maggiore, + + E più porta d’onore, + Saver donar la sua persona altrui, + Ricevendo da lui, + E star apparecchiato a meritaro. + + E non ti vo’ lassare + Lo vizio di colui che colla faccia + Non vuol dar sì che piaccia, + Ma turba tutto, e sta gran pezza mutto. + +[38] The mention of a slave in a Florentine household of the late 13th or +early 14th century may startle some readers. I translate the note which +Signor Guglielmo Manzi, the editor of the _Reggimento_, supplies on this +subject. ‘Slavery, which abases mankind, and revolts humanity and reason, +diminished greatly when the Christian religion was introduced into the +Roman Empire—that religion being in manifest opposition to so barbarous a +system. The more the one progressed in the world, the more did the other +wane; and, as Bodino observes in his book _De Republicâ_, slavery had +ceased in Europe, to a great extent, by 1200. I shall follow this author, +who is the only one to afford us some degree of light amid so great +obscurity. In the year 1212 there were still, according to him, slaves +in Italy; as may be seen from the ordinances of William, King of Sicily, +and of the Emperor Frederick II. for the kingdom of Naples, and from the +decretals of the Popes Alexander III., Urban III., and Innocent III., +concerning the marriages of slaves. The first of these Popes was elected +in 1158, the second in 1185, and the third in 1198; so that the principle +of liberty cannot be dated earlier than in or about 1250—Bartolo, +who lived in the year 1300, writing (_Hostes de Captivis_, I.) that +in his time there were no slaves, and that, according to the laws of +Christendom, men were no longer put up to sale. This assertion, however, +conflicts with the words of our author, who affirms that in his time—that +is, at the commencement of the 14th century—the custom existed. But, in +elucidation of Bartolo, it should be said that he implied that men were +no longer sold, on the ground that this was prohibited by the laws of +Christendom, and the edicts of sovereigns. In France it can be shown +that in 1430 Charles VII. gave their liberty to some persons of servile +condition; and even in the year 1548 King Henri II. liberated, by letters +patent, those of the Bourbonnais: and the like was done throughout +all his states by the Duke of Savoy in 1561. In the Hundred Tales of +Boccaccio we have also various instances showing that the sale of free +men was practised in Italy. These are in the 6th Tale of the 2nd Day, +the story of Madonna Beritola, whose sons remained in Genoa in serfdom; +and in the 6th of the 5th Day, the story of Frederick, King of Sicily; +and in the 7th of the same Day, the story of Theodore and Violante. It +is therefore clear, from all this evidence, that, in the time of Messer +Francesco, so execrable a practice was still prevalent; and, summing up +all we have said, it must be concluded that serfdom, in non-barbarian +Europe, was not entirely extinguished till the 16th century.’ + +[39] ‘Mottetti e parlari.’ Only a few specimens of these are given, and +they are all sufficiently occult. Here is one. ‘Grande a morte, o la +morte. Di molte se grava morte. [Responde Madonna] Dolci amorme, quel +camorme, dunque amorme conveniarme.’ + +[40] This Lady is an ideal or symbolic personage—presumably Wisdom. + +[41] Matteo Palmieri (see p. 58) indicates that the state of things was +the same in his time, about 1430: he is more decided than Barberino in +condemning it. + +[42] ‘Uomin di corte.’ This term was first applied to heralds, +chamberlains, and the like court-officials: subsequently to the +entertainers of a court, ‘giullari,’ jesters, and buffoons: and in +process of time it came to include courtiers of whatever class. In the +early writers—such as Barberino, Boccaccio, &c.—it is not always easy +for a translator to pitch upon the precise equivalent: the reader should +understand a personage who might be as romantic as a Troubadour, or as +quaint as a Touchstone—but tending rather towards the latter extreme. + +[43] ‘Uccelli grifoni.’ This seems a daring suggestion: possibly, as a +griffin is a compound of eagle and lion, we are to understand that the +eagle is the griffin-_bird_. + +[44] ‘Drappi oltramarin’—which _may_ mean foreign (from beyond sea), or +else of ultramarine colour: I rather suppose the former. + +[45] ‘Lana di pesce’—literally, fish’s wool. The term is new to me, nor +do I find it explained in dictionaries: I can only therefore surmise that +it designates the silky filaments of certain sea-mollusks, such as the +pinna of the Mediterranean. This byssus is still made use of in Italy for +gloves and similar articles. + +[46] !! + +[47] ‘Intaglj;’ and the next line gives the word ‘Scolture.’ Giovanni +Villani notes that in 1330 a prohibition was issued against ‘dresses +cut-out or painted:’ the fashion having run into the extravagance of +‘dresses cut-out with different sorts of cloth, and made of stuffs +trimmed variously with silks.’ + +[48] These seem to be very obedient birds: and their position, behind +glass windows in a globe figuring the world, was rather an odd one to +modern notions. The reader will keep me company in guessing whether or +not we are to take the whole description _au pied de la lettre_. + +[49] Tiraboschi says 1468; but that, as far as I can trace, is a mistake. + +[50] It may be fair to state that the work, as first published, was put +in the Roman index of prohibited books; and that the reissues (including +no doubt the edition known to me) have omitted the inculpated passages. +Whether these were objected to on moral or rather on ecclesiastical +grounds I cannot affirm: the book as now printed is not only quite free +from immoralities, but is decidedly moral, whereas there remains at least +one passage of a tone such as churchmen resent _ex officio_. + +[51] A noticeable proverbial phrase. It is new to me; but I suppose it +means either ‘learned in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin’ (the three languages +in which the inscription over the cross was written), or else perhaps +‘learned in languages generally.’ + +[52] That most capital and characteristic book, the Autobiography of the +tragedian Alfieri, contains a reference to the _Galateo_, which, longish +as it is, I am tempted to extract. ‘My worthy Paciaudi was wont to advise +me not to neglect, amid my laborious readings, works in prose, which he +learnedly termed the nurse of poetry. As regards this, I remember that +one day he brought me the _Galateo_ of Della Casa; recommending me to +ponder it well with respect to the turn of speech, which assuredly is +pure Tuscan, and the reverse of all Frenchifying. I, who in boyhood had +(as we all have) read it loosely, understood it little, and relished +it not at all, felt almost offended at this schoolboyish and pedantic +advice. Full of venom against the said _Galateo_, I opened it. And, at +the sight of that first _Conciossiacosachè_, to which is trailed-on +that long sentence so pompous and so wanting in pith, such an impulse +of rage seized me that, hurling the book out of window, I cried like a +maniac: “Surely a hard and disgusting necessity, that, in order to write +tragedies at the age of twenty-seven, I must swallow down again this +childish chatter, and relax my brain with such pedantries!” He smiled at +my uneducated poetic _furor_; and prophesied that I would yet read the +_Galateo_, and that more than once. And so it turned out; but several +years afterwards, when I had thoroughly hardened my neck and shoulders to +bear the grammatical yoke. And I read not only the _Galateo_, but almost +all our prose writers of the fourteenth century, and annotated them too: +with what profit I cannot say. But true it is that, were any one to +give them a good reading as regards their turn of phrase, and to manage +availing himself with judgment and skill of their array, rejecting the +cast clothes of their ideas, he might perhaps afterwards, in his writings +as well philosophic as poetic or historic, or of any other class, give a +richness, brevity, propriety, and force of colour, to his style, which +I have not as yet seen fully gracing any Italian writer.’ A word or two +may be spared to the formidable-looking vocable _Conciossiacosachè_ +which so excited Alfieri’s bile. It might be translated literally as +‘Herewith-be-something-that;’ and corresponds in practice to the English +‘Forasmuch as’—or more briefly ‘since,’ or ‘as.’ The Italian word +_poichè_ serves all the same uses, save that of longwindedness. But +_Conciossiacosachè_ itself is not lengthy enough for some Italian lips: +and I believe that even the phrase into which it has sometimes been +prolonged—‘Con ciò sia cosa fosse massimamente che’—has been used for +other than burlesquing purposes. + +[53] The comparison whereby our Archbishop illustrates the condition of +the napkins must perfume our page only in its native Italian—‘Che le +pezze degli agiamenti sono più nette.’ + +[54] This is affirmed by Xenophon of the Persians: he says in the +_Cyropædia_ that, both of old and in his own time, they did without +either spitting or blowing the nose—a proof of temperance, and of +energetic exercise which carried off the moisture of the body. + +[55] _Stecco._ ‘Toothpick’ is the only appropriate technical sense for +stecco given in the dictionaries; and I suppose it is correct here, +although Della Casa’s very next sentence, denouncing the carrying of this +implement round the neck, designates it by the word _stuzzicadenti_, and +it seems odd that the two terms should be thus juxta-posed or opposed. If +_stecco_ does not in this passage really mean ‘toothpick,’ I should infer +that it indicates some skewer-like object, used possibly as a fork—i.e. +to secure the viands on the plate, while they are severed with a spoon, +and by that conveyed to the mouth (see pp. 21 and 34 as to the use of +spoon instead of fork in Bonvicino’s time). This would in fact be a sort +of chop-stick. Such an inference is quite compatible with the _general_ +sense of the word _stecco_—any stake or splint of wood. + +[56] Cecchina is a double diminutive of Francesca; corresponding to +‘Fannikin’ or ‘Fan.’ + +[57] The English reader may fancy that this passage conflicts with that +which immediately precedes: but such is not the case. In the earlier +passage, the use of _You_ was recommended as more civil than _Thou_: in +the later passage, the use of _Vossignoria_ (or other the like impersonal +term, where appropriate) as more respectful than _You_. + +[58] This is, I think, still a national trait among Italians, and a +most creditable one: the endless grades and sub-grades, shades and +demi-shades, of good society, as maintained in England (with an instinct +comparable to the marvellous power of a bat to wing its dark way amid +any number of impediments, and to be impeded by none of them), are +unintelligible to ordinary Italians—or, where intelligible, detestable. +Long may they remain so! + +[59] _Nobili._ I presume this is to be understood literally; the +household in which noblemen could be thus employed being of course one of +exalted position. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75723 *** |