Part 11

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 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 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: Above the others the chiefest and soft, With a new covering of byssus. Of this the down is from the phœnix-bird: 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 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. 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.’

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.

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.

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.’

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.’