=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.Project Gutenberg
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