The gifts with which a successful song was rewarded, were of course influenced by the liberality of the giver. Horses, richly caparisoned, elegant vestments, and money, are mentioned in this connection.[267] Meanwhile the troubadours occasionally display the utmost contempt for their assistants, the before mentioned jongleurs, and reproach nobles, in some verses, with receiving such persons (who play at village fairs, dance on the tight rope, and exhibit performing monkeys), into their castles. Yet not all of the poets shared in this feeling, for Boccaccio tells us that Dante loved to associate with the musicians who set his canzone to music. In the thirteenth century, Guirant Riquier (called the “last of the troubadours”) complains to the king of Castile, Alfonso X., of the decadence of the troubadour’s art, and attributes it to the indiscriminate mixing of troubadours and jongleurs, in popular estimation. He says—“You know that all men live in classes differing and distinguished from each other. Therefore it seems to me that such a distinction of names ought also to be made amongst the joglars; for it is unjust that the best of them should not be distinguished by name as well as they are by deed. It is unfair that an ignorant man of small learning, who knows a little how to play some instrument, and strums it in public places, for whatever people will give him, or one who sings low ditties to low people about the streets and taverns, and takes alms without shame from the first comer,—that all these should indiscriminately go by the name of joglars ... for joglaria was invented by wise men to give joy to good people by their skill in playing on instruments.... After that came the troubadours to record valiant deeds, and to praise the good, and encourage them in their noble endeavor.... But in our days, and for some time past, a set of people without sense and wisdom have undertaken to sing and compose stanzas and play on instruments,”[268] etc.
The poor troubadour desired the king to classify them, and to title the best. The king’s answer is extant, wherein he endeavored to do so, but as the real essence and life had departed from the whole institution, it was unavailing.
The troubadours often had poetical combats, when they would indulge in a verse-battle about some “Law of Love,” and the judges were selected from the fairest and wittiest of the noble dames. These were called the “Courts of Love.”
The muse of some of them seems to have taken a most curious turn, for there are still in existence some “Essenhamens,” or books of etiquette for young ladies, which emanated from these lyrical pens, which are of the quaintest description. We reproduce a quotation from one, written by “Amanieus des Escas, called God of Love.”[269]
In this treatise we are supplied with a minute account of the accomplishments expected from a well educated young lady, and of the bad habits most prejudicial to her character. The poet is supposed to be addressing a noble damsel living at the court of some great baron, as a sort of ‘lady help’ to his wife; this being a not unusual, and undoubtedly a most efficient method of polite education in Provence. The young lady has accosted Amanieus on a lonely walk, asking for his advice in matters fashionable. This the poet at first refuses to tender, alleging that “you (the damsel) have ten times as much sense as I, and that is the truth!” But after his modest scruples are once overcome, he launches forth into a flood of good counsel. He systematically begins with enforcing the good old doctrine of ‘early to rise,’ touches delicately on the mysteries of the toilet, such as lacing, washing of arms, hands, and head, which, he sententiously adds, ought to go before the first mentioned process, and, after briefly referring to the especial care required by teeth and nails, he leaves the dressing room for the church, where a quiet undemonstrative attitude is recommended; the illicit use of the eyes and tongue being mentioned amongst the temptations peculiarly to be avoided.
Directions of similar minuteness assist the young lady at the dinner table; the cases in which it would be good taste, and those in which it would be the reverse, to invite persons to a share of the dishes within her reach are specified; and the rules as to carving, washing one’s hands before and after dinner, and similar matters, leave nothing to be desired. ‘Always temper your wine with water, so that it cannot do you harm,’ is another maxim of undeniable wisdom.
After dinner follows the time of polite conversation in the sala (drawing room), the arbour, or on the battlements of the castle; and now the teachings of Amanieus become more and more animated, and are enlivened occasionally by practical illustrations of great interest. “And if at this season,” he says “a gentleman takes you aside, and wishes to talk of courtship to you, do not show a strange or sullen behavior, but defend yourself with pleasant repartees. And if his talk annoys you; and makes you uneasy, I advise you to ask him questions, for instance:—‘Which ladies do you think are more handsome, those of Gascony or of England, and which are more courteous, and faithful, and good? And if he says those of Gascony, answer without hesitation; Sir, by your leave, English ladies are more courteous than those of any other country. But if he prefers those of England, tell him Gascon ladies are much better behaved, and thus carry on the discussion, and call your companions to you to decide the questions.’”
We also give two extracts from the poems of that famous troubadour, Bertrand De Born. He was a poet far more given to martial songs, than to the lyrical muse. His enemies dreaded his pen as much as his sword. He describes his belligerent qualities without any exaggeration, for he was literally never contented except when at war with some of his neighbors. One of his poems (addressed to a lady) begins smoothly enough, but before he is half done, he breaks into an abrupt praise of fighting.
In the following, he warns Williams of Gordon, against Richard of Poitou, and hurls invective at the latter.
“I love you well,” Bertrand says, “but my enemies want to make a fool and a dupe of you, and the time seems long to them before they see you in their ranks.” “To Perigeux, close to the wall, so that I can throw my battle axe over it, I will come well armed, and riding on my horse, Bayard; and if I find the glutton of Poitou[270] he shall know the cut of my sword. A mixture of brain and splinters of iron he shall wear on his brow.”