THE MARIONETTES
After the council comes the feast—and then
Jongleurs and minstrels, and the sudden song
That wakes the trumpets and the din of war,—
But now the Cæsar’s mood is for a jest.
Fellow—you juggler with the puppet-show,
The Emperor permits you to come in.
Ah, yes,—the five wise virgins—very fair.
There certainly can be no harm in that.
The bride, methinks, is somewhat like Matilda,
Wife of Duke Henry whom they call the Lion.
Aye, to be sure—the little hoods and cloaks
All tricked out with the arms of Saxony.
This way—be brisk now—to the banquet-hall.
’Tis clever—here come bride and bride-maidens
With lights in silvern lanterns. Very good.
Milan had puppet-shows, but none, I venture,
So well set forth as this.… No Lombard here,
He speaks pure French. Aha, the jester comes!
A biting satire, yes, a merry jape,—
The Bear that aped the Lion! A good song,
’Twill please the Saxon, surely. Now, what next?
Here come the foolish virgins all array’d
In mourning veils, with little lamps revers’d.
The merchant will not sell them any oil,
The jester mocks them and the monk rebukes them,—
A shrewd morality. Aye,—loyalty,
Truth, kindliness and mercy, and wise judgment
Are the five precious oils to light a throne.
A pretty compliment, a well-turned phrase!
Woe to the foolish Virgins of the Lombards
If we find lamps unlighted on our way!
Then surely will the door of hope shut fast
And in that outer darkness will be heard
Weeping and howling.… So, is that the end?
Hark, fellow, you have pleased the Emperor,
This ring’s the token. Take a message now
That may be spoken by your wooden King,—
The master-mind regards all Christendom
As but a puppet-show,—he pulls the strings,
The others act and speak to suit his book,—
Aye, truly, a most excellent puppet-show!
XVIII
THE HURER’S LODGERS
HOW THE POPPET OF JOAN, THE DAUGHTER OF THE CAPMAKER, WENT TO COURT AND KEPT A SECRET
Joan, the little daughter of the hurer, sat on a three-legged stool in the corner of her father’s shop, nursing her baby. It was not much of a baby, being only a piece of wood with a knob on the end. But the shop was not much of a shop. Gilles the hurer was a cripple, and it was all that he could do to give Joan and her mother a roof over their heads. They had sometimes two meals a day; oftener one; occasionally none at all.
If he could have made hats and caps like those which he used to make when he was a tradesman in Milan, every sort of fine goods would have come into the shop. In processions and pageants, at banquets, weddings, betrothals, christenings, funerals, on every occasion in life, the people wore headgear which helped to make the picture. The fashion of a man’s hat suited his position in life. Details and decorations varied more or less, but the styles very seldom did. Velvet and fur were allowed only to persons of a certain dignity; hats were made to show embroidery, which might be of gold thread and jeweled. Merchants wore a sort of hood with a long loose crown which could be used as a pocket. This protected the neck and ears on a journey, and had a lining of wool, fur, or lambskin. Court ladies wore hoods of velvet, silk or fine cloth for traveling. At any formal social affair a lady wore some ornamental head-dress with a veil which she could draw over her face. The wimple, usually worn by elderly women, was a scarf of fine linen thrown over the head, brought closely around the throat and chin, and held by a fillet. In later and more luxurious and splendid times, the cone-shaped and crescent-shaped head-dresses came in.