In Spain, a certain company, called Disciplinarians, went through the streets every Good Friday, with sugar-loaf caps, white gloves and shoes, and sleeves tied with ribbons of such a color as their ladies particularly admired. They carried whips of small cords, with bits of glass fastened on the ends, and when they met a handsome woman, they began to whip themselves with all violence, insomuch that the blood spirted on her robes; for which honor she courteously thanked them. When a lover arrived opposite the balcony of his mistress, he scourged himself with redoubled fury, while she looked on with proud complacency, and perhaps rewarded his sufferings with a gracious smile.
Ladies of rank entered the lists of poetry in competition with troubadours of the other sex. Among these were the countess of Champagne, countess of Provence, dame Castelossa, the comtesse de Die, &c. The last-mentioned was beloved by the chevalier d’Adhèmar, whose courage and magnanimity she celebrated in verses, which the favored knight always carried in his bosom; and not unfrequently he entertained a company by singing his lady’s songs in praise of himself. He died of grief, in consequence of a false report of her inconstancy. The young comtesse took the veil immediately, and died the same year in the convent of St. Honoré. Her mother buried her with her lover, and erected a superb monument to the memory of both. The countess of Champagne was much celebrated for the manner in which she presided at one of the Courts of Love. These courts were composed of ladies summoned to meet together, for the purpose of discussing, in the most formal and serious manner, “beautiful and subtle questions of love.” They decided the precise amount of inconstancy which a lady might forgive, without lowering her own dignity, provided her lover made certain supplications, and performed certain penances; they took it into solemn consideration whether a lover was justified, under any circumstances, in expressing the slightest doubt of his lady’s fidelity; they laid down definite rules, and ceremonials of behavior, to be observed by those who wished to be beloved; and gravely discussed the question whether sentiment, or sight, the heart, or the eyes, contributed most powerfully to inspire affection.
A young maiden in those days was educated, like her brother, in the castle of some knight or baron, her father’s friend; and her duties, like his, were mostly those of personal attendance. She assisted in dressing her lady, and sought by music and conversation to beguile her lonely hours. Their learning, in general, was confined to recipes for cooking, simple medicines, needle-work, the ceremonials of chivalry, and the prayers of the church. Reading and writing were rare attainments, both with men and women.
The rules for behavior were exceedingly precise and ceremonious. Maidens were taught that it was unseemly to turn their heads round after the manner of a crane, and were exhorted rather to imitate the beautiful and timid hare, which looks straight forward. If necessary to look aside, they were told to move the head and body together, that their deportment might appear dignified. Simplicity of dress was likewise inculcated, except on festival occasions; and that respect might be shown to religion as well as chivalry, they were commanded to wear their richest apparel to church. Modesty was strongly urged. Every bard had a story of the daughter of some knight, who displayed her person so freely that her intended husband preferred her more modest, though less beautiful, sister. The ferocious pride of feudal power was softened by maxims of courtesy toward those of inferior rank. A noble lady once took off her hood and made respectful obeisance to a mechanic. One of her friends exclaimed, “Why, noble dame, you have taken off your hood to a tailor!” “Yes,” she replied; “and I would rather have doffed it to him, than a gentleman;” and those who heard her answer, thought she had done right well.
All the domestic economy of the castle was arranged by the maiden attendants, and they were early instructed in the mysteries of the healing art. The wounds of husbands and lovers were in those days cured by the fair hand of woman. Spenser says:
“Into the woods thenceforth in haste she went,
To seek for herbs that mote him remedy;
For she of herbs had great intendiment,
Taught of the nymph from whom her infancy
Her nourced had in true nobility.”