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THE NEW MEDIEVAL LIBRARY

The School of Aristotle.
See page [9].

THE BABEES
BOOK. Mediæval
Manners for the
Young Now first
done into Modern
English from The
Texts of
Dr. F. J. Furnivall:~
Published MCMVIII

The engraved title on the reverse

of this page was adapted

by Miss Blanche C. Hunter

from B.M. Add. MS. 31240,

f. 4.

THE BABEES’ BOOK:

MEDIEVAL MANNERS FOR

THE YOUNG: DONE INTO

MODERN ENGLISH FROM

DR. FURNIVALL’S TEXTS

BY EDITH RICKERT

CHATTO AND WINDUS: LONDON

NEW YORK: DUFFIELD & CO.

1908

All rights reserved

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

INTRODUCTION

NEARLY forty years ago, Dr. Furnivall collected for the Early English Text Society “divers treatises touching the Manners and Meals of Englishmen in former days.” Some of these were published in 1868, under the title The Babees’ Book,[^[1]] and others, chiefly of later date, in 1869, under the title Queene Elizabethes Achademy.

These two volumes, with their introductions and illustrative matter, to my mind present the most vivid picture of home life in medieval England that we have. Aside from their general human interest, they are valuable to the student of social history, and almost essential to an understanding of the literature of their time. The whole fabric of the romances was based upon the intricate system of “courtesy” as here set forth, and John Russell furnishes an interesting comment on Chaucer and his school, as do Rhodes and Seager and Weste on the writers of the sixteenth century. Finally, among these treatises, there is many a plum by the way for the seeker of proverbs, curious lore, superstitions, literary oddities. And as comparatively few people have time or inclination to worry through antiquated English, Dr. Furnivall has long wished that the substance of his collections might be presented in modern form. Therefore this little volume has been undertaken.

Doubtless unwritten codes of behaviour are coeval with society; but the earliest treatises that we possess emphasize morals rather than manners. Even the late Latin author known as Dionysius Cato (fourth century?), whose maxims were constantly quoted, translated, imitated, and finally printed during the late Middle Ages, does not touch upon the niceties of conduct that we call manners; wherefore one John Garland, an Englishman educated at Oxford, who lived much in France during the first half of the thirteenth century, felt bound to supplement Cato on these points. His work, entitled Liber Faceti: docens mores hominum, precipue iuuenum, in supplementum illorum qui a moralissimo Cathone erant omissi iuuenibus utiles,[^[2]] is alluded to as Facet in the first piece in this volume, and serves as basis for part of the Book of Courtesy.

But, earlier than this, Thomasin of Zerklaere, about 1215, wrote in German a detailed treatise on manners called Der Wälsche Gast.[^[3]] And in 1265, Dante’s teacher, Brunetto Latini, published his Tesoretto,[^[3]] which was soon followed by a number of similar treatises in Italian.

While we need not hold with the writer of the Little Children’s Little Book, that courtesy came down from heaven when Gabriel greeted the Virgin, and Mary and Elizabeth met, we must look for its origin somewhere; and inasmuch as, in its medieval form at least, it is closely associated with the practices of chivalry, we may not unreasonably suppose it to have appeared first in France. And although most of the extant French treatises belong to the fourteenth or fifteenth centuries, a lost book of courtesy, translated by Thomasin of Zerklaere, is sometimes held, on good grounds, to have been derived from French, rather than from Italian.

In any case, such of the English books as were not taken immediately from Latin, came from French sources. To be sure, there is a Saxon poem, based it would seem on Cato, though by no means a translation, called A Father’s Instructions to his Son; but this, although it is greatly exercised about the child’s soul, takes no thought for his finger-nails or his nose.

It is not, therefore, surprising to find that nearly all English words denoting manners are of French origin—courtesy, villainy, nurture, dignity, etiquette, debonaire, gracious, polite, gentilesse, &c., while to balance them I can, at this moment, recall only three of Saxon origin—thew (which belongs rather to the list of moral words in which Old English abounds), churlish and wanton (without breeding), both of which, significantly enough, are negative of good manners.

The reason for the predominance of the French terms is simply that “French use these gentlemen,” as one old writer puts it; that is, from the Conquest until the latter part of the fourteenth century the language of the invaders prevailed almost entirely among the upper classes, who, accordingly, learned their politeness out of French or Latin books; and it was only with the growth of citizenship and English together, that these matters came to be discussed in this latter tongue for the profit of middle-class children, as well as of the “bele babees” at Court.

We must suppose, from numerous hints and descriptions, that an elaborate system of manners and customs prevailed long before it was codified. The Bayeux tapestry (eleventh century) shows a feast, with a server kneeling to serve, his napkin about his neck, as John Russell prescribes some four hundred years later.

The romances again, alike in French and in English, describe elaborate ceremonies, and allude constantly to definite laws of courtesy. Now and again we find a passage that sets forth the ideal gentleman. Young Horn, for example, was taught “skill of wood and river” (hunting and hawking), carving, cup-bearing, and harping “with his nails sharp.” Child Florent showed his high birth by his love of horse, hawk, and armour, and by his contempt of gold; but he was not thought ill-mannered to laugh when his foster-father and mother fell down in their attempt to draw a rusty sword from its scabbard! Chaucer’s Squire might well have been brought up on a treatise similar to those included in this volume:

“Well could he sit on horse and fairly ride;

He could songs make and fair could he indite,

Joust and eke dance, and well portray and write.

────────────────

Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceáble,

And carved before his father at the table.”

But the Prioress outmatched him, having possibly learned her manners in the French of “Stratford-atte-Bowe,” in Les Contenances de la Table, or some such thing:

“At meatë well y-taught was she withal,

She let no morsel from her lippës fall,

Nor wet her fingers in her saucë deep:

Well could she carry a morsel, and well keep,

That no dropë did fall upon her breast;

In courtesy was set full much her lest.[^[4]]

Her over-lippë wipéd she so clean,

That in her cup there was no farthing seen

Of grease, when she drunken had her draught.

Full seemëly after her meat she raught,[^[5]]

And certainly she was of great desport,[^[6]]

And full pleasant, and amiable of port;

And painéd her to counterfeitë cheer

Of court, and to be stately in mannér,

And to be holden digne of reverence.”

These maxims were versified that they might be the more easily remembered, as we know from various expressions, notably “Learn or be Lewd” (ignorant), which occurs at the end of several pieces. In 1612 the principle was stated explicitly, “because children will learn that book with most readiness and delight through the running of the metre, as it is found by experience.” And the fact that versified treatises on manners formed part of the schooling of that day, brings up the subject of medieval education.

In the first place, this cannot be understood until we have set aside our modern ideas of master and servant. The old point of view is picturesquely summed up in a pamphlet of 1598, quoted by Dr. Furnivall.

“Amongst what sort of people should then this serving-man be sought for? Even the duke’s son preferred page to the prince, the earl’s second son attendant upon the duke, the knight’s second son the earl’s servant, the esquire’s son to wear the knight’s livery, and the gentleman’s son the esquire’s serving-man. Yea, I know at this day gentlemen, younger brothers that wear their elder brother’s blue coat and badge, attending him with as reverent regard and dutiful obedience as if he were their prince or sovereign. Where was then in the prime of this profession Goodman Tomson’s Jack, or Robin Rush, my Gaffer Russet-coat’s second son? The one holding the plough, the other whipping the cart-horse, labouring like honest men in their vocation. Trick Tom the tailer was then a tiler for this trade; as strange to find a blue coat on his back, with a badge on his sleeve, as to take Kent Street without a scold, or Newmarket Heath without a highwayman. But now, being lapped in his livery, he thinketh himself as good a man, with the shears at his back, as the Poet Laureate with a pen in his ear.”

From this passage it is clear that at a time not very much earlier, serving was a profession in which every rank, except royalty itself (if indeed this is to be omitted, see pp. 1, 179 below), might honourably wear the livery of a man of higher rank. Indeed, under the system of entail, this was, in time of peace, the only possible livelihood for a gentleman’s younger son, unless he had a special aptitude for law or the Church. Debarred from all trade, he could only offer his services to some great man who was compelled by his estate to keep up a large household, and so earn his patronage to provide for the future. It was fully expected that boys so placed would be helped to opportunities at Court or abroad, and girls to good marriages. That these patrons really took an interest in their young servitors, and felt responsible for their welfare, appears in many accounts of help bestowed upon men who afterwards became famous in literature, or scholarship, or state-craft. And as for the girls, Dr. Furnivall quotes an amusing instance of a mistress who, when reproached with dismissing a gentlewoman without due cause, thereby injuring her chances for the future, immediately allowed her forty shillings a year towards her maintenance while she herself lived.

Among rich men it was the custom to receive a number of boys for training in this way. In the household of Lord Percy there were nine young “henchmen” who served him as cup-bearers and in various other capacities. To these he allowed servants, one for each two, unless they were “at their friends’ finding,” in which case they might have one apiece. Likewise, in his household, his second son was carver, his third, sewer.

But while in a rich man’s household, younger sons might receive as good a training as if they had been sent elsewhere for the purpose, the case of the younger sons of a poor gentleman might be sufficiently wretched. Orlando, in As You Like It, speaks feelingly on this point. Although his father had left 1000 crowns for his upbringing, he was so neglected that he says: “His (his brother’s) horses are bred better, for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired;[^[7]] but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth ... he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education.”

The alternative to such a life of hardship was either to enter the Church or depend upon its charity, or to serve in the household of a man of rank. While only a few were fitted for the religious life or cared to undertake it, “many poor gentlemen ... left beggars in consequence of the inheritance devolving to the eldest son,” were supported by the charity of the Church, as we are told by an Italian visitor to England in 1496-7.

The case of an unmarried daughter living at home, though less desperate, was even in well-to-do families sufficiently uncomfortable, as is plainly hinted in a letter written by Margaret Paston to her husband in 1469. She implores him to find his sister “some worshipful place,” and concludes: “I will help to her finding, for we be either of us weary of other.”

The practice of sending children seven or eight years old away from their parents was ostensibly that they “might learn better manners”; but the Italian visitor mentioned above concluded uncharitably that the real reason was, the English had but small affection for their children, and liked to keep all their comforts to themselves, and moreover knew that they would be “better served by strangers than by their own children.” However absurd this may seem at first glance, I incline to think that the foreigner may have touched upon truth here, as is borne out by many instances of Spartan, even brutal, treatment of children by parents in those days. Still, the fact remains that the loss of home life and parental tenderness was balanced by gain in discipline, education, social opportunity, and the opening up of careers.

The education of the various children addressed in these treatises varied according to their social status. As early as the twelfth century certainly, and perhaps earlier, it was customary for “bele babees,” with boys and girls, to have a tutor either at home, or in the household of the great man with whom they were placed. If they went to school, there were at first the monastic and conventual institutions; then later, the universities and grammar-schools. But, in the case of girls like the Good Wife’s daughter, who sold homespun in the market-place, and had to be admonished not to get drunk often, I doubt whether there would be any education beyond her mother’s teaching.

The universities, at first, were frequented chiefly by poor men’s sons, and scarcely attended by the upper classes. In Chaucer’s time, the Clerk of Oxenford was lean and threadbare, and had but little gold, and his two Cambridge scholars were in no better case. Nearly two centuries later, Sir Thomas More says: “Then may we yet like poor scholars of Oxford, go a-begging with our bags and wallets, and sing ‘Salve, Regina’” (a carol) “at rich men’s doors.” However, gradually during the sixteenth century, a university education became so fashionable that rich men’s sons crowded in, and “scrooged” (I quote Dr. Furnivall) poor students out of the proceeds of endowments left expressly for them. Still, in 1517, the old ideal of a gentleman as yet held its own, as is amusingly related by Pace in his De Fructu. He tells how “one of those whom we call gentlemen, who always carry some horn hanging at their backs, as though they would hunt during dinner, said: ‘I swear by God’s body I would rather that my son should hang than study letters. For it becomes the sons of gentlemen to blow the horn nicely, and to hunt skilfully, and elegantly carry and train a hawk. But the study of letters should be left to the sons of rustics....’”

But Pace was equal to him. “You do not seem to me to think aright, good man,” said I, “for if any foreigner were to come to the king, such as are ambassadors of princes, and an answer had to be given to him, your son if he were educated as you wish, could only blow his horn, and the learned sons of rustics would be called to answer, and they would be far preferred to your hunter or fowler son,” &c.

The fashion among noblemen of sending their sons abroad to study, either at a university or with a tutor, did not prevail widely until later. In the twelfth century, indeed, the “English nation” was famous at the University of Paris, but was composed largely of poor but earnest students, some of whom became famous men; and even these had ceased to study there before the fifteenth century.

Younger sons of good birth, in the service of a man of rank, were usually taught by a “maistyr” or tutor in the household in which they were placed. It is only in later books like Seager’s that these rules of demeanour were applied extensively to schoolboys. Doubtless gentlemen’s sons went to Winchester (after 1373) and to Eton (after 1440); but of the thirty grammar-schools endowed before 1500, all the others were attended chiefly by the middle classes. The early monastic schools doubtless entertained young noblemen; but the cathedral schools founded by Henry VIII. seem to have been for citizens’ children, such as the boy in Symon’s Lesson of Wisdom, who is urged to learn fast so that when the old bishop dies he may be ready to take his place. However, even earlier we find complaints of the monastic schools which helped each shoemaker to educate his son, and each beggar’s brat to be a writer and finally a bishop, so that lords’ sons must kneel to him.

In general, the system of education implied in the Babees’ Book is that described in the household ordinances of Edward IV. for the young henchmen in charge of a “maistyr,” who should teach them to ride cleanly and surely, to draw them also to jousts, to ... “wear their harness, to have all courtesy in words, deeds, and degrees, diligently to keep them in rules of goings and sittings, after they be of honour.” They learned also “sundry languages,” and harping, piping, singing and dancing. Likewise, their master sat always with them at table in the hall, to see “how mannerly they eat and drink, and to their communication and other forms of court, after the book of Urbanitie[^[8]].” Clearly it would seem that one of the very treatises in this collection was studied by these young pages of Edward IV.

What languages they learned and what else studied we are not told in detail; but in Henry VIII.’s time, young Gregory Cromwell, son of the Earl of Essex, studied French, writing, fencing, “casting accounts,” instrumental music, &c. He was also made to read English aloud for the pronunciation, and was taught the etymology of Latin and French words. His day was as follows: After Mass, he read first the Colloquium on Pietas Puerilis (De Civilitate Morum Puerilium) by Erasmus (written 1530), of which he had to practice the precepts. Now this is nothing more than a collection of maxims similar to the Facet mentioned in the Babees’ Book, together with learned Scholia in Latin and Greek; hence, he had the same kind of thing to learn—only more elaborate—as the boys mentioned a hundred years earlier studied in Urbanitie. Doubtless his master approved the beginning of Erasmus: “Est autem uel prima uirtutis ac honestatis pars, tenere præcepta de moribus.” The specific nature of these directions appears in the following:

“Cleanliness of teeth must be cared for, but to whiten them with powder does for girls. To rub the gum with salt or alum is injurious.... If anything sticks to the teeth, you must get it out, not with a knife, or with your nails after the manner of dogs and cats, or with your napkin, but with a toothpick, or quill or small bone taken from the tibias of cocks or hens. To wash the mouth in the morning with pure water is both mannerly and healthful; to do it often is foolish.” Indeed, Erasmus’s treatise is only a superior book of courtesy.

His manners attended to, young Gregory wrote for one or two hours, read Fabyan’s Chronicle, and gave the rest of the day to his lute and virginals. When he rode, his master used to tell him stories of the Greeks and Romans, which he had to repeat; and his recreations were hunting, hawking and shooting with the long bow.

A harsher system prevailed with Queen Elizabeth’s wards, according to Sir Nicholas Bacon. They went to church at 6 o’clock, studied Latin until 11, dined from 11 to 12, had music from 12 to 2, French from 2 to 3, Latin and Greek from 3 to 5, then prayers, supper, and “honest pastimes” until 8, then music until 9, and so to bed.

The curricula in these various schools doubtless emphasized the usual Latin subjects (Greek was not taught in England before 1500) of the Middle Ages. Thus we find an account of the “disputations” in a London grammar-school, dating from 1174. But that athletic sports were popular even at that early time, appears from the same narrative, in which we read of football, sham fights, water-quintain, archery, running, leaping, wrestling, stone-casting, flinging bucklers, sliding and skating (on bones), besides the brutal sports of hog-, boar- and cock-fighting, bull- and bear-baiting.

At the other extreme we find the account of a school-day in 1612. Work begins at 6, and those who come first have the best places. At 9 o’clock, there is given 15 minutes for breakfast and recreation; then work continues until 11 or past (to balance the 15 minutes off). Dinner follows, and then work until 3 or 3.30, then 15 minutes off, and work until 5.30, when school closes with a piece of a chapter, two staves of a psalm and prayer by the master.

It is probable, however, that these two descriptions are but two sides of the same medal; that Fitzstephen’s holidays were balanced by work days as tedious as those described by Brinsley.[^[9]]

A singular fact to be noted in the English courtesy books is the almost complete absence of allusions to women. Barring the Good Wife and Wise Man, which are distinctly middle class in tone, we have practically nothing to represent the elaborate directions for conduct in some of the foreign treatises. Yet it cannot be doubted that the English system of patronage led to social problems and rules for the demeanour of young men and women together, such as prevailed abroad. Undoubtedly, too, the association of a lord’s pages and a lady’s maidens must have furthered the arrangement of marriages, perhaps not always in the way desired. Take, for example, the case of Anne Boleyn. After seven years’ service with the royal ladies of France, she came home and was placed in the household of Queen Katharine. Meanwhile, there was attendant upon Cardinal Wolsey a certain young Lord Percy, who, whenever his master was with the king, would “resort for pastime into the queen’s chamber, and there would fall in dalliance among the queen’s maidens.” In the end, he and Mistress Anne were secretly troth-plight; but Wolsey discovered the arrangement and sent the girl home, whereat she “smoked” (we say fumed) until she was recalled and heard of the great love the king bore her “in the bottom of his stomach”; then she “began to look very hault and stout, having all manner of jewels or rich apparel that might be gotten for money.” And doubtless there are many other similar complications to be found among old records, and more have perished, or were never written down at all.

It is something of a shock to turn from the elaborate rules for carving and serving, as set forth by Russell and others, to the domestic records of the time. The mingled splendour and squalor of the Middle Ages almost passes belief. We read of priceless hangings and costumes that cost each a small fortune, yet Erasmus describes the floors in noblemen’s houses as sometimes encumbered with refuse for twenty years together.[^[10]] King Edward IV. was provided with a barber who shaved him once a week, and washed his head, feet, and legs, if he so desired. A proper bath, according to Russell, seems to have been an event to be heralded with flowers and resorted to chiefly as curative. We see to-day the splendid palaces and castles, such as Hampton Court and Windsor, Knole and Penshurst and Warwick, built by kings and noblemen, and yet Henry VIII had to enact a law against the filthy condition of the servants in his own kitchen, and Wolsey, passing through the suitors in Westminster Hall, carried disinfectants concealed in an orange. It is this contrast in manners, doubtless, which will first strike the reader. A young nobleman had to be instructed not only how to hold his carving-knife with a thumb and two fingers, but also not to dip his meat into the salt-cellar, or lick the dust out of dish with his tongue, or wipe his nose on the table-cloth; and other instructions were added too primitive for translation. Undoubtedly, the general impression that one derives is, as Dr. Furnivall puts it, of “dirty, ill-mannered, awkward young gawks,” whose “maistyrs” were greatly to be pitied. But, on the whole, it is surprising to note how little the fundamental bases of good manners have altered. Though we are not to-day so plain-spoken, our ideals are similar to those of our ancestors, but theirs was the greater difficulty of attainment. Personal cleanliness, self-respect, reverence to one’s better, and consideration for one’s neighbour seem to have been then as they are now, the foundation-stones.

On the other hand, it is interesting to notice the development of manners with improved conditions of life. One code was altered with the introduction of the handkerchief, another with the use of the fork (apparently first mentioned in 1463, but not common until after 1600, though it had long been in use on the Continent), and so on, so that by degrees social expedients and ceremonies change, while essentials remain.

Of each of the pieces here included I give a brief account in the notes. Needless to say, they form only a small portion of an enormous practical literature, though they are fairly representative of the English branch of it, for the time that they cover. In order to bring even so much within the compass of this small volume, it has been found necessary to condense. The principle of condensation has been as follows: whenever a text is particularly wordy for the matter that it contains, or has been found difficult to reproduce in modern language in the old verse-form, it has been done simply into prose. In cases where the metrical form has been preserved, perhaps both rhythm and rhyme have suffered in the translation; but in no instance has there been any poetic beauty lost, for the plain reason that the literary value of these productions is nil. In addition to a few omissions on grounds of taste, I have put aside various recipes and dietaries, hoping to use them later in a book devoted entirely to that sort of thing; and for the same reason, I have omitted considerable portions of Russell’s work, in which he deals with the dietetic properties and values of different kinds of food, describes various sorts of wines, enters into the details of carving fish, flesh, and fowl, and sets forth numerous recipes and elaborate menus. It is all interesting but has little to do with manners. Likewise, I have omitted Wynkyn de Worde’s Book of Carving, which seems to be only a prose version of Russell, portions of Rhodes’s work which deal rather with professional serving-men, and of Seager’s and West’s books, which treat of morals rather than manners. Further, I have omitted the various Latin and French poems on the subject, and a number of odds and ends of a generally didactic character, which, it seemed, could be best spared.

In translating, I have tried to keep as much as possible the quaint flavour of the originals, especially in the case of those rendered into modern English in the verse form. To that end I have retained old words and constructions whenever they seemed intelligible, although eccentric and perhaps ungrammatical to-day. When an archaic word alone conveyed the exact meaning, or was especially picturesque, I have left it, with a gloss at the bottom of the page, where also I refer to notes at the end, on points which seem to require special elucidation. My aim throughout has been to make the texts clear with the minimum of alteration. Doubtless I could have improved the metre frequently by merely a change in order of words; but I thought it better to meddle as little as possible, except for the sake of clearness; and so the verse often bumps along cheerfully, regardless of rhythm, style, and grammar. I think I may claim that in substance the modernised Babees’ Book is as near as possible to its original.

About half of the translations have been made by Miss L. J. Naylor.

THE BABEES’ BOOK
OR
A LITTLE REPORT OF HOW YOUNG PEOPLE SHOULD BEHAVE

MAY He who formed mankind in His image, support me while I turn this treatise out of Latin into my common language, that through this little comment all of tender years may receive instruction in courtesy and virtue.

Facet[^[11]] saith that the Book of Courtesy to teach the practice of virtue is the most helpful thing in the world, so I will not shrink from this labour or refuse it; but for mine own learning will say something that touches upon the matter.

But oh, young babies, whom blood royal hath endowed with grace, comeliness, and high ability, it is on you I call to know this book, for it were great pity but that ye added to sovereign beauty virtue and good manners. Therefore I speak to you specially, and not to old men expert in governance, decorum, and honest manners, for what need is to give pangs to Hell, joy to Heaven, water to the sea, or heat to fire already hot?

And so, young babies,[^[12]] my book is only for your instruction; wherefore I pray that no man reprehend it, but amend it where it is at fault, and judge it not, for your own sake. I seek no other reward but that it may please men and give you some ease in learning.[^[12]] Also, sweet children, if there be in it any word that ye ken not, speer[^[13]] while ye may, and when ye know it, bear it in mind; and so by asking you may learn of wise men. Also, think not too strangely that my pen writes in this metre;[^[12]] for such verse is commonly used, therefore take heed.

And first of all, I think to show how you babies who dwell in households, should ’have[^[14]] yourselves when ye be set at meat, and how when men bid you be merry, you should be ready with lovely, sweet and benign words. In this, aid me, O Mary, Mother Revered; and eke, O lady mine, Facetia,[^[12]] guide thou my pen and show unto me help. For as A is the first of all letters, so art thou mother of all virtue. Have pity, sweet lady, of my lack of wit, and though untaught I speak of demeanour, support my ignorance with thy goodly aid.

Ah, “bele[^[15]] babees,” hearken now to my lore.

When you enter your lord’s place, say “God speed,” and with humble cheer greet all who are there present. Do not rush in rudely, but enter with head up and at an easy pace, and kneel on one knee only to your lord or sovereign, whichever he be.

If any speak to you at your coming, look straight at them with a steady eye, and give good ear to their words while they be speaking; and see to it with all your might that ye jangle[^[16]] not, nor let your eyes wander about the house, but pay heed to what is said, with blithe visage and diligent spirit. When ye answer, ye shall be ready with what ye shall say, and speak “things fructuous,”[^[17]] and give your reasons smoothly in words that are gentle but compendious,[^[18]] for many words are right tedious to the wise man who listens; therefore eschew them with diligence.

Take no seat, but be ready to stand until you are bidden to sit down. Keep your hands and feet at rest; do not claw your flesh or lean against a post, in the presence of your lord, or handle anything belonging to the house.

Make obeisance to your lord always when you answer; otherwise, stand as still as a stone, unless he speak.

Look with one accord that if ye see any person better than yourself come in, ye go backwards anon and give him place, and in nowise turn your face from him, as far forth as you may.

If you see your lord drinking, keep silence, without loud laughter, chattering, whispering, joking or other insolence.

If he command you to sit in his presence, fulfil his wish at once, and strive not with another about your seat.

When you are set down, tell no dishonest tale; eschew also, with all your might, to be scornful; and let your cheer be humble, blithe, and merry, not chiding as if ye were ready for a fight.

If you perceive that your better is pleased to commend you, rise up anon and thank him heartily.

If you see your lord and lady speaking of household matters, leave them alone, for that is courtesy, and interfere not with their doing; but be ready, without feigning, to do your lord service, and so shall you get a good name.

Also, to fetch him drink, to hold the light when it is time, and to do whatsoever ought to be done, look ye be ready; for so shall ye full soon get a gentle name in nurture. And if you should ask a boon of God, you can desire no better thing than to be well-mannered.

If your lord is pleased to offer you his own cup to drink, rise when you take it, and receive it goodly with both your hands, and when you have done, proffer it to no man else, but render it again to him that brought it, for in nowise should it be used commonly—so wise men teach us.

Now must I tell you shortly what you shall do at noon when your lord goes to his meat. Be ready to fetch him clear water, and some of you hold the towel for him until he has done, and leave not until he be set down, and ye have heard grace said. Stand before him until he bids you sit, and be always ready to serve him with clean hands.

When ye be set, keep your own knife clean and sharp, that so ye may carve honestly[^[19]] your own meat.

Let courtesy and silence dwell with you, and tell no foul tales to another.

Cut your bread with your knife and break it not. Lay a clean trencher[^[20]] before you, and when your pottage is brought, take your spoon and eat quietly; and do not leave your spoon in the dish, I pray you.

Look ye be not caught leaning on the table, and keep clear of soiling the cloth.

Do not hang your head over your dish, or in any wise drink with full mouth.

Keep from picking your nose, your teeth, your nails at meal-time—so we are taught.

Advise you against taking so muckle meat into your mouth but that ye may right well answer when men speak to you.

When ye shall drink, wipe your mouth clean with a cloth, and your hands also, so that you shall not in any way soil the cup, for then shall none of your companions be loth to drink with you.

Likewise, do not touch the salt in the salt-cellar with any meat; but lay salt honestly on your trencher, for that is courtesy.

Do not carry your knife to your mouth with food, or hold the meat with your hands in any wise; and also if divers good meats are brought to you, look that with all courtesy ye assay of each; and if your dish be taken away with its meat and another brought, courtesy demands that ye shall let it go and not ask for it back again.

And if strangers be set at table with you, and savoury meat be brought or sent to you, make them good cheer with part of it, for certainly it is not polite when others be present at meat with you, to keep all that is brought you, and like churls vouchsafe nothing to others.

Do not cut your meat like field-men who have such an appetite that they reck not in what wise, where or when or how ungoodly they hack at their meat; but, sweet children, have always your delight in courtesy and in gentleness, and eschew boisterousness with all your might.

When cheese is brought, have a clean trencher, on which with a clean knife ye may cut it; and in your feeding look ye appear goodly, and keep your tongue from jangling, for so indeed shall ye deserve a name for gentleness and good governance, and always advance yourself in virtue.

When the end of the meal is come, clean your knives, and look you put them up where they ought to be,[^[21]] and keep your seat until you have washed, for so wills honesty.

When ye have done, look then that ye rise up without laughter or joking or boisterous word, and go to your lord’s table, and there stand, and pass not from him until grace be said and brought to an end.

Then some of you should go for water, some hold the cloth, some pour upon his hands.

Other things I might commend you to do, but as my time is brief, I put them not into this little report; but overpass them, praying with a spirit that rejoices in this labour, that no man abuse me; but where too little is, let him add more, and where too much, let him take away, for though I would, time forbids that I say more. Therefore I take my leave, and inscribe this book to every wight whom it may please to correct it.

And, sweet children, for love of whom I write, I beseech you, with very loving heart, that you set your delight upon knowing this book; and may Almighty God that suffered bitter pains, make you so expert in courtesy that through your nurture and your governance you may advance yourselves to lasting bliss.

THE A B C OF ARISTOTLE

WHOSO wills to be wise and worship desires,

Learn he one letter and look on another,

Of the A B C of Aristotle. Argue not against that.

It is counsel for right many clerks and knights a thousand,

And eke it might amend a man, full oft,

For to learn lore of one letter, and his life save;

For too much of any thing was never wholesome.

Read oft on this roll, and rule thee thereafter.

Whoso be grieved in his ghost, govern him better;

Blame he not the bairn that this A B C made,

But wite[^[22]] he his wicked will and his work after.

It shall never grieve a good man, though the guilty be mended,

Now hearken and hear how I begin.

Be not—

A too Amorous, too Adventurous, nor Argue too much.

B too Bold, too Busy, nor Babble[^[23]] too long.

C too Courteous, too Cruel, nor Care too sorely.

D too Dull, too Dreading,[^[24]] nor Drink too oft.

E too Elenge,[^[25]] too Excellent,[^[26]] nor too Earnest neither.

F too Fierce, too Familiar, but Friendly of cheer.

G too Glad, too (vain-)Glorious, and Gelousy[^[27]] thou hate.

H too Hasty, too Hare-brained, nor too Heavy in thy Heart.

J too Jetting,[^[28]] too Jangling,[^[29]] nor Jape[^[30]] not too oft.

K too Kind, too Keeping, and beware of Knaves’ tricks.

L too Loth, too Loving, nor too Liberal of goods.

M too Meddling, too Merry, but as Measure asketh.

N too (an-)Noying, too Nice,[^[31]] nor too New-fangled either.

O too Overbold, too Overthwart,[^[32]] and hate thou Oaths.

P too Praising, too Privy[^[33]] with Princes or dukes.

Q too Quaint, too Querulous, and Queme[^[34]] thy master.

R too Riotous, too Revelling, nor Rage too Rudely.

S too Strange, too Stirring, nor Stare too strangely.

T too Toiling, too Tale-bearing, for Temperance is best.

V too Vengeful, too Envious, and (a-)Void all Villainy.

W too Wild, too Wrathful, nor Waste, nor Wade too deep.

For a Measurable Mean is best for us all.

Learn this or go Lacking.[^[35]]

URBANITATIS[^[36]]

WHOSO will of nurture know,

Hark to me and I will show.

When you come before a lord,

In hall, in bower, or at board,

You must doff or cap or hood,

Ere before him you have stood.

Twice or thrice beyond a doubt,

Before your sovereign must you lout[^[37]];

On the right knee bend you low;

For your own sake do ye so.

Hold your cap, forbear to don,

Till you’re told to put it on.

All the while you speak with him,

Fair and lovely hold up your chin.

As bids the nurture of the book,

In his face straight shall you look.

Keep your hands still and your feet;

To claw or trip it is not meet.[^[38]]

────────────────

When into the hall you wend,

Among the gentles, good and hend[^[39]]

Press not up high for any thing,

For noble blood or wit cunning.

Neither sit ye, neither lean,

For this is neither good nor clean.

Let not your countenance abate,[^[40]]

For good nurture will save your state.

If father, mother be right naught,

Happy the child that is well taught.

In hall, in chamber, mind you then:

Good manners always make good men.[^[41]]

Look wisely to your betters ay,

Do them reverence as you may;

But do ye none, sit all in row,

Unless ye them for betters know.

When you are set before the meat,

Fair and honestly it eat.

First, look ye that your hands be clean,

And that your knife be sharp and keen;

Then cut your bread and all your meat,

Even when you set to eat.

If you sit by a worthier man

Than ye yourself well reckon can,

Suffer him first and do not let[^[42]]

That he before you meat should get.

For the best piece do not strike[^[43]]

Though you never so well it like.

Also keep your hands full well,

Not to ’file[^[44]] the fair towél.

Nor wipe your nose upon the cloth;

To pick your teeth at meat be loth.

Nor in the cup too deeply sink,

Though ye have good will to drink,

Lest your eyen water thereby;

For then it is no courtesy.

Look in your mouth there be no meat,

When you begin to drink or speak.

And when you see a man would drink,

Who heeds your carping,[^[45]] you bethink,

And soon anon make end your tale,

Whether he drink wine or ale.

And look, ye scorn no man also,

In what degree ye see him go.

No man shall ye reprove or chide,

If ye in worship[^[46]] would abide.

For words ye might speak out apace—

Should make you live in evil case.

Close your hand upon your fist,[^[47]]

And keep you well from “Had I wist[^[48]]—”

In chamber among the ladies bright,

Keep your tongue and spend your sight.

Laugh not too loud with great outcry;

Neither rage with ribaldry.

Play with none but with your peer,

And tell not all the tales you hear.

Discover[^[49]] not your own [good] deed,

Neither for mirth, nor yet for meed.[^[50]]

Gentle of speech—ye have your will;

But foul of speech—ye fare full ill.

If ye follow a worthier man,

Than ye yourself well reckon can,

Let your right shoulder follow his back,[^[51]]

For that is nurture ye must not lack.

When he speaks, then hold you still;

When he has done, say then your will.

Be careful what you say or tell,

And in your speech advise you well.

Bereave[^[52]] ye no man of his tale,

Neither at wine nor at ale.

Now may Christ of his sweet grace,

Give us all both wit and space

This [treatise] well to know and read,

And Heaven at last to have for meed.

Amen, Amen, so may it be.

So say we all for charity!

Explicit Tractus Urbanitatis.

THE LITTLE CHILDREN’S LITTLE BOOK

LITTLE children, draw ye near

And learn the courtesy written here;

For clerks that well the Seven Arts know,[^[53]]

Say Courtesy came to earth below,

When Gabriel hailed Our Lady by name,

And Elizabeth to Mary came.[^[53]]

All virtues are closed[^[54]] in courtesy,

And vices all in villainy.[^[53]]

Look thy hands be washéd clean,

That no filth on thy nails be seen.

Take thou no meat till grace be said,

And till thou see all things arrayed.[^[55]]

Look, my son, that thou not sit,

Till the ruler of the house thee bid.

And at thy meat, in the beginning,

Look on poor men that thou think;[^[56]]

For the full stomach ever faileth

To understand what the hungry aileth.

Eat not thy meat too hastily;

Abide and eat thou easily.

Till thou have thy full service,

Touch thou no mess[^[56]] in no wise.

Carve thou not thy bread too thin,

Nor break it not in twain.

The morsels thou beginnest to touch

Cast them not into thy pouch.

Put not thy fingers in thy dish,

Neither in flesh, neither in fish.

Put not thy meat into the salt,

Into the cellar, that is a fault;[^[56]]

But lay it fairly thee before,

Upon thy trencher, that is good lore.

Pick not thine ears nor thy nostrils;

If thou do, men will say thou come of churls.

And while thy meat in thy mouth is,

Drink thou not—forget not this.

Eat thy meat by small morsels too,

Fill not thy mouth, as brothels[^[57]] do.

Pick not thy teeth with thy knife.

In no company begin thou strife.

And when thou hast thy pottage done,

Out of thy dish thou put thy spoon.

Nor spit thou not over the table,

Nor thereupon—that is nothing able.[^[58]]

Lay not thy elbow nor thy fist

Upon the table whiles thou eat’st.

Bulk[^[59]] not, as a bean were in thy throat,

As a carl[^[60]] that comes out of a cot.

If thy meat be of great price,

Beware of it, or thou art not wise.

Speak no word, nor still nor stark,[^[61]]

And honour and courtesy look thou work.[^[62]]

And at the table look thou make good cheer;

Look thou whisper not in no man’s ear.

With thy fingers[^[62]] thou touch and taste

Thy meat, and look thou do no waste.

Look thou laugh not neither grin;

And with much speech thou may’st do sin.

Meat nor drink look thou not spill,

But set it down, both fair and still.

Keep thy cloth clean thee beforn,

And bear thee so thou have no scorn.

Bite not thy meat, but carve it clean,

Be well aware no drop be seen.[^[63]]

When thou eatest gape not too wide,

That thy mouth be seen on ilk a side.

And son, beware, I rede, of one thing:

Blow neither in thy meat nor in thy drink.

And if thy lord drink at that tide,

Drink thou not, but him abide;

Be it at even, be it at noon,

Drink thou not till he have done.

Upon thy trencher no dirt must be;

It is not honest as I tell thee.

Nor drink behind no man’s back;[^[63]]

For if thou do, thou art to lack.

If cheese come forth, be not too greedy,

Nor to cut thereof too speedy.

Cast not thy bones unto the floor,

But on thy trencher thee before.

Keep clean thy cloth before thee all,

And sit thou still, whatso befall,

Till grace be said unto the end,

And till thou have washen with thy friend.

Let him that worthier is than thou art,

Wash before thee; that is thy part.

And spit thou not in thy basin

My sweet son, that thou washest in.

And arise then up, full soft and still,

And jangle neither with Jack nor Jill.[^[64]]

But take thy leave of the head lowly,

And thank him with thine heart highly,

And all the gentles together the same,[^[64]]

And bare thee so thou have no blame.

Then will men thereafter say:

“A gentleman was here to-day.”

And he that despiseth this teaching,

He is not worthy, without leasing,

Neither at good man’s table to sit,

Nor of no worship for to wit.[^[65]]

And therefore, children, for charity,

Love this book though it little be,

And pray for him that made it thus,

That he may be helped by sweet Jesús,

To live and die among his friends,

And never to be cumbered with no fiends.[^[66]]

And give us grace in joy to be,

Amen, Amen, for charity!

Explicit.

Learn or be Lewd,

quoth Whytyng.

Here endeth the Book of Courtesy that is full necessary unto young children that must needs learn the manner of courtesy.

THE YOUNG CHILDREN’S BOOK

WHOSO will thrive must be courteous, and learn the virtues in his youth, or in his age he is outcast among men. Clerks who know the Seven Sciences[^[66]] say that Courtesy came from heaven when Gabriel greeted our Lady and Elizabeth met with her; and in it are included all virtues, as all vices in rudeness.

Arise betimes from your bed, cross your breast and your forehead, wash your hands and face, comb your hair, and ask the grace of God to speed you in all your works; then go to Mass and ask mercy for all your trespasses. Say “Good morning” courteously to whomsoever you meet by the way.

When ye have done, break your fast with good meat and drink, but before eating cross your mouth, your diet will be the better for it. Then say your grace—it occupies but little time—and thank the Lord Jesus for your food and drink. Say also a Pater Noster and an Ave Maria for the souls that lie in pain, and then go labour as you are bound to do. Be not idle, for Holy Scripture says to you of Christian faith that if you work, you must eat what you get with your hands.[^[67]] A man’s arms are for working as a bird’s wings for flying.

Look you be true in word and deed, the better shall you prosper; for truth never works a man shame, but rather keeps him out of sin. The ways to Heaven are twain, mercy and truth, say clerks; and he who will come to the life of bliss, must not fail to walk therein.

Make no promise save it be good, and then keep it with all your might, for every promise is a debt that must not be remitted through falsehood.

Love God and your neighbour, and thus may ye say without fear or dread that you keep all the law.

Uncalled go to no council, scorn not the poor, nor hurt any man, learn of him that can teach you, be no flatterer or scoffer, oppress not your servants, be not proud, but meek and gentle, and always walk behind your betters.

When your better shows his will, be silent; and in speaking to any man keep your hands and feet quiet, and look up into his face, and be always courteous.

Point not with your finger at anything, nor be lief[^[68]] to tell tidings. If any man speak well of you or of your friends, he must be thanked. Have few words and wisely placed, for so may you win a good name.

Use no swearing or falsehood in buying or selling, else shall you be shamed at the last. Get your money honestly, and keep out of debt and sin. Be eager to please, and so live in peace and quiet.

Advise you well of whom you speak, and when and where and to whom.

Whenever you come unto a door, say, “God be here,” ere you go further, and speak courteously, wherever you are, to sire or dame or their household.

Stand, and sit not down to meat until you are told by him that rules the hall; and do not change your seat, but sit upright and mannerly where he bids, and eat and drink and be fellowly, and share with him that sits by you—thus teaches Dame Courtesy.

Take your salt with a clean knife.

Be cool of speech and quarrel not, nor backbite a man who is away, but be glad to speak well of all. Hear and see and say nothing, then shall ye not be put to proof.

Hold you pleased with the meat and drink set before you, nor ask for better. Wipe your mouth before you drink lest it foul the edge of the cup; and keep your fingers, your lips and your chin clean, if you would win a good name. When your meat is in your mouth, do not drink or speak or laugh—Dame Courtesy forbids. Praise your fare, wheresoever you be, for whether it be good or bad it must be taken in good part.

Whether you spit near or far, hold your hand before your mouth to hide it.

Keep your knife clean and sharp, and cleanse it on some cut bread, not on the cloth, I bid you; a courteous man is careful of the cloth. Do not put your spoon in the dish or on the edge of it, as the untaught do, or make a noise when you sup as do boys. Do not put the meat off your trencher into the dish, but get a voider and empty it into that.

When your better hands you a cup, take it with both hands lest it fall, and drink yourself and set it by; and if he speaks to you, doff your cap and bow your knee.

Do not scratch yourself at the table so that men call you a daw,[^[69]] nor wipe your nose or nostrils, else men will say you are come of churls. Make neither the cat nor the dog your fellow at the table. And do not play with the spoon, or your trencher, or your knife; but lead your life in cleanliness and honest manners.

This book is made for young children that bide not long at the school.[^[70]] It may soon be conned and learned, and will make them good if they be bad. God give them grace to be virtuous, for so may they thrive.

Amen! quoth Kate.[^[70]]

STANS PUER AD MENSAM[^[71]]

MY dear son, first thyself enable

With all thine heart to virtuous discipline;

Afore thy sovereign, standing at the table,

Dispose thou thyself, after my doctrine,

To all nurture thy courage to incline.

First, let all recklessness in speaking cease,

And keep both hands and fingers still at peace.

Be simple of cheer, cast not thy look aside,

Gaze not about, nor turn thy sight over all;

Against the post let not thy back abide,

Neither make thy mirror of the wall.

Pick not thy nose, and most in speciál,

Be well aware and set hereon thy thought:

Before thy sovereign nor scratch nor pick thee nought.

Whoso speak to thee in any manner place,

Lumpishly cast not thy head adown,

But with sober cheer look in his face;

Demurely walk through streets while in the town.

And take good heed of wisdom and renown,

That by no wanton laughing thou do no offence,

Before thy sovereign, while he is in presence.

Pare clean thy nails, and wash thy hands also,

Before thy meat and when thou dost arise;

Sit in that place thou art assignéd to,

Press not too high in any manner wise.

And when thy dinner served before thee lies,

Be not too hasty upon thy bread to bite,

Lest men of greediness should thee indict.[^[72]]

Grinning and mowing[^[73]] at the table eschew;

Cry not too loud; honestly keep silence.

To stuff thy jaws with bread it is not due,

With full mouth speak not, lest thou do offence.

Drink not with bridle[^[74]] for haste or negligence

Keep clean thy lips from fat of flesh or fish;

Wipe fair thy spoon, nor leave it in thy dish.

Of bitten bread with thy teeth no sops think thou to make;

Loud for to sup gainsays all gentleness.

With mouth imbrued[^[75]] thy cup thou must not take,

In ale, in wine, with hand leave no fatnéss;

Nor foul the napery through recklessness.

Beware that at the meat thou begin no strife.

Thy teeth at table pick not with no knife.

Of honest mirth let be thy dalliance,

Swear no oaths and speak no ribaldry;

The best morsels—have this in remembrance—

Wholly thyself to take do not apply.

Part with thy fellows, for that is courtesy.

Heap not thy trencher high with many morséls,

And from blackness alway keep thy nails.

Of courtesy it is against the law

With rudeness, son, to make cause of offence;

Of old forfeits[^[76]] upbraid not thy fellow;

Toward thy sovereign do reverence.

Play with no knife—take heed to my sentence.

At meat and at supper keep thee still and soft;

Eke to and fro move not thy feet too oft.

Drop not thy breast with stew[^[77]] and other pottáge,

Bring no unscoured knives unto the table;

Fill not thy spoon lest in the carriáge

It spill aside, which were not commendáble.

Be quick and ready, meek and serviceáble,

Well awaiting to fulfil anon

What that thy sovereign commandeth to be done.

And wheresoever thou be to dine or sup,

Of gentleness, take salt with thy knife.

And be well aware thou blow not in the cup.

Reverence thy fellows, begin with them no strife.

To thy power keep peace all thy life.

Interrupt no man, whereso that thou wend,

No man in his tale, till he have made an end.

With thy fingers mark thou not thy tale.

Be well advised, and namely, in tender age,

To drink measurably both wine and ale.

Be not too copious of thy languáge.

As time requireth, show not thy viságe

Too glad nor sorry, but keep thee even between,

For loss, or lucre, or any case suddén.

Be soft[^[78]] in measure, not hasty but tractáble;

Over-soft is nought, in no manner thing.

To children belongeth not to be vengeáble,[^[79]]

Soon movéd and full soon again fighting;[^[80]]

And as it is remembered by writing:

Wrath of children is soon overgone;

With the parts of an apple they be made at one.[^[81]]

In children war is now mirth and now debate;

In their quarrel is no great violence;

Now play, now weeping, and seldom in one estate,

To their complaints give never any credénce.

A rod reformeth all their negligence.

In their courage[^[82]] no rancour doth abide.

Who that spareth the rod all virtues sets aside.

Ah, little ballad, void of eloquence,[^[83]]

I pray young children that thee shall see and read,

Though thou be copious of sentence,

Yet to thy clauses for to take heed,

Which into all virtue shall their youth lead.

In this writing, though there be no date,

If aught be amiss in word, syllable or deed,

I submit me to correction without any debate.

HOW THE GOOD WIFE TAUGHT HER DAUGHTER

THE good wife taught her daughter,

Full many a time and oft,

A full good woman to be;

For said she: “Daughter to me dear,

Something good now must thou hear,

If thou wilt prosper thee.

Daughter, if thou wilt be a wife,

Look wisely that thou work;

Look lovely and in good life,

Love God and Holy Kirk.[^[84]]

Go to church whene’er thou may,

Look thou spare for no rain,

For best thou farest on that day;

To commune with God be fain.

He must needs well thrive,

That liveth well all his life,[^[85]]

My lief[^[86]] child.

Gladly give thy tithes and thy offerings both,

To the poor and the bed-rid—look thou be not loth.

Give of thine own goods and be not too hard,

For seldom is the house poor where God is stewárd.

Well is he provéd

Who the poor hath lovéd,

My lief child.

When thou sittest in the church, o’er thy beads bend;

Make thou no jangling with gossip or with friend.

Laugh thou to scorn neither old body nor young,

But be of fair bearing and of good tongue.

Through thy fair bearing

Thy worship hath increasing,

My lief child.

If any man offer thee courtship, and would marry thee,

Look that thou scorn him not, whatsoever he be;[^[87]]

But show it to thy friends and conceal it naught.

Sit not by him nor stand where sin might be wrought,

For a slander raised of ill

Is evil for to still,

My lief child.

The man that shall thee wed before God with a ring,

Love thou him and honour most of earthly thing.

Meekly thou him answer and not as an atterling,[^[88]]

So may’st thou slake his mood,[^[89]] and be his dear darling.

A fair word and a meek

Doth anger slake,

My lief child.

Fair of speech shalt thou be, glad and of mild mood,

True in word and in deed, and in conscience good.

Keep thee from sin, from villainy and from blame;

And look thou bear thee so that none say of thee shame,

For he that in good life hath run,

Full oft his weal hath won,

My lief child.

Be of seemly semblance, wise, and other good cheer;

Change not thy countenance for aught that thou may hear.

Fare not as a gig,[^[90]] for nought that may betide.

Laugh thou not too loud nor yawn thou not too wide.

But laugh thou soft and mild,

And be not of cheer too wild,

My lief child.

And when thou goest on thy way, go thou not too fast,

Brandish not with thy head, nor with thy shoulders cast,[^[91]]

Have not too many words, from swearing keep aloof,

For all such manners come to an evil proof.

For he that catcheth to him an evil name,

It is to him a foul fame,

My lief child.

Go thou not into the town, as it were agaze,[^[92]]

From one house to another, for to seek the maze;[^[93]]

Nor to sell thy russet,[^[94]] to the market shalt thou go,

And then to the tavern to bring thy credit low.

For they that taverns haunt

From thrift soon come to want,

My lief child.

And if thou be in any place where good ale is aloft,[^[95]]

Whether that thou serve thereof or that thou sit soft,

Measurably thou take thereof, that thou fall in no blame,

For if thou be often drunk, it falleth to thy shame.

For those that be often drunk—

Thrift is from them sunk,

My lief child.

Go not to the wrestling or shooting at the cock,[^[96]]

As it were a strumpet or a gigggelot[^[97]];

Dwell at home, daughter, and love thy work much,

And so thou shalt, my lief child, wax the sooner rich.

A merry thing ’tis evermore,

A man to be served of his own store,

My lief child.

Acquaint thee not with each man that goeth by the street,

Though any man speak to thee, swiftly[^[98]] thou him greet;

By him do not stand, but let him his way depart,

Lest he by his villainy should tempt thy heart.

For all men be not true

That fair words can shew,

My lief child.

Also, for covetousness gifts beware to take;

Unless thou know why else,[^[99]] quickly them forsake;

For with gifts may men soon women overcome,

Though they were as true as steel or as stone.

Bound forsooth is she

That of any man takes fee,[^[100]]

My lief child.

And wisely govern thy house, and serving maids and men,

Be thou not too bitter or too debonaire with them;

But look well what most needs to be done,

And set thy people at it, both rathely[^[101]] and soon.

For ready is at need

A foredone[^[102]] deed,

My lief child.

And if thy husband be from home, let not thy folk do ill,

But look who doeth well and who doeth nil;

And he that doeth well, quit him well his while,

But he that doeth other, serve him as the vile.

A foredone deed

Will another speed,[^[103]]

My lief child.

And if thy time be strait and great be thy need,

Then like a housewife set to work with speed;

Then will they all do better that about thee stand,

For work is sooner done that hath full many a hand.

For many a hand and wight

Makes a heavy work light;

And after thy good service,

Thy name shall arise,

My lief child.

Whate’er thy household doth, about them must thou wend,

And as much as thou mayest, be at that one end,

If thou find any fault, make them soon amend,

As they have time and space, and may them defend.

To compel a deed be done, if there be no space,

It is but tyranny, without temperance and grace,

My lief child.

And look that all things be well when they their work forsake,

Forget thou not the keys into thy ward to take

And beware to whom thou trustest, and for no fancy spare,

For much harm hath fallen to them that be not ’ware.

But, daughter, look thou be wise, and do as I thee teach,

And trust none better than thyself, for no fair speech,

My lief child.

And give your household their hire at their term-day,[^[104]]

Whether they dwell still with thee, or they wend away.

Do well by them of the goods thou hast in hold,

And then shall they say well of thee, both the young and old.

Thy good name to thy friends

Great joy and gladness lends,

My lief child.

And if thy neighbour’s wife hath on rich attire,

Therefore mock not, nor let scorn burn thee as a fire.

But thank thou God in heaven for what He may thee give,

And so shalt thou, my daughter dear, a good life live,

He hath ease in his power,

Who thanks the Lord every hour,

My lief child.

Housewifely thou shalt go on the working day,

For pride, rest, and idleness take thrift away;

But when the Holy Day is come, well clothéd shalt thou be,

The Holy Day to honour, and God will cherish thee.

Have in mind to worship God alway,

For much pride comes of the evil day,

My lief child.

When thou art a wife, a neighbour for to be,

Love then well thy neighbours as God hath commanded thee.

It behoveth thee so for to do,

And to do to them as thou would’st be done to.

If any discord happen, night or day,

Make it no worse, mend it if thou may,

My lief child.

And if thou art a rich wife, be not then too hard,

But welcome fair thy neighbours that come to-thee-ward

With meat, drink, and honest cheer, such as thou mayest bid,[^[105]]

To each man after his degree, and help the poor at need.

And also for hap that may betide,

Please well thy neighbours that dwell thee beside,

My lief child.

Daughter, look that thou beware, whatsoever thee betide,

Make not thy husband poor with spending or with pride.

A man must spend as he may that hath but easy good,[^[106]]

For as a wren hath veins, men must let her blood.[^[107]]

His thrift waxeth thin

That spendeth ere he win,

My lief child.

Borrow not too busily, nor take thine hire first,

This may make the more need, and end by being worst.

Nor make thee not to seem rich with other men’s store,

Therefore spend thou never a farthing more.

For though thou borrow fast,

It must home again at last,

My lief child.

And if thy children be rebel and will not bow them low,

If any of them misdo, neither curse them nor blow;[^[108]]

But take a smart rod and beat them in a row,

Till they cry mercy and their guilt well know.

Dear child, by this lore

They will love thee ever more,

My lief child.

And look to thy daughters that none of them be lorn;

From the very time that they are of thee born,

Busy thyself and gather fast for their marriage,

And give them to spousing as soon as they be of age.

Maidens be fair and amiable,

But in their love full unstable,

My lief child.

Now have I taught thee, daughter, as my mother did me;

Think thereon night and day, that forgotten it not be.

Have measure and lowness, as I have thee taught,

Then whatever man shall wed thee will regret it naught.

Better you were a child unbore

Than untaught in this wise lore,

My lief child.

Now thrift and speed be thine, my sweet bairn [near or far]!

Of all our former fathers that ever were or are,

Of all patriarchs and prophets that ever were alive,—

Their blessing may’st thou have, and well may’st thou thrive!

For well it is with that child

That with sin is not defiled,

My lief child.

The blessing of God may’st thou have, and of His mother bright,

Of all angels and archangels and every holy wight![^[109]]

And may’st thou have grace to wend thy way full right,

To the bliss of heaven, where God sits in His might!”

Amen.

HOW THE WISE MAN TAUGHT HIS SON

LISTEN, lordlings, and ye shall hear how the wise man taught his son. Take good heed to this matter and learn it if ye can, for this song was made with good intent to make men true and steadfast, and a thing well begun makes often a good ending.

There was a wise man taught his son while he was yet a child of tender years, meek and fair to look upon, very eager for learning and with a great desire to all goodness; and his father taught him well and featly by good example and fair words.

He said: “My son, take good heed every morning, ere ye do worldly thing, lift up your heart to God, and pray as devoutly as you can for grace to lead a good life, and to escape sin both night and day, and that heaven’s bliss may be your meed.

“And, my son, wherever you go, be not full of tales; beware what you say, for your own tongue may be your foe. If you say aught, take good heed where and to whom, for a word spoken to-day may be repented seven years after.

“And, son, whatever manner of man ye be, give yourself not to idleness, but busy yourself every day according to your estate. Beware of rest and ease, which things nourish sloth. Ever to be busy, more or less, is a full good sign of honesty.[^[110]]

“And, son, I warn you also not to desire to bear office, for then can it be no other than that you must either displease and hurt your neighbours, or else forswear yourself and not do as your office demands; and get yourself, maugré,[^[111]] here and there, an hundredfold more than thanks.

“And, son, as far as you may, go on no evil quests, nor bear false witness in any man’s matter. It were better for you to be deaf and dumb than to enter wrongfully into a quest. Think, son, on the dreadful doom that God shall deem[^[112]] us at the last!

“And, son, of another thing I warn you, on my blessing take good heed of tavern-haunting, and of the dice, and flee all lechery, lest you come to an evil end, for it will lead astray all your wits and bring you into great mischief.

“And, son, sit not up too long at even, or have late suppers, though ye be strong and hale, for with such outrage your health shall worsen. And of late walking comes debate,[^[113]] and of sitting and drinking out of time, therefore beware and go to bed betimes and wink.

“And, son, if ye would have a wife, take her not for her money, but inquire wisely of all her life, and give good heed that she be meek, courteous and prudent, even though she be poor; and such an one will do you more good service in time of need, than a richer.

“And if your wife be meek and good, and serve you well and pleasantly, look ye be not so mad as to charge her too grievously, but rule her with a fair hand and easy, and cherish her for her good deeds. For a thing unskilfully overdone makes needless grief to grow, and it is better to have a meal’s meat of homely fare with peace and quiet, than an hundred dishes with grudging and much care. And therefore learn this well that if you want a wife to your ease, take her never the more for the riches she may have, though she might endow you with lands.

“And ye shall not displease your wife, nor call her by no villainous names, for it is a shame to you to miscall a woman; and in so doing, ye are not wise, for if ye defame your own wife, no wonder that another should do so! Soft and fair will tame alike hart and hind, buck and doe.

“On the other hand, be not too hasty to fight or chide, if thy wife come to you at any time with complaint of man or child; and be not avenged till you know the truth, for you might make a stir in the dark, and afterwards it should rue you both.

“And, son, if you be well at ease, and sit warm among your neighbours, do not get new-fangled ideas, or be hasty to change, or to flit;[^[114]] for if ye do, ye lack wit and are unstable, and men will speak of it and say: ‘This fool can bide nowhere!’

“And, son, the more goods you have, the rather bear you meekly, and be humble, and boast not overmuch; it is wasted, for by their boasting men know fools.

“And look you pay well what you owe, and set no great store by other riches, for death takes both high and low, and then—farewell, all that there is! And therefore do by my counsel, and take example from other men, how little their goods avail them when they be dolven[^[115]] in their dens;[^[116]] and one that was not of his kin hath his wife, and all that there is.[^[117]]

“Son, keep you from deadly sin, and assay to enter Paradise. Make amends for your trespasses and deal out of your goods to poor men, make friends of your foes, and strive to gain salvation for your soul, for the world is false and frail, and every day doth worsen. Son, set nought by this world’s weal, for it fares as a ripe cherry. And death is ever, I trow, the most certain thing that is; and nothing is so uncertain as to know the time thereof. Therefore, my son, think on this, on all that I have said, and may Jesus, who for us bare the crown of thorns, bring us to His bliss.”

Amen.

JOHN RUSSELL’S BOOK OF NURTURE

“IN nomine Patris, God keep me, et Filii, for charity, Et Spiritus Sancti, where that I go by land or else by sea!

An usher I am ye may behold to a prince of high degree, That enjoys to inform and teach all those that would thrive in prosperity.”

Should I meet with any man who either through inexperience or through negligence knows naught of such things as I shall hereafter diligently show, for my conscience’ sake I will instruct him; for methinks it is charitable to teach virtue and good manners, in which most youths are barren and dull. But if there be any who can nothing good and are not willing to learn, give them a bauble to play with, for they will never thrive.

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“As I rose out of my bed, in a merry season of May,

To sport me in a forest, where sights were fresh and gay,

I met with the forester; I prayed him to say me not nay,

That in his woodland I might walk among the deer away.

As I wandered at will, in the wood that was so green,

There lay three herds of deer, a seemly sight, I ween.

I beheld on my right hand the sun that shone so sheen;

I saw where walked a seemly young man, that slender was and lean.

His bow he took in hand toward the deer to stalk,

I prayed him his shot to leave and softly with me to walk.”

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Thereupon the young man was glad and loved to talk with me; but when I inquired whom he served, he said: “God help me, sir, I serve myself and else no other man.”

“Is thy governance good[^[118]]?” I said. “My son, tell me if thou wilt.”

“I would I were out of this world,” said he; “I reck not how soon when!”

“Say not so, good son, beware! Methinks you mean amiss for God forbids wanhope,[^[119]] which is a horrible sin. Therefore, good son, open your heart to me, peradventure I can relieve you. Remember that when bale[^[120]] is highest, boot[^[121]] is nighest.”

“In truth, sir, I have sought far and near in many a wildsome way to get me a master. But because I knew nothing good, and showed this wherever I went, every man denied me; day by day, wanton[^[122]] and over-nice, reckless, lewd and chattering like a jay, every man refused me.”

“Now, good son, if I will teach, will you learn? Will you be a serving-man, a ploughman, a labourer, a courtier, a clerk, a merchant, a mason or an artificer, a chamberlain, a butler, a panter or a carver?”

“Teach me, sir, the duties of a butler, a panter or a chamberlain, and especially, the cunning of a carver. If you will make me to know all these, I will pray for your soul that it come never in pain!”

“Son, I will teach you with right good will, so as you will love and fear God as is right and proper, be true to your master, and not waste his goods, but love and fear him, and duly fulfil his commandments.”

The Duties of a Panter or Butler

“The first year, my son, you shall be panter or butler. In the pantry, you must always keep three sharp knives, one to chop the loaves, another to pare them, and a third, sharp and keen, to smooth and square the trenchers with.[^[123]]

“Always cut your lord’s bread, and see that it be new; and all other bread at the table one day old ere you cut it, all household bread three days old, and trencher-bread four days old.

“Look that your salt be fine, white, fair, and dry; and have your salt-plane of ivory, two inches wide and three long; and see to it that the lid of the salt-cellar touch not the salt.

“Good son, look that your napery be sweet and clean, and that your table-cloth, towel, and napkin be folded neatly, your table-knives brightly polished and your spoons fair washed—ye wot well what I mean.

“Look ye have two wine-augers, a greater and a less, some gutters of boxwood that fit them, also a gimlet to pierce with, a tap and a bung, ready to stop the flow when it is time. So when you broach a pipe, good son, do after my teaching: pierce or bore with an auger or gimlet, slanting upward, four fingers’ breadth from the lower rim, so as not to cause the lees to rise—I warn you especially.”

[Here follows a list of fruits and preserves, which presently becomes a mere dietary, ll. 73-108.]

“Take good heed to the wines, red, white, and sweet; look to them every night with a candle, to see that they neither ferment nor leak. Never forget to wash the heads of the pipes with cold water every night; and always carry a gimlet, adze and linen clouts,[^[124]] large and small. If the wine ferment, ye shall know by its singing, so keep at hand a pipe of couleur de rose,[^[125]] that has been spent in drinking and add to the fermentation the dregs of this, and it shall be amended. If sweet wine be sick or pallid, put in a Romney to improve it.”

[Then follows a list of the sweet wines, and a long recipe for Hippocras, ll. 117-176.]

The Buttery

“See that your cups and pots be clean, both within and without. Serve no ale till it is five days old, for new ale is wasteful.[^[125]] And look that all things about you be sweet and clean.

“Be fair of answer, ready to serve, and gentle of cheer, and then men will say; ‘There goes a gentle officer.’

“Beware that ye give no person stale drink, for fear that ye bring many a man into disease for many a year.[^[125]]

“My son, it is now the time of day to lay the table. First, wipe it with a cloth ere it be spread, then lay on it a cloth called a cowche.[^[125]] You take one end and your mate the other, and draw it straight; and lay a second cloth with its fold on the outer edge of the table.[^[126]] Lift the upper part and let it hang even. And then lay the third cloth with its fold on the inner edge, making a state[^[126]] half a foot wide, with the top. Cover your ewery-cupboard[^[127]] with a diapered-towel, and put a towel round your neck,[^[126]] for that is courtesy, and put one end of it mannerly over your left arm; and on the same arm place your lord’s napkin, and on it lay eight loaves of bread, with three or four trencher-loaves. Take one end of the towel in your left hand, as the manner is, together with the salt-cellar—look you do this—and take the other end of the towel in your right hand with the spoons and knives.

“Set the salt on your lord’s right hand, and to the left of your salt, one or two trenchers, and to the left again, your knife by itself and plain to see, and the white rolls, and beside them a spoon upon a fair folded napkin. Cover your spoon, napkin, trencher and knife, so that they cannot be seen; and at the other end of the table place a salt with two trenchers.

“If you wish to wrap up your lord’s bread in a stately fashion, first square off the bread sharply and evenly, and see that no bun or loaf be larger in proportion to the others, and so shall ye be able to wrap it up mannerly for your master. Take a towel of Rennes cloth,[^[128]] two and a half yards long, fold it lengthwise[^[128]] and lay it on the table. Roll up a handful from each end tightly and stiffly, then in the middle of the towel place eight loaves or buns, bottom to bottom, and then wrap them wisely and skilfully. To tell you more plainly for your information: take the ends of the towel that lies on the bread, draw them out and twist tightly a handful nearest the bread and smooth the wrapper stiffly. When it is ready, you must open one end all in a moment before your lord.

When your sovereign’s table is dressed in this array, place salts on all the other tables, and lay trenchers and cups; and then set out your cupboard with gay silver and silver-gilt, and your ewery board with basins and ewers, and hot and cold water, each to temper the other. Look that you have ever enough napkins, spoons and cups for your lord’s table; also, for your own dignity, that your pots for ale and wine be as clean as possible, and beware ever of flies and motes, for your own sake.

“With lowly courtesy, make the surnape[^[129]] with a cloth under a double of fair napery; fold the two ends of the towel to the outer edge of the cloth, and so hold the three ends together; then fold them all so that there is a pleat at about a foot’s distance, and lay it fair and smooth for your lord to wash after meat, if he will. At the right side of the table, you must guide it along, and the marshal must slip it further—the right side up of all three cloths—and let it be drawn straight and even, both in length and breadth; then raise the upper part of the towel and lay it without wrinkling straight to the other side so that half a yard or an ell hangs down at each end, where the sewer[^[129]] may make a state, and so please his master. When your lord has washed, you must take up the surnape with your two arms, and carry it back to the ewery yourself.

“Carry a towel about your neck when serving your lord, bow to him, uncover your bread and set it by the salt. Look that all have knives, spoons and napkins, and always when you pass your lord, see that you bow your knees.

“Go forth to the port-payne[^[130]] and there take eight loaves, and put four at each end of the table, and be sure that each person has a spoon and a napkin.

“Watch the sewer to see how many pottages he covers, and do ye for as many, and serve each according to his degree; and see that none lack bread, ale or wine.

“Be glad of cheer, courteous of knee, soft of speech; have clean hands and nails and be carefully dressed.

“Do not cough or spit or retch too loud, or put your fingers into the cups to seek bits of dust.

“Have an eye to all grumbling and fault-finding, and prevent backbiting of their fellows among the lords at meat, by serving all with bread, ale and wine; and so shall ye have of all men good love and praise.”

Simple Conditions

“I will that ye eschew forever the ‘simple conditions’ of a person that is not taught.

“Do not claw your head or your back as if you were after a flea, or stroke your hair as if you sought a louse.

“Be not glum,[^[131]] nor twinkle with your eyes, nor be heavy of cheer; and keep your eyes free from winking and watering.[^[132]]

“Do not pick your nose or let it drop clear pearls, or sniff, or blow it too loud, lest your lord hear.

“Twist not your neck askew like a jackdaw; wring not your hands with picking or trifling or shrugging, as if ye would saw [wood]; nor puff up your chest, nor pick your ears, nor be slow of hearing.

“Retch not, nor spit too far, nor laugh or speak too loud. Beware of making faces and scorning; and be no liar with your mouth. Nor yet lick your lips or drivel.

“Do not have the habit of squirting or spouting with your mouth, or gape, or yawn, or pout. And do not lick a dish with your tongue to get out dust.

“Be not rash or reckless—that is not worth a clout.

“Do not sigh with your breast, or cough, or breathe hard in the presence of your sovereign, or hiccough, or belch, or groan never the more. Do not trample with your feet, or straddle your legs, or scratch your body—there is no sense in showing off. Good son, do not pick your teeth, or grind, or gnash them, or with puffing and blowing cast foul breath upon your lord.... These gallants in their short coats—that is ungoodly guise. Other faults on this matter, I spare not to disapprove in my opinion, when

“A man might find many more conditions than are named here; but let every honest servant avoid them for his own credit.

“Panter, yeoman of the cellar, butler and ewerer, I will that ye obey the marshal, sewer and carver.”

“Good sir, I pray you teach me the skill of carving, and the fair handling of a knife, and all the ways that I shall break open, unlace and penetrate all manner of fowl, flesh and fish—how I shall demean me with each.”

[Office of a Carver]

“My son, thy knife must be clean and bright; and it beseems thee to have thy hands fair washed. Hold always thy knife surely, so as not to hurt thyself, and have not more than two fingers and the thumb on thy keen knife.

“Midway in thy hand, set the end of thy haft firmly; and unlace and mince with the thumb and two fingers only. In cutting and placing bread, and voiding of crumbs and trencher, look you have skill with two fingers and the thumb. Likewise, never use more for fish, flesh, beast or fowl—that is courtesy.

“Touch no manner of meat with thy right hand, but with thy left, as is proper. Always with thy left hand grasp the loaf with all thy might; and hold thy knife firmly, as I have instructed thee. Ye do not right to soil your table, nor to wipe your knives on that, but on your napkin.

“First take a loaf of trenchers in your left hand, then your table-knife, as I have said before; and with its edge raising your trencher up by you as near the point as you may, lay it before your lord. Right so set four trenchers, one by another, four square, and upon them a single trencher alone. And take your loaf of light bread, as I have told you, and cut with the edge of the knife near your hand; first pare the quarters of the loaf round all about, and cut the upper crust[^[133]] for your lord, and bow to him; and suffer the other part to remain still at the bottom, and so nigh spent out,[^[134]] and lay him of the crumbs a quarter of the loaf.

“Touch not the loaf after it is so trimmed; put it on a platter or on the beforenamed alms-dish. Make clean your board that ye be not blamed; and so shall the sewer serve his lord, and neither of you be vexed.”

[Here follows a list of Fumosities, indigestibilities, as Dr. Furnivall calls them, ll. 349-68. The young man then says:]

“Now fair befal you, father, and well may ye [a]chieve

For these points by practice I hope full well to prove;

And yet shall I pray for you daily while that I live,

Both for body and soul that God you guide from grief.”

[He then begs to be taught the art of “carving of fish and flesh[^[133]] after the cook’s care,” and receives detailed instructions for every sort of food, roasted, baked and fried, for the serving of soups, making of sauces and carving of fish, ll. 377-649. He then says:]

“Now, father, fair fall ye, and Christ you have in cure,

For of the nurture of carving, I suppose that I be sure.

But yet another office there is, save I dare not endure

To ask you any further, for fear of displeasure.

For to be a sewer I would I had the cunning,

Then durst I do my devoir[^[135]] with any worshipful to be woning;[^[136]]

Since that I know the course and the craft of carving,

I would see the sight of a sewer, what way he showeth in serving.”

Office of a Sewer

“Now since, my son, you wish to learn this science, dread nothing of great difficulty; I will gladly teach you, if you will but listen.

“Take heed when the worshipful head of any household has washed before meat and begins to say grace, then hie you to the kitchen where the servants must attend and take your orders. First ask the panter or officer of the spicery for fruits, such as butter, plums, damsons, grapes and cherries, which are served before dinner according to the season to make men merry, and ask if any such are to be served that day. Then commune with the cook and surveyor[^[137]] as to what meats and how many dishes are prepared. When they two have agreed with you, then must the cook dress up all dishes to the surveying-board,[^[138]] and the surveyor must soberly and without turmoil deliver up the dishes to you, that you may convey them to your lord. When you are at the board of service, see that you have courtly and skilful officers to prevent any dish being stolen, which might easily cause a scandal to arise in your service as sewer. See that you have proper servants to carry the dishes, marshals, squires and serjeants-at-arms, if they be there, to bring the dishes without delay or injury from the kitchen, and you need not fear to set them on the table yourself.”[^[139]]

[Then follow various menus, ll. 686-858. The young man answers:]

“Now fair fall you, father, in faith, I am full fain;

For lovesomely ye have taught me this nurture again.

Pleaseth it you to certify me with one word or twain,

The courtesy to conceive conveniently for every chamberlain?”

The Office of a Chamberlain

“The duty of a chamberlain is to be diligent in office, neatly clad, his clothes not torn, hands and face well washed and head well kempt.

“He must be ever careful—not negligent—of fire and candle. And look you[^[140]] give diligent attendance to your master, be courteous, glad of cheer, quick of hearing in every way, and be ever on the lookout for things to do him pleasure; if you will acquire these qualities, it may advance you well.

“See that your lord has a clean shirt and hose, a short coat,[^[141]] a doublet, and a long coat, if he wear such, his hose well brushed, his socks at hand, his shoes or slippers as brown as a water-leech.[^[140]]

“In the morning, against your lord shall rise, take care that his linen be clean, and warm it at a clear fire, not smoky, if [the weather] be cold or freezing.

“When he rises make ready the foot-sheet, and forget not to place a chair or some other seat with a cushion on it before the fire, with another cushion for the feet. Over the cushion and chair spread this sheet so as to cover them; and see that you have a kerchief and a comb to comb your lord’s head before he is fully dressed.

“Then pray your lord in humble words to come to a good fire and array him thereby, and there to sit or stand pleasantly; and wait with due manners to assist him. First hold out to him his tunic, then his doublet while he puts in his arms, and have his stomacher well aired to keep off harm, as also his vamps[^[142]] and socks, and so shall he go warm all day.

“Then draw on his socks and his hose by the fire, and lace or buckle his shoes, draw his hosen on well and truss them up to the height that suits him, lace his doublet in every hole, and put round his neck and on his shoulders a kerchief; and then gently comb his head with an ivory comb, and give him water wherewith to wash his hands and face.

“Then kneel down on your knee and say thus: ‘Sir, what robe or gown doth it please you to wear to-day?’ Then get him such as he asks for, and hold it out for him to put on, and do on his girdle, if he wear one, tight or loose, arrange his robe in the proper fashion, give him a hood or hat for his head, a cloak or cappe-de-huse,[^[143]] according as it be fair or foul, or all misty with rain; and so shall ye please him. Before he goes out, brush busily about him, and whether he wear satin, sendal,[^[144]] velvet, scarlet[^[145]] or grain,[^[146]] see that all be clean and nice.

“If he be prince or prelate or other potentate, before he go to church see that all things for the pew be made ready, and forget not cushion, carpet, curtain, beads or book.

“Then return in haste to your lord’s chamber, strip the clothes off the bed and cast them aside, and beat the feather-bed, but not so as to waste any feathers, and see that the blankets and sheets be clean. When you have made the bed mannerly, cover it with a coverlet, spread out the bench-covers,[^[147]] and cushions, set up the head-sheet[^[148]] and pillow, and remove the basin. See that carpets[^[149]] be laid round the bed and dress the windows, and the cupboard with carpets[^[149]] and cushions. See there be a good fire conveyed into the chamber, with plenty of wood and fuel to make it up....

“The Wardrobe

“You must attend busily to your lord’s wardrobe, to keep the clothes well, and to brush them cleanly. Use a soft brush, and remember that overmuch brushing easily wears out cloth.

“Never let woollen clothes or furs go a sevennight without being brushed or shaken, for moths be always ready to alight in them and engender; so always keep an eye on drapery and skinnery.

“If your lord take a nap after his meal to digest his stomach, have ready kerchief and comb, pillow and head-sheet; yet be not far from him—take heed what I say—for much sleep is not good in the middle of the day, and have ready water and towel so that he may wash after his sleep.

“When he has supped and goes to his chamber, spread forth your foot-sheet, as I have already shown you, take off his gown or whatever garment by the license of his estate he wears,[^[150]] and lay it up in such place as ye best know. Put a mantle on his back to keep his body from cold, set him on the foot-sheet, made ready as I have directed, and pull off his shoes, socks and hosen, and throw these last over your shoulder, or hold them on your arm. Comb his hair, but first kneel down, and put on his kerchief and nightcap wound[^[150]] in seemly fashion. Have the bed, head-sheet and pillow ready; and when he is in bed, there to sleep safe and sound, draw the curtains round about the bed, set there his night-light with wax or Paris-candle,[^[150]] and see that there is enough to last the night, drive out the dog and the cat, giving them a clout, take no leave of your lord, but bow low to him and retire, and thus shall ye have thanks and reward whensoever it fall.”

“A Bath or Stew so-called

“If your lord wishes to bathe and wash his body clean, hang sheets round the roof, every one full of flowers and sweet green herbs, and have five or six sponges to sit or lean upon, and see that you have one big sponge to sit upon, and a sheet over so that he may bathe there for a while, and have a sponge also for under his feet, if there be any to spare, and always be careful that the door is shut. Have a basin full of hot fresh herbs and wash his body with a soft sponge, rinse him with fair warm rose-water, and throw it over him; then let him go to bed; but see that the bed be sweet and nice; and first put on his socks and slippers that he may go near the fire and stand on his foot-sheet, wipe him dry with a clean cloth, and take him to bed to cure his troubles.”

“The Making of a Medicinable Bath

“Boil together hollyhock,[^[151]] mallow, wall pellitory and brown fennel, danewort, St. John’s wort, centaury, ribwort and camomile, heyhove, heyriff, herb-benet, bresewort, smallage, water speedwell, scabious, bugloss (?), and wild flax which is good for aches—boil withy leaves and green oats together with them, and throw them hot into a vessel and put your lord over it and let him endure for a while as hot as he can, being covered over and closed on every side; and whatever disease, grievance or pain ye be vexed with, this medicine shall surely make you whole, as men say.”

“The Office of Usher and Marshal

“An usher or marshal, without fail, must know all the estates of the Church, and the excellent estate of a king with his honourable blood. This is a notable nurture, cunning, curious and commendable.

“The estate of the Pope has no peer, an emperor is next him everywhere and a King is correspondent, a high cardinal next in dignity, then a King’s son (ye call him prince), an archbishop his equal; a duke of the blood royal; a bishop, marquis and earl coequal; a viscount, legate, baron, suffragan and mitred abbot; a baron of the exchequer, the three chief justices and the Mayor of London; a cathedral prior, unmitred abbot and knight bachelor; a prior, dean, archdeacon, knight and body esquire; the Master of the Rolls (as I reckon aright), and puisne judge; clerk of the crown and the exchequer, and you may pleasantly prefer the Mayor of Calais.[^[152]]

“A provincial,[^[153]] doctor of divinity and prothonotary[^[154]] may dine together; and you may place the pope’s legate or collector with a doctor of both laws. An ex-mayor of London ranks with a serjeant-at-law, next a Mastery of Chancery, and then a worshipful preacher of pardons,[^[155]] masters of arts, and religious orders, parsons and vicars, and parish priests with a cure, the bailiffs of a city, a yeoman of the crown, and serjeant-of-arms with his mace, with him a herald, the King’s herald in the first place, worshipful merchants and rich artificers, gentlemen well-nurtured and of good manners, together with gentlewomen and lords’ foster-mothers[^[156]]—all these may eat with squires.

“Lo, son, I have now told you, after my simple wit, the rank of every estate according to his degree, and now I will show you how they should be grouped at table in respect of their dignity, and how they should be served.

“The pope, an emperor, king, cardinal, prince with a golden royal rod,[^[157]] archbishop in his pall—all these for their dignity ought not to dine in the hall.

“A bishop, viscount, marquis, goodly earl may sit at two messes if they be agreeable thereunto.

“The Mayor of London, a baron, a mitred abbot, the three chief justices, the Speaker of Parliament—all these estates are great and honourable, and they may sit together in chamber or hall, two or three at a mess, if it so please them; but in your office you must try to please every man.

“The other estates, three or four to a mess, equal to a knight’s, are: unmitred abbot or prior, dean, archdeacon, Master of the Rolls, all the under judges and barons of the king’s exchequer, a provincial, a doctor of divinity or of both laws, a prothonotary, or the pope’s collector, if he be there, and the Mayor of the Staple.

“Other ranks you may set four to a mess, of persons equal to a squire in dignity, serjeants-at-law and ex-mayors of London, the masters of Chancery, all preachers, residencers, and parsons, apprentices of the law, merchants and franklins—these may sit properly at a squire’s table.

“Each estate shall sit at meat by itself, not seeing the others, at meal-time or in the field or in the town; and each must sit alone in the chamber or in the pavilion.

“The Bishop of Canterbury shall be served apart from the Archbishop of York, and the Metropolitan shall be served alone. The Bishop of York must not be served in the presence of the Primate of England.[^[158]]

“Now, son, from divers causes, as equally from ignorance, a marshal is often puzzled how to rank lords of royal blood who are poor, and others not of royal blood who are rich, also ladies of royal blood wedded to knights, and poor ladies marrying those of royal blood. The lady of royal blood shall keep her rank, the lady of low blood and degree shall take her husband’s rank. The substance of livelihood[^[159]] is not so digne[^[160]] as royal blood, wherefore this prevails in chamber and hall, for some day blood royal might attain to the kingship.

“If the parents of a pope or cardinal be still alive, they must in no wise presume to be equal to their son, either sitting or standing. The estate of their son will not allow them either to sit or stand by him—nor should they desire it; wherefore they should have a separate chamber assigned to them.

“A marshal must look to the birth of each estate, and arrange officers such as chancellor, steward, chamberlain, treasurer, according to their degree.

“He must honour foreign visitors, and strangers to this land, even when they are resident here. A well-trained marshal should think beforehand how to place strangers at the table, for if they show gentle cheer and good manners, he thereby doth honour his lord and bring praise to himself.

“If the king send any messenger to your lord, if he be a knight, squire, yeoman of the crown, groom, page or child, receive him honourably as a baron, knight, squire, yeoman or groom,[^[161]] and so forth, from the highest degree to the lowest, for a king’s groom may dine with a knight or a marshal.

“A commendable marshal must also understand the rank of all the worshipful officers of the commonalty of this land, of shires, cities and boroughs—such must be placed in due order, according to their rank.

“The estate of a knight of [good] blood and wealth is not the same as that of a simple and poor knight. Also, the Mayor of Queenborough[^[162]] is not of like dignity with the Mayor of London—nothing like of degree; and they must on no account sit at the same table.

“The Abbot of Westminster is the highest in the land, and the Abbot of Tintern the poorest; both are abbots, yet Tintern shall neither sit nor stand with Westminster.[^[162]] Also, the Prior of Dudley may in no wise sit with the Prior of Canterbury.[^[162]] And remember, as a general rule, that a prior who is a prelate of a cathedral church, shall sit above any abbot or prior of his own diocese, in church, chapel, chamber or hall.

“Reverend doctors of twelve years’ standing shall sit above those of nine years’, although the latter may spend more largely of fine red gold. Likewise, the younger aldermen shall sit or stand below their elders, and so in every craft, the master first, and then the ex-warden.

“All these points, with many more, belong to the duty of a marshal; and so before every feast think what estates shall sit in the hall, and reason with yourself before your lord shall call upon you. If you are in any doubt, go either to your lord or to the chief officer, and then shall you do no wrong or prejudice to any state; but set all according to their birth, riches or dignity.

“Now, good son, I have shown you the courtesy of the court, and how to manage in pantry, buttery, cellar or in carving, as a sewer or as a marshal. I suppose ye be sure in these sciences, which in my day I learned with a royal prince, to whom I was usher and also marshal.

“All the officers I have mentioned have to obey me, ever to fulfil my commandment when I call, for our office is the chief in spicery and cellar, whether the cook be lief or loth.[^[163]]

“All these divers offices may be filled by a single person, but the dignity of a prince requireth each office to have its officer and a servant waiting on him. Moreover, all must know their duties perfectly, for doubt and fear are a hindrance in serving a lord and pleasing his guests.

“Fear not to serve a prince—God be his speed! Take good heed to your duties, and be ever on the watch, and thus doing as ye should, there will be no need to doubt.

“Tasting is done only for those of royal blood, as pope, emperor, empress, cardinal, king, queen, prince, archbishop, duke or earl—none other that I call to remembrance. It is done for fear of poison, so let each man in office keep his room secure and close his safe,[^[164]] chest and storehouse for fear of conspiracy.

“The steward and chamberlain of a prince of the blood must know about homages, services and fewte;[^[165]] and as they have the oversight of all other offices and of the tasting, they must tell the marshal, sewer or carver, how to do it; and he must be in no fear when he tasteth.

“As the evening draws in, and I cannot tarry, I do not propose to contrive more of this matter. This treatise that I have entitled, if ye would prove it, I myself assayed in youth, when I was young and lusty; and I enjoyed these aforesaid matters, and took good heed to learn. But crooked age hath now compelled me to leave the court, so assay for yourself, my son, and God speed you!”

“Now, fair befall you, father, and blessings be on you for thus teaching me! I shall dare to do diligent service to divers dignitaries, where before I was afraid for the scantiness of my knowledge; I perceive the whole matter so perfectly that I am ready to try my part, and some good I may learn from practice and exercise. I am bound always to pray God reward you for your gentle teaching of me!”

“Now, good son, thyself and others that shall succeed thee to note, learn and read over this book of nurture, pray for the soul of John Russell, servant to Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester. Pray for that peerless prince, and for the souls of my wife and my father and mother, unto Mary, Mother and Maid, that she defend us from our foes, and bring us all to bliss when we go hence. Amen.”

[The envoi may have been added later[^[166]]]

“Go forth, little book, and lowly thou me commend,

Unto all young gentlemen that list to learn or entend,[^[167]]

And specially to them that have experience, praying them to amend,

And correct what is amiss, whereas I fail or offend.

And if so that any be found as through my negligence,

Cast the cause on my copy, rude and bare of eloquence,

Which to draw out [I] have done my busy diligence,

Readily to reform it by reason and better sentence.

As for rhyme or reason, the fore-writer was not to blame,

For as he found it before him, so wrote he the same,

And though he or I in our matter digress or degrade,

Blame neither of us, for we never it made;

Simple, as I had insight, somewhat the rhyme I correct.

Blame I could no man, I have no person suspect.

Now, good God, grant us grace our souls never to infect,

Then we may reign in thy region eternally with thine elect.”

THE BOOK OF COURTESY

Here beginneth the First Book of Courtesy

WHOSO will of courtesy hear,

In this book it is made clear.

If thou be gentleman, yeoman or knave,

Thee needeth nurture for to have.

When thou comest to a lord’s gate,

The porter thou shalt find thereat;

Take[^[168]] him thou shalt thy weapon to,

And ask him leave in to go,

To speak with lord, lady, squire or groom,

Thereof thou must bethink thee soon;

For if he be of low degree,

Then him falls to come to thee.

If he be gentleman of kin

The porter thee will lead to him.

When thou comest the hall door to,

Take off thy hood, thy gloves off do.

If the hall at the first meat be,

Forget not this lesson concerns thee:

The steward, controller and treasurer there,

Sitting at the daïs, hail thou fair.

Within the hall set on either side,

Sit other gentlemen, as falls that tide.

Incline thee fair to them also,

First to the right hand thou shalt go,

Sithen[^[169]] to the left hand thine eye thou cast,

To them thou bowest full fast.

Take heed to yeomen on thy right hand,

And sithen before the screen thou stand,

Amid the hall upon the floor,

While marshal or usher come fro the door,

And bid thee sit or to board thee lead.

Be stable of cheer for manners, take heed.

If ye be set at a gentleman’s board,

Look thou be hend[^[170]] and little of word.

Pare thy bread and carve in two

The overcrust from the nether through.

In four thou cut the overdole,[^[171]]

Set them together as it were whole,

After, cut the nether crust in three,

And turn it down—learn this of me.

And set thy trencher thee before,

And sit upright for any sore.

Spare bread or wine, drink or ale,

Till thy mess from the kitchen be set in hall,

Lest men say thou art hunger-beaten,

Or all men know thee for a glutton.

Look thy nails be clean, in truth,

Lest thy fellow loathe them, forsooth.

Bite not thy bread and lay it down,

That is no courtesy to use in town.

As much as thou wilt eat, that break,

The remnant left the poor shall take.

In peace thou eat and ever eschew

To quarrel at board—that may thee rue.

If thou make mows in any wise

A villainy thou catchest or ever thou rise,

Let never thy cheek be great with meat,

Or morsel of bread that thou shalt eat.

An ape’s mow men say he makes

That bread and flesh in his cheek bakes.[^[172]]

If any man speak that time to thee,

And thou shalt answer, it will not be

But wallowing,[^[172]] and thou must abide;

That is a shame for all beside.

On both sides of thy mouth if thou eat,

Many a scorning shalt thou get.

Thou shalt not laugh nor speak nothing,

While thy mouth be full of meat or drink.

Nor sup thou not with great sounding,

Neither pottage, nor other thing.

Let not thy spoon stand in thy dish,

Whether thou be served with flesh or fish,

Nor lay it not on thy dish side,

But cleanse it honestly without pride.

Look that no dirt on thy finger be,

To defoul the cloth before thee.

In thy dish if thou wet thy bread,

Look thereof that nought be led

To drip again thy dish into;

Thou art ill-bred if thou so do.

Dry thy mouth ay well and fine,

Whether thou shalt drink ale or wine,

Nor call thou not a dish again

That is taken from the board in plain.[^[173]]

If thou spit over the board or else on’t,

Thou shalt be holden courtesy to want.

If thine own dog thou scrape or claw

For a vice that is held as men know.

If thy nose thou cleanse, as may befall,

Look thy hand thou cleanse withal;

Privily with skirt do it away,

Or else thro’ thy tippet that is so gay.