e romances) was no doubt partly the result and partly the
cause of the persistent dislike and disfavour with which the Church
regarded the profession of jonglerie. It is, indeed, from the
_fabliaux_ themselves that we learn much of what we know about the
_jongleurs_; and one of not the least amusing[134] deals with the
half-clumsy, half-satiric boasts of two members of the order, who
misquote the titles of their _repertoire_, make by accident or
intention ironic comments on its contents, and in short do _not_
magnify their office in a very modern spirit of humorous writing.

[Footnote 134: "Les Deux Bordeors [bourders, jesters] Ribaux."]

Every now and then, too, we find, in the half-random and wholly
scurrile slander of womankind, a touch of real humour, of the humour
that has feeling behind it, as here, where a sufficiently ribald
variation on the theme of the "Ephesian matron" ends--

"Por ce teng-je celui a fol
Qui trop met en fame sa cure;
Fame est de trop foible nature,
De noient rit, de noient pleure,
Fame aime et het en trop poi d'eure:
Tost est ses talenz remuez,
Qui fame croit, si est desves."

So too, again, in "La Housse Partie," a piece which perhaps ranks next
to the "Vair Palefroi" in general estimation, there is neither purely
romantic interest, as in the Palfrey, nor the interest of "the pity of
it," as in the piece just quoted; but an ethical purpose, showing out
of the mouth of babes and sucklings the danger of filial ingratitude.

But, as a general rule, there is little that is serious in these
frequently graceless but generally amusing compositions. There is a
curious variety about them, and incidentally a crowd of lively touches
of common life. The fisherman of the Seine starts for his day's work
or sport with oar and tackle; the smith plies the forge; the bath
plays a considerable part in the stories, and we learn that it was not
an unknown habit to eat when bathing, which seems to be an unwise
attempt to double luxuries. A short sketch of mediaeval catering might
be got out of the _fabliaux_, where figure not merely the usual
dainties--capons, partridges, pies well peppered--but eels salted,
dried, and then roasted, or more probably grilled, as we grill
kippered salmon. Here we have a somewhat less grimy original--perhaps
it was actually the original--of Skelton's "Tunning of Elinor
Rumming"; and in many places other patterns, the later reproductions
of which a