[Illustration: Fig. 171.--Jugglers exhibiting Monkeys and
Bears.--Fac-simile of a Manuscript in the British Museum (Thirteenth
Century).]
At first, and down to the thirteenth century, the profession of a juggler
was a most lucrative one. There was no public or private feast of any
importance without the profession being represented. Their mimicry and
acrobatic feats were less thought of than their long poems or lays of wars
and adventures, which they recited in doggerel rhyme to the accompaniment
of a stringed instrument. The doors of the chateaux were always open to
them, and they had a place assigned to them at all feasts. They were the
principal attraction at the _Cours Plenieres_, and, according to the
testimony of one of their poets, they frequently retired from business
loaded with presents, such as riding-horses, carriage-horses, jewels,
cloaks, fur robes, clothing of violet or scarlet cloth, and, above all,
with large sums of money. They loved to recall with pride the heroic
memory of one of their own calling, the brave Norman, Taillefer, who,
before the battle of Hastings, advanced alone on horseback between the two
armies about to commence the engagement, and drew off the attention of the
English by singing them the song of Roland. He then began juggling, and
taking his lance by the hilt, he threw it into the air and caught it by
the point as it fell; then, drawing his sword, he spun it several times
over his head, and caught it in a similar way as it fell. After these
skilful exercises, during which the enemy were gaping in mute
astonishment, he forced his charger through the English ranks, and caused
great havoc before he fell, positively riddled with wounds.
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