For a medieval minstrel, this season, Lent, was the most critical time of year. During Lent, all entertainment stopped. But far from having nothing to do, minstrels spent these weeks at giant conventions, learning new material. They were the only profession fully dependent on constant travel and file-sharing.
The highest order of minstrel was a musician; highest of all was the court musician who did not need to go on tour. Next was the common jongleur, clearly the root of the word “juggler.” The jongleur was a variety showman: he sang, danced, tumbled, juggled, told stories, put on puppet shows, did some sleight of hand, and maybe kept an interesting animal, like a monkey or bear. Jongleurs were always on tour, probably following a regular circuit of towns, manor houses and castles. They were often on the road, often in low company, and often cold or hungry. Their jobs were marginal; as soon as they weren’t sufficiently entertaining, they had to move on.
So when the jongleurs got together during Lent, they were all motivated to share material freely. The largest meeting was in Paris, where there was an actual school for minstrels. They met other places, too. Any foreign travel meant bringing back cool stories, new magic tricks, and the latest songs.
Medieval minstrels dressed in ways to get attention, but they didn’t wear the “jester caps” of Renaissance cliche. They were the Lady Gagas and Michael Jacksons of their time, no more. When the particolor fashion was chic, jongleurs would have been more eye-catchingly parti-colored than anyone else. Like rock stars, they wanted the biggest and best of whatever was bright and shiny.
Inevitably, minstrels had to create a guild for certification. Castles and manor homes kept tight security; entertainers were among the few who could come and go, which led to posers and downright impostors roaming the halls or unlocking the gates for thieving friends. Jongleurs came to need licenses, which of course had to be bought from towns for fees…even in the Middle Ages, the only certain things were death and taxes.
Old minstrels were not enviable. The real Michael Jacksons had cushy jobs at court, with retirement benefits, but the average jongleur had never owned a house, and now had arthritis. The wise ones found a decently-endowed widow tavern-keeper and got married before it was too late. A lesson to all musicians.