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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77644 ***
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE TROUBADOURS
+
+    O for a draught of vintage that hath been
+      Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
+    Tasting of Flora and the country-green,
+      Dance and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
+
+                                             KEATS
+
+
+
+
+                              THE TROUBADOURS
+
+                               A HISTORY OF
+                     _PROVENÇAL LIFE AND LITERATURE IN
+                             THE MIDDLE AGES_
+
+                                    BY
+                              FRANCIS HUEFFER
+
+                              [Illustration]
+
+                                  London
+                        CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY
+                                   1878
+
+                 [_The right of translation is reserved_]
+
+                            LONDON: PRINTED BY
+                  SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
+                           AND PARLIAMENT STREET
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+Articles by the present writer on the subject of Provençal life and
+literature have appeared off and on in the ‘New Quarterly Magazine,’
+the ‘Gentleman’s Magazine,’ ‘Macmillan’s Magazine,’ and the late ‘North
+British Review.’ But this book is not a reprint of essays, although
+some of the materials formerly used have been re-embodied in it. It
+claims on the contrary to be the first continuous and at all adequate
+account in the English language of the literary epoch which forms its
+subject. For I cannot concede that name to a book on ‘The Troubadours,
+their Loves and Lyrics,’ published some years ago; for reasons which it
+is not my province here to state. And yet, excepting only the English
+version of the unsatisfactory book which the Abbé Millot compiled from
+St. Palaye’s excellent materials, by that indefatigable translator and
+abridger in the last century, Mrs. Dobson, that volume is the only work
+on the Troubadours which England can boast of, at least as far as I am
+aware,—and of any important contribution to the subject I should be
+aware. By the side of the admirable criticisms of old French literature
+which we owe to English authors from the days of Cary and the ‘London
+Magazine’ to those of Mr. Andrew Lang and other gifted writers of the
+present time, this neglect of the _langue d’oc_ appears all the more
+glaring, especially when one considers the further fact that many of
+the districts in which the troubadours flourished were at the time when
+they flourished attached to the English crown. The amount of historical,
+and more especially English historical, material to be gleaned from the
+biographies and the works of the troubadours is indeed of the utmost
+value to the student.
+
+In the composition of this book I have chiefly depended on the original
+poetry of the troubadours, but it is far from my wish to deny the
+services I owe to the works of French and German scholars, such as
+Raynouard, Francisque Michel, Dr. Mahn, and Diez, the founder of the
+modern school of Romance philology, a school which counts amongst its
+members Professors Bartsch, Tobler, Holland, in Germany, and MM. Paul
+Meyer and Gaston Paris in France; to mention only a few of the most
+distinguished names. Monographs of single troubadours, especially those
+of Peire Vidal by Professor Bartsch, and of the Monk of Montaudon by
+Dr. Philipson, have been of great use to me. I may also refer to my own
+critical edition of Guillem de Cabestanh’s works. Beyond this general
+acknowledgment I have not thought it necessary to encumber these pages
+with continuous notes of reference.
+
+For my book is not intended as a scientific and exhaustive treatment of
+the subject. The time for that has not yet come in England. My present
+purpose was rather to attract learners than to teach more or less
+proficient students. In plain language I wished, in the first instance,
+to write a readable book, and according to general prejudice such an
+achievement is impossible on the scientific principle. For scholarly
+purposes, I have, however, added a technical portion, chiefly concerned
+with metrical questions, in which the importance of Dante’s scientific
+treatise for the classification of Provençal metres, pointed out by
+Professor Boehmer, has been for the first time proved by systematic
+application. The style and manner of this purely scientific portion
+sufficiently distinguish it from the remainder of the book. Still an
+additional warning to the unwary reader may not seem superfluous.
+
+As another warning rather than encouragement to the same ingenious
+person I have added some interlinear versions of Provençal poems. It is
+addressed to those easy-going amateur philologists who believe themselves
+able to master a language by simply plunging into its literature without
+any previous study of grammar or dictionary. The similarity of Provençal
+to the Latin and the more familiar Romance languages offers especially
+dangerous temptations in that respect. To test the truth of my remarks,
+I would ask the reader to attempt one of the poems at the end of this
+book with the sole aid of intelligent ‘guessing,’ and afterwards to
+compare the result of his conjecture with the literal version. He will
+then come to the conclusion that the _langue d’oc_, owing chiefly to the
+number of its homonymous words and the somewhat unsettled condition of
+its grammatical structure, is the most difficult, as it is the earliest,
+amongst languages sprung from the Latin stock.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                                      PAGE
+
+                                 PART I.
+                                _GENERAL._
+
+                                CHAPTER I.
+                             THE LANGUE D’OC.
+
+    Decline of classic language                                          3
+
+    Its mixture with German dialects                                     3
+
+    Derivation of Romance languages                                      4
+
+    Provençal branch                                                     5
+
+    Its limits                                                           5
+
+    Its relations to the sister languages                                6
+
+    Its dialects                                                         7
+
+    Its perfection by the Troubadours                                    8
+
+    Its decline                                                          8
+
+                               CHAPTER II.
+                           EARLY POPULAR EPICS.
+
+    The North-French epic                                               10
+
+    The cycles of Arthur and Charlemagne                                11
+
+    The popular epic chanted                                            11
+
+    Ferabras                                                            12
+
+    Girart de Rossilho                                                  12
+
+                               CHAPTER III.
+                            THE ARTISTIC EPIC.
+
+    Roman de Jauffre                                                    14
+
+    Flamenca                                                            15
+
+                               CHAPTER IV.
+                   OTHER NARRATIVE AND DIDACTIC POEMS.
+
+    Castia-Gilos                                                        27
+
+    Lay of the Parrot                                                   27
+
+    Essenhamen de la Donzela                                            28
+
+    Rhymed chronicle of Navarre                                         28
+
+    The Song of the Crusade                                             30
+
+    Tale of the Heretic                                                 31
+
+    Legends                                                             35
+
+    Boethius                                                            35
+
+    Corbiac’s Tezaur                                                    37
+
+    Breviari d’Amor                                                     37
+
+    The biographies of the Troubadours                                  39
+
+    Their authors                                                       39
+
+                                CHAPTER V.
+                                APOCRYPHA.
+
+    Provençal literature chiefly lyrical                                42
+
+    Fauriel’s theory                                                    42
+
+    Aversion to epic poems                                              42
+
+    Arnaut Daniel an epic poet                                          43
+
+    His praise by Dante                                                 45
+
+    His lost epic of ‘Lancelot’                                         47
+
+    His obscurity                                                       48
+
+    An anecdote from his life                                           49
+
+                               CHAPTER VI.
+                   SOCIAL POSITION OF PROVENÇAL POETS.
+
+    Joglars and Troubadours                                             52
+
+    Troubadours exclusively lyrical poets                               52
+
+    Their social origin                                                 53
+
+    The sons of citizens                                                54
+
+    Priests                                                             55
+
+    Reigning Princes                                                    55
+
+    Richard I. of England                                               56
+
+    William IX. of Poitiers                                             57
+
+    Protectors of the Troubadours                                       58
+
+    Reward of the Troubadours                                           59
+
+    Their friendship with princes                                       60
+
+    Intercourse with noble ladies                                       60
+
+    Frequently innocent                                                 61
+
+                               CHAPTER VII.
+                               THE JOGLAR.
+
+    Singers and musical composers                                       63
+
+    Distinction between troubadours and joglars                         64
+
+    Joglars chiefly narrative poets                                     67
+
+    Guiraut Riquier’s attempted reform                                  68
+
+    His ‘Suplicatio’                                                    71
+
+                              CHAPTER VIII.
+                  TRACES OF POPULAR SONG—THE PASTORELA.
+
+    Guiraut Riquier’s pastorelas                                        77
+
+    Gui d’Uisel’s pastorelas                                            84
+
+    Marcabrun’s pastorelas                                              85
+
+                               CHAPTER IX.
+                           OTHER POPULAR FORMS.
+
+    The alba                                                            86
+
+    Its oldest form dramatic                                            87
+
+    Guiraut de Bornelh’s alba                                           87
+
+    The common form of the alba                                         88
+
+    Alba by an anonymous poet                                           91
+
+    The serena                                                          93
+
+                                CHAPTER X.
+                               THE BALADA.
+
+    Its age                                                             94
+
+    Artistic and popular                                                95
+
+    Subject of the balada love                                          96
+
+    Its musical accompaniment                                           97
+
+    ‘Coindeta soi’                                                      98
+
+    The dansa                                                           99
+
+                               CHAPTER XI.
+                       ARTIFICIAL FORMS OF POETRY.
+
+    Comparative simplicity of North-French forms                       100
+
+    Arnaut Daniel inventor of the sestina                              102
+
+    Imitated by Dante                                                  103
+
+    Metrical scheme of sestina                                         103
+
+    Modern imitations                                                  105
+
+    Origin of the sonnet                                               105
+
+    The descort                                                        106
+
+    Prose interludes                                                   106
+
+    The breu doble                                                     109
+
+    The retroensa                                                      110
+
+                               CHAPTER XII.
+                                THE TENSO.
+
+    Form of the tenso                                                  112
+
+    Definition of the Leys d’Amors                                     113
+
+    ‘Turn and turn about’                                              114
+
+    Actual discussions                                                 115
+
+    Fictitious disputants                                              115
+
+    Topics of discussion                                               116
+
+    Tenso between Bernart de Ventadorn and Peirol                      117
+
+    Triple tenso                                                       121
+
+    Savaric de Mauleon                                                 122
+
+    Personal tenso                                                     124
+
+                              CHAPTER XIII.
+                              THE SIRVENTES.
+
+    Its want of formal distinction                                     127
+
+    Its influence on men’s minds                                       128
+
+    General remarks on its tone                                        128
+
+    Etymology of the word                                              133
+
+    Chief divisions of the sirventes                                   134
+
+    The planh                                                          134
+
+    Crusader’s song                                                    136
+
+                               CHAPTER XIV.
+                                THE CANZO.
+
+    The canzo representative of Provençal poetry                       142
+
+    Its frequent monotony                                              143
+
+    Owing to over-elaboration                                          144
+
+    Its beauties                                                       145
+
+    Its spontaneity                                                    146
+
+    The vers                                                           146
+
+                                 PART II.
+                             _BIOGRAPHICAL._
+
+                               CHAPTER XV.
+                          GUILLEM DE CABESTANH.
+
+    His Provençal biography                                            152
+
+    Discrepancies of other accounts                                    159
+
+    Historical identity of Guillem de Cabestanh                        160
+
+    The origin of fictitious additions                                 160
+
+    The fatal canzo                                                    161
+
+    The story of the eaten heart possibly of mythical origin           162
+
+    Morals and manners of medieval Provence                            163
+
+    One of Guillem’s canzos                                            165
+
+                               CHAPTER XVI.
+                               PEIRE VIDAL.
+
+    His Provençal biography                                            169
+
+    His eccentricities                                                 170
+
+    His love for Viscountess Azalais                                   171
+
+    His journey to Palestine                                           174
+
+    A canzo written during the journey                                 174
+
+    His love for Loba                                                  176
+
+    ‘Emperor of Greece’                                                178
+
+    His friendship with King Alfonso                                   179
+
+    A crusader’s song by Peire                                         182
+
+    His death                                                          183
+
+                              CHAPTER XVII.
+                             BERTRAN DE BORN.
+
+    A type of the warlike baron                                        184
+
+    Historic retrospect                                                185
+
+    Bertran’s attachment to Prince Henry of England                    187
+
+    He instigates the Princes to rebellion against Henry II.           188
+
+                              CHAPTER XVIII.
+                   BERTRAN AND RICHARD COUNT OF POITOU.
+
+    The causes of their quarrel                                        191
+
+    Bertran’s brother Constantine                                      192
+
+    A sirventes by Bertran                                             193
+
+    His connection with the rebellion of Henry II.’s sons              195
+
+    Young Henry’s death                                                199
+
+    Bertran’s ‘Complaint’                                              200
+
+                               CHAPTER XIX.
+                    SIEGE OF AUTAFORT—BERTRAN’S DEATH.
+
+    King Alfonso’s treachery                                           203
+
+    Fall of the castle                                                 204
+
+    Bertran’s meeting with King Henry                                  204
+
+    His friendship with Richard Cœur de Lion                           206
+
+    Bertran’s canzos                                                   207
+
+    His love affairs                                                   208
+
+    His death                                                          211
+
+                               CHAPTER XX.
+                          THE MONK OF MONTAUDON.
+
+    His youth                                                          213
+
+    His worldly life                                                   214
+
+    His office at Puy Ste. Marie                                       215
+
+    His ‘likes and dislikes’                                           215
+
+    His satires on women                                               218
+
+    His cynicism                                                       220
+
+    His satire on the poets                                            222
+
+                               CHAPTER XXI.
+                THE REFORMATION OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.
+
+    Wide-spread heresy                                                 228
+
+    Its chief seat in the South of France                              229
+
+    The Albigeois and Vaudois                                          230
+
+    The Noble Lesson                                                   232
+
+    Doctrines of the Albigenses                                        232
+
+    Great teachers amongst them                                        235
+
+    Noble converts to their sect                                       235
+
+    Raimon VI. of Toulouse                                             236
+
+    Pope Innocent III. his antagonist                                  236
+
+    The first crusade                                                  239
+
+    Victory of the Church                                              239
+
+                              CHAPTER XXII.
+                         THE EPIC OF THE CRUSADE.
+
+    Its authorship                                                     242
+
+    Discrepancies between the two parts                                243
+
+    Description of Simon de Montfort’s death                           245
+
+    Council of the Lateran                                             247
+
+    The Battle of Muret                                                249
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIII.
+                          FOLQUET OF MARSEILLES.
+
+    Most troubadours anti-Papal                                        254
+
+    Folquet’s birthplace                                               255
+
+    His love for Azalais                                               256
+
+    A canzo addressed to her                                           257
+
+    Her jealousy                                                       258
+
+    Her death                                                          260
+
+    He enters the order of Citeaux in consequence                      260
+
+    His fanaticism                                                     261
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIV.
+                   GUILLEM FIGUEIRA AND PEIRE CARDINAL.
+
+    Guillem Figueira ‘the hater of priests’                            263
+
+    His cynicism and love of low life                                  263
+
+    His sirventes against ‘Rome’                                       264
+
+    Peire Cardinal represents a higher type                            265
+
+    His life                                                           265
+
+    His high moral tone and pessimism                                  266
+
+    A fable                                                            266
+
+    His praise of Raimon VI.                                           268
+
+    His accusations of the priests                                     268
+
+    A theological sirventes                                            270
+
+                               CHAPTER XXV.
+                       LADIES AND LADY TROUBADOURS.
+
+    The lady of Provence                                               273
+
+    Her polite education                                               274
+
+    Her position in society                                            277
+
+    Eleanor, wife of Henry II., the patroness of Bernart de Ventadorn  279
+
+    The poems of lady troubadours subjective                           282
+
+                              CHAPTER XXVI.
+                             BEATRICE DE DIE.
+
+    The representative lady troubadour                                 283
+
+    Her love for Rambaut of Orange                                     283
+
+    She imitates his style                                             284
+
+    Her tenso written in conjunction with Rambaut                      286
+
+    Her song of resignation                                            288
+
+                              CHAPTER XXVII.
+                           THE COURTS OF LOVE.
+
+    Their fictitious character                                         291
+
+    Raynouard’s theory untenable                                       292
+
+    Andreas Capellanus                                                 294
+
+                                PART III.
+                               _TECHNICAL._
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVIII.
+                           THE ORIGIN OF RHYME.
+
+    Definition of rhythm                                               299
+
+    Metrical system of Greek, of Roman, and of early Teutonic poems    300
+
+    Different meanings of arsis and thesis                             300
+
+    The leonine hexameter                                              302
+
+    Rhyme independent of metrical accent                               303
+
+    Known to ancient poets                                             303
+
+    Wilhelm Grimm’s history of the rhyme                               303
+
+    Examples from Virgil and Horace                                    304
+
+    Rhyme destructive of the rhythmical principle                      306
+
+    Influence of rhythm on Provençal poetry                            308
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIX.
+                                 RHYTHM.
+
+    Stability of metrical rules in Provençal poetry                    311
+
+    Las Leys d’Amors                                                   311
+
+    Dante’s ‘De Vulgari Eloquio’ applicable to Provençal poems         313
+
+    The limits of the length of a verse                                313
+
+    Verses most frequently used                                        316
+
+    The decasyllabic verse (endecasyllabus)                            318
+
+    The cæsura                                                         318
+
+    In ‘Boethius’ and epical poems                                     320
+
+    The lyrical cæsura                                                 323
+
+                               CHAPTER XXX.
+                                  RHYME.
+
+    Definition of the Leys d’Amors                                     326
+
+    Accordansa sonan, consonan, and leonisme                           326
+
+    Rime riche                                                         328
+
+    The position of rhyme (‘rims ordinals’)                            330
+
+    Artificialities                                                    331
+
+    Connection of stanzas by means of rhyme                            333
+
+    The ‘clavis’                                                       335
+
+    Guillem de Cabestanh’s canzo ‘Li douz cossire’                     336
+
+    Further artificialities                                            337
+
+                              CHAPTER XXXI.
+                               THE STANZA.
+
+    Its formation                                                      340
+
+    Dante’s work of great value                                        340
+
+    Definition of Leys d’Amors unsatisfactory                          341
+
+    Musical considerations                                             342
+
+    Pedes and cauda                                                    344
+
+    Frons and versus                                                   345
+
+    Pedes and versus                                                   347
+
+    Frons and cauda                                                    347
+
+    Concatenatio                                                       348
+
+    The tornada                                                        351
+
+    Metrical analysis of a canzo by Bernart de Ventadorn               353
+
+                              CHAPTER XXXII.
+                        SOME INTERLINEAR VERSIONS.
+
+    Canzo by Guillem de Cabestanh (‘Li douz cossire’)                  358
+
+    Idyll by Marcabrun (‘A la fontana’)                                364
+
+
+
+
+_PART I._
+
+GENERAL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE LANGUE D’OC.
+
+
+When about the end of the fourth century (A.D.) Germanic and Asiatic
+hordes began to invade the Western Empire with more and more irresistible
+force, the refined voice of Roman eloquence and poetry was soon drowned
+by the noise of barbarous tongues. Even before this irruption of new
+elements the language of the Romans had lost much of its classic purity.
+It was no longer the idiom of Cicero and of Horace. Familiar phrases,
+provincialisms and barbarisms had found their way into the written
+language. Thence it is that we find the illiterate expressions of the
+comic characters in Plautus and Terence occupying a place as legitimate
+words in the dictionaries of the Romance idioms.
+
+When with the already decaying language of the fourth and fifth centuries
+the variegated dialects of the conquering barbarians were mingled,
+confusion became worse confounded and linguistic chaos seemed at hand.
+It need not be said that for artistic purposes this mongrel type of
+speech became totally unfit. But in the same measure as the healthy,
+though uncultured, peoples of the North were destined to revivify the
+old institutions of Roman political life, their languages also added
+new vitality to the decaying forms of Roman speech. The chaos was a
+preparatory stage of amalgamation and new development. For the formation
+of languages, like any other natural process, is ruled by a strict law of
+decay and growth.
+
+In the derivation of the Romance dialects from the common Latin
+mother-tongue, two main principles are observable. The German invaders,
+like all barbarous conquerors, soon adopted the speech of their more
+civilised subjects; but they adhered to certain terms and denominations
+of objects particularly familiar or dear to them. Thus the terms for
+warfare and many of its chief implements were characteristically retained
+by them. The French _guerre_ and the Italian _guerra_ are identical
+with the old High German _werra_, our _war_; and the title of highest
+dignity in the French army of the present day, _Maréchal_ (mediæval Latin
+_mariscalcus_), means nothing but _shalc_ (groom) of the mares.
+
+The second cause of transformation and re-formation already inherent
+in the Latin language of the second and third centuries (A.C.) is what
+philologists term the analytic or dissolving principle. Synthetic or
+primitive languages indicate the declension of a noun or the conjugation
+of a verb by a modification of the word itself; analytical languages by
+the addition of other words. Thus, _patris_ in Latin answers to our
+three words _of the father_, or to the French _de le_ (contracted _du_)
+_père_. The addition of the article subsequently makes the modification
+of the noun itself superfluous; hence _père_ answers to the four
+modifications of the Roman _pater_. But the same tendency existed in the
+late-Latin speech itself, and the _de le père_ presupposes a _de illo
+patre_. In an analogous manner, the _j’ai fait_ or _ho fatto_ of the
+French and Italian languages is beyond doubt derived from a Latin _habeo
+factum_, instead of the simpler and older _feci_.
+
+Of the various languages of Latin growth, the Provençal was the first to
+attain to an independent characteristic type of expression. The limits of
+its domain have been variously defined; but it extended far beyond the
+boundaries of the later Provence, even beyond those of modern France,
+comprising, for instance, parts of Spain, such as Aragon, Valencia,
+Catalonia, and the Balearic Islands. Its northern limit may be roughly
+stated to be the line drawn from the mouth of the Gironde to that of the
+Saone. The political autonomy of the south of France, which secured it
+from the international and national troubles of its northern neighbour,
+greatly favoured peaceful progress and enjoyment of life. Moreover,
+the rich, bountiful soil, and the prosperity and natural gaiety of the
+inhabitants, were conducive to the early growth of poetic feeling; and
+it may be assumed that long before the time of the Troubadours, rustic
+lays, accompanied by the sounds of the viola, used to enliven the harvest
+homes of Provençal villages. Of this popular epoch no record now
+remains, except the language itself—at once the result and embodiment
+of a nation’s longing for utterance. The generic term applied to the
+language of southern France seems to have been ‘Provençal,’ in allusion
+no doubt to the Provincia Romana of the Cæsars. For this term we have
+the weighty authority of Dante, also that of an old Provençal grammar
+called ‘Donatus Provincialis.’ The Troubadours themselves, however, never
+use this perhaps more scientific denomination. They generally speak of
+Lengua Romana, a term which of course applies with equal propriety to
+all the languages derived from the Latin. But what do poets care about
+philological distinctions? Another term, _langue d’oc_, afterwards
+transferred to a province of France, was undoubtedly known in the middle
+ages. It is derived from the affirmative particle _oc_, i.e. ‘yes,’ and
+chiefly used to distinguish Provençal from its sister-languages, the
+_lingua di sì_ (Italian) and the _langue d’oïl_, (northern French, _oïl_
+= _oui_). From the latter it was a totally distinct language both in
+grammar and pronunciation, quite as distinct, for instance, as Portuguese
+from Spanish, or Dutch from English. On the strength of the latter
+parallel the much-mooted question as to the possibility of conversation
+between Trouvère and Troubadour may perhaps receive some new light from
+an adventure of the late Mr. Buckle, who, while travelling in a railway
+carriage in Holland, addressed a gentleman in the language of the
+country, but received after a time the polite answer that he, the Dutch
+gentleman, was sorry he did not understand—Italian.
+
+The _langue d’oc_ was again subdivided into numerous provincial dialects,
+but of these little or no trace appears in the songs of the Troubadours.
+For they were court poets, and the idiom they used a court language,
+spoken in its purity by no one beyond the magic circle of polite society.
+It seems, however, that the dialects of Limosin and the neighbouring
+districts, and of Provence proper, showed the nearest approach to this
+language of poets and courtiers. Such at least is the decided opinion
+of the grammarian and poet Raimon Vidal, not himself a native of those
+parts. ‘Every person,’ he says, ‘who wants to produce or understand
+poetry, ought to know, first of all, that none is the natural and proper
+accent of our language but that of Limosin, Provence, Auvergne, and
+Quercy. Therefore I tell you, that when I speak of Limosin, you must
+understand all these countries and those that are near them or lie
+between them; and all people born or brought up in those parts have the
+natural and correct accent.’
+
+The origin of the Provençal language can of course not be referred to a
+particular year nor even to a particular century. Its development was
+gradual and slow. But it is a remarkable fact, that after it had once
+taken literary form and substance, no signs of change or further growth
+are noticeable. Two centuries in the German or English, or indeed any
+living language, constitute enormous differences as regards phraseology,
+orthography, and grammatical structure. Johnson had difficulties in fully
+understanding Shakespeare, a modern German is puzzled by many expressions
+in Luther’s Bible; and this, after these languages had become fixed by
+the introduction of printing, and a generally acknowledged standard of
+grammatical regularity. But the first troubadour known to us, Guillem of
+Poitiers, born in 1071, uses exactly the same grammar, the same structure
+of sentences, and even in all essential points the same poetic diction,
+as his last successor two hundred years after him.[1] The cause of this
+unusual stability must be looked for in the fact already pointed out,
+that the Provençal was not, strictly speaking, a living language used
+by all, and for all purposes, but the exclusive speech of an exclusive
+class, reserved moreover for the expression of courteous love and
+chivalry. Even where, for the purposes of satire and personal invective,
+the terms of low life are introduced, they have to submit to the strict
+rules of grammar and metre.
+
+At the end of the thirteenth century the _langue d’oc_, as a means of
+poetic utterance at least, disappears again, as suddenly almost as it
+had emerged from obscurity. Learned societies and scholarly poets and
+writers vainly tried to keep alive the interest which had vanished with
+the last of the knightly singers. _Jeux floraux_ were started, and golden
+primroses rewarded the successful efforts of learned competitors. But
+the true life of poetry was gone. By the crusade against the Albigeois
+and the subsequent conquest of the French south by the north, the spirit
+of the Provençal nobility had been broken. No lordly castles invited,
+no gifts encouraged the Troubadour, and by his silence all vitality and
+zest was lost to the _langue d’oc_, which henceforth degenerated into a
+common patois; the rapid intrusion of northern French idioms consequent
+on the political events alluded to accelerating its final doom—final,
+for all the attempts at reviving the old splendour of the _langue d’oc_
+have as yet proved abortive. The patois of Mistral’s _Mireïo_ has little
+in common with the language of the mediæval singers, and his gifted
+disciples’ strenuous efforts stand little chance against the crushing
+influence of an idiom formed by Voltaire’s prose and Alfred de Musset’s
+poetry.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+EARLY POPULAR EPICS.
+
+
+The north of France was the birth country and chief seat of epic poetry
+in the Middle Ages. The _chanson de geste_, the _roman_, the _fabliau_
+frequently bear witness of a consummate grace of narrative diction.
+Even the lyrical effusions of the Trouvère not seldom take the form of
+the monologue or dialogue. The poet loves to hide his personality under
+the mask of a fictitious character. Sometimes he is the maiden longing
+for love and spring, who from the seclusion of her cloister raises her
+voice against the robbers of her liberty, _malois soit de deu ki me fist
+nonnete_; sometimes, like Rutebœuf, he listens to the vulgar quarrels
+of ‘Charlie and the barber,’ or, like Charles d’Orleans, the sweet
+chansonnier in French and English, holds converse with
+
+            ... l’amoureuse deesse
+    Qui m’apela demandant ou j’aloye.
+
+The narrative and dramatic instincts of modern French writers are
+distinctly manifest in their mediæval _confrères_.
+
+This is different with the Troubadour, the poet of Southern France. He
+is the lyrical singer _par excellence_, speaking in his own undisguised
+person and of his own subjective passion. Hence the truth and intensity,
+but hence also the monotonousness and conventional phraseology of
+passion, alternately characteristic of the Provençal love-song. But the
+narrative instinct was not entirely wanting in the poets of the _langue
+d’oc_. The great wave of epic song which kept continually crossing the
+Channel from the Celt to the French Norman, and back again to the Saxon
+and Anglo-Norman, left its flotsam on the shores of Southern France.
+Neither did the half-mystic glory of Charlemagne and his peers fail
+to impress the imagination of the chivalrous Troubadours. We possess,
+or at least know of the existence of, Provençal epics from both the
+Carlovingian and Arthurian circles. Although comparatively small in
+number and importance, these deserve a passing mention.
+
+The epic poetry of southern, like and on the same principle as that
+of northern France, may be broadly divided into the popular, and the
+artistic or individual narrative. The two classes differ as widely as
+possible both as regards metrical form and poetical treatment. The
+popular epic was sung or chanted to a monotonous tune, the artistic
+recited. The former uses frequently the assonance (identity of vowels,
+but difference of consonants) in strophes or tirades of varying length;
+the latter, exclusively rhyme in couplets. The popular epic is fond
+of introducing standing formulas and epithets, and the recurrence of
+similar situations or motives is marked by the naïve repetition of the
+identical phrase. The poet himself disappears behind his work; he is
+nothing but the mouthpiece of popular feeling and tradition. Different
+from this, the artistic poet takes individual shape in his work. He
+groups his material with conscious study of narrative effects, frequently
+adds new inventions to the legend he treats, and is fond of interrupting
+the narrative by reflections of his own, moral or otherwise as the case
+may be.
+
+Of the popular epic very few specimens remain, and of these few one at
+least, the ‘Ferabras,’ seems a translation from the North-French. The
+representative poem of the class is the old Provençal epic, ‘Girart
+de Rossilho,’ a splendid example of early mediæval spirit, crude in
+sentiment and diction, coarse and irregular in its metrical structure,
+but powerful and of sterling quality, like the hero it celebrates. Like
+the ‘Chanson de Roland’—the representative epic of Northern France—Girart
+de Rossilho belongs to the Carlovingian circle of legendary lore. But
+there is a considerable difference between the two poems as regards the
+conception of the Carlovingian idea, if that modern term may be allowed.
+The older French poem shows the great Emperor in full possession of his
+power, and surrounded by his loyal Peers. The younger Provençal epic
+reflects the revolutionary spirit of the great vassals under the weak
+descendants of the great Charles. Its hero, indeed, Girart of Rossilho,
+is the head of these rebellious barons, and his brave deeds in the wars
+with his feudal lord are held up to admiration, while, on the other
+hand, the Emperor Charles Martel (evidently a mistake on the part of the
+minstrel for Charles the Bald, correctly reintroduced in a later French
+version) is made the embodiment of meanness and treachery. After perusing
+Girart’s exploits, some of them of a rather doubtful character according
+to our notions, it is satisfactory to know that he at least departed life
+with a clean bill of morality. The author himself seems to feel somewhat
+uneasy on the subject. ‘But,’ he argues, ‘if Girart did great evil at
+first, he made full and speedy compensation at last, for he did great
+penance in a cloister—which he himself built beautifully and at great
+cost.’ There he is said to have supported amongst other pious personages
+‘one hundred maidens.’ ‘And the priests,’ the manuscript continues,
+‘do nothing but pray God for him and the Lady Bertha his wife. And he
+gave them a thousand marks free of taxes; and one can see well that he
+means to go there.’ Thus the Holy Church was the gainer, and having, as
+Mephistopheles says, ‘a good stomach able to digest ill-gotten pelf,’
+she may, for all we know, have long rejoiced in the prosperity of the
+holy damsels. Whether Girart actually entered his pious institution the
+manuscript does not say; but such a close of such a career was by no
+means rare in the middle ages.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE ARTISTIC EPIC.
+
+
+The remains of the artistic epic, although scanty, are more numerous
+than those of popular origin. They were held in greater estimation, and
+therefore naturally had a better chance of being saved from oblivion.
+Moreover, the fact of their being recited without the aid of music
+made the reference to a written text more desirable than was the case
+with the popular tales which were chanted to popular tunes, and for
+the sole enjoyment of popular and uncritical audiences, not likely
+to resent arbitrary variations or slips of memory. Amongst courtly
+productions might be named the celebrated ‘Roman de Jauffre,’ describing
+the love-affair of that knight with the beautiful Brunesen, and other
+adventures, also the story of Guillem de la Bar, not long ago made
+public by M. Paul Meyer, from the sole manuscript in the possession of
+the Marquis de la Grange. The author of the latter poem is Arnaut Vidal,
+remarkable as the first winner of the golden violet at the ‘Jeux Floraux’
+of Toulouse; the prize being justly awarded to him for a sweet song in
+praise of the Virgin, still extant.
+
+But all these attempts are thrown into the shade by a work which, quite
+apart from its philological and literary interest, is invaluable to the
+student of mediæval manners and customs. This is ‘Flamenca,’ a narrative
+poem in octosyllabic couplets, dating most likely from the first half
+of the thirteenth century. Copious extracts, and an analysis of the
+work, have been given by Raynouard in the first volume of his celebrated
+‘Lexique Roman,’ and the whole has since been edited from the only
+manuscript in existence at Carcassonne, by M. Paul Meyer, who has added a
+translation into modern French (Paris, 1865). Unfortunately the beginning
+and the end of the poem are missing, and with the former the name of
+the author, frequently mentioned in the introductory lines of mediæval
+romances, has most probably been lost. It is therefore to an anonymous
+entity alone that we are able to concede the attributes of a scholar well
+versed in antique and contemporary literature, of a man of the world who
+knew the manners and morals of good society, and of a poet of genius.
+
+The technical Provençal name of a poem like ‘Flamenca’ would be _nova_,
+and with a slight variation of the final syllable the word will serve
+the same turn in our language. For ‘Flamenca’ in all essential points
+answers to the definition of a novel. It is a picture of contemporary
+society in the same sense, and quite as close, as is ‘Tom Jones’ or
+‘Vanity Fair.’ From the popular epic it naturally differs as widely as
+can be imagined, but even with the other artistic romances of the same
+period it has little in common. These latter depend for their interest
+chiefly on a number of adventures more or less loosely strung together;
+in ‘Flamenca’ there is a plot in our modern sense, artistically worked up
+to a climax and illumined by cleverly drawn characters and psychological
+observations. It is indeed evidently the author’s intention to delineate
+and point out the evil consequences of certain psychological phenomena,
+and in this respect ‘Flamenca’ might indeed almost be described as a
+‘novel with a purpose,’ the ‘purpose’ leading the poet much beyond the
+limits of probability and narrative economy, as ‘purposes’ are apt to do.
+The plot of ‘Flamenca,’ moreover, is evidently a pure invention, while
+the poets of ordinary chivalrous romances always rely more or less on
+legendary sources.
+
+Flamenca, the lovely daughter of Count Gui de Nemours, is wooed by the
+King of Hungary and by Lord Archimbaut Count of Bourbon. Her father
+prefers the latter suitor, who is said to be one of the best and most
+valorous knights in the world; an important circumstance which the reader
+is asked to remember. Count Archimbaut, on being told of the decision in
+his favour, makes preparations on the grandest scale to visit his bride,
+whom he has never seen, but of whom the descriptions of her beauty given
+by his messengers have deeply enamoured him. The festivities arranged for
+his reception at the court of Nemours are described at some length, and
+give the poet an opportunity of deploring the decay of liberality amongst
+the great nobles, of courtesy, of love, and of chivalry in his own time,
+a complaint frequently met with in the works of the later troubadours.
+
+Early on a Sunday morning Count Archimbaut is introduced by her father
+to Flamenca, who, like a well-educated young lady, ‘did not pretend to
+be doleful, but was a little shamefaced.’ ‘Here is your bride,’ Count
+Gui says; ‘take her if you like.’ ‘Sir,’ answers the bridegroom, ‘if she
+does not gainsay it, I never was so willing to take anything in my life.’
+Then the lady smiled, and ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘one can see that you hold
+me in your power, as you give me away so easily; but as it is your will
+I consent.’ This ‘I consent’ throws Archimbaut into a transport of joy,
+and he presses her hand passionately. But here the interview ends. The
+gentlemen retire, Archimbaut taking leave of her with his eyes at the
+door, while Flamenca did not show pride, but gave him good countenance,
+frequently saying, ‘God be with you!’
+
+What can be prettier than this quaint picture of mediæval wooing, and
+what more magnificent than the wedding ceremony performed in the presence
+and with the assistance of five bishops and ten abbots, and lasting much
+too long for the impatience of Archimbaut, ‘for it was past the sixth
+hour (noon) before he had married her’? At the banquet the bridegroom
+and the father of the bride have to wait at table according to ancient
+custom; but the eyes of the former continually go where his heart is,
+and inwardly he curses the appetite of the guests and the long-winded
+songs of the joglars. After nine days’ feasting he hurries home to
+prepare his house for his bride. All this looks auspicious enough for the
+happiness of the couple. But this bright beginning is but a clever trick
+on the narrator’s part to show in its darkest dye the monstrous vice
+which turns brightness itself into night. This vice is jealousy.
+
+The King of France, to do honour to his trusty baron Gui of Nemours,
+escorts Flamenca to her husband, and attends with his wife and his court
+the festivities arranged by Archimbaut to celebrate the occasion. At
+the tournament which takes place the king carries on the point of his
+lance, by way of _gage d’amour_, the sleeve of a lady’s dress. ‘I don’t
+know whose it was,’ the poet adds diplomatically. The queen’s jealousy
+suggests Flamenca, and she loses no time to impart her suspicion to
+Archimbaut, who immediately takes fire at the thought. He keeps his
+countenance while his guests are present, but inwardly he feels sad, and
+tormented by ‘a burning sickness called jealousy.’ ‘What was I thinking
+of,’ he frequently says to himself, ‘when I took a wife? God! I was mad.
+Was I not well off and happy before? Evil befall my parents that they
+should have counselled me to take what did never good to any man!’
+
+The symptoms of the ‘burning sickness’ are described with graphic
+vivacity. Archimbaut shuts himself up; in every visitor he suspects a
+suitor of his wife; he pretends to be very busy, and adds, in a whispered
+aside, ‘I should like to kick you out head foremost.’ He then calls to
+his servants for water, to wash for dinner, in order to make people
+go, and if this does not avail he will say, ‘Dear sir, will you have
+dinner with us, for it is time? I hope you will. There will be a good
+opportunity for flirting’—looking all the while like a dog who shows his
+teeth.
+
+So far so good; but we can hardly believe that a noble and gallant knight
+should lose all sense of decency so entirely as to go about unwashed and
+unshaven, letting his beard grow long and matted ‘like a badly made sheaf
+of oats,’ except in places where he had torn out the hair and stuffed it
+in his mouth. The poet here decidedly makes a concession to his courtly
+audience, who naturally were delighted to hear a jealous husband likened
+to a ‘mad dog.’
+
+At last Archimbaut resolves to keep his wife a close prisoner in a tower,
+and ‘May I be hanged by the throat,’ he says, ‘if ever she go out without
+me even to church, to hear mass, and that only on high feast days!’ So
+poor Flamenca is shut up in the tower with only two devoted maidens,
+Alice and Margarida, to comfort her in her misery. And here the poet
+takes the opportunity of indulging in a psychological excursion which one
+would expect in Feydeau or the younger Dumas rather than in a _romancier_
+of the thirteenth century. As she could not love her husband and had
+no child to be fond of, he suggests, it was a blessing, or ‘a great
+favour of God,’ as he puts it, for Flamenca, that the feeling of love
+entirely ceased in her for a season. For if she still had had love in her
+heart with no object to centre it upon, her condition would have been
+infinitely more unhappy.
+
+But Flamenca’s fate is not to last, nor are Archimbaut’s misdeeds to be
+left unpunished for ever. The avenger is nigh. He takes the form of a
+perfect beau of the period, described by the poet in the most glowing
+colours; with his riches, his valour, his courteous demeanour, his love
+of poetry and song, his scholarship—for he has gone through his _trivium_
+and _quadrivium_ at the University of Paris—and last, not least, his
+beauty, down to the whiteness of his skin and the very shape of his mouth
+and ears. Guillem de Nevers, for such is his name, hears of Archimbaut’s
+jealous atrocities, which have become the butt of all the gay troubadours
+of the country, and at once resolves to comfort the lady and punish the
+monster. The question is, how to baffle the watchfulness of this Argus
+and Cerberus combined. The manner in which this question is solved is a
+marvel of ingenuity.
+
+The first and greatest difficulty is to establish communication with
+the imprisoned lady. The tower is watched against any possibility of
+approach, and she never leaves it except to go to church. The church,
+therefore, must be the scene of operations.
+
+Guillem de Nevers ingratiates himself with the priest, who accepts him
+as his clerk, and in this disguise the lover succeeds in entering the
+private pew, from which, thickly veiled and concealed by a trellis work,
+Flamenca is allowed to attend mass. When the clerk approaches the lady to
+let her kiss the mass-book according to sacred rite, she is struck with
+his beauty, and still more astonished when, instead of a sacred formula,
+he breathes a suggestive _Ailas_! (alas). More than these two syllables
+he dares not utter in the presence of the watchful Archimbaut. Flamenca,
+on her return home, begins to muse on the strange behaviour of the clerk.
+At first she feels almost aggrieved by his exclamation. ‘What right has
+he,’ she says, ‘to be miserable? he is strong, and free, and happy. Maybe
+he is mocking my own suffering. And why should he be so cruel as to add
+to my grief? Tears and sighs are my lot. A slave compelled to carry wood
+and water is enviable compared with me. My fate could not be worse even
+if I had a rival and a mother-in-law.’ But the two chambermaids know
+better. With the sagacity of their class they at once fathom the mystery.
+‘Your beauty,’ Margarida suggests, ‘has ravished his heart, and, as he
+has no other way of speaking to you, he has exposed himself to great
+peril to let you know the state of his feelings.’
+
+An answer has now to be thought of, and the united wisdom of the three
+fair conspirators decides upon the query _Que plans?_ (what is your
+complaint?) and these two syllables, softly whispered, gladden the heart
+of Guillem on the ensuing Sunday. His immoderate rapture on seeing his
+passion noticed by its fair object gives rise to a remark on the part
+of the poet which strangely foreshadows the celebrated dying speech of
+Cardinal Wolsey. ‘If Guillem,’ the passage runs literally, ‘had served
+God as he served Love and his lady, he would have been lord of Paradise.’
+
+Flamenca on her part is most anxious to be certain that her frightened
+whisper has been understood, and the poet describes with masterly touches
+a charming scene in the lady’s closet, when Alice has to take a book—it
+is the romance of Blanchefleur—and hold it exactly in the position and
+at the distance that Guillem has presented the missal. The lady then
+bending over the pages whispers the two syllables, and inquires whether
+she has been heard, which question the obliging chambermaid answers with
+an ‘Oh, certainly, Madam! if you have spoken in such a tone, he must have
+understood you.’
+
+In this manner the lovers continue to correspond, a week elapsing
+between each question and answer, unless a devoutly wished-for saint’s
+day shortens the interval. A lover who for months feeds his passion on
+dissyllables, sweetened only by an occasional lifting of Flamenca’s
+veil or a furtive touch of her finger, deserves at any rate the praise
+of constancy. Does the reader care to hear the dialogue in which this
+extraordinary intrigue is carried on? Here is the series of questions and
+answers, divided, it must be remembered, by an interval of several days,
+and exchanged under the very eyes of the jealous husband, who mistakes
+for pious mutterings of the Catholic ritual what in reality is offered at
+a very different shrine:—
+
+Guillem, in answer to Flamenca’s question above cited: _Muer mi_ (I die).
+Flamenca: _De que?_ (what of?) G.: _D’amor_ (of love). F.: _Per cui?_
+(for whom?) G.: _Per vos_ (for you). F.: _Quen puesc?_ (how can I help
+it?) G.: _Garir_ (heal me). F.: _Consi?_ (how?) G.: _Per gein_ (by subtle
+craft). F.: _Pren li_ (use it). G.: _Pres l’ai_ (I have). F.: _E cal?_
+(what craft?) G.: _Iretz_ (you must go). F.: _Es on?_ (where to?) G.:
+_Als banz_ (to the baths).
+
+This requires a word of explanation. Bourbon in Auvergne, the seat of
+Count Archimbaut, was then, as it is now, a well-known spa, of the
+arrangements of which the author gives rather a curious description.
+‘Here,’ he says, ‘every one, stranger or native, can bathe in excellent
+fashion. In each bath-room you can see written up for what malady it is
+good. No lame or gouty person would come there but he would go away quite
+cured, provided he stopped long enough. Here one can bathe when he likes,
+provided he have come to terms with the landlord who lets the bath. And
+in each of the cells there is to be found boiling water, and in another
+part cold.... Adjoining these baths are rooms where people can lie down
+and rest and refresh themselves as they like.’ There is also a capital
+portrait of the typical lodging-house keeper, who—wonderful touch of
+nature which makes Margate and Bourbon kin—recommends a particular room
+‘because Count Raoul takes it every time he comes to Bourbon.’
+
+With this worthy and his wife, dame Bellepille, Guillem has made himself
+exceedingly popular. He has paid his bills without haggling, has dined
+at their table, and taken absinthe (_de bon aluisne_) with the husband.
+At last he has persuaded the couple to decamp for a season and leave him
+in sole possession of their house—for a consideration, it need hardly be
+added. This house he has had connected by a subterraneous passage with
+one of the bathing cells, and to the latter Flamenca is summoned by the
+mysterious phrase alluded to. The lady understands the hint, and at once
+takes the necessary measures for carrying out the scheme. She feigns
+sleeplessness and pain—nothing but a bath can cure her. Archimbaut,
+anxious for her safety, gives his consent, and himself conducts her to
+the arms of her expectant lover, who receives her with knightly courtesy
+and leads her, together with the two faithful damsels, through his
+subterraneous passage to a room splendidly adorned to receive such a
+visitor. The jealous husband in the meantime keeps watch before the door
+of the bath-room, with the key in his pocket, while the careful damsels
+have not forgotten to bolt the door inside.
+
+Such is the just and inevitable punishment of jealousy according to the
+doctrine of the Troubadours. But, strangely enough, this punishment,
+unknown to himself though it be, ultimately works Archimbaut’s cure. He
+notices the change in his wife’s manner; she shows no affection for him,
+and even neglects the ordinary forms of politeness. At last he gets tired
+of his suspicions, and accepts a compromise proposed by his ill-treated
+wife to the effect that the lady is to be restored to liberty on her own
+solemn promise of faithfulness to her husband. And here I fear that poor
+Flamenca will forfeit the claim to the reader’s lenient sympathy to which
+the cruelty of her husband has hitherto entitled her. With a virtuosity
+of mental reservation worthy of any Jesuit she swears by all the saints
+and in the presence of her inwardly chuckling damsels that ‘henceforth I
+will guard myself quite as well as you (Archimbaut) have hitherto guarded
+me.’ On this happy turn in her affairs the lady takes leave of her lover
+for a season. He must resume his rank and add to his fame by new deeds of
+valour. But she agrees to see him again at a tournament which Archimbaut
+proposes to hold in celebration of his happy recovery. In answer to his
+lady’s command, Guillem goes to the war and makes the country ring with
+his prowess. Archimbaut becomes acquainted with him and eagerly invites
+him to attend at his feast, where he himself introduces the valorous and
+renowned young knight to his wife. The lovers keep their countenance and
+greet each other in distant politeness, but in secret they meet again and
+renew their bliss. At the tournament Guillem carries all before him, but
+second to him alone shines Archimbaut, who has become again the valorous
+and accomplished knight he was before the fell disease attacked him. In
+the midst of their joustings and feastings the manuscript breaks off,
+evidently not long before the end of the poem.
+
+Such is the story of Flamenca. Its moral tone is not very high, although
+certainly not worse than that of the typical French novel. But few modern
+novelists would successfully compete with the natural grace and perfect
+workmanship of the mediæval poet. The plot, although simple, is well
+constructed, and the story developes itself rapidly and consistently.
+The characters also are drawn with consummate skill. They are both types
+and individuals, one of the chief criteria of high art-creation. It is
+true that the effects of jealousy on Archimbaut are exaggerated to the
+verge of caricature: the poet here bowed to the prejudice of his age. At
+the same time the minutest symptoms of the disease are laid bare with
+an astounding acuteness of psychological diagnosis. But, more than all,
+there is true passion in the work in spite of occasional concessions to
+the allegorical and hyperbolical tendencies of romantic feeling. And the
+whole is transfused with the splendour of southern sunshine, the joy and
+life and love of beautiful Provence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+OTHER NARRATIVE AND DIDACTIC POEMS.
+
+
+‘Flamenca’ is unequalled in mediæval literature for natural eloquence
+of diction and psychological subtlety; in the _langue d’oc_, more
+especially, there is nothing worthy of being mentioned by the side of it.
+We possess, however, some shorter stories well invented and gracefully
+told, as for instance an amusing novelette in verse by Raimon Vidal
+of Besaudun, the tendency of which may be easily guessed by its title
+‘Castia-Gilos,’ or ‘Jealousy Punished.’ Another quaint story, the ‘Lay
+of the Parrot,’ by Arnaut de Carcasse, also deserves mention. A poem
+called by its anonymous author a ‘roman’ would answer better to our
+term ‘allegory.’ It contains an elaborate description of the abode of
+Love, at whose court Joy, Comfort, Hope, Courtesy, and other symbolical
+personages, collectively described as the ‘Barons of Love,’ make their
+appearance. A hundred beautiful damsels, each with her lover, enliven the
+scene, and to this gay parliament the god holds forth in a long speech
+full of wholesome information and counsel in accordance with the most
+approved code of Provençal gallantry.
+
+This work marks the transition from the story to the didactic poem,
+of which latter class the ‘Essenhamen de la Donzela,’ or ‘Advice to a
+Young Lady,’ by Amanieu des Escas, is the most celebrated specimen.
+The teaching of good manners is not a very lively task, and it must
+be admitted that the Troubadours have at least shown considerable
+ingenuity in hiding the pedantry of their rules and prescripts under a
+whole flower-bed of pretty allegorical devices. Of Amanieu des Escas
+we shall hear again. It need hardly be added that these codifications
+of good manners, just like the grammatical and metrical treatises of
+which Provençal literature can show a respectable number, belong to a
+comparatively late period, when courtesy and refined speech began to fade
+from the living intercourse of men.
+
+The next section of narrative poetry to which brief reference must
+be made differs widely from the works hitherto mentioned. It is the
+historic epic or rhymed chronicle, two specimens of which, important
+alike from the literary and the historic point of view, are extant. The
+first gives an account of a war waged in the kingdom of Navarre between
+1276-77. It has been edited from the only existing manuscript, with
+excellent notes, by M. Francisque Michel in 1856. A Spanish edition was
+published seven years previously at Pampeluna. The author is one Guillem
+Auclier, of Toulouse in Languedoc, as stated at the beginning of the
+poem. He was himself an active partisan in the war, and gives a lively
+description of the events he witnessed. Frequent episodes relating to
+contemporary events, such as the expedition of St. Louis against Tunis,
+furnish details of great historic interest. The literary character of
+the poem, however, does not essentially differ from similar mediæval
+productions, and a detailed analysis may therefore be dispensed with.
+Metrically it is interesting as an early specimen of the Alexandrine or
+dodecasyllabic verse, which appears here in so-called ‘tirades monorimes’
+of fifty lines, a shorter verse at the end of each tirade serving to
+connect it with the following strophe. At other times this shorter
+line is literally repeated at the commencement of the next tirade—an
+interesting peculiarity, characteristic of Provençal poems of this class,
+which betrays strong feeling for metrical continuity. It is, however,
+not improbable that the musical accompaniment to which these poems
+were chanted made a repetition of the final cadence desirable. A not
+uninteresting literary controversy has been raised as to the identity
+of the author of the present poem with a troubadour of the same name
+and birthplace of whom we possess four political songs of considerable
+power. Millot doubts this identity on account of a passage in one of the
+songs which speaks of a young Englishman desirous to regain all that
+the valiant Richard had possessed in France. Millot, who knew little
+Provençal, misunderstands the passage in the sense of Richard being
+mentioned as still alive; in which case the author of the song could
+of course not have described, and been eye-witness of, events which
+took place nearly a century after the death of the lion-hearted king.
+But Millot’s supposition is quite erroneous, and the young Englishman
+alluded to is evidently King Edward I., whose accession (1272) seems to
+have roused expectations to be temporarily realised under his grandson.
+That the aspirations of the Black Prince, and later on of Henry V.,
+should have been foreshadowed at this early period, is undoubtedly an
+important fact to the student of English history—one of the numerous
+important facts, indeed, which might be gleaned from the works of the
+Troubadours, and which make the total neglect of these works amongst us
+so unaccountable.
+
+Of much greater importance than the Navarrese chronicle is the celebrated
+song of the crusade against the Albigeois heretics and their chief
+protector, Count Raimon of Toulouse. The author or authors (for most
+probably there were two) of this poem also were contemporaries and
+eye-witnesses of many of the incidents of this cruel war, the ultimate
+issue of which proved fatal to the literary and political independence of
+the south of France. A fuller account of this work will be found where we
+come to consider the prominent part taken by the Troubadours in the vital
+struggle of their country.
+
+In connection with the chronicle of the Albigeois crusade may be
+mentioned the only poem of importance which the _langue d’oc_ contributed
+to the spirited dogmatic controversy incessantly carried on between
+the heretics and the champions of the Church. The little interest taken
+by the Troubadours in the doctrinal aspect of the case may account for
+this paucity of documents.[2] A great number of heretical writings
+have undoubtedly been destroyed by the intolerant rage of monks and
+inquisitors, but it is by no means certain that many, or indeed any, of
+these were written by, or in the language of, the Troubadours. If so, one
+cannot but wonder why the violent attacks on the moral depravity of the
+clergy, with which Provençal literature is teeming, should have escaped
+the same fate.
+
+The poem I am speaking of certainly leaves nothing to be desired as
+regards orthodoxy. It is written by Izarn, a monk, and a more striking
+specimen of monkish effrontery would be looked for in vain in any
+literature. So grotesque indeed is the cynicism displayed, that one
+almost suspects an ironical sceptic cleverly disguised in the mask of
+the zealot; but there are other features of the poem—little touches,
+for instance, of vanity and unctuous self-laudation—which place the
+author’s real purpose beyond a doubt. The ‘Novas del Heretge,’ or ‘Tale
+of the Heretic,’ is written in the form of a dialogue between the author
+and one Sicart de Figueiras, apparently an important member, or, as he
+calls himself, a ‘bishop,’ of the Albigeois sect. The opening lines are
+important to the historian of theology. They prove that the Neo-Manichean
+heretics believed, or at least were said by the Catholics to believe,
+in something very like metempsychosis. ‘Tell me,’ the monk begins, ‘in
+what school you have learned that the spirit of man, when it has lost
+its body, enters an ox, an ass, or a horned wether, a hog or a hen,
+whichever it sees first, and migrates from one to the other until a new
+body of man or woman is born for it?... This thou hast taught to deluded
+people whom thou hast given to the devil and taken away from God. May
+every place and every land that has supported thee perish!’ This style of
+spiritual vituperation was likely to prove but too effective, being as it
+was enforced by very material means of coercion. For the conversation,
+as we gather from the next-following lines, takes place in one of the
+prisons of the sacred tribunal. ‘The fire is alight,’ Izarn continues;
+‘the people are assembled to see justice done, and if you refuse to
+confess you will certainly be burnt.’ Motives of much less force would
+be sufficient to overcome the resistance of the worthy Sicart. His
+conscientious scruples are indeed of the very slightest description; he
+is anxious only about the terms of his capitulation. ‘Izarn,’ he says,
+‘if you assure me and give securities that I shall not be burnt or
+immured or otherwise destroyed, I don’t care what other punishment you
+may inflict; only save me from that.’ But he knows his captors too well
+to expect his life from motives of pity. Treachery is the price of his
+safety, and of that commodity he offers liberal measure. ‘Berit,’ he
+says, ‘and Peire Razol’ (two other spies, it may be conjectured) ‘don’t
+know half of what I do. I will tell you everything you ask both about
+believers and heretics, but you must promise me secrecy.’ Next follows a
+somewhat rambling explanation of the cause of his desertion, in which the
+souls of five hundred people whom he claims to have rescued from eternal
+perdition play a principal part. But he is particularly anxious to
+impress upon the monk that poverty has not been the motive of his action.
+‘First of all,’ he says, ‘I want you to know that I have not presented
+myself to you owing to hunger or thirst, or from any need whatsoever;
+pray be aware of that.’
+
+The meaning of all this is that he wants to point out, as indeed he does
+afterwards in so many words, how valuable an acquisition he would be, and
+how glad the Church of Rome ought to be to receive him on terms however
+favourable. This seems reasonable enough, but the matter appears in a
+very different light when he begins to describe with glowing colours
+the treasures which his confidential position amongst the heretics has
+placed at his disposal. An account of the easy and luxurious life he
+led amongst the heretics is evidently inserted with a view to disparage
+and expose as hypocritical pretence the appearance of rigorous morality
+assumed, and in most cases no doubt justly assumed, by the elders of
+the dissenting churches. But all these comforts and enjoyments, Sicart
+declares, he has forsaken for the call of Heaven, interpreted to him
+by the eloquent voice of that chosen vessel, Izarn—the author, that is.
+The complacency with which the monk by the mouth of his convert pays a
+compliment to his own theological sagacity, mentioning especially ‘nine
+questions’ which have completely baffled the heretic, and not omitting at
+the same time an incidental reference to his poetical gift, is as amusing
+as it is characteristic. It furnishes, moreover, the best proof against
+the suspicion of a hidden satirical purpose, which the tone of the poem
+may have excited in the reader’s mind. The subtlest humorist could not
+artificially reproduce the naïve genuineness of this self-praise. No
+wonder that, convinced by such excellent argument, Sicart is willing to
+atone for former errors by the merciless persecution of his late friends
+and co-religionists. ‘Not twopennyworth of love or peace shall they find
+at my hands,’ he savagely exclaims, promising at the same time to betray
+to the Inquisition the most secret places where they and their treasures
+are hidden—all sentiments highly and unctuously approved of by the
+excellent Izarn, it need scarcely be added.
+
+No more barefaced disclosure of the vilest motives of the human heart
+can well be imagined than is to be found in this poem. ‘Mr. Sludge
+the medium’ himself would hesitate before entering into competition
+with the worthy monk and his no less desirable convert. If the utterly
+demoralising influence of religious persecution on both persecutors and
+at least the weaker part of their victims needed further proof in our
+days, this poem might be held up as a warning example.
+
+It is perhaps hardly fair to mention together with such a production
+other works by monkish authors sometimes replete with simple-minded
+piety and never without the quaint charm of mediæval narrative. Such
+are the paraphrases of Biblical and other religious legends of which
+Provençal literature shows a goodly array. None of them, however, calls
+for detailed notice, their character showing no essential deviation from
+similar works in other languages, and their subject and treatment being
+widely remote from the artistic poetry with which this book is chiefly
+concerned. Suffice it to mention the names of some of the saints chosen
+for treatment, such as St. Alexius, St. Honorat, and Sta. Fides, (the MS.
+of the last-mentioned legend dating, according to Fauchet, as far back as
+the eleventh century), also rhymed paraphrases of the apocryphal gospels
+of ‘St. Nicodemus,’ and the ‘Infancy of Christ.’
+
+Of much greater importance than any of these is a semi-religious
+didactic poem treating of that favourite hero of the pseudo-historic
+Muse in the middle ages, Boethius, and the spiritual comfort he derived
+in his worldly misfortune from what Shakespeare, perhaps with a faint
+reminiscence of this very man, calls ‘adversity’s sweet milk philosophy.’
+The goddess of that divine science appears to Boethius, ‘Count of Rome,’
+in prison, to which he has been sent by the Emperor Teiric (Theodoric),
+a usurper and unbeliever whose claims to the throne the single-hearted
+statesman refuses ta acknowledge, and whose vices he has publicly
+reprimanded. Boethius is condemned on a false charge of having invited
+the Greeks to invade Rome. In his dungeon he laments his fate and regrets
+his sins, an opportunity for moralising of which the poet avails himself
+by enforcing the didactic key-note of his poem: ‘The good and evil deeds
+of our youth find their just reward in advanced age.’
+
+The darkness of the prison is suddenly brightened by the appearance of
+a beautiful maiden clad in garments of resplendent richness. She is
+the daughter of a mighty king, and her own power and gifts are without
+measure. ‘Beautiful is the lady,’ the poet repeats, ‘although her days
+have been many; no man can hide himself from her glance.’ She herself has
+woven her gorgeous robes, ‘one fringe of which could not be bought for
+a thousand pounds of silver.’ At the bottom of her garment is inscribed
+the Greek letter Π, while her headdress shows a Θ, the former signifying,
+according to the poet, ‘the life which is entire,’ the latter ‘the just
+law of heaven.’ A number of birds ascending steps which are suspended
+between the two letters signify mankind in its struggle for divine
+righteousness. Some more allegory of the same kind finishes the poem,
+which is evidently the fragment of a much larger work, founded possibly
+on the celebrated ‘Consolatio Philosophiæ.’
+
+The value of the fragment as it stands is of a philological rather
+than of a literary kind, owing to the numerous archaic forms and words
+occurring in it, many of which have disappeared from the later Provençal.
+With the exception of a short hymn in praise of St. Eulalia (published
+by Diez in his admirable edition of the work under discussion),
+‘Boethius’ is generally considered to be the earliest poetic specimen
+of the _langue d’oc_, belonging, as it undoubtedly does, to the tenth
+century, and therefore preceding the first of the Troubadours by at least
+a hundred years. Of the remainder of the didactic poems the briefest
+notice must suffice. One class of them are large accumulations of human
+knowledge—encyclopædias in fact without the alphabetical arrangement—such
+as the ‘Tezaur’ (Treasure) by Master Corbiac, treating in Alexandrine
+lines of most known and unknown sciences, including geology, music,
+history, and necromancy; and the still more celebrated ‘Breviari d’Amor,’
+an enormous compendium of mediæval wisdom, and most probably one of the
+most ponderous books ever written in spite of its promising title. Two
+manuscripts of this work are in the British Museum. The author’s name is
+Matfre Ermengau, a monk of Beziers, and the poem was begun, according to
+a statement in the preface, in 1288. How long it took the laborious poet
+to compose his 27,000 lines, heaven only knows. A poem by Daude de Pradas
+on the birds used for falconry, belonging to this class, may be of some
+interest to historically minded lovers of sport.
+
+But of much greater importance, and indeed invaluable to the student of
+manners and customs, is a second category of didactic poetry, consisting
+of rules and precepts of demeanour for certain classes of society,
+young ladies, pages, joglars or minstrels, and others. Some of these
+‘ensenhamens,’ as they were called—for instance, that by Amanieu des
+Escas—have already been referred to in these pages. Others will be
+mentioned in due course.
+
+In the poems of the historic and didactic orders rhyme and metre were
+to a great extent mere accessories, and of many of them prose versions,
+made evidently for the sake of cheapness and convenience, are actually
+in existence, such as the transcription of the Song of the Albigeois
+Crusade, also of the Gospel of Nicodemus, and other legendary poems.
+These and numerous other prose works, theological, moral, medical, and
+juridical,[3] are entirely beyond the scope of the present work—with one
+exception. This is a curious collection of biographies of the principal
+troubadours found in several manuscripts, and varying from a few lines
+of matter-of-fact information to lengthy and circumstantial accounts
+of a suspiciously romantic character, including attempts at furnishing
+a commentary, critical and anecdotal, for single poems. In some cases
+several biographies of the same poet are found, one richer than another
+in interesting details, and showing evidently the desire on the part
+of later authors to improve upon an originally simple story. But in
+spite of this the immense value and general authenticity of this source
+cannot be denied, especially in cases where the author gives his name
+and declares himself an eye-witness of the events he describes. At the
+end of the biography of Bernard de Ventadorn, we read, for instance,
+the following interesting notice:—‘Count Eble de Ventadorn, the son of
+the viscountess whom Sir Bernard loved, told me Uc de St. Cyr what I
+have caused to be written down of Sir Bernard.’ The same Uc de St. Cyr,
+himself a well-known troubadour, also wrote (or at least composed, for
+his powers as a scribe may seem doubtful on his own showing[4]) the
+life of Savaric de Mauleon and probably of several other contemporary
+poets. Another biography is claimed by one Miquel de la Tor, and in many
+other instances references to eye-witnesses, or claims to personal and
+immediate knowledge, are made. Unfortunately accounts of only 104 out of
+about 400 troubadours of whose existence we know have been preserved.
+But even as it is we ought to be thankful to the mediæval scribes, who,
+as regards the Troubadours, have at least partially removed the darkness
+which overhangs, for instance, the personal histories of North-French
+Trouvères or German Minnesingers, not to name more recent and infinitely
+more important epochs of English literature.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+APOCRYPHA.
+
+
+Here the brief summary of the non-lyrical literature in the Provençal
+language comes to a close. In a work mainly devoted to the poetry of
+the Troubadours I have not thought it necessary to attempt anything
+like completeness of enumeration, my intention being mainly to give
+the reader some idea of the general aspect of a literary epoch almost
+entirely engrossed by one branch of art, the artistic song. A prevailing
+impulse of this kind is of course by no means unexampled in the history
+of poetry. The gregariousness of human beings in general is equally
+noticeable in the representatives of human thought and feeling. The age
+of Homer loved epic breadth, that of Elizabeth dramatic point and action;
+in our time the novel seems to rule the literary market. There were, of
+course, English romance-writers in the sixteenth century, just as there
+are English dramatists and lyrical poets of great power in the latter
+half of the nineteenth; but that does not in either case disprove the
+fact of a collective national instinct in the direction pointed out.
+
+In the same sense it may be said that narrative poetry in mediæval
+Provence occupied a decidedly subordinate position. This is, at least,
+what the facts we know and the documents we possess lead us to believe.
+But documents and facts are not always satisfactory materials to prop up
+a preconceived theory. Certain scholars have in the face of them supplied
+the _langue d’oc_ with an extensive and splendid epical literature, the
+treasures of which have unfortunately been lost to us, though why this
+loss should have fallen on the narrative in preference to the lyrical
+branch of poetry is not explained. The chief upholder of this opinion is
+the late M. Fauriel, the deservedly celebrated author of the ‘Histoire
+de la Littérature Provençale;’ but the foundation on which he rests his
+theory must be owned to be of the slenderest kind.
+
+Among the _ensenhamens_, or instructions to particular classes of
+society, already mentioned, there are two, by Guiraut de Calençon and
+Guiraut de Cabreiras respectively, addressed to joglars, a class of
+singers, and professors of other more or less dignified arts, of whose
+duties and position in society we shall hear more hereafter. Amongst
+other accomplishments they are exhorted to acquire familiar acquaintance
+with certain favourite subjects of romance and story, a full enumeration
+of which is given in each instance.[5] These two poems, together with
+a passage from ‘Flamenca,’ descriptive of a feast enlivened by song,
+give us a most welcome insight into the tales of woe and joy most apt
+to raise tears or merry laughter amongst the fair ladies of Provence.
+Here we meet with the names of many heroes of history and fiction.
+King Menelaus and his frail spouse, together with most of the renowned
+chieftains of the Greeks and Trojans, represent Homeric myth, Romulus
+and Remus prehistoric Roman tradition. Queen Dido, it need hardly be
+said, occupies a prominent place, as does also her singer Virgil, whom
+mediæval belief has surrounded with the necromancer’s mysterious halo
+in addition to his fame as a poet. Charlemagne and his champions—not
+forgetting Ganelon the traitor—were equally well known in Provence, while
+the influence of Celtic legendary lore, both with regard to poetry and
+music, is curiously illustrated by the mention in ‘Flamenca’ of a joglar
+who plays on the violin the _lais del cabrefoil_ (lay of the honeysuckle)
+popularly ascribed to Tristan, the lover of Iseult. In addition to these
+another Instruction may be mentioned, addressed by one Arnaut Guillem de
+Marsan to a young gentleman of noble lineage who comes from a distance to
+consult him about amorous matters. Here the knowledge of the favourite
+subjects of romance is recommended as an accomplishment most adapted to
+gain the favour of a lady.
+
+From such passages as these M. Fauriel concludes that of all the
+subjects mentioned in them elaborate treatments in the shape of epics
+or romances existed in the _langue d’oc_. But this supposition surely
+is quite unsupported by the evidence direct or indirect. The myths and
+semi-historic facts referred to, such as the deeds of Charlemagne or
+King Arthur, were the common stock of European nations in the Middle
+Ages, migrating from the Welsh shores of the Atlantic to the eastern
+confines of Germany, and back again to Saxo-Norman England. Trouvères,
+Troubadours, and Minnesingers were equally well acquainted with these
+inexhaustible sources of amusement, and a wayfaring minstrel was
+naturally expected to give a more or less original version of the
+familiar theme. But none of the passages mentioned above refers to any
+existing poem on the subjects it enumerates, or indeed to any written
+document at all, which latter, moreover, in nine cases out of ten would
+have been of little use to the popular singer. The existence, therefore,
+of an extensive epical literature in the Provençal language remains a
+mere conjecture in spite of M. Fauriel’s eloquent special pleading.
+
+There is, however, no reason to deny that more than one narrative poem
+may have fallen a victim to time, and in some instances at least we have
+strong circumstantial evidence pointing that way. One of these cases
+leads to considerations so interesting in other respects that a short
+statement of it may be welcome to the reader. It is well known that the
+works of the Troubadours were at an early period read and admired in
+the neighbouring country of Italy, and that the poets in the _lingua
+volgare_ recognised in them at once their models and allies in the
+struggle against the predominance of Latin scholarship. Students of the
+‘Divina Commedia’ or of Petrarch’s ‘Trionfi’ are aware of the prominent
+position assigned to the Provençal singers amongst the poets of the
+world, and they may also remember that of the Troubadours themselves
+none is mentioned with higher praise than Arnaut Daniel. Petrarch calls
+him _gran maestro d’amore_, the ‘great master of love, whose novel and
+beautiful style still (i.e. about the middle of the fourteenth century)
+does honour to his country;’ and Dante, in his philological and metrical
+treatise ‘De vulgari Eloquio,’ declares himself indebted to Arnaut for
+the structure of several of his stanzas. The ‘sestina,’ for instance, a
+poem of six verses in which the final words of the first stanza appear
+in inverted order in all the others, is an invention of this troubadour
+adopted by Dante and Petrarch, and, most likely through the medium of
+French models, by Mr. Swinburne, as we shall presently see.
+
+But another far more lasting monument has been erected to Arnaut in the
+immortal lines of the ‘Purgatorio,’ where Guido Guinicelli, in answer to
+Dante’s enthusiastic praise of his poetry, points to another shade, and
+
+    ‘O frate, disse, questi ch’io ti scerno
+    Col dito (ed additò uno spirto innanzi)
+    Fu miglior fabbro del parlar materno.
+    Versi d’amor e prose di romanzi
+    Soverchiò tutti ...
+
+               Canto xxvi., verses 115-119.
+
+    ‘O brother,’ cried he, pointing with his hand,
+    ‘This spirit whom I show far better knew
+    To weld the language of his native land.
+    In lays of love and in romances too
+    He bore the palm.’ ...
+
+                            (CAYLEY’S translation.)
+
+This artful ‘smith of his mother-tongue’ is our troubadour, who, when
+addressed, replies in pure Provençal, a language evidently quite familiar
+to Dante. The above-cited lines are generally considered to be the clue
+to the apparently excessive admiration lavished on Arnaut by the Italian
+poets. There can indeed be no doubt that, in addition to his fame as a
+lyrical singer or troubadour proper, his equal excellence as a narrative
+poet is here referred to, the word ‘_prose_’ being used not in our modern
+sense, but for the rhymed couplets of the epic in contradistinction to
+the elaborate stanzas or _versi_ of the love-song.
+
+The further question arises, what were the works on which Arnaut’s
+reputation as an epical poet was founded, and for the answer to this
+question we again must look in the works of Italian poets. Pulci, the
+humorous author of the ‘Morgante Maggiore,’ mentions our troubadour twice
+amongst the writers of Carlovingian epics, explaining his statement
+by the further indication that he (Arnaut) ‘wrote most diligently and
+investigated the deeds of Rinaldo (i.e. Renaut de Montauban, the eldest
+of the _quatre fils Aimon_) and the great things he did in Egypt.’ This
+seems to prove conclusively that as late as the end of the fifteenth
+century, when Pulci wrote, an epic poem on ‘Renaut’ by Arnaut Daniel was
+known amongst scholars in Italy.[6]
+
+But a still later and in one sense still more important testimonial to
+Arnaut is found in Torquato Tasso, who, it appears, mentions him as
+the author of a poem on ‘Lancelot.’ For this enables us to connect our
+troubadour with a second and perhaps the divinest passage in Dante’s
+divine poem. The reader need scarcely be reminded that the story which
+kindles to open and conscious flame the silent passion of Francesca da
+Polenta and Paolo Malatesta is a romance of Lancelot—
+
+    Di Lancilotto come amor lo strinse;
+
+and nothing is more probable than that Dante should have thought of
+Arnaut Daniel’s lost epic when he wrote the inspired lines that are in
+everybody’s memory.
+
+    Per più fiate gli occhi ci sospinse
+    Quella lettura, e scollorocci ’l viso;
+    Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse;
+    Quando leggemmo il disiato riso
+    Esser baciato da cotanto amante,
+    Questi che mai di me non fia diviso
+    La bocca mi bacciò tutto tremante.
+    Galeotto fu il libro e chi lo scrisse;
+    Quel giorno più non vi legemmo avante.
+
+    More than one time that reading struck our eyes
+    Together, and discoloured us in face:
+    But it was only one point conquered us:
+    Whereas we read about the longed-for smile
+    How by so great a lover it was kissed,
+    This one, who from me ne’er shall be disjoined,
+    Trembling all over, kissed me on the mouth.
+    A Galahalt[7] was the book, and he that writ:
+    Further that day we read in it no more.
+
+                     (W. M. ROSSETTI’S translation.)
+
+Many poets might wish to rest their posthumous fame on such lines rather
+than on their own works; but it may be inferred on the other hand that
+Arnaut Daniel (if he really be the author referred to) must have been
+a mighty mover of the heart to gain such a tribute from the lips of
+Francesca da Rimini.
+
+It may seem strange that the Provençal biography is completely silent
+with regard to Arnaut’s epical achievements. But, in the best times
+at least, the professional story-teller was strictly divided from
+the Troubadour, and the biographer may have thought it wiser to say
+nothing on the subject. With reference to the same matter it is perhaps
+significant that Arnaut is described as a ‘joglar’ in the Provençal
+notice of his life. In Italy this point of etiquette was, of course, of
+no importance; and hence most likely the indirect channel through which
+Arnaut’s fame as a writer of romance has reached posterity.
+
+It must be confessed, however, that the Troubadour’s lyrical efforts
+would hardly lead one to credit him with lucid exposition or narrative
+grace. Arnaut Daniel is the Browning of Provençal literature. He delights
+in ‘motz oscurs’ (dark words) and ‘rims cars’ (dear or scarce rhymes)
+and equally far-fetched similes. One of these latter, a symbol of
+unrequited love, became almost proverbially attached to his name. ‘I am
+Arnaut,’ it ran, ‘who loves the air, who hunts a hare with an ox, and
+swims against the stream.’ His intentional obscurity and his mannerism
+were largely imitated, but no less frequently attacked and travestied
+by contemporary poets and satirists. Petrarch’s allusions to ‘his novel
+speech,’ and Dante’s expression, ‘smith of his mother-tongue,’ evidently
+allude to Arnaut’s peculiarities of style. We can also quite understand
+how the great Florentine could admire a dark shade of melancholy, a
+bold originality of thought, and a hankering after scholastic depth,
+but too nearly akin to his own mental attitude; but how far these
+qualities would have fitted into the frame of a narrative, or whether
+the poet succeeded in dropping them for a season, must remain an open
+question. It is curious that one of the brightest and most amusing bits
+of literary gossip which Provençal biography can show is attached to the
+sombre figure of this troubadour. As there will be no occasion in the
+following pages to return to the biography of Arnaut, the clever little
+anecdote may follow here. It will serve at the same time as a specimen of
+Provençal prose. A literal translation is subjoined:
+
+‘E fo aventura qu’el fo en la cort del rei Richart d’Englaterra: et estan
+en la cort us autres joglars escomes lo com el trobava en pus caras rimas
+qe el. Arnautz tenc so ad escarn e feron messios cascus de son palafre
+qe no fera, en poder del rei. E’l reis enclaus cascun en una cambra.
+E’N Arnautz de fastic quen ac non ac poder qe lasses un mot ab autre.
+Lo joglars fes son cantar leu e tost. Et els non avian mas de X jorns
+d’espazi; e devia s jutjar per lo rei a cap de cinq jorns. Lo joglars
+demandet a’N Arnaut si avia fag; e’N Arnautz respos; “qe oc, passat a
+tres jorns.” E non avia pensat. E’l joglars cantava tota nueg sa canso
+per so qe be la saubes; e’N Arnautz pesset col traisset ad escarn, tan qe
+venc una nueg e’l joglars la cantava e’N Arnautz la va tota retener e’l
+so. E can foron denan lo rei, N’Arnautz dis qe volia retraire sa canso; e
+comenset mot be la canso qe’l joglars avia facha. E’l joglars can l’auzic
+gardet lo en la cara e dis q’el l’avia facha. E’l reis dis co s podia
+far? E’l joglars preguet al rei q’el ne saubes lo ver. E’l reis demandet
+a’N Arnaut com era stat. E’N Arnautz comtet li com era stat. E’l reis ac
+ne gran gaug e tenc so a gran escarn. E foron acquistat los gatges, et a
+cascun fes donar bels dos.’
+
+‘And it happened that he (Arnaut Daniel) was at the court of King Richard
+of England; and there being also at the court another joglar the latter
+boasted that he could invent rhymes as scarce as could Arnaut. Arnaut
+thought this good fun, and each gave his horse as a pledge to the king,
+in case he could not do it (viz. gain the bet). And the king locked them
+up each in a room. And Sir Arnaut, being tired of the matter, was not
+able to string one word to another; the joglar made his song with ease
+and speedily. And they had no more than a space of ten days allowed to
+them. And the king was to judge at the end of five days. The joglar then
+asked Sir Arnaut if he had done. “Oh yes,” said Sir Arnaut, “three days
+ago.” But he had not thought of it. And the joglar sang his song every
+night so as to know it well. And Arnaut thought how he could draw him
+into ridicule; so one night, while the joglar was singing, Arnaut took
+care to remember the whole song and the tune. And when they were before
+the king, Arnaut declared that he wished to sing his song, and began
+to sing in excellent style the song that the joglar had made. And the
+joglar, when he heard this, stared him in the face, and declared that
+he himself had made the song. And the king asked how this was possible,
+but the joglar implored him to look into the truth of it. The king then
+asked Sir Arnaut how this had happened, and Sir Arnaut told him how it
+had happened. And the king had great joy at this, and thought it most
+excellent fun. And the pledges were returned, and to each he gave fine
+presents.’
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+SOCIAL POSITION OF PROVENÇAL POETS.
+
+
+Sufficient has been said in the preceding pages to show the superiority
+of lyrical over epic poetry in Provence. This inequality of the two
+branches implied a commensurate difference of praise and social esteem
+awarded to those who excelled in either of them, and it is perhaps from
+this point of view that the two great divisions of poets in the _langue
+d’oc_, respectively described as ‘joglars’ and ‘trobadors,’ or, in the
+French and generally adopted form of the word, ‘troubadours,’ may be most
+distinctly recognised. The two professions were frequently united in the
+same person, and the duties belonging to either are in many respects
+identical, or at least similar to such a degree as to make strict
+separation almost impossible; but it seems sufficiently established that
+the verb ‘trobar’ and its derivative noun first and foremost apply to
+lyrical poetry. To speak therefore of the Troubadour as the singer of
+songs, of cansos and sirventeses and albas and retroensas, is a correct
+and tolerably comprehensive definition, borne out moreover by the
+historic fact that, with the sole exception of Arnaut Daniel (who, as
+was mentioned before, is in his biography called a joglar), none of the
+celebrated troubadours is known to have written narrative poems. These
+latter, on the other hand, are either, like ‘Flamenca’ and ‘Jaufre,’ by
+anonymous authors, or else by such men as Arnaud de Carcasses or Matfre
+Ermengau, who have acquired little or no fame as lyrical poets, and
+moreover belong to the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, when the
+song-tide of the earlier epoch was ebbing fast.
+
+To the Troubadour, the undisputed leader of the poetic profession, we
+must turn first. It has been at all times, and is still, an all but
+impossible task to define the social position of a literary man, _quâ_
+literary man. So much depends upon his success in his profession, his
+family, his personal bearing, that a general rule can never comprise
+all individual cases. The same applies to the Provençal poets of the
+middle ages. It would be absurd to say that differences of rank did
+not exist in that primitive republic of letters. The composite nature
+of a profession, the humbler associates of which were often fain to
+amuse popular audiences at wakes and fairs with rude songs or tricks of
+jugglery, entirely precludes the social equality of all its members. But
+in the art of poetry a common ground was at least established, where men
+of all classes met on equal terms, and where the chance of success was
+little if at all furthered by accidental advantages of birth. The maxim
+of _carrière ouverte au talent_ was fully carried out, and we find that
+the most celebrated troubadours were frequently men of low origin, who
+by mere dint of genius conquered fame and gain. Folquet for instance, the
+gay troubadour, subsequently Bishop of Toulouse, and zealous persecutor
+of the Albigeois heretics, was the son of a simple merchant, and the
+great Bernart of Ventadorn seems to have been of still humbler descent—at
+least, if we may believe the testimony of an amiable brother poet, who
+delights in informing the public that Bernart’s father was a common
+serving-man, good at shooting with the bow, and that his mother gathered
+brushwood to light the fire. Marcabrun, another celebrated and at the
+same time most eccentric troubadour, was, according to one account, a
+foundling left at the gate of a rich man, while another biography calls
+him the (apparently illegitimate) son of a poor woman of the name of
+Bruna, the latter statement being confirmed by the troubadour’s own boast:
+
+    Marcabrus lo filhs Na Bruna
+    Fo ergendratz en tal luna
+    Qe anc non amet neguna
+    Ni d’autra non fo amatz.
+
+In English: ‘Marcabrun, the son of Madame Bruna, was begotten under such
+a moon that he never loved a woman, and never was loved by one.’
+
+It has been computed that to the middle and lower classes twenty-two
+troubadours owe their origin, to which number probably many of those
+must be added of whose circumstances no record has been left. The
+clergy furnished no less than thirteen poets, some of whom confined
+themselves to religious and didactic subjects, and therefore, strictly
+speaking, ought not to be called troubadours. Others, however, had no
+such conscientious scruples, and one of the most daring and outspoken
+satirists in Provençal literature was a monk. Uc de St. Cyr, destined
+by his father for the clerical profession, escaped from the university
+of Montpellier and became a troubadour, while in other cases gay poets
+turned monks and closed a wild career with repentance and holy exercise.
+Of Gui d’Uisel, a canon of Brioude and Montferrand, it is told that he
+dutifully abandoned the muse by command of the Papal legate.
+
+By far the largest proportion of the troubadours known to us—fifty-seven
+in number—belong to the nobility, not to the highest nobility in most
+cases, it is true. In several instances poverty is distinctly mentioned
+as the cause for adopting the profession of a troubadour. It almost
+appears, indeed, as if this profession, like that of the churchman
+and sometimes in connection with it (see the Monk of Montaudon), had
+been regarded by Provençal families as a convenient means of providing
+for their younger sons. Bertran de Born, on the other hand, owed the
+successful enforcement of his claims to the heritage he held in common
+with his unfortunate brother Constantine as much to his song as to his
+sword.
+
+It remains to refer to no less than twenty-three reigning princes of more
+or less importance of whose poetic efforts we have cognisance. With a
+few exceptions the contributions to literature of these distinguished
+amateurs are but slight. But that does not diminish the significance of
+the fact of these powerful men entering into competition with the sons of
+tailors and pedlars.
+
+Richard I. of England occupies the foremost place amongst these princely
+singers. The beautiful canzo composed in his Austrian prison, and
+preserved in both the _langue d’oc_ and _langue d’oïl_, is deservedly
+popular. It is perhaps less generally known that Richard occasionally
+made his poetry the vehicle of political invective. There is extant by
+him a song in which he violently attacks the Dauphin, Robert of Auvergne,
+accusing him of venality and breach of faith. The Dauphin, nothing loth,
+meets violence with violence, using in his retort the same complicated
+metre in which the Prince had attacked him. The same Dauphin appears
+again in another poetical encounter of a rather less elevated kind. This
+time his antagonist is a homely citizen of the name of Peire Pelissier,
+who, combining the useful with the agreeable, had metrically reminded
+the Dauphin of a certain sum of money owing to him. The indignation with
+which the noble poet rejects the low demand is beautiful to see. But the
+very fact of his entering into such a contest with such an antagonist
+shows the equalising, not to say levelling, influence which the universal
+desire for poetic fame exercised on the minds of men in those days.
+
+By far the most important poet of this class, and one of the most
+remarkable, as he was chronologically the first, of all troubadours, is
+William IX., sovereign Count of Poitiers, a noble prince, well known in
+history. The time of his reign, about the end of the eleventh century,
+marks the commencement of Provençal poetry, and this sudden appearance
+of an accomplished poet, mastering the most intricate rules of rhyme and
+metre ever invented, is unique in the history of literature. It is indeed
+in this case also explainable only from the disappearance of previous
+stages of poetic development.
+
+William of Poitiers is an interesting character in many respects. He is
+the prototype of the Troubadour, the wayfaring singer, wandering through
+the beautiful land of Provence in search of praise and amorous adventure,
+the latter not always as strictly moral nor yet as sentimental as might
+be desired. Even in those gallant days his dangerous gift of captivating
+women’s affections seems to have attracted more than ordinary notice.
+‘The Count of Poitiers,’ says the Provençal biography, ‘was one of the
+most courteous men in the world and a great deceiver of ladies; and he
+was a brave knight and had much to do with love-affairs; and he knew
+well how to sing and make verses; and for a long time he roamed all
+through the land to deceive the ladies.’ The poems of the Count further
+illustrate these statements in a manner not always delicate, but always
+witty and amusing. It ought to be added that, before his end, William
+repented of his evil ways, in witness of which the last of his remaining
+songs gives utterance to regretful sorrow and anxiety.
+
+But the chief importance of William’s life and poetry for our present
+purpose lies in the light which these throw on the high esteem in which
+the poet’s art was held in those days. For it must be remembered that
+the man who proudly donned the Troubadour’s garb was the same Duke of
+Aquitain and Count of Poitiers whom William of Malmesbury mentions
+amongst the great warriors of his time, and who, in the unfortunate
+crusade of 1101, appeared at the head of three hundred thousand fighting
+men.
+
+Such were the princely amateurs in mediæval Provence. Turning from these
+to the Troubadours proper, that is to professional poets who owed their
+sustenance to their song, we find that they occupied an important and
+honoured position in fashionable circles. There is scarcely a noble
+family in the south of France whose name is not by one or more of its
+members connected with the history of the Troubadours. His love of
+poetry and poets is a redeeming feature in the lion-hearted Richard’s
+wild career, but he had inherited this feeling from his mother, the
+much-maligned Queen Eleanor, whom we shall meet again as the generous
+friend of a celebrated singer. The kingly house of Aragon vied with that
+of Anjou in its liberal protection of the gay science. The names of
+Alfonso II., Peter II., and Peter III. continually occur in the grateful
+acknowledgments of the Troubadours; and to another monarch of Spanish
+origin, King Alfonso X. of Castile, belongs the honour of having given
+shelter to the remnant of Provençal poets after the fall of their own
+country. At his court lived and deplored the decline of poetry the last
+of the Troubadours, the noble Guiraut Riquier. Many other protectors
+of the Troubadours, no less liberal though less illustrious, will be
+incidentally mentioned in these pages.
+
+At the courts of these princes and nobles the Troubadour was eagerly
+welcomed. Without any distinct charge or office he partook of the
+liberality of his protector, half guest, half courtier, but without any
+of the irksome duties of the latter, and free to come and go where his
+wayward mood attracted him. We hear of frequent and rapid changes of
+abode in the lives of many troubadours, mostly in consequence of some
+imbroglio with a lady. But Provençal poets were naturally a restless
+tribe, ever in search of new lands and new loves.
+
+The gifts with which the Troubadour’s song was rewarded varied in nature
+and value according to the wealth and liberality of the donor. Horses
+gaily caparisoned, rich vestments, and money are not unfrequently
+mentioned. The Monk of Montaudon rails at a brother poet for having
+accepted _manh vielh vestimen_ (many an old coat) previously worn to
+rags, we may suppose, by its economical owner. But other nobles showed a
+more generous appreciation of poetry, and in one case at least we hear
+of a liberal host who, enraptured by his poet-guest’s song, presents
+him with his own palfrey and dress. This instance at the same time
+illustrates the spontaneous nature of most of these gifts. The troubadour
+was not like an English poet laureate or the bard of a Welsh prince,
+receiving a yearly salary in money or kind, and bound for certain
+emoluments to accomplish a certain amount of verse. An engagement of
+this kind was as unsuitable to his disposition as it would have been
+inconsistent with the terms of equality on which he lived with his
+protector. The perfect ease of intercourse existing between poets and
+princes of the highest rank is indeed astonishing. Bertran de Born,
+a petty baron, called the sons of Henry II. of England by familiar
+nicknames, and Raimon de Miraval, a poor knight of Carcassonne, used
+the same liberty with the mighty Count Raimon VI. of Toulouse, with
+whom he was united by the bonds of tenderest mutual friendship. Even
+the powerful Raimon de Rossilho, proud by nature and further excited by
+jealous suspicion, has to treat a servant of his own household with the
+utmost consideration, merely because this retainer happens to be Guillem
+de Cabestanh, the author of some popular love-songs. Only when the
+poet’s guilt is established beyond a doubt does Raimon give way to his
+revengeful passion.
+
+Another privilege enjoyed by the troubadour, and prized by him much
+higher than all those previously mentioned, was the favour of noble
+ladies, granted to him as the guerdon of his impassioned song. The
+relation between lady and troubadour has been a favourite subject with
+writers of history and romance from the early middle ages to the present
+time, and it is to be feared that the popularity of Provençal poets rests
+quite as much on their love-affairs as on their literary achievements.
+From the story of Flamenca previously told and numerous other incidents
+to be mentioned in the following pages, the reader may form an idea
+of the laxity of morals in those days, especially as regards the
+marriage-vow. Considering this moral atmosphere and the free intercourse
+of the sexes existing in Provençal society, where the _dueña_ or any
+similar institution seems to have been unknown, the frequent occurrence
+of a guilty passion between a troubadour and a high-born lady—for
+instance, the wife of his protector—is intrinsically but too probable.
+But it is nevertheless an undoubted fact, although the old biographers
+are by no means prone to acknowledge it, that the homage offered by the
+troubadour and accepted by the lady did not necessarily imply guilty
+weakness on the part of the latter. This is sufficiently proved by the
+attitude of a third and strongly interested party, the husband. In many
+instances he thought himself honoured by the eloquent praise lavished
+on his wife, and was willing to make allowance for occasional outbursts
+of passion mixed with the more conventional terms of distant adoration.
+Count Barral de Vaux, the good-natured husband of Azalais, the lady whom
+Peire Vidal celebrated under the pseudonym of Vierna, went so far as to
+adjust little differences arising between his wife and that eccentric
+poet. Count Richard of Poitou also encouraged his sister Mathilda to
+accept the homage of Bertran de Born, which seems to establish the
+acknowledged possibility of a perfectly innocent relation of the kind
+alluded to beyond a doubt. The future King of England would hardly have
+exposed a lady of his house to ignominious suspicion for the sake of a
+vassal, much as he stood in dread of the dangerous gifts of that vassal.
+
+And this last remark indicates at the same time the clue to the whole
+extraordinary phenomenon of the privileged social position of the
+Troubadours. These poets were the stern censors of moral and political
+depravity as well as the singers of love. They possessed the public ear,
+and, conscious of their power, they wielded it, often no doubt to noble
+purpose, but no less frequently with a strong admixture of that personal
+bias which so few pamphleteers and party writers know how to eschew. The
+bitterness and rancour of the Provençal _sirventes_ are equalled by few
+satirists of other nations, surpassed by none; and many a noble—and many
+a lady too, for that matter—who might be comparatively indifferent to the
+Troubadour’s praise were fain to evade his blame by ministering to his
+comfort or his vanity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE JOGLAR.
+
+
+The name ‘Troubadour,’ we have seen, is synonymous with our ‘lyrical
+poet.’ His office was, strictly speaking, limited to the writing, or at
+least producing, of songs. But for the publication of these poems two
+more cooperators were required—the musical composer and the singer or
+reciter. Frequently the Troubadour invented his own melodies, and takes
+pride in stating that fact; some even combined with these two faculties
+that of the executive musician; ‘Pons de Capduelh,’ we are told, ‘was a
+poet (_trobava_), and could play the violin and sing.’ Others, however,
+were not so variously endowed, and in that case they engaged the services
+of an assistant, technically called joglar. The joglar proper seems to
+be an exclusively Provençal institution. The necessities of musical
+composition and promulgation of course existed more or less in all poetic
+communities. Boccaccio says of Dante that he loved to associate with
+musicians who supplied his canzone and sestine with melodies, but we
+nowhere read that he kept a professional composer for that purpose.
+
+The exact border-line between troubadour and joglar cannot be drawn
+without difficulty. Sometimes, as we have seen, the two offices were
+combined in one person, at others the same individual rose from the
+lower to the higher class. Of Marcabrun, for instance, subsequently
+one of the most celebrated troubadours, we are told that he began his
+career as apprentice or joglar to another poet named Cercamon.[8] The
+safest distinction is arrived at by bearing in mind that the joglars were
+principally, though by no means exclusively, musicians and executants,
+the converse ratio of the creative and executive faculties obtaining
+amongst the superior class of poets. For that position the Troubadours
+claimed for themselves, and took good care to let the world know of their
+claim. Towards the joglars, immediately dependent on their productions,
+they frequently adopt the tone of haughty condescension. ‘Bayona,’ Raimon
+de Miraval addresses an unfortunate singer, ‘I know well it is for a
+_sirventes_ that you have come amongst us. And counting this there will
+be three; for two I have made already by which you have gained much gold
+and silver, Bayona, and many a worn coat, and other clothes good and
+bad.’ ‘Goodness! Bayona,’ he says in another poem, ‘how poverty-stricken
+do I see you! badly dressed in a mean gown! But I will draw you from
+your poverty with a sirventes which I offer you.’ In other places the
+troubadours express anxious doubts as to the memory and capacity of their
+interpreters, and seriously exhort the latter to adhere strictly to
+the original as transmitted to them by personal instruction. ‘My son,’
+Perdigo addresses his joglar, ‘on your honour, I charge you to take good
+care that you understand the work and do not deface it.’ Other poets
+sought safety from truncation in the well-knitted and compact woof of
+their stanzas, which would not allow of the omission of a single verse or
+rhyme without manifest detriment to the whole organism. ‘Marcabrun,’ that
+celebrated troubadour boasts of himself, ‘knows how to turn and interlace
+sense and verse in such a way that no other man can take away a single
+word;’ which precaution, by the way, answered against plagiarists as well
+as against slovenly reciters.
+
+But the same feeling of ill-disguised contempt which some troubadours
+betray for their immediate subordinates, others extend to the whole class
+of singers and performers, and especially the works of later poets are
+full of bitter invective against the meanness, vulgarity, and innumerable
+other vices and shortcomings of the joglars. The nobles are reproved for
+receiving them at their castles, and the decline of poetic art is not
+unjustly attributed to the growing taste for the buffooneries cultivated
+by the lower grades of the body poetic.
+
+All things considered, this antagonism was not wholly unjustified. It has
+already been said that the humbler members of the profession were fain to
+turn an honest penny by enlivening the feasts and fairs of villagers by
+ingenious tricks of jugglery, and whoever will consult the ‘Instructions
+to Joglars,’ above mentioned, will find a considerable portion of the
+modern _répertoire_ anticipated. Even dancing on the tight rope, and
+training and producing clever dogs and monkeys, were accomplishments
+not wholly beneath the dignity of the joglar. No wonder that noble
+troubadours shunned all contact with a profession comprehending such
+doubtful elements. But of course there were joglars and joglars, just
+as in our times there are artists and artists; and a man like Perdigo,
+who himself wrote beautiful songs, and kept a singer to sing them, and
+who was knighted by the Marquis of Montferrat on account of his poetic
+merits, would no more have considered a common trickster his equal than
+Mario or Faure would artistically fraternise with the ‘Great Vance.’
+
+And yet the old biographer calls Perdigo repeatedly and persistently a
+joglar. It is in such cases as this that the distinction between the
+two classes alluded to practically ceases. Joglars were received in the
+best society on the same terms of equality as were granted to the more
+exclusive brethren; the same gifts of horses and rich garments rewarded
+their efforts, and these efforts also were to a large extent identical
+with those of the troubadours, excepting perhaps the one circumstance
+that the joglars, although poets themselves, included the pieces of other
+authors in their _répertoire_, while the troubadours, if gifted with
+executive talents, always confined themselves to their own productions.
+
+But another line of distinction may be drawn from the purely literary
+point of view previously indicated. The Troubadours, it has been said,
+were lyrical poets, and seem to have looked upon romancers, novelists,
+_et hoc genus omne_ with all the superciliousness of a higher caste.
+Of one poet it is distinctly stated that he was _no bos trobaire mas
+noellaire_, ‘not a good troubadour, but a story-teller.’ The Joglars,
+on the contrary, as we know from the ‘Ensenhamens,’ were bound to know
+and reproduce the whole store of facts and fables more or less common
+to the mediæval literatures of Western Europe. The slight and temporary
+character of most of these reproductions, and the comparative neglect
+with which they were treated by Provençal literati, have previously
+been touched upon, the scarcity of epical manuscripts in the _langue
+d’oc_ being the natural corollary of these two causes. For the number of
+joglars capable of wielding the pen must have been very small, and the
+scribes and scholars to whom we owe the admirable and large collections
+of lyrical pieces were naturally much less anxious to preserve the
+humble productions of the narrative muse. Hence the astounding fact
+above referred to that even of the epics of so renowned a poet as Arnaut
+Daniel not a single specimen remains, and the other circumstance,
+no less surprising, that the Provençal biographer passes over these
+important and evidently most popular works with complete silence,
+saving his literary conscience by a cursory reference to Arnaut as a
+‘Joglar.’ It is a further significant fact that most of the narrative
+poems preserved—barring the scanty remains of the popular epic which
+belong to a separate epoch and circle of literary production—date from
+a comparatively late period when the all-engrossing sway of lyrical
+poetry, and with it the vitality of Provençal literature itself, began
+to dwindle. The social aspects of this decline and fall, its causes, and
+the vain efforts to check its detrimental force, are brought home to us
+in the stanzas of a noble-minded poet, Guiraut Riquier, justly called
+the Last of the Troubadours. For at his death, about the end of the
+thirteenth century, the final expiration of the literature and of the
+independent and artistically available idiom of Provence may be said to
+commence.
+
+Of the life of Guiraut Riquier comparatively little is known, his
+biography being, strange to say, not included in any of the Provençal
+collections. On the other hand we are more than usually well instructed
+as to the chronology of his works. For to almost every one of his
+poems the date of its production is affixed in the MS., which moreover
+expressly claims to be an exact copy of the poet’s original. From
+the latter statement we may at the same time infer the penmanship of
+Guiraut, which in those days was never unaccompanied by other literary
+attainments. But, besides this, the scholarly cast of his mind is
+sufficiently proved by the troubadour’s work. The wonder is how with
+this tendency could coexist in him the sweetest and freshest fragrance
+of poetic _naïveté_—a _naïveté_ and spontaneity all the more admirable
+as they are altogether rare amongst the Troubadours. To him Provençal
+literature owes perhaps its nearest approach to the unalloyed impulse of
+popular song. To this side of his creativeness we shall have to return on
+a later occasion.
+
+Guiraut’s lines had not fallen in pleasant places. The old times of glory
+and well-being for the Troubadours were past and gone, and although
+Guiraut found a protector and friend in Alfonso X., King of Castile,
+to whom, as he says in 1278, his poetic services had been devoted for
+sixteen years, this protection seems not to have been of a kind to exempt
+the troubadour wholly from the cares of existence. With a bitterness
+recalling Dante’s complaint of the steepness of strange stairs and the
+salt flavour of strange bread, Guiraut speaks of the _vergonha e paor_,
+the shame and fear with which he enters the presence of a noble lord _per
+demandar lo sieu_, to ask him for his property.
+
+To the above-named King Alfonso was presented a curious memorial or
+supplication, in which Guiraut Riquier deplores the degradation of his
+noble calling and at the same time suggests various remedies for the
+growing evil. This was not the only or the last time that the troubadour
+stood up in the defence of his art. In a powerful sirventes dated 1278,
+he refutes the attacks of fanatic priests on poetry—that is, poetry in
+the true and elevated meaning of the word. ‘So little,’ he complains, ‘is
+the noble science of poetry valued nowadays, that people scarcely desire
+or suffer it, or will listen to it.... And our preachers declare it to
+be a sin, and reprove every one bitterly for its sake.’ He fully admits
+the justice of these reproaches in many cases in which poets invent ‘vain
+things whence sin may arise or war and disunion.’ ‘But,’ he concludes,
+‘those who with mastership string together noble words, and with wisdom
+and knowledge teach the truth, can never find sufficient honour and
+reward.’
+
+The reader who might be inclined to see a tinge of scholastic pedantry
+in this passionate plea for ‘wisdom and knowledge,’ ought to consider
+the root of the evil combated by Guiraut. The long war with France and
+the crusaders had left its detrimental mark on the manners and morals of
+Provençal nobles. Their fortunes were wasted, their castles destroyed,
+and the new generation brought up in the camp knew little of the taste
+and refinement of previous ages. Hence the bitter attacks in the poems
+of the later troubadours directed against the vices of the nobles, their
+avarice, their stinginess, their coarseness of taste which delighted
+alone in the vulgar jests of the lowest joglars. It is especially
+against the encroachments of the latter on the domain of artistic poetry
+that Guiraut’s angry protest is directed. The mixing up of the two
+classes of Joglars and Troubadours he believes to be the first cause of
+the disease, and as the intellect of the time had grown too obtuse to
+draw the line, he demands an external sign of distinction. Hence the
+somewhat strange proposal laid down in his celebrated missive to the King
+of Castile.
+
+The ‘Suplicatio qe fes Guiraut Riquier al rey de Castela per lo nom
+del joglars l’an LXXIII.’ is a most curious document. Nothing would be
+easier than to draw into ridicule a man who intended to prop a tottering
+literature with a name, a title. But at the same time this man is so
+much in earnest himself, and his cause so noble, that one’s smile
+at his Quixotic notion involuntarily gives way to a feeling of deep
+sympathy. Guiraut begins his poem with a short exordium of complacent
+self-laudation, in which he dwells at some length on his competence to
+treat the subject:
+
+    Pus dieus m’a dat saber
+    Et entendemen ver
+    De trobar, etc.
+
+Next follow the usual compliments to his protector, and, this duty
+discharged, Guiraut begins to speak from the fulness of his heart. ‘You
+know,’ he says, ‘that all men live in classes differing and distinguished
+from each other. Therefore it seems to me that such a distinction of
+name ought also to be made amongst the Joglars; for it is unjust that
+the best of them should not be distinguished by name as well as they
+are by deed. It is unfair that an ignorant man of small learning, who
+knows a little how to play some instrument and strums it in public places
+for whatever people will give him, or one who sings low ditties to low
+people about the streets and taverns, and takes alms without shame from
+the first comer—that all these should indiscriminately go by the name of
+Joglars.... For joglaria was invented by wise men, to give joy to good
+people by their skill in playing on instruments.... After that came the
+Troubadours to record valiant deeds, and to praise the good and encourage
+them in their noble endeavour.... But in our days and for some time
+past a set of people without sense and wisdom have undertaken to sing
+and compose stanzas, and play on instruments ... and their jealousy is
+roused when they see honour done to the good and noble.’ Every one, he
+reasons, ought to be named according to the work he does, and it would be
+quite just, he characteristically adds, to apply the name of Joglars to
+all poets and singers indiscriminately if they were all more or less of
+the same kind and worth, like common citizens. This, however, is not the
+case, and the good suffer by being mixed up with the low and vulgar.
+
+To check this confusion by a tangible sign, to distinguish by an
+acknowledged name and title the trickster and player of instruments, who
+flatters the senses by momentary enjoyment, from the learned and serious
+poet whose works are graven on the memory and long survive their author,
+to do this and save poetry from impending ruin, Guiraut says, is a worthy
+task for the wise and noble King Alfonso.
+
+The king’s answer to this request is extant. It is written in verse,
+but otherwise composed with all the gravity of a state paper, and at
+the same time with a lucidity of argument rarely found in mediæval
+writings. ‘Although,’ the king justly remarks, ‘it is unwise and of
+dangerous consequence to speak about the affairs of strangers, yet he
+who holds honour dear, and possesses sense and wisdom and power withal,
+ought to consider the interests of others together with his own.’ After
+this cautious beginning, the king fully admits the reason of Guiraut’s
+complaint, and points out the injustice of comprising all the members of
+the poetic, musical, and histrionic professions under the common title
+of Joglar, a word which the king learnedly adds is derived from the
+Latin _joculator_, and therefore is wholly unfit to designate the higher
+branches of the art of poetry.
+
+In Spain, we are further told, these things are managed better; musicians
+and mountebanks and poets have each a name of their own, and nobody
+can mistake the one for the other. A similar distinction the king now
+proposes for the domain of the _langue d’oc_, and for that purpose
+divides the whole poetic community into three classes. First and lowest
+are named the people who would not dare to show themselves at court, and
+who hang about taverns and village-greens, showing off the tricks of
+learned dogs and goats, imitating birds’ voices, or singing coarse songs.
+These in future are to be called by the Italian word ‘_bufos_,’ ‘as is
+the custom in Lombardy.’
+
+Different from these are the musicians and reciters of stories who
+contribute to the amusement of the nobles by these arts or other
+agreeable pastimes. These, and these alone, ought to claim the name
+of ‘_joglars_,’ and they ought to be received at court and liberally
+remunerated according to their merits.
+
+The third and highest class comprises those who possess the gift of
+composing verses and melodies, and for that reason are entitled to the
+name of _inventores_, which, as the king remarks, is the Latin equivalent
+of the vernacular _trobadors_.
+
+But a last and highest distinction is reserved for those amongst the
+poets who combine the useful with the agreeable, and in the sweet rhymes
+of their canzos enforce moral and religious maxims. These are in future
+to be called _doctors de trobar_, doctors of poetry; for, adds the king,
+who is fond of etymology and not wholly averse to a pun:
+
+        ... Car doctrinar
+    Sabon ben qui’ls enten.
+
+Whether the degree was ever conferred remains uncertain. It is obvious
+that the creating of twenty doctors of poetry would not make one poet.
+At the same time if a man or men of high poetic gifts had arisen, the
+improved social position intended for them would have been a gain and
+an encouragement. But it is a melancholy fact that what seems most
+spontaneous and involuntary in man—genius—obeys, after all, the universal
+rules of supply and demand, and that when once literary vitality and
+literary interest are departed from a nation it is hopeless to galvanise
+the corpse with artificial life. Guiraut’s scheme in itself is therefore
+hardly worth mentioning. But it is interesting as a symptom of the same
+tendency of the age towards mixing up poetry with scholarship which soon
+afterwards led to the institution of Academies, and Jeux Floraux, and
+Poet-Laureateships, and traces of which have survived till the present
+day in Provence and elsewhere.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+TRACES OF POPULAR SONG IN THE POETRY OF THE TROUBADOURS.—THE PASTORELA.
+
+
+The Troubadours, it has been said more than once, were court poets,
+their songs a court literature, taking its theme from, and reciprocally
+appealing to, the upper classes of society. There was an advantage and
+a still greater drawback connected with this exclusiveness of culture
+and sympathies. In the early middle ages it was of the utmost importance
+to raise, and abide by, a standard of refinement in opposition to the
+prevailing coarseness of the age. But, on the other hand, the fresh and
+ever-bubbling source of spontaneous feeling was absent, which their
+_rapport_ with the people supplied to the French Trouvère, the German
+Minnesinger, and our own Elizabethan dramatists, court poets though
+all these were. Hence the monotony and laboured dryness of many of the
+troubadours’ songs, and the narrow range of thought covered by their
+works compared with the mediæval literature of other countries. There
+were, however, exceptions to the rule, and although not a particle of
+the presumably rich fund of Provençal folklore has been thought worth
+preserving,[9] still there is distinct evidence that its charms were
+appreciated by several of the knightly singers, in spite of prejudice and
+courtly superciliousness. The results of this appreciation are certain
+characteristic forms of song evidently derived from popular sources,
+although treated with artistic finish by the Troubadours. The tone of
+these poems differs so essentially from the ordinary bias of Provençal
+literature, that it seemed well to treat of them in separate chapters.
+
+No better sign of the sterling value of Guiraut Riquier’s talent could
+be required than the fact that the first name we meet with in this new
+field is his. The same troubadour who boldly protested against the
+increasing coarseness amongst the nobles was able to perceive in the
+natural artlessness of the people’s song a new element of refined poetry.
+It was perhaps from the infusion of this new life-blood that he expected
+the revival of his art quite as much as from the artificial safeguards
+of the poets’ social position which the King of Castile could grant.
+Guiraut Riquier is the Provençal representative of the ‘Pastorela,’ or
+‘Pastoreta,’ the shepherd’s song. The popular origin of this form of
+poetry cannot well be denied. There is about the life of the shepherd
+amongst hills and lonely places, the tending of his flocks, and the very
+knitting of his stockings, a touch of simple pensive poetry which has
+escaped few nations, and it may be asserted that in the primitive songs
+of every people on earth the pastoral idea is represented in one form
+or another. It is equally true that artistic and artificial poetry has
+taken up and remodelled the original subject in a somewhat arbitrary
+manner. From Theocritus and Virgil and Guarini and Tasso down to our
+modern operatic stage the shepherd with his pipe, the shepherdess with
+her crook and surrounded by snow-white lambkins, have been introduced
+in the most becoming poses. But the innate raciness of the theme could
+never be wholly obliterated. Adam de la Halle’s ‘Robin et Marion,’
+written in the fourteenth century, and justly claiming to be the first
+comic opera in France, is full of the life and the rollicking fun
+of the people; and the original features of broad Scotch humour and
+common sense may be discovered under the thin layer of rococo tinsel
+in Allan Ramsay’s ‘Faithful Shepherd.’ Guiraut Riquier belongs to the
+more realistic class of pastoral poets. He occupies an intermediate
+position between Adam’s broad out-spokenness and Tasso’s euphuism. His
+shepherdess—for a shepherdess and only one is the heroine of his six
+pastorelas—is evidently a real being taken from real life; at the same
+time the coarsenesses of this reality are sufficiently toned down to suit
+the fastidious taste of a courtly audience. Another uncommon feature,
+especially in a Troubadour’s creation, is the strenuous virtue with which
+the rustic beauty resists the most tempting offers of her knightly lover.
+She is meek and courteous and affable, but she knows exactly where to
+draw the line between innocent flirtation and serious passion. Whether
+such a character in such a sphere of life partakes more of idealism or
+of realism the ingenuous reader must decide. But it is most improbable
+that a Troubadour should have doubted, or allowed others to doubt,
+his absolute irresistibility unless convinced of the contrary by the
+most undeniable proof. We may therefore assume that Guiraut Riquier’s
+adventure with a shepherdess, if not absolutely copied from life, is at
+least partly drawn from autobiographical sources.
+
+The first of Guiraut’s six remaining pastorelas is dated 1260, and
+describes the poet’s meeting with the shepherdess. ‘The other day,’ he
+says, ‘I was walking by the side of a brook, musing and alone, for love
+led me to think of song, when suddenly I saw a sweet shepherdess, lovely
+and kind, watching her flock. I stopped before her, seeing her so comely,
+and she received me well.
+
+‘My question was: “Sweetheart, are you loved by some one, and do you know
+what love is?” “Certainly, sir,” she answered without guile, “and I have
+plighted my troth, there is no doubt on the subject.” “Maiden, I am glad
+to have found you, if it may be that I should please you.” “Sir, you have
+thought of me too much; if I were foolish I might fancy a great deal.”
+“Maiden, do you not believe me?” “Sir, I must not.”
+
+‘“Sweet girl, if you accept my love I am longing for yours.” “Sir, it
+is impossible; you have a sweetheart, and I a lover.” “Maiden, however
+that may be, it is you I love, and your love I would enjoy.” “Sir, look
+somewhere else for one who is more worthy of you.” “Better than you I do
+not wish for.” “Sir, you are foolish.”
+
+‘“I am no fool, sweet mistress. Love gives me leave, and I yield to your
+loveliness.” “Sir, I would I were rid of your wooing speech.” “Maiden,
+as I live, you are too coy. My prayer is humbly made.” “Sir, I must not
+forget myself so much; alas! my honour would be lost if I trusted too
+lightly.” “Maiden, my love compels me.” “Sir, it would little beseem you.”
+
+‘“Maiden, whatever I may say have no fear that I would dishonour you.”
+“Sir, I am your friend, for I see your wisdom checks your passion.”
+“Maiden, when I am in fear of doing wrong I think of ‘Beautiful
+Semblance!’”[10] “Sir, I much like your kind behaviour; for you know how
+to please.” “Maiden, what do I hear?” “Sir, that I love you.”
+
+‘“Tell me, sweet maiden, what has made you speak such pleasant words?”
+“Sir, wherever I go I hear the sweet songs of Sir Guiraut Riquier.”
+“Maiden, let us not cease to speak of what I ask you.” “Sir, does
+not ‘Beautiful Semblance’ favour you, she who guards you from loose
+flatteries?” “Maiden, she will not hear me.” “Sir, she is right.”’
+
+I have given the first pastoral _in extenso_, to convey an idea to
+the reader of the charming tone pervading the whole number. The idea
+is simple enough: an amorous knight, whose importunate offers to an
+unprotected girl are kept in check by mere dint of graceful, witty,
+sometimes tart reply. This motive is essentially the same in the five
+remaining pieces of the series. Several variations are, however,
+introduced with the aggregate result of a kind of plot or story. Two
+years are supposed to have elapsed between the first poem and the second.
+Again the pair meet; and again there are passionate importunities on the
+one, and graceful evasions on the other side. Remarkable is especially
+the sly humour with which the girl receives the knight’s excuses for his
+long absence. The first stanza, with a translation subjoined, may serve
+as specimen:—
+
+    L’autrier trobei la bergeira d’antan,
+    Saludei la, e respos mi la bella;
+    Pueis dis: ‘Senhor com avetz estat tan
+    Q’ieu nous ai vist? ges m’amors nous gragella?’
+      ‘Toza si fa mai qe no fas semblan.’
+    ‘Senhor, l’afan per qe podetz soffrir?’
+      ‘Toza, tals es q’aissi m’a fag venir.’
+    ‘Senhor et ieu anava vos cercan.’
+      ‘Toza, aissi etz vostres anhels gardan.’
+    ‘Senhor, e vos en passan so m’albir.’
+
+    My shepherdess I found of yester year,
+    And to my greeting she made meek reply:
+    ‘Sir, do you hold,’ she said, ‘my love so dear,
+    That year and day have passed since you were nigh?’
+      ‘I love you, maiden, more than may appear.’
+    ‘How could you bear the burden of your pain?’
+      ‘It is my love that brought me here again.’
+    ‘Sir, many a time I sought you far and near.’
+      ‘Your flock alone, O maiden, you hold dear.’
+    ‘Through many lands to wander _you_ are fain.’
+
+Nothing new occurs in the third pastoral. But in the fourth, dated three
+years after the third and seven years after the first poem, matters are
+considerably altered. The shepherdess has been united to her swain, and
+the knight finds her rocking a sleeping child in her lap. Time has worked
+its changes on the knight also, and at first she does not or pretends
+not to recognise him. To one of his amorous protestations she replies:
+‘That is just what Guiraut has told me, and yet I have not been deceived
+by him.’ ‘Girl,’ he answers, ‘Guiraut has never forgotten you, but you
+refuse to remember me.’ ‘Sir,’ the girl says, evidently in her old vein
+of mocking compliance, ‘his graceful bearing pleased me much better than
+you do, and if he came again I could not resist him.’ In the further
+course of the conversation Guiraut lays great stress on the fame the girl
+owes to his songs all over Provence. He also, by a very blunt question,
+elicits the fact that the father of the child is one ‘who has taken
+me to church,’ a circumstance which by no means abates the passionate
+ardour of the troubadour. But he finds the matron as inexorable as he
+had found the maiden, and at last has to depart on his way with the
+reluctant compliment: ‘I have tried you sorely, but have found you of
+unexceptionable conduct.’
+
+Another space of seven years is supposed to elapse before we hear
+anything more of the shepherdess. These long intervals give a strange
+touch of realism to the story; for one does not see why the poet should
+wilfully destroy the illusions of youth and beauty without some reason
+founded on fact and chronology. This time the shepherdess and her
+daughter are on their return from a pilgrimage to Compostella. They are
+resting by the roadside, when the knight riding past sees them, and asks
+for news from Spain. At first the conversation takes a political turn,
+quite in accordance with the mature age of the parties, one would think.
+But the troubadour is incorrigible. He soon relapses into love-making,
+and goes so far as to threaten the lady with satirical songs in case of
+non-compliance. Even an appropriate allusion to his grey hair cannot
+bring him to reason. He listens with an ill grace, and at last takes
+angry leave.
+
+The sixth and last scene of the drama is laid at an inn, where the knight
+has sought shelter from the rain. He notices that the buxom landlady and
+her daughter are whispering together, and after some time recognises
+in the former the shepherdess of auld lang syne; very lang syne, for
+again six years intervene between this and the last meeting. Guiraut at
+once broaches his favourite topic. Hearing that the lady is a widow, he
+gallantly suggests: ‘Surely a woman like you ought not to be without a
+lover!’ She frankly confesses that there is an aspirant to her hand, but
+she does not feel inclined to change her condition a second time, for the
+very sensible reason, amongst others, that her wooer has ‘seven children
+all under ten.’ ‘My only comfort,’ she adds, pointing to her daughter,
+‘the source of my joy, stands before you.’ This touching appeal draws the
+attention of the knight towards the girl, and immediately her youthful
+charms produce the usual effect on his inflammable heart. The sudden
+transfer of allegiance he excuses by the treatment he has received, and
+implores the daughter to make amends for the mother’s cruelty. But again
+he receives nothing but pretty speeches, and thus the adventure comes to
+a close.
+
+Another poet much connected with the pastoreta is Gui d’Uisel, a
+celebrated troubadour of Limousin, who belonged to the church, and
+ultimately is said to have abandoned his poetic pursuits by an express
+command of the Papal legate. In connection with two brothers and a
+cousin he seems to have formed a sort of co-operative society on the
+principle of divided artistic labour and accomplishment. ‘They were all
+four poets,’ the old biography says, ‘and made excellent songs. Elias
+(the cousin) wrote the good tensos;[11] Eble the wicked ones; and Peter
+sang what the other three had invented.’ Gui, as was said before, was
+famous for his pastoral songs, several of which are extant. They show
+little of Guiraut Riquier’s healthy realism, but are, on the other hand,
+full of quiet lyrical charm. In one of them he prettily describes the
+reconciliation between a shepherd and his lass, brought about by the
+troubadour’s own counsel. The opening stanza is perhaps unsurpassed in
+Provençal literature for gentle, melodious flow of verse:—
+
+    L’autre jorn cost una via
+    Auzi cantar un pastor
+    Una canson qe dizia,
+    ‘Mort m’an semblan traidor.’
+    E qant el vi qe venia
+    Salh en pes per far m’onor,
+    E ditz, ‘Deus sal, mo senhor,
+    Q’er ai trobat ses bauzia
+    Leial amic celador,
+    A cui m’aus clamar d’amor.’[12]
+
+Marcabrun also, the satirical poet, of whom more will have to be said
+hereafter, is amongst pastoral poets. He has little of Gui d’Uisel’s
+lyrical sweetness, and his discourse with a shepherdess—for his poem also
+takes the form of a dialogue—is not always over-refined. But here again,
+strange to say, the flatteries of the troubadour find no favour with the
+maiden—a circumstance the recurrence of which greatly tends to increase
+one’s belief in the virtue of Provençal shepherdesses.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+OTHER POPULAR FORMS.—THE ALBA AND SERENA.
+
+
+Songs of the morning and evening—_alba_ and _serena_—are amongst the
+most characteristic embodiments of Provençal poetry. To us these
+words come through the medium of northern French, and their original
+meaning has been lost on the way. _Aubade_ and _serenade_ mean amongst
+modern nations, from the shores of the Baltic to the shores of the
+Mediterranean, the musical entertainments performed or arranged by the
+lover under his lady-love’s window at morning or eventide. In music
+these words have received a still different technical meaning, founded,
+however, on the same peculiar significance of the term. For in their
+_serenades_ and _aubades_ the composers of the last century, at least,
+employ in preference such instruments as are most adapted for open-air
+effects.
+
+In modern poetry ‘Hark, hark, the lark!’ from ‘Cymbeline,’ may be
+regarded as the most perfect and typical specimen of the _aubade_. But
+the difference between this and the Provençal _alba_ is of a radical
+nature. The _aubade_ shows or implies the lovers to be divided; in the
+_alba_ they are united; as regards form, the first is an address,
+the second a dialogue, or, at least, the successive utterance of two
+persons. One of these speakers, and the principal of the two, is in
+most and, according to my opinion, in the oldest of these songs, not
+either of the lovers, but the faithful watcher or sentinel guarding them
+from intrusion. Hence we find that the wonderfully beautiful morning
+songs, evidently written in imitation of Provençal models by Wolfram
+von Eschenbach, the great mediæval German poet, are actually called
+‘Wächterlieder,’ or sentinel songs. Reminiscences of the same kind seem
+also to have inspired Brangaene’s warning, mingled with the love-songs of
+Tristan and Isolde, in Wagner’s opera.
+
+The purest and earliest form of the _alba_, like that of the Scotch
+ballad, was no doubt purely dramatic, the speaker or speakers beginning
+their monologue or dialogue without any previous introduction. The
+narrative stanza at the beginning, found in most of the existing _albas_,
+is evidently an after-thought. It became necessary, owing to the
+imagination of the hearers failing to supply the situation at a time,
+perhaps, when these hearers became partly readers, and the additional
+help of the joglar’s action and vocal flexibility ceased in consequence.
+This, however, is mere conjecture from analogy, for the dates of the
+Provençal specimens are difficult to determine. In the magnificent _alba_
+by Guiraut de Bornelh, a celebrated troubadour of the spring-time of
+Provençal literature, the introductory stanza has been dispensed with.
+‘Glorious King,’ is the watchman’s song, ‘true light and brightness,
+Almighty God and Lord, grant faithful help to my friend, for I have not
+seen him since the night came, and soon it will be dawn.’ ‘Sweet friend,
+be you awake or asleep, sleep no longer, but gently rise, for in the East
+I see growing larger the star which harbingers the morn; for well I know
+it. And soon it will be dawn.’ ‘Sweet friend, I call to you in my song;
+sleep no longer, for I hear the bird that goes seeking the day through
+the grove (_qe vai qeren lo jorn per lo boscatge_), and I fear that the
+jealous knight may assail you, and soon it will be dawn.’
+
+‘Sweet true friend,’ the lover replies, in the last stanza, ‘I sojourn in
+so glorious a place that I wish dawn and day might never appear; for the
+fairest lady ever born by mother I hold in my arm, and little do I heed
+the fell jealous knight or the dawn.’
+
+It is strange to note the coincidence of imagery and even of expression
+with which the same situation has supplied the troubadour, and
+Shakespeare in ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ The simplicity, one might almost say
+the obviousness, of all true poetry here finds a striking illustration.
+Given the parting of two lovers at early morn, and the ‘earliest cry
+of new-awakened birds’ heralding or seeking the day, the morning star,
+the dawn, and the defiance of its perils by the lover—all this suggests
+itself almost as a matter of necessity. To the same simplicity of motive
+we have to ascribe the freshness and beauty of many of the _albas_. In
+them the troubadours frequently display an intensity of language, an
+originality and picturesqueness of description, which we look for in vain
+in their more elaborate poems. What, for instance, can be more impressive
+in its striking symbolism than the opening address to the ‘Glorious
+King, the true light and brightness,’ or more subtle and poetic than the
+conception of the lark seeking or longing for the morn with its anxious
+cry? It is another proof of the enormous value of the popular element
+in artistic poetry. While in contact with this healthy spirit, the
+Troubadours held it unnecessary, perhaps beneath their dignity, to show
+the formal capabilities of their craft.
+
+At the same time the _alba_ was by no means without its formal rule or
+custom. This also is more or less strictly exemplified by the stanzas
+above quoted. The reader will notice the refrain or burden at the end
+of each stanza, another proof of the antiquity of the species; he will
+also remark the recurrence of the word ‘_alba_.’ This word is always
+found in the burden, or, where that feature is wanting, in the last line
+of every stanza, of which sometimes it is actually the concluding word.
+To this quaint and evidently very primitive device the name of these
+poems is owing. The only exception to this rule known to me is found in
+an anonymous _alba_ which in other important respects differs from and
+is inferior to the genuine poems of the class. For here, instead of an
+outpouring of feeling, we have a narration as of a past event suddenly
+interrupted by a violent diatribe against the sentinel for ‘hurrying
+on the day,’ and concluded as abruptly by an address of the lady to her
+‘friend Sir Stephen,’ probably the poet himself, warning him of his
+danger in tarrying with her.
+
+This arrangement is quite whimsical. But even within the limits of the
+regular _alba_, several variations are possible. Instead of the sentinel
+the lover or even the lady may be the speaker, the short reply at the
+end of the poem being in that case allotted to the faithful friend. To
+this, the second important division of the morning song, belongs an
+anonymous poem, which, as regards beauty of diction and sentiment, marks
+perhaps the acme of the power of the troubadours in this direction, and
+for that reason may be quoted in full. Here we find perfect euphony
+of language combined with a truth of feeling which, especially in the
+refrain—changelessly reiterated from the first stanza to the last—reaches
+a climax of passion. The subjoined translation will enable the reader
+to follow the original line for line. A few remarks as to form may
+be deemed necessary. The poem opens with the short narrative stanza
+already referred to. Then follow the words of the lady, partly spoken in
+soliloquy, partly addressed to her lover. In the last verse we suddenly
+come to a short laudation of the lady’s own merits, which is no doubt
+intended as a monologue of the watcher. From a purely poetic point of
+view these lines may appear an anticlimax, but they give a quaint archaic
+tinge to the whole conception.
+
+    ALBA SES TITOL.
+
+    En un vergier sotz fuelha d’albespi
+    Tenc la domna son amic costa si
+    Tro la gaita crida qe l’alba vi.
+    Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.
+
+    ‘Plagues a dieu ja la nueitz non falhis
+    Nil mieus amicx lonh de mi no s partis
+    Ni la gaita jorn ni alba no vis,
+    Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.
+
+    Bels dous amicx, baizem nos, ieu e vos
+    Aval els pratz on chantols auzellos
+    Tot o fassam en despieg del gilos.
+    Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.
+
+    Bels dous amicx, fassam un joc novel
+    Ins el jardin on chanton li auzel
+    Tro la gaita toque son caramel;
+    Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.
+
+    Per la douss’ aura q’es venguda lai
+    Del mieu amic bel e cortes e gai
+    Del sieu alen ai begut un dous rai.
+    Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.’
+
+    ‘La domna es agradans e plazens
+    Per sa beautat la gardon mantas gens,
+    Et a son cor en amar lejalmens.
+    Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.’
+
+    ALBA
+    BY AN ANONYMOUS POET.
+
+    Beneath a hawthorn on a blooming lawn
+    A lady to her side her friend had drawn,
+    Until the watcher saw the early dawn.
+    Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.
+
+    ‘Oh that the sheltering night would never flee,
+    Oh that my friend would never part from me,
+    And never might the watch the dawning see!
+    Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.
+
+    ‘Now, sweetest friend, to me with kisses cling,
+    Down in the meadow where the ousels sing;
+    No harm shall hate and jealous envy bring.
+    Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.
+
+    ‘There let with new delight our love abound
+    —The sweet-voiced birds are carolling around—
+    Until the watcher’s warning note resound.
+    Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.
+
+    ‘I drink the air that softly blows my way,
+    From my true friend, so blithe, so fair, so gay,
+    And with his fragrant breath my thirst allay.
+    Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.’
+
+    ‘The lady is of fair and gentle kind,
+    And many a heart her beauty has entwined,
+    But to one friend is aye her heart inclined.
+    Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.’
+
+In the course of time, as the _alba_ became more and more an established
+form of art, the old popular features were gradually abandoned. Instead
+of introducing fictitious _dramatis personæ_ with fictitious dialogue,
+the poets begin to speak in their own proper persons, and the _alba_
+lapses into the ordinary rank and file of subjective lyrical forms. Only
+the external signs of the refrain and the recurrence of the word _alba_
+remain to account for the title, and even this rule has been abandoned
+in the curious little poem by ‘Sir Stephen’ above referred to. Of the
+variations arising from this process only one may be mentioned here, on
+account of its originality of conception. Guiraut Riquier is the author.
+Here the motive of the _alba_ appears entirely reversed. For here we
+meet with a lover tossing sleepless on his lonely couch and thinking of
+his love. To him night is full of gloom and terror, and ‘_e dezir vezer
+l’alba_’ (I long to see the dawn) is the burden of his song.
+
+To the same versatile poet we owe the representative specimen of the
+_serena_ or even-song. Formally it resembles the morning song, with which
+it shares the refrain, and in it the recurrence of the verbal key-note,
+which in this case is _ser_, or evening. As regards its relation to the
+_alba_, it may be said that the same sentiment appears here in converse
+significance. For the _serena_ is sung by a lover to whom a meeting has
+been promised, and who deprecates the day and its brightness that sever
+him from his heart’s desire. Although by no means wanting in truth and
+poetical suggestiveness, the situation is somewhat too subtle for the
+imagination of the people, and there is little evidence of a popular
+source of the _serena_, which appears to be little more than an outgrowth
+and modification of the _alba_ in its more artificial development.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE BALADA.
+
+
+The _balada_ is not to be mistaken for the ballad of modern parlance. It
+is, as its etymology indicates, a song serving to accompany the dance.
+This destination proves at once its antiquity and its popularity. There
+is little doubt that in some form or other the _balada_ has subsisted
+from the times of Greek and Roman religious ceremonies down to our own
+days. In a country full of Southern beauty and Southern gaiety, its
+growth was a thing of natural necessity, like that of corn or wine. No
+political change or calamities could crush it. It survived the ravages
+of the crusaders in the thirteenth century, and the influences of
+‘classical’ literature in the eighteenth. When Tristram Shandy entered
+the rich plain of Languedoc, the first thing he perceived was a lame
+youth whom Apollo had recompensed with a pipe, to which he had added a
+tambourin of his own accord, running sweetly over the prelude, and the
+reapers singing:
+
+    Viva la joya
+    Fidon la tristessa.
+
+Unfortunately there is again little or no record of the earlier
+development of this charming branch of poetry. But traces of its spirit
+and grace remain in the few specimens transmitted to us through the
+medium of the Troubadours, and these bear, in the freedom and variety
+of their metrical treatment, the distinct mark of their affinity with
+popular models. It ought to be added that the _baladas_ remaining to us
+are mostly by anonymous authors, which would tend to prove that the more
+celebrated and more dignified poets kept aloof from the unsophisticated
+species. On the other hand, some of the specimens show all the refinement
+and a good deal of the artificiality of Provençal versification. One of
+them, for instance, is written almost entirely in what is technically
+called _rims dictionals_—a curious metrical device, for an explanation
+of which the reader is referred to the technical portion of this book.
+A set rule for the structure of these dance-songs it would be difficult
+to find, but it appears that most of them have a few introductory lines
+by way of prelude, after which the stanzas themselves begin. The refrain
+also is not unfrequent, and would suggest the falling in of a chorus—the
+only sign, by the way, of the existence of that important musical
+component. For the artistic _balada_—differing in this essentially and
+significantly from the popular roundelay—is supposed to be sung and
+the accompanying dance to be performed by a single person. The idea
+of a dance _en masse_, or even in couples, verbally and mimetically
+addressing each other, seems excluded. Hence the subjective character
+of the poetry. By its contents the _balada_ could not be distinguished
+from any other love-song. In some cases, indeed, its identification
+would be altogether difficult but for the heading in the MS., or the
+actual occurrence of the term _balada_ in the poem itself, as found, for
+instance, in the charming song to be presently quoted. The exclamations
+‘Let us sing,’ ‘Let us dance,’ which occur in modern opera and which
+establish at least some external connection between the two arts,
+are almost entirely wanting.[13] And yet the Provençal _balada_ is a
+dance-song in the most emphatic sense of the word. The secret lies in the
+rhythm, the metre. This, in most of the _baladas_, is graceful waving
+motion itself. In conjunction with the musical accompaniment the effect
+must have been of surpassing charm. As to the nature of this musical
+accompaniment an interesting passage may be found in the _Leys d’amors_.
+Speaking of the _dansa_ the old Provençal writer asserts that it must
+have ‘a slight and joyous tune, not quite so long as those of the _Vers_
+or the _Canso_, but a little more lively, such as is suited for dancing,
+as the name indicates. But nowadays people use this tune very badly, for
+the singers hardly know how to get into a good dance rhythm. And as they
+are unable to do so, they have changed the tune of the _dansa_ into the
+tune of the _redondel_, with their minims and the semi-breves of their
+motets.’ To us the melodious beauties indicated by these words are, it
+is to be feared, lost for ever. But even without this important aid,
+sufficient remains to connect the fall of the lines with the graceful
+harmonious action of the human body. This association of ideas is common
+amongst Southern nations; the Greek metrical terms _arsis_ and _thesis_
+are derived from the lifting up and setting down of the dancers’ feet.
+But even in the literature of Teutonic nations songs occasionally occur
+which act on brain and feet as would the lively rhythm of a valse by
+Strauss or Lanner. I will mention only a single English specimen by
+way of illustration. In a ‘Mad-Song’ called the ‘Lady distracted with
+Love,’ originally sung in Tom D’Urfey’s ‘Don Quixote’ (first performed
+in 1694) and to be found in that author’s ‘Pills to purge Melancholy,’
+especially the second division of each stanza appears to me a model of
+the dance-song in its northern transformation. It is supposed to depict
+the phase of ‘mirthful madness,’ and runs thus:—
+
+    Or if more influencing
+    Is to be brisk and airy,
+    With a step and a bound
+    And a frisk from the ground
+    I’ll trip like any fairy.
+
+    As once on Ida dancing
+    Were three celestial bodies,
+    With an air and a face
+    And a shape and a grace
+    I’ll charm like beauty’s goddess.
+
+But how infinitely more graceful than these lively verses is the soft
+gliding rhythm of the following Provençal stanzas!
+
+‘_Coindeta soi_,’ ‘I am graceful, joyous,’ the lady begins,—
+
+    Coindeta soi, si cum n’ai greu cossire
+    Per mon marit qar nol volh nil desire.
+
+    Q’ieu beus dirai per qe son aussi droza
+              Coindeta soi;
+    Qar pauca soi joveneta e toza
+              Coindeta soi;
+    E degr’aver marit don fos joyoza
+    Al cui toz temps pogues jogar e rire.
+              Coindeta soi.
+
+    Ja deus mi sal, si ja soi amoroza
+              Coindeta soi;
+    De lui amar mia sui cobeitoza
+              Coindeta soi;
+    Ans qan lo vei ne soi tan vergonhoza
+    Q’en prec la mort q’el venga tost aucire.
+              Coindeta soi.
+
+    Mas d’una re m’en soi ben acordada
+              Coindeta soi;
+    S’il mieus amics m’a s’amor emendada
+              Coindeta soi;
+    Vel bel esper a cui me soi donada
+    Planh e sospir qar nol vei nil remire,
+              Coindeta soi.
+
+    E dirai vos de qem soi acordada
+              Coindeta soi;
+    Qel mieus amics m’a longamen amada
+              Coindeta soi
+    A li sera m’amors abandonada
+    El bels espers q’eu tant am e dezire,
+              Coindeta soi.
+
+    En aqest son fas coindeta balada
+              Coindeta soi;
+    E prec a totz qe sia lonh cantada,
+              Coindeta soi;
+    E qe la chant tota domn’ ensenhada
+    Del mieu amic q’eu tant am e dezire.
+              Coindeta soi.
+
+An attempt at translation in prose or verse would be as impossible as it
+would be superfluous. The charm lies in the music of the words. Moreover,
+the subject is by no means edifying. It is the ever recurring burden of
+Provençal poetry: a lady dissatisfied with her husband and openly calling
+for death to come and kill him soon in order that she may be united to
+her lover.
+
+Essentially identical with the _balada_ is the _dansa_, of which also
+several examples are found in the manuscripts. The difference which the
+_Leys d’amors_ tries to establish between these and other variations of
+the dance-song are evidently pedantic quibbles, and, moreover, not borne
+out by the best models.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ARTIFICIAL FORMS OF POETRY.—THE SESTINA.
+
+
+In the forms of lyrical verse hitherto considered by us we were
+able to trace some popular germs, considerably modified and highly
+developed though they might appear. But any such connection ceases in
+the numberless variations of verse and stanza, in which the unrivalled
+workmanship of the troubadours loved to shine. That this ease of
+inventing ever new and ever more complicated combinations frequently led
+to excesses of artificiality need not surprise us. Our admiration of the
+marvellous ingenuity displayed by the poets is mingled with regret at
+seeing it wasted on trifles.
+
+The number and variety of these efforts would defy all attempts at
+perfect classification and nomenclature. The troubadours altogether were
+sparing in the use of technical terms, but even the later grammarians
+found it impossible to affix names to all the metrical refinements and
+_tours de force_ in which Provençal poets delighted. It is amusing to
+observe the different attitude in this respect of the poets and metrical
+theorists of Northern France. The rhyming capacities of their language
+were as inferior as their own craftsmanship to the language and the art
+of the troubadours. In consequence they found it desirable ‘to make a
+little go a long way,’ and, for example, dubbed with the sonorous name of
+‘Chant Royal’ the mere repetition of the rhymes of a somewhat complicated
+stanza throughout a poem of moderate length: a feat performed almost
+unconsciously by the troubadours in numberless canzos and sirventeses.
+The _ballade_ made celebrated, although by no means invented, by the
+genius of Villon, and which, by the way, differs as widely from the
+Provençal _balada_ on the one hand, as it does from the Scotch ‘ballad’
+on the other, is a similar contrivance of a still simpler nature. This
+simplicity, of course, by no means detracts from the poetic merit of
+these poems, and the manner, for instance, in which the refrain is
+used in both cases betrays considerable skill. But compared with the
+consummate workmanship of the troubadours, these efforts appear mere
+child’s play.[14]
+
+Of the elaborate rules of Provençal metrical science and practice, both
+as regards the rhyme and the construction of stanzas, full account will
+be given in the technical section. For the present it will suffice to
+name a few examples chosen for their quaintness and originality rather
+than for any extraordinary display of workmanship.
+
+The most important amongst these is the _sestina_. It was invented by
+Arnaut Daniel, the master of ‘dear rhymes’ and ‘obscure words,’ of whom
+and of which previous mention has been made. For his propensities in
+that direction Arnaut himself tenders a very plausible excuse. He shifts
+the responsibility from his own shoulders to those of his lady. If she
+were kind to him, he alleges, melodious rhythms and pleasing simple
+verses would naturally flow from his pen. The lady’s cruelty therefore
+is answerable for involved sentences and harsh rhymes. The plea is not
+altogether without force. But Arnaut’s natural tendency towards the
+incomprehensible and strikingly original is at the same time established
+beyond a doubt. One of his favourite devices was to construct a stanza
+without a single rhyme in the stanza itself. But instead of this the
+close of the first line would match with that of all the other stanzas
+of the poem, the second line with the second, and so forth. In one poem,
+for instance, the last word of the opening line of the first stanza
+is _larga_, that of the second stanza _embarga_, that of the third
+_descarga_, and so on through all the corresponding lines of the poem. To
+modern and northern ears the consonance thus suspended for eight or more
+lines is hardly perceptible. But in the south and in the middle ages this
+was different. Even so great a master of form as Dante highly approved
+of Arnaut’s practice, and, what is more, avowedly imitated it (‘et nos
+eum secuti sumus.’—_De Vulgari Eloquio_, cap. 10). The result of this
+imitation is one of the sweetest love poems of the ‘_Canzoniere_,’
+the _sestina_ beginning, ‘Al poco giorno ed al gran cerchio d’ombra.’
+Two other poems of the same kind are attributed to Dante by some
+commentators, although others doubt their authenticity.
+
+The fundamental scheme of the _sestina_, as has already been stated, is
+that of blank-verse stanzas, being in the relation of rhyme to other
+blank-verse stanzas. But here this principle is carried to a climax.
+For not only the consonances, but the actual rhyme-words of the first
+strophe are repeated throughout the poem. The difficulty of writing sense
+and poetry under such conditions is increased by the curiously inverted
+order in which these words are repeated. To give the reader an idea of
+the ingenuity of this contrivance, it will be necessary to write down the
+concluding words of the six stanzas of a celebrated _sestina_ by Arnaut
+Daniel in the order in which they occur. The number six—both as regards
+the stanzas of the poem and the lines of each stanza—is the orthodox
+one, and has given the name to the poem. A short _tornada_ or _envoi_,
+however, is added, and in this the six rhyme-words of the previous stanza
+are once more repeated.
+
+    I. STANZA.     II. STANZA.    III. STANZA.    IV. STANZA.
+
+       intra           cambra          arma           oncle
+       ongla           intra           cambra         arma
+       arma            oncle           verga          ongla
+       verga           ongla           intra          cambra
+       oncle           verga           ongla          intra
+       cambra          arma            oncle          verga
+
+    V. STANZA.    VI. STANZA.      TORNADA.
+
+       verga          ongla      ongla—oncle
+       oncle          verga      verga—arma
+       intra          cambra     cambra—intra
+       arma           oncle
+       cambra         arma
+       ongla          intra
+
+It will be observed that the second stanza repeats the rhyme-words of the
+first in this order, 6, 1, 5, 2, 4, 3, and exactly the same relation will
+be found to obtain between each stanza of the poem and its predecessor.
+Whether there was some hidden significance in this sequence it is
+impossible to tell. But one is inclined to suspect that it must have been
+some such attraction which induced the great Dante to imitate Arnaut
+Daniel’s device with perfect accuracy. Or was it the pseudo-scientific
+regularity of the scheme, so fascinating to the mediæval mind, which
+attracted him? Anyhow, the fact is undeniable that Dante’s poem in
+question, although infinitely superior, by its poetic beauty, to anything
+that Arnaut Daniel ever wrote, is, as regards its metrical scheme, an
+exact copy of the troubadour’s _sestina_. Only in two minor points has
+Dante dared to deviate from his model, in points, too, which do not
+materially interfere with the position of the rhyme-words. These are,
+the length of the opening lines of each stanza, which in Provençal are
+by one foot shorter than the other verses, while in Italian they are of
+equal size; and the arrangement of the rhyme-words of the _tornada_.
+But Dante’s licence in these details makes his strict adherence to the
+essential idea of the form all the more significant.
+
+It is interesting to note that the preference for the _sestina_ has not
+been confined to mediæval poets or Romance languages. Mr. Swinburne, to
+mention but one instance, has essayed the form with excellent results,
+both in French and English. But the model he has followed is not derived
+from the Provençal original, nor yet from the Italian copy, but from a
+modified French version of the scheme. This modification consists chiefly
+in the use of the rhyme within the single stanzas themselves, which
+is wholly at variance with the original meaning of the form. Banville
+suggests that the stanza in this altered condition has been imitated from
+Petrarch. But he is quite mistaken. Petrarch, although he ostentatiously
+avoided reading Dante’s works, has in this instance exactly followed
+Dante’s example. Besides, he was too well acquainted with the musical
+significance of the stanza in question, not to know that all the lines
+must be _rims escars_, or, according to Dante’s terminology, _claves_,
+that is, unmatched by rhymes in their own stanza. For a fuller account of
+these details I must again refer the reader to the technical portion of
+this book.
+
+In connection with the _sestina_ and its history in the _lingua di sì_,
+it may be mentioned that another important form of Dante’s, and generally
+of Italian, poetry, the sonnet, seems to have been of indigenous, not
+at least of Provençal, growth. The structure of a stanza of fourteen
+lines containing the well-known number and arrangement of rhymes, is
+in perfect accordance with the metrical principles practised by the
+troubadours, but the only specimen of the sonnet in the _langue d’oc_
+was written by an Italian poet, Dante da Maiano. It is by no means a
+master-piece, and remarkable chiefly for the fact that all the rhymes
+are of the male or monosyllabic order, an arrangement not unfrequent in
+Provençal, but unprecedented in Italian; the latter circumstance being
+perhaps the reason why an Italian poet, writing in Provençal, adopted it.
+Against the Provençal origin of the sonnet would also seem to speak the
+fact, that the word is used without any technical restriction, merely as
+equivalent for a song:
+
+    Un sonat fatz malvatz e bo,
+    E re non say de qal razo.
+
+‘I make a sonnet evil or good, what about I don’t know myself,’ says
+Guiraut de Bornelh, wishing to illustrate the wayward mood of a
+distracted lover. Of the poem of sixteen lines he thought no more than
+did Burns when he described Tam O’Shanter as ‘crooning o’er some auld
+Scots sonnet.’
+
+The exact antipodes of the _sestina_ is the _descort_, Anglicè discord,
+or dissonance. In the former everything is fixed by rule—position of
+rhymes, number and length of lines and stanzas. In the latter absolute
+liberty prevails regarding all these points, or rather it is the ambition
+of the poet to create the most bewildering divergence. But sometimes
+even the most glaring contrasts of metre are found insufficient, and an
+additional discordance of idiom is resorted to. Rambaut de Vaqueiras has
+employed no less than five different languages or dialects to complain of
+the cruelty of his lady. For, like the harsh rhymes of Arnaut Daniel, all
+these dissonant contrivances were attributed to the feeling of unrequited
+love, and Guiraut de Salinhac, in a very pretty little poem, distinctly
+says, ‘I should not compose a Discord if I met with accord and accordance
+at the hands of her I love.’ The inventor of this curious device is said
+to have been one Guerin d’Apelier, a poet not otherwise known to us. His
+claim to immortality may appear somewhat slender under such circumstances.
+
+Akin to the elaborate confusion of the _descort_ and about on a par with
+it as regards artistic merit, is the sudden lapse from poetry into prose,
+for which Rambaut of Orange is more especially responsible. Of Rambaut
+and his disastrous love-affair with Beatrice de Die, the poetess, we
+shall hear more hereafter. As a poet he belongs to, and is indeed amongst
+the earliest representatives of, the artificial school which culminates
+in Arnaut Daniel. Rambaut is by no means without skill, and according
+to his own statement, ‘no poet s work from the time Adam ate the apple
+was worth a turnip compared with his.’ But his devices frequently take
+the form of mere eccentricities, and he never induces us, perhaps never
+intends us, to forget the amateurish quality of his work. The mixture of
+poetry and prose alluded to in the above remarks well illustrates the
+lawless tendency of the noble poet.
+
+The explanatory nature of these prose interludes induces Raynouard
+to class Rambaut’s poem with the ‘pièces avec commentaire’ (‘Choix,’
+vol. ii. p. 248). To add a kind of commentary to poetic work was a not
+uncommon custom in the middle ages. Dante’s ‘Vita Nuova’ is a prominent
+case in point. In Provence, where a whole school of poets took pride in
+writing as incomprehensibly as might be, some such assistance to the
+weaker brethren became all the more indispensable. In most cases no doubt
+the joglar supplied the want by adding, after the recital of a poem, such
+explanatory notes as might seem most adapted to the intellectual level of
+his audience. Of Guillem (not Peter, as Raynouard calls him) de la Tor,
+the joglar, and friend of Sordello, we are told in the manuscripts that
+‘he knew a great many canzos and was clever and sang well. He also was
+a poet; but when he wanted to recite his canzos he made his commentary
+longer than the poem itself.’ From the expression used by the biographer,
+_sermo de la razo_, we are led to conclude that Guillem’s long-winded
+explanations were couched in prose. This, however, was not always the
+case. We know of troubadours who good-naturedly took the trouble to
+elucidate the darknesses of brother bards by means of poetic glosses.
+Guiraut Riquier, the scholar and poet, here again shines by his example.
+The nature of these commentaries is well illustrated by a stanza of one
+of his poems which the reader will find translated in Raynouard’s ‘Choix’
+(ii. 252). Guiraut de Calanson, in one of his poems, speaking of the
+palace of love, says that four steps, or degrees, lead up to it. Guiraut
+Riquier explains that these steps are ‘honour,’ ‘discretion,’ ‘gentle
+service,’ and ‘good sufferance,’ much to the edification, no doubt, of
+mediæval readers, and especially of Count Henri de Rodez, who, under his
+hand and seal, testifies to Guiraut’s explanation being trustworthy and
+to the point. The five portals of the palace and the mode of opening each
+individually, also find a circumstantial explanation at Guiraut’s hands.
+
+Of the _breu-doble_ (double-short), again, Guiraut Riquier is the
+inventor, and, as far as I am aware, the sole representative. In the poem
+of the kind which we possess from his pen he complains of the cruelty
+of his lady, to which he, in imitation of other troubadours, ascribes
+his adoption of this new mode of utterance. ‘As she will not accept my
+canzos at their worth,’ he says, ‘I write this breu-doble.’ There is
+nothing very remarkable about this form, which, for that reason perhaps,
+has met with little approbation amongst the elaborate rhymsters of the
+later epoch. The name ‘breu-doble’ has been a puzzle to modern scholars.
+Raynouard is inclined to derive it from the shortness of the poem, which,
+however, would by no means account for the ‘doble.’ To me it seems more
+likely that allusion is made in a slip-shod way to the last verse of each
+stanza, which, although not exactly half the length of, is at least
+considerably shorter than, the remainder of the lines, from which it also
+differs by its rhyme.
+
+Of greater importance than the _breu-doble_ is the _retroensa_, also
+known chiefly through Guiraut Riquier’s agency. The only striking feature
+of this form is the refrain which, against the usage of Provençal poetry,
+consists of more than one line. An exceedingly pretty poem, called in
+the MS. ‘The First Retroensa of Guiraut Riquier made in the year 1276,’
+is devoted to the praise of the Catalans, renowned in the middle ages as
+models of knightly courtesy. ‘As my star has decreed,’ the poet says,
+‘that good should not come to me from my lady, as nothing I can do will
+please her, as I am too weak to tear myself from her, it is time that I
+should be grounded in the ways of true love; and of these I can learn
+enough in gay Catalonia amongst the brave Catalans and their sweet
+ladies.’ On these he proceeds to shower every imaginable compliment
+through a number of stanzas all bearing the harmonious burden:
+
+    Entrels Catalas valens
+    E las domnas avinens.
+
+Like the _descort_ and many other metrical creations of the troubadours,
+the _retroensa_ was known to the poets of northern France. The name
+at least occurs in the literature of the langue _d’oïl_; but it must
+be confessed that, for instance, the religious song in praise of the
+Virgin, expressly called by the poet a _retrovange novelle_, has neither
+in substance nor form anything in common with Guiraut Riquier’s poem.
+Even the refrain has disappeared. There may perhaps have been some
+musical reason to account for the adoption of the name. But on that
+point we are, alas! completely in the dark. It is unnecessary to enter
+into the numerous and for the greater part arbitrary distinctions in
+which the subtle minds of grammarians and metrical scholars were wont
+to delight. Most of the divisions thus created, such as the _escondigz_
+(justification), the _comjatz_ (literally leave-taking, i.e. the song
+in which the allegiance to a cruel lady is renounced), or the _torneys_
+(tournament song), and many others never seem to have attained distinct
+formal development, and the remaining specimens are very few in number.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE TENSO.
+
+
+My division hitherto has been made chiefly with regard to form. Such
+poetic creations as the _pastoreta_ or the _balada_ are, it is true, to
+some extent recognisable by the subject they treat. At the same time
+their most important characteristic remains the formal development to
+which this subject has given rise. This is different with the _tenso_,
+the song of dispute or contention. The fact of its frequently being
+written or supposed to be written by several persons implies the form of
+the dialogue. But as regards the structure of the line and the stanza,
+there is no generic mark to distinguish the _tenso_ from the _canzo_,
+the _sirventes_, or any other class of artistic poetry. But in spite of
+this the _tenso_ is of infinitely greater importance for the knowledge of
+Provençal life and literature than the artificial trifles we have just
+been dealing with. Its very existence is significant. Nothing could prove
+the enormous popularity of verse and rhyme in Provence more conclusively
+than the fact that the discussion of the most varied topics of life and
+manners instinctively assumed the form of poetry. Only in this way could
+the writers secure readers, the reciting joglars an audience. Moreover,
+the mind may picture to itself a circle of noble ladies and gallant
+cavaliers listening to the poets arduously discussing subtle points of
+love and courtesy. For there is no reason to doubt that many of these
+songs of contention owe their origin to actual _viva voce_ debate.
+
+‘The _tenso_,’ the _Leys d’amors_ begins its long-winded definition,
+‘is a combat and debate, in which each maintains and reasons some word
+or fact,’ and beyond this somewhat vague piece of information there
+is little to be got from the old grammarians. They supply us with
+plenty of technical names, with a neat definition to each of them; but
+how much of this theory is drawn from the inner consciousness of the
+learned men, how much from the living practice of the troubadours, is
+a difficult question to decide. The safest way for us will be, in this
+and in previous instances, to rely chiefly on the remaining specimens
+from the best period. For further particulars the curious reader is
+referred to Raynouard’s work (‘Choix,’ vol. ii. 197), where he may
+learn, for instance, that when a _tenso_ treated of love, which, by the
+way, most _tensos_ did, it was for some not very perceptible reason,
+called _partimen_, while a song of combat, in which more than two
+disputants took part, received the appropriate name of _torneyamen_,
+i.e. tournament,—turn and turn about, as we should say. Another name of
+the _tenso_, _jocx partitz_, of which the French term _jeu parti_ is a
+literal translation, seems to have been less commonly used in Provence.
+
+The principle of ‘turn and turn about’ has at the same time supplied
+the form of the _tenso_. It was but fair that to the various combatants
+the same advantages should be granted, and hence the number of stanzas
+allotted to each is exactly the same. Even the right of a last appeal in
+the shape of a _tornada_ is free to all. Some advantage might accrue to
+the first speaker from the choice of rhyme and metre, which had to be
+repeated exactly by his antagonist or antagonists. The reproduction of
+one of Arnaut Daniel’s hard-rhymed stanzas might have been a sore task to
+some of the more popular troubadours. But this slight privilege was more
+than counterbalanced by a duty. For, as a rule, the _tenso_ begins with
+a challenge of one poet to another to choose one side of an argument,
+the first spokesman undertaking to defend the opposite view, whichever
+it may turn out to be. Impartiality could not well go further.[15] In
+case of two antagonists only, the rhymes are frequently changed after a
+couple of stanzas, that is after one argument and counter-argument, but
+the continuation of the same rhymes throughout the poem is by no means of
+rare occurrence.
+
+There is no reason to doubt that in most cases the _tensos_ we find in
+the manuscripts are records of actual discussions sustained by different
+poets, either with the pen or by word of mouth. In many cases, however,
+the antagonists are as undoubtedly fictitious personages brought upon the
+scene for the purpose of displaying the author’s versatility of style and
+reasoning. Peirol, for instance, in a very pretty _tenso_, introduces
+Love himself as his antagonist. The god tries to shake the poet’s
+resolution to join the crusaders. ‘The Turks and Arabs,’ he pleads,
+‘will never leave the Tower of David for all your invasions. I give you
+good and gentle counsel: Love and sing.’ But the poet remains firm. He
+cannot break his sacred promise. At the same time there is a ring of
+latent melancholy in his words when he admits that ‘many men must part,
+and leave their true loves in tears, who, if King Saladin did not exist,
+might have stayed at home joyfully.’
+
+At other times the troubadours enter into discussion with antagonists
+who, although not absolutely symbolical or fabulous, yet distinctly
+bear the mark of a fictitious origin. Such a character, for instance,
+is the Genoese lady with whom Rambaut de Vaqueiras—one of the chief
+representatives of the _tenso_—holds amorous converse. The amorousness
+is, however, wholly one-sided, for the lady, the wife of an honest
+merchant, rejects the troubadour’s offers with utter contempt and with an
+energy of diction more creditable to her virtue than to her politeness.
+The vigour of her language is further increased by the homely dialect of
+her city in which she is made to speak, and which contrasts strikingly
+with the euphonious phrases of the courtly poet. But her virtue is proof
+against the most alluring charms of the _langue d’oc_. Adding insult to
+injury, she at last exclaims: ‘Mountebank, I don’t value your Provençal a
+Genoese farthing; I don’t understand you any more than I should a German
+or a native of Sardinia or Barbary.’ All this, it need hardly be added,
+is nothing but a clever skit of the troubadour’s own devising.
+
+To the same category also belongs the poem in which Peire Duran relates,
+at some length, the mutual grievances of a husband and wife on a matter
+intimately connected with domestic happiness. Another poem of the same
+class is remarkable by a deviation from the usual form. For instead of
+an entire stanza being allotted to each person, the speech here changes
+after every two lines, and at the end of the stanza after one line. The
+dialogue in this manner becomes decidedly more lively, but the abruptness
+of these incessant changes seems to have deterred other troubadours from
+adopting Albert’s innovation. Strictly speaking, the poem in question
+hardly comes under the definition of _tenso_ as established by the _Leys
+d’amors_; for instead of a discussion we have here nothing but assurances
+of mutual love and good will.
+
+Very different from this is the second and larger class of _tensos_,
+in which two real troubadours discuss some subject of every-day life
+and love. The variety of topics makes this part of the literature an
+especially valuable source for the study of Provençal customs and
+morals. Sometimes an abstract problem is started, such as the respective
+advantages of wealth and wisdom, very seriously discussed by two minor
+troubadours. ‘I would sooner possess wisdom,’ says the virtuous Guillem,
+‘which must remain with me, than wealth, which in my opinion is of
+little avail to those who possess it. For one can easily fall from high
+to low estate, but science does not fall, because she is seated firmly.
+He who possesses wisdom is rich in his shirt.’ But his antagonist,
+nothing daunted, upholds the advantages of the independence and freedom
+from care derived from the possession of riches. ‘Even Aristotle,’ he
+replies, ‘the foremost among the wise, accepted presents, and so did
+Virgil, he who lies buried near the strand at Naples. I prefer giving to
+asking.’ The heavy artillery of learning having thus been brought into
+action, the troubadours continue for some time to pelt each other with
+classical and Biblical names and facts, without, however, producing the
+slightest impression on the hostile positions. Finally, both appeal to
+the arbitration of a mutual friend, as is their wont in such cases.
+
+Infinitely more interesting, although less edifying, is a _tenso_ in
+which two celebrated troubadours, Bernart de Ventadorn and Peirol,
+express their opinions as to the mutual relations of personal feeling
+and artistic creation. Here we have no longer to deal with a logical
+fencing-match, but with the utterance of personal experience. Such a
+maxim as ‘Little is worth the song that does not come from the heart,’
+expressed by Peirol, reflects the highest credit on the psychological
+and poetic insight of that troubadour. On the other hand, it is amusing
+to watch the attitude of a light-hearted poet and lover, treating his
+muse as he treats his mistress, and winding up with something very like a
+boast of secret favours—which Bernart de Ventadorn assumes, and which is
+strangely at variance with the gentle sentimental character of his life
+and work. Believers in the migration of fables will be pleased to find
+here a slightly altered version of the old story of ‘fox and grapes,’
+and the poem as a whole may be regarded as an admirable specimen of the
+elegant grace of Provençal thought and versification. For these reasons
+it may follow here as transcribed by Professor Bartsch:—
+
+    BERNARTZ DE VENTADORN E’ N PEIROLS.
+
+    ‘Peirol, cum avetz tant estat
+    Que non fezetz vers ni chanso?
+    Respondetz mi per cal razo,
+    S’o laissetz per mal o per be,
+    Per ir’ o per joi o per que?
+    Que saber en voill la vertat.’
+
+    ‘Bernart, chantars nom ven a grat
+    Ni gaires nom platz nim sab bo;
+    Mas car voletz nostra tenso
+    N’ai era mon talan forsat.
+    Pauc val chans que del cor non ve;
+    E pos jois d’amor laissa me,
+    Eu ai chant e deport laissat.’
+
+    ‘Peirol mout i faitz gran foudat
+    S’o laissatz per tal ocaizo;
+    S’eu agues avut cor fello,
+    Mortz fora un an a passat,
+    Qu’enquer non posc trobar merce:
+    Ges per tant de chant nom recre
+    Car doas perdas no m’an at.’
+
+    ‘Bernart, ben ai mon cor mudat,
+    Que totz es autres c’anc non fo:
+    Non chantarai mais en perdo;
+    Mas de vos voill chantetz jasse
+    De cellei qu’en grat nous o te,
+    E que perdatz vostr’ amistat.’
+
+    ‘Peirol maint bon mot n’ai trobat
+    De leis, c’anc us no m’en tenc pro;
+    E s’il serva cor de leo
+    Nom a ges tot la mon serrat;
+    Qu’en sai tal una, per ma fe,
+    Qu’am mais, s’un baisar mi cove
+    Que de leis sil m’agues donat.’
+
+    ‘Bernart, bes es acostumat,
+    Qui mais non pot, c’aissi perdo;
+    Que la volps al sirier dis o:
+    Quan l’ac de totas partz cercat,
+    Las sireisas vic loing de se,
+    E dis que non valion re:
+    Atressi m’avetz vos gabat.’
+
+    ‘Peirol, sireisas sont o be
+    Mas mal aja eu si ja cre
+    Que la volps non aja tastat.’
+
+    ‘Bernart, nom entramet de re
+    Mas pesam de ma bona fe
+    Car non i ai ren gazaignat.’
+
+    TENSO BETWEEN BERNART DE VENTADORN AND SIR PEIROL.
+
+    ‘Peirol, how is it that for such a long time you have been
+    without making verse or canso? Tell me what is the reason that
+    you have ceased singing. Is it for evil or good, for sorrow or
+    for joy, or for what? for I will know the truth of it.’
+
+    ‘Bernart, singing does not come pleasant to me, and I have
+    lost all taste and liking for it. But as you insist upon
+    having a tenso with me, I have forced my inclination. Little
+    worth is the song that does not come from the heart, and as
+    love has left me, I have left song and dalliance.’
+
+    ‘Peirol, you commit great folly, if you leave these off for
+    such a reason; if I had harboured wrath in my heart, I should
+    have been dead a year ago, for I also can find no love nor
+    mercy. But for all that I do not abandon singing, for there is
+    no need of my losing two things.’
+
+    ‘Bernart, my heart is changed, and wholly different from what
+    it was: I shall no longer sing in vain. But I wish you may
+    sing for ever of her who gives you no thanks, and waste your
+    friendship.’
+
+    ‘Peirol, many a good word have I said of her, although none has
+    ever been of any benefit to me. If she wants to keep her lion’s
+    heart, she cannot lock me out from all the world; and I know
+    one of whom I would prefer the grant of a kiss to the free gift
+    of one by her.’
+
+    ‘Bernart, it is a common thing that he who cannot win
+    should make light of the loss; just as the fox spoke to the
+    cherry-tree. For after she had tried everything she still saw
+    the cherries a long way off, and then she said that they were
+    worth nothing; and that is exactly how you talk.’
+
+    ‘Peirol, the cherries are all very well, but evil befal me if I
+    believe that the fox never had a taste of them.’
+
+    ‘Bernart, that is not my affair, but I regret my good faith;
+    for I have gained nothing by it.’
+
+It is now necessary to mention one of the most celebrated and most
+characteristic _tensos_ in Provençal literature—a kind of battle-royal in
+which each of the three contending poets tries to outshine the others by
+brilliancy of wit and subtlety of argument. The subject, it need hardly
+be added, is love. But thereby hangs a tale which it will be best to
+relate in the words of the old manuscripts. ‘Savaric de Mauleon,’ says
+the biographer of that well-known troubadour, ‘went to Benaujatz to see
+the Viscountess Lady Guillelma, and he turned his mind towards her. And
+he took with him Sir Elias Rudel, lord of Bergerac, and Jaufre Rudel of
+Blaia. All three wooed her love, and each of them had been her cavalier
+aforetime; but none knew it of the other. All three were seated with her,
+one on one side, the other on the other, and the third in front of her.
+Each of them gazed at her lovingly, and she, who was the boldest lady
+ever seen, began to look at Sir Jaufre Rudel lovingly, for he was sitting
+in front, and she took the hand of Sir Elias Rudel de Bergerac and
+pressed it very amorously, and she put her foot on that of Sir Savaric
+with a smile and a sigh. None knew of the favour the others had received,
+till they had left the castle, when Sir Jaufre Rudel told Sir Savaric
+how the lady had looked at him, and Sir Elias related that about the
+hand. And Savaric, when he heard that each of them had found such favour,
+became very sad; but he said nothing of what had happened to himself,
+but he called Gaucelm Faidit and Uc de la Bacalaria, and asked them in a
+stanza who had received the highest favour and love at her hands.’ This
+stanza is the opening one of the _tenso_ in question. It runs thus:—
+
+    Gaucelm Faidit, and good Sir Hugh,
+    Three amorous questions I will ask:
+    Choose ye what side seems good to you,
+    The third to hold must be my task:—
+    One lady’s charms three knights inspire;
+    She, sore beset by their desire,
+    Would fain each lover’s wish abet,
+    When all the three with her are met.
+    At one she looks with loving eye:
+    The other’s hand takes tenderly;
+    Gladdens the third with footstep sly.
+    To tell me now I ask of ye,
+    Who was most favoured of the three.
+
+Fortunately the two troubadours prefer the ogle and the shake by the
+hand respectively, and permit poor Savaric at least to defend his own
+cause, which he does with more spirit than might be expected under the
+circumstances. Into the arguments of the amorous poets it would lead
+us too far to enter. Suffice it to say that each firmly stands to his
+opinion, and that the cause is ultimately submitted to the arbitration of
+three ladies. The decision of these fair and no doubt highly competent
+judges the manuscripts have unfortunately not preserved.
+
+Perhaps the reader would care to know a little more of the curious
+love-affair between Savaric and the Lady Guillelma, and as a second
+incident of it also became the origin of a _tenso_, it may find a place
+here. Savaric, we are told, had been faithfully attached to the lady for
+years, but she paid him back with false promises, and never would grant
+him a favour. Many a time he came to her, at her demand, from Poitou to
+Gascony, by land and by sea, only to find himself disappointed again on
+his arrival. But he, the manuscript adds, was so enamoured that he never
+discovered her falsehood. His friends, however, did, and thought of means
+to release him from such thraldom. For that purpose they introduced
+him to a beautiful and noble lady of Gascony, who was but too willing
+to accept the service of so celebrated a troubadour, and appointed a
+day for a rendezvous. News of this affair was brought to Guillelma, and
+jealousy now effected what true love had attempted in vain. No sooner
+had she ascertained the time of the appointment, than she sent a message
+to Savaric, summoning him to her presence for the very same day, and
+promising him at last the fulfilment of his wishes. The messenger was Uc
+de San Cyr the troubadour, and biographer of Savaric, to whose friendship
+he was introduced on this occasion. He relates how he came to the court
+of Savaric, who, by the way, was a rich and powerful baron, and delivered
+his message. One of the guests of Savaric was the provost of Limoges, and
+to him the perplexed poet submitted the case, proposing to discuss the
+claims of the two ladies in a _tenso_. This _tenso_ is in existence. The
+provost is decidedly in favour of the new love. He points out to Savaric
+that Guillelma’s favour is the result of jealousy, while the kindness of
+the other lady would be ill rewarded by the poet’s disappointing her. But
+the warmth with which poor Savaric pleads for his old attachment, and
+even speaks with some contempt of a love too easily granted, shows but
+too plainly that the cure of his infatuation was anything but perfect. In
+this case also the decision of the question is referred to three ladies,
+but again there is no record of their verdict. Of another _tenso_ still
+more intimately connected with a real and most melancholy love-affair we
+shall have to speak further on.
+
+There was still another use to which the _tenso_ was occasionally put.
+When two troubadours owed each other a grudge, instead of fighting it
+out with the sword, they frequently challenged each other to a song of
+combat. Like most polemical poems in the _langue d’oc_ these personal
+_tensos_, for so they may conveniently be called, are full of the
+grossest slander. The wonder is that, with all this spite and rage, the
+poet always preserves sufficient equanimity to adhere to the strictest
+rules of the art, and even to reproduce the exact metre and rhyme chosen
+by his adversary as the medium for his abuse. Uc de St. Cyr, of whom we
+have just heard, appears amongst the chief representatives of this branch
+of literature, in a manner more creditable to his eloquence than to his
+personal character. He was the younger son of an impoverished family, and
+depended for his maintenance on the liberality of his protectors. His
+lasting friendship with Savaric de Mauleon has been already mentioned,
+but unfortunately, in other cases, relations of a similar kind seem to
+have ended in unkindness and open enmity. How far the responsibility may
+have lain with the poet, it is impossible to say, but the fact of his
+appearing twice as the declared antagonist of a former benefactor throws
+grave doubts on his gratitude. The first instance alluded to is a quarrel
+with the Viscount of Turenne, in whose service the poet seems to have
+been for some time.
+
+‘Viscount,’ he exclaims, ‘how can I endure the hardships you impose upon
+me? Night and day you make me ride from one place to another without
+rest or sleep. Truly, in the company of Martin d’Algai,[16] I could not
+be worse off; even my food appears scanty.’
+
+‘You know, Uc de St. Cyr,’ is the Viscount’s answer, ‘if you do not want
+to tell a lie, that I did not send for you from Quercy to show you my
+lands; on the contrary, I was much annoyed when I saw you coming. May God
+punish me if I do not wish, with all my heart, that you had gone to Spain
+instead!’
+
+In another _tenso_, of the same kind, Uc’s position is still more
+precarious from a moral point of view—at least if we believe the charge
+implied in his antagonist’s answer. From this it would appear that the
+poet was capable of taunting with poverty a man to whose bounty he owed
+his own wealth.
+
+‘Count,’ he says, ‘you need not be afraid or anxious on my account. I
+have not come to ask or demand anything from you; for I have all I want.
+But I perceive that money is a scarce article with you; therefore I have
+not the heart to ask you anything; on the contrary, it would be a great
+mercy if I made you a present.’
+
+‘Uc de St. Cyr,’ Count Rodez replies, ‘I am sorry for having dismissed
+wealthy you, who came to me poor, naked, and miserable. You have cost me
+more than two bowmen or horsemen; truly, if I had offered you a horse you
+would not have refused it.’
+
+In a second _tenso_ by the same poets, grievous bodily harm is threatened
+on one and boldly defied on the other side.
+
+A little more smoothly, although by no means amicably, do matters
+proceed between Rambaut de Vaqueiras and Count Albert di Malaspina, an
+unruly Italian nobleman. The cause of their quarrel is a certain lady
+of Tortona, who, after having flirted with the troubadour, jilted him
+for the count. The latter, adding insult to injury, taunts Rambaut with
+his loss in the opening stanza. The troubadour retorts with a charge of
+highway-robbery, which the nobleman frankly admits, explaining, however,
+that ‘many a time, I can assure you, I have taken goods from a wish to
+make presents, and not in order to enrich myself or heap up treasures.’
+In the further course of the poem, the nobleman ridicules the poverty
+of the poet and his ambition in having aspired to knighthood, to which
+neither his courage nor his position entitled him. The troubadour, in
+return, accuses Albert of every crime under the sun, including perjury
+and treachery in love and politics. As to cowardice he says: ‘If I am
+not exactly an Oliver in the use of arms, it appears to me that you
+are no Roland either.’ In this manner the quarrel continues for some
+time, without much apparent superiority on either side, a fact which
+redounds greatly to the credit of the Italian count. For Rambaut was an
+experienced poet and a renowned champion in the literary warfare of those
+days.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE SIRVENTES.
+
+
+The formal principle on which the division in the earlier chapters has
+been made must henceforth be abandoned entirely. The two great classes of
+poetry to which we now must turn, and which comprise by far the greater
+portion of Provençal literature, the _sirventes_ and the _canzo_, have
+no metrical scheme inherent in either of them as an essential part of
+their kind. The same infinite variety of rhyme and metre and stanza
+is found in the one as well as in the other. They can be separated,
+therefore, according to the subject-matter alone; and on this ground a
+division is easy enough, and satisfactory, at least as far as one of the
+two branches is concerned. The _canzo_, it may briefly be said, is a
+lyrical poem which treats of love, and a _sirventes_ one which does not.
+To the further definition of the latter somewhat negative term we must
+now devote our attention for a little while. A few general remarks on
+the character of the poetry of the troubadours, distinguishing it from
+all other mediæval schools, may aptly precede this, the most important
+section of the present work.
+
+Of the enormous importance of poetry in the literary, the social, the
+political, and the religious life of mediæval Provence, of the variety
+of functions which it assumed, and the energy and success with which it
+did justice to each of them, the modern reader can hardly form an idea. A
+passage with which the troubadour Raimon Vidal opens his learned treatise
+on metrical art, called ‘Razos de Trobar,’ will throw some light on the
+intense and wide-spread love of song characterising this outburst of
+long pent-up feeling. ‘All Christendom,’ he says, ‘Jews and Saracens,
+the emperor, kings, dukes, counts and viscounts, commanders, vassals,
+and other knights, citizens and peasants, tall and little, daily give
+their minds to singing and verse-making, by either singing themselves or
+listening to others. No place is so deserted, or out of the way, that, as
+long as men inhabit it, songs are not sung either by single persons or
+by many together; even the shepherds in the mountains know of no greater
+joy than song. All good and evil things in the world are made known by
+the troubadours, and no evil talk, that has once been put into rhyme and
+verse by a troubadour, fails to be repeated every day.’
+
+Let us now inquire into the nature of a poetry which exercised so
+potent a sway over all classes of society. The appearance of the first
+troubadour coincides very nearly with the earliest impetus of pious
+indignation caused by the sorrowful tales of pilgrims to the Holy
+Sepulchre. The result was a universal rising of Christian nations, a
+common effort of pious revenge on the Painim, an invasion finally of
+the eastern by the western world, such as history has rarely witnessed.
+Gibbon and Chateaubriand, Hume and Joseph de Maistre, may look on the
+crusades in very different ways. In one thing they cannot but agree,
+viz., that the religious impulse of which they were the tangible result
+tended to remould and imbue with a new principle of life the whole of
+western civilisation. The only mental product of this profound revolution
+of feeling which concerns us here, is the idealised conception of
+chivalry in immediate connection with the enthusiastic movement alluded
+to. This idea included those others of honour, of prowess, of candour,
+of loyalty, which, even in modern parlance, we are wont to comprehend
+in the word chivalrous. But the noblest duty of the mediæval knight was
+his service and devotion to the lady of his heart, a feeling akin to
+the religious veneration of that type of immaculate womanhood which the
+wisdom of the Roman Church had placed on a par almost with the Deity
+itself. These feelings, common as they are to the mediæval poetry of all
+nations, were expressed with more than ordinary fervour by the knightly
+singers of Southern France. At the same time they appear here with so
+many national and individual modifications, as to impart to the study of
+Provençal literature, beyond the historical and philological importance
+of its monuments, an additional human interest.
+
+Take, for instance, the idea of love as reflected in the poetry of the
+troubadours. It is true that many of their songs breathe the purest
+and most ardent spirit of romantic veneration; one chief division of
+Provençal poetry, the _canzo_, or song proper, is exclusively devoted
+to this loving worship. But the bold natural common sense of the French
+character always acted as a wholesome antidote to the tendency of purely
+spiritual sublimation. We have already observed the essentially realistic
+view which Count William took of the _grande passion_, and we shall hear
+before long that the weaknesses of their fair idols were a favourite butt
+of the satiric iconoclasm of more than one of the troubadours.
+
+This leaven of scepticism is observable even amongst the effusions of
+religious enthusiasm. I am not alluding to the active part taken by
+many of the troubadours in the struggle of Count Raimond of Toulouse,
+the protector of the Albigeois, against the ravaging hordes of Simon de
+Montfort, the champion of Papal supremacy. This part was rather of a
+national than of a religious kind;[17] for it must be remembered that
+the crusade against the Provençal heretics implied at the same time
+an onslaught of Northern centralisation on Southern independence, the
+success of which finally resulted in the abrupt and total decline of
+Provençal literature. What I was referring to is a curious and most
+charming poem by Marcabrun, in which that celebrated troubadour seems to
+oppose the excessive passion of the age for crusading expeditions. This
+was a somewhat ticklish subject, and apt to bring a peaceful poet into
+unpleasant collision with hierarchical powers. To cautious considerations
+of this kind we probably owe one of the sweetest conceptions of Provençal
+poetry; one of the rare instances, moreover, in which a description
+of beautiful scenery has been successfully attempted. For, as a rule,
+the troubadours show little _rapport_ with outward nature, and their
+occasional allusions to flowers and blue skies are generally of a
+conventional character.
+
+Marcabrun introduces us into the full splendour of southern spring; the
+trees are strewn with the young year’s blossoms, and resonant with the
+songs of birds. By the brook in the orchard we see a lonely maiden,
+the beautiful daughter of the châtelain. Little she heeds the bloom of
+the spring, or the joyous note of the songsters. Her tears mingle with
+the brook, and bitterly she complains to ‘Jesus, Lord of the world,
+for great grief has come to me through thee. The best men have gone to
+distant lands at thy behest, and with them my true love, bravest among
+the brave.’ The poet here steps in to interrupt the lady’s lament with
+gentle remonstrance. ‘Your tears,’ he suggests, ‘will injure your face
+and complexion; moreover He, who has adorned the trees with blossoms,
+may turn your grief into joy.’ But the lady turns a deaf ear to his
+comfortings. ‘Sir,’ she replies, ‘I willingly believe that God in the
+next world may vouchsafe me his grace; but in this I have lost my true
+love.’[18] Supposing the tendency of the poem to be such as I have
+surmised it to be, it must be owned that Marcabrun has carried out his
+purpose in the most ingenious manner. Pious souls might be referred
+to the religious commonplaces, introduced for safety sake, while more
+intelligent listeners could not fail to perceive the poet’s real meaning
+in the naïve pleadings of the desolate girl. An analogous mode of
+treatment of the identical subject occurs, by the way, in a poem by the
+excellent North-French trouvère Rutebœuf. He also describes a discussion
+between an assailant and a staunch defender of the crusades. To keep
+up appearances, the wicked sceptic had ultimately to confess himself
+convinced, but the reader easily perceives that the greater force of
+argument is, and is meant to be, with the vanquished.
+
+From various statements in the above remarks, the reader will have seen
+that the popular idea of a troubadour as a singer of love, and of nothing
+but love, is as incorrect and one-sided as popular ideas frequently are.
+There is, indeed, no important topic of political, social, and literary
+history of the time, which does not find an echo in the poetry of these
+gay singers. The form of art in which these and kindred questions are
+treated is collectively called the _sirventes_,[19] and the study of
+this branch of Provençal literature is of engrossing interest, both by
+the variety of contemporary topics touched upon, and by the display of
+brilliant wit and trenchant personal satire, with which many of these
+songs abound; the latter feature being in strong contrast with the
+charming but somewhat monotonous sweetness of the _canzo_, or love-song.
+The _sirventes_ of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries has been compared
+with the newspaper press of the nineteenth; and it may indeed seem
+doubtful to which of these two organs of public opinion the greater
+influence on the contemporary mind ought to be attributed, leaving, of
+course, the international importance of modern journalism out of the
+question. The rapid circulation of the censuring _sirventes_ amongst
+those concerned was amply provided for by vagrant joglars, whose lively
+recitations gave additional zest to satirical points; and the boldness
+and fierce castigation of public or private enemies indulged in by the
+troubadours throw all similar attempts of modern writers into the shade.
+Cobbett and the early Quarterly Reviewers would appear mild in such
+juxtaposition. The eagerness with which princes and great nobles tried
+to ward off, or return with equal force, the attacks of poets infinitely
+their inferiors in rank and power, proves the dangerous nature of the
+weapon.
+
+According to its subject-matter the _sirventes_ may be divided into four
+important groups: the personal, the social-and-political, the moral, and
+the religious _sirventes_; the last-named term being applicable chiefly
+to the poems relating to the Albigeois crusade. Theological and more
+especially dogmatic subjects gave little concern to the troubadours,
+although they had a keen eye for the weaknesses of the clergy both
+secular and monastic. All these classes of polemic literature will be
+treated at length in the course of this work. To complete the outline of
+the subject it is necessary only to refer briefly to two minor branches
+of the _sirventes_. They are the _planh_ or complaint, and the crusader’s
+song, the former belonging more especially to the personal, the latter to
+the religious, class of poems.
+
+The _planh_ is a poem written on the death of a mistress, a friend, or
+a protector. It no doubt was amongst the duties of courtly poets to
+deplore the loss of the latter in suitable terms, and by far the greater
+number of complaints remaining to us belong to the species of official
+poetry. But in spite of this there is the true ring of sorrow in most
+of these songs, a fact which shows the frequent existence of genuinely
+cordial relations between the poets and their noble patrons. ‘Like one,’
+says Folquet of Marseilles, ‘who is so sad that he has lost the sense of
+sorrow, I feel no pain or sadness; all is buried in forgetfulness. For
+my loss is so overpowering that my heart cannot conceive it, nor can any
+man understand its greatness.’ The object of this pathetic and no doubt
+sincere sorrow is not, as might be expected, a beloved friend of equal
+station or a mistress, but Barral, the mighty viscount of Marseilles, at
+whose court Folquet had been staying for a long time, and to whose wife,
+Adalasia, he was passionately attached.
+
+Quite as genuine and historically more important is the song in which
+Gaucelm Faidit deplores the premature death of England’s heroic King
+Richard. ‘It is hard on me,’ he says, ‘that the greatest loss and the
+greatest pain I ever had, and which I shall deplore for aye and ever,
+that this loss I must announce and proclaim in a song. The great and
+glorious Richard, the king of the English, is dead. Ah, God! what grief,
+what a loss! How strange the word sounds, and how sad it is to hear! He
+must have an obdurate heart who can bear it.’ The poet then proceeds to
+sing the praises of his lost protector in enthusiastic terms. ‘The king
+is dead—not for a thousand years has there been a man so brave, so kind,
+so bold, so liberal. For Alexander, the king who conquered Darius, did
+not, I believe, show such largess, nor are Charles and Arthur equal to
+his worth!’ All this may seem exaggerated and hyperbolical on the ground
+of historic criticism and moral principle; but Gaucelm Faidit did not see
+in Richard the rebellious son of former, and the tyrannic ruler of later
+days. To him he was the centre of gaiety and splendour, the fount of
+wealth and comfort, and, there is little doubt, a beloved friend withal.
+
+Of another Complaint devoted by Bertran de Born to the praise of
+Richard’s ill-fated brother Henry we shall hear on a later occasion. It
+marks the climax of power and beauty reached by this section of poetic
+art.
+
+Of the close connection between the poetry of the troubadours and the
+impulse which sent thousands of knights and varlets of all nations to the
+distant East, general mention has already been made. The more immediate
+result of this affinity of spirit is the song of the crusade, a poem that
+is designed to inspire men with valour and sacred ambition in the service
+of the Lord. It is a characteristic fact that the first troubadour of
+whom we have historic knowledge has left us a remarkable song of this
+order.
+
+Guillem of Poitiers, the reader will remember, led anything but an
+exemplary life. But towards the end of it he repented, and resolved to
+atone for his evil ways by a pilgrimage to the Holy Land at the head of
+a large army. So important an event in his life and thought the poet
+could not let pass in silence. He wrote a song in commemoration of it,
+which is a document of deepest interest both as regards its psychological
+and its historic import. It betrays a heart loth to leave the world’s
+joy and yet urged on to a holy purpose by the sense of a deep necessity
+of regeneration. ‘I go into exile,’ he says, ‘and leave behind me my
+son surrounded by warfare and fear and danger; for his neighbours are
+malevolent men.’ He conjures his cousin and his overlord to take care
+of the unprotected boy, who without such help would be lost. He next
+bids a sad adieu to knightly splendour and to the joys of love, and in
+token of sincere repentance he humbly asks the forgiveness of all whom
+he may have offended. The tone of the song is exceedingly sad, and full
+of a latent presentiment of death. On the other hand we miss the holy
+enthusiasm of the early crusaders. There is no appeal to the faithful, no
+proud determination to liberate the Redeemer’s tomb by deeds of valour,
+such as abound in similar poems by other troubadours. It has indeed been
+doubted whether the song referred to the crusade at all, and not rather
+to some shorter pilgrimage or temporary retirement from the world. But
+for a minor event of that kind the fear of danger for his son and country
+appears too grave, and it seems on the other hand but natural that a
+man of Guillem’s temperament and habits should speak of a separation
+from the haunts of his pleasure and the scenes of his glory as a dreary
+banishment. In his feeling this grief and disappointment would naturally
+be uppermost, but all the more worthy of emulation must have been the
+example of a resolve which in spite of all this remained unshaken. From
+this point of view Count Guillem’s poem holds a prominent place amongst
+the songs of the crusade.
+
+In most cases, however, these songs take the form of an appeal or
+admonition addressed to the people, and, more frequently still, to
+individual princes and nobles. These are exhorted to abandon their
+worldly interests and discords, and join hands in the sacred endeavour.
+The allusions to persons and contemporary events incidentally introduced
+make some of these poems exceedingly valuable material for the historian.
+Others again are interesting owing to the genuine elevation of the heart
+that speaks from every line and inspires the work with true poetic
+passion. Three songs by Pons de Capduelh, a noble poet of Puy Sainte
+Marie, deserve mention. They all refer to the crusade against Saladin,
+and must have been written about the year 1188. As regards elevation
+of language they are unsurpassed in Provençal literature. The second
+especially is a master-piece of simple and yet impressive diction.
+Unfortunately its length forbids the quotation of the original together
+with an English version. The latter alone, on the other hand, would
+convey too imperfect an idea of the tone and diction of the poem. As a
+middle course I have subjoined a rendering which occurs in the French
+edition of Dietz’s ‘Poesie der Troubadours.’
+
+‘Qu’il soit désormais notre guide et notre protecteur, celui qui
+guida les trois rois à Bethléem. Sa miséricorde nous indique une voie
+par laquelle les plus grands pécheurs, qui la suivent avec zèle et
+franchise, arriveront à leur salut. Insensé, insensé l’homme qui, par un
+vil attachement à ses terres et à ses richesses, négligera de prendre
+la croix, puisque par sa faute et par sa lâcheté il perd à la fois son
+honneur et son Dieu.
+
+‘Voyez quelle est la démence de celui qui ne s’arme point. Jésus, le
+Dieu de vérité, a dit à ses apôtres qu’il fallait le suivre, et que pour
+le suivre on devait renoncer à tous ses biens, à toutes ses affections
+terrestres; le moment est venu d’accomplir son saint commandement.
+Mourir outre mer pour son nom sacré est préférable à vivre en ces lieux
+avec gloire; oui, la vie est ici pire que la mort. Qu’est-ce qu’une vie
+honteuse? Mais mourir en affrontant ces glorieux dangers, c’est triompher
+de la mort même et s’assurer une éternelle félicité.
+
+‘Humiliez-vous avec ardeur devant la croix, et par ses mérites vous
+obtiendrez le pardon de vos péchés; c’est par la croix que notre Seigneur
+a racheté vos fautes et vos crimes—lorsque sa sainte pitié fit grâce au
+bon larron, lorsque sa justice s’appesantit sur le méchant, et qu’il
+accueillit même le repentir de Longin. Par la croix il sauva ceux qui
+étaient dans la voie de la perdition; enfin il souffrit la mort et ne la
+souffrit que pour notre salut. Malheureux donc quiconque ne s’acquitte
+pas envers la générosité d’un Dieu.
+
+‘A quoi servent les conquêtes de l’ambition? En vain vous soumettrez
+tous les royaumes qui sont de ce côté de la mer, si vous êtes infidèles
+et ingrats à votre Dieu. Alexandre avait soumis toute la terre.
+Qu’emporta-t-il en mourant? Le seul linceul mortuaire. Oh! quelle folie
+de voir le bien et de prendre le mal, et de renoncer pour des objets
+vains et périssables à un bonheur qui ne peut manquer ni jour ni nuit!
+Tel est l’effet de la convoitise humaine; elle aveugle les mortels, elle
+les égare, et ils ne reconnaissent pas leurs erreurs.
+
+‘Qu’il ne se flatte pas d’être compté parmi les preux, tout baron qui
+n’arborera pas la croix et qui ne marchera pas aussitôt à la délivrance
+du saint tombeau! Aujourd’hui les armes, les combats, l’honneur, la
+chevalerie, tout ce que le monde a de beau et de séduisant, nous peuvent
+procurer la gloire et le bonheur du céleste séjour. Ah! que désireraient
+de plus les rois et les comtes, si, par leurs hauts faits, ils pouvaient
+se racheter des flammes dévorantes où les réprouvés seront éternellement
+tourmentés?
+
+‘Sans doute il est excusable celui que la vieillesse et les infirmités
+retiennent sur nos bords; mais alors il doit prodiguer ses richesses
+à ceux qui partent; c’est bien fait d’envoyer quand on ne peut aller,
+pourvu que l’on ne demeure pas par lâcheté ou indifférence. Que
+répondront au jour du jugement ceux qui seront restés ici malgré leur
+devoir, quand Dieu leur dira: “Faux et lâches chrétiens, c’est pour vous
+que je fus cruellement battu de verges; c’est pour vous que je souffris
+la mort”? Ah! le plus juste alors tressaillira lui-même d’épouvante.’
+
+We must now for a moment return to the _sirventes_ generally, and
+note, for the sake of completeness, one or two more of its separate
+branches. In some of the biographies we meet with the use of a curious
+term, _sirventes-joglaresc_, which at first sight would lead one to
+expect a poem more especially designed for recitation by a joglar.
+But such a distinction cannot be substantiated by facts. We know that
+not only all _sirventeses_, but all _canzos_ as well, were to a great
+extent dependent for their promulgation on the professional singers and
+reciters. Moreover, the manuscripts seem to indicate quite a different
+meaning. They generally add by way of explanation that the _sirventes_ so
+denominated dealt out both praise and vituperation, the former of course
+to the worthy, the latter to the vicious. But why and when such a meaning
+came to be connected with such a term is one of the unsolved riddles of
+literature.
+
+Little more than a whim is the _canzo-sirventes_, a mixture of the
+love-song and the non-love-song, generally beginning with a satirical
+discussion of personal or public affairs and winding up with the praise
+of a lady. No transition is made, the abruptness of the change being
+evidently considered an additional charm. No wonder that Peire Vidal, one
+of the most eccentric troubadours, favoured the mongrel type. Of it and
+of him, more anon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE CANZO.
+
+
+With the _canzo_ we have at last reached the climax and innermost essence
+of the poetry of the troubadours. I have in the above called the idea
+of the troubadour as exclusively a singer of love a one-sided one. So
+indeed it is, but at the same time the lingering of this feature and this
+feature alone in the memory of ages distinctly proves its prevailing
+importance in the picture which the popular mind conceived and treasured
+up. And the _vox populi_ in literature, as in other matters, is generally
+found to be after all the voice of good sense and unsophisticated truth.
+
+All true poetry must be the offspring of its time; it must show as in a
+mirror the best contemporary thoughts and ideas. Now there is no doubt
+that the purest and most poetic motive of early mediæval life was the
+_cultus_ of the new-found ideal of womanhood. To this worship, therefore,
+the troubadour devoted his noblest endeavour, and the result is a
+literature in some respects unique in the history of all nations.
+
+On first becoming acquainted with the amatory verses of Provençal
+poets, one is apt to give way to a feeling of disappointment. Everything
+is different from what one’s vague idea of the subject had led him to
+expect. There is here no wild storm of passion, no untrammelled effusion
+of sentiment On the contrary, the stream of emotion, and sometimes not
+a very powerful stream, seems to run in a regular channel—a channel, to
+continue the simile, with the marble sides and facings of a rigid form,
+and the narrowness of which admits of little individual bubbling. The
+last-mentioned feature, viz., the want of individual peculiarities, is
+especially noticeable in the poets of the _langue d’oc_. There are of
+course differences, as there are, and must be, in all other schools and
+coteries of literary workers. Bernart de Ventadorn is an infinitely more
+impassioned and more loveable singer than the affected Rambaut of Orange;
+and the Monk of Montaudon, when he deigns to write a love-song, cannot
+wholly disguise his sardonic vein, nor does he ever attain to the lyrical
+sweetness of Guillem de Cabestanh. But such distinctions do not meet
+the eye of the casual observer with the same force as is the case with
+the poets of other nationalities. One of the reasons is the perfection
+of formal development which universally prevails. In modern France or
+England it is easy to know one poet from another, and attribute to each
+his place in the republic of song by the quality of his verse _quâ_
+verse. There are, in short, those who can and those who cannot write
+poetry. But with the troubadours it was otherwise: they all knew their
+business equally well; there were no bunglers amongst them.
+
+We here once again touch upon that pride and bane of Provençal
+poetry—form. That much freshness of expression, much genuine fervour
+of inspiration, has been sacrificed to this moloch, is not a matter of
+doubt. The sameness of type observable in a whole galaxy of gifted and no
+doubt variously gifted poets cannot be explained from any other cause.
+For not only did the observance of certain external niceties absorb
+a great part of the poet’s energy, but the habit of such observance
+gradually encroached even on his cast of thought. Certain feelings and
+ideas gradually grew into established formulas. The absence of a true
+sympathy with nature in the works of the troubadours is a case in point.
+Originally such a feeling must have existed; the very common occurrence
+at the beginning of a love-song of some remarks on the beauties of
+spring, the song of birds, and the like, tends to prove it. But
+unfortunately the similarity of these preludes and the narrow range of
+objects to which they refer are a proof equally strong of the detrimental
+force of the ‘set speech’ above alluded to. For one Gaucelm Faidit,
+who feels genuine delight in the ‘_rossinholet salvatge_,’ the ‘wild
+nightingale,’ there are twenty troubadours who speak of the sweet-toned
+songster with perfect indifference and merely as a matter of custom. Even
+the main and moving subject of the _canzo_, the lady, does not always
+escape the same fate. She also frequently becomes a barren symbol to be
+described according to a certain code of beauty and to be addressed in
+certain well-turned phrases.
+
+Another striking defect in Provençal poetry may to a great extent be
+derived from the same source. This is the want of continuity in most
+of the _canzos_. Few of these show a necessary organic growth. In most
+cases stanzas might be added or taken away without detracting from or
+increasing the general merit of the poem. The reason is the wonderful
+elaborateness and symmetry of the single stanzas, which make them appear
+in the light of independent and compact units, the stringing together
+of which may delight the hearer for a time, but can never produce the
+impression of an organic whole. I could cite modern instances in which
+the same cause has had exactly the same effect.
+
+But such deficiencies, apparent as they are in a greater or less
+degree in every troubadour, ought not to blind us to the high merits
+of Provençal poetry, its refinement, its tenderness of feeling, its
+unrivalled perfection of form. Our admiration of these qualities
+increases when we think of the soil in which this remarkable growth took
+place. The troubadours were the first harbingers of reviving literary
+culture after the storms which wrecked the Western Empire. They had no
+models to fall back upon; for the poets of antiquity were more or less
+above their ken, and the simple creations of the popular mind beneath
+their attention. They had even to create their language from a mixture
+of provincial _patois_. If ever poetry has sprung from the spontaneous
+impulse of man, it is in this instance. And, what is more, it was at a
+time when everywhere else intellectual darkness and barrenness covered
+the land. At the time when Guillem of Poitiers wrote his masterpieces
+of lyrical refinement, the amalgamation of the native with the foreign
+idiom had only just begun in England; in Northern France the stage of the
+primitive epic was hardly reached, and a century was to pass before the
+seed sown by the troubadours was to bring forth fruit in Germany; Italy
+yielding to the same influence at a still later period. But the Provençal
+love-song had reached its autumn before these subsequent developments
+entered into existence. For a long time it stood alone, an exotic plant
+of unknown origin, but of rich and peculiar growth, in the wilderness of
+the early middle ages.
+
+Of the metrical structure of the love-song I shall say little in this
+place. The varieties and niceties of its rhymes and stanzas the reader
+will find fully discussed in the technical chapters. It may be mentioned
+here that some difference seems to have existed between two kinds of
+the love-song, the _vers_ and the _canzo_; but what the exact nature of
+the difference was it is impossible to say. The troubadours themselves
+had not a very clear notion of it. The _Leys d’amors_ is even more than
+usually rambling and vague in its definition, and all the characteristics
+it mentions of the _vers_ belong in equal measure to the _canzo_. Aimeric
+de Pegulhan, one of the later troubadours, candidly confesses that
+to him the distinction between the terms has lost its significance.
+‘Frequently,’ he says, ‘I am asked at court why I do not write a _vers_.
+Therefore I leave it to those who care, to decide whether this song be a
+_vers_ or a _canzo_; and to those who inquire I answer that I do not find
+any difference between _vers_ and _canzo_ beyond the name.’ It further
+appears from his song, that, according to rule or prejudice, the _canzo_
+generally had feminine rhymes and short lively musical accompaniments,
+while the more primitive _vers_ affected monosyllabic endings and
+long-drawn melodies. But he justly infers that this rule is not observed
+by the troubadours to any prevailing extent, and this fact deprives
+the theoretical subtleties of ancient and modern grammarians of their
+substantial basis.
+
+And here my remarks on the _canzo_ and on the general aspects of
+Provençal literature must end. Of the incompleteness of the sketch in
+more than one respect I am fully conscious. But I hope that the reader
+may be able to form some adequate view of the intellectual and moral
+conditions of which the poetry of the troubadours is the embodiment. To
+blur this outline with further detail would be contrary to the purpose
+of this book, which, I repeat it, is not a scientific treatise aiming at
+exhaustiveness, but rather a first attempt to attract the English reader
+towards a subject which deserves so much and has had so little of his
+attention. The safest, perhaps the only, method of gaining this end is
+the biographical. In the biographies of some of the principal troubadours
+I therefore have embodied what further information of the life and work
+of these poets I desired to give on the present occasion. Guillem de
+Cabestanh will be the representative of the love-song proper. Peire Vidal
+combines the satiric and the lyrical gifts. Bertran de Born represents
+the warlike or political _sirventes_; the Monk of Montaudon is the
+master of personal and literary satire, while Peire Cardinal’s pessimism
+and severe morality loom in cloudy distance above the gay throng. The
+crusade against the Albigeois heretics, with its baneful consequences for
+Provençal literature, is treated in continuous chapters, and a separate
+niche of fame is gallantly assigned to the lady troubadours. Other
+questions connected with the subject are incidentally treated.
+
+
+
+
+_PART II._
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+GUILLEM DE CABESTANH.
+
+
+Petrarch, in the fourth chapter of his ‘Trionfo d’Amore,’ in speaking of
+the love-poets of various nations, mentions the name of ‘William, who, by
+his song, shortened the flower of his days.’
+
+                        Quel Guglielmo,
+    Che per cantar ha’l fior dei suoi dì scemo!
+
+This William is Guillem de Cabestanh the troubadour, and it is his story
+that I propose to tell the reader, following as closely as possible
+the quaint old biography contained in a Provençal manuscript of the
+Laurentian Library in Florence.
+
+‘Sir Raimon of Rossilho,’ the old manuscript begins, ‘was a mighty baron,
+as you are well aware, and had for his wife the Lady Margarida, the
+most beautiful lady, as you know, of that time, and the most prized for
+all that is praiseworthy, and noble, and courteous. It so happened that
+Guillem de Cabestanh, the son of a poor knight of Castle Cabestanh, came
+to the court of Sir Raimon de Rossilho, offering to remain with him as
+his servant (_vaslez de sa cort_). Sir Raimon, who found him to be of
+fair and good countenance, bade him welcome, and Guillem remained with
+him, and so gentle was his demeanour, that young and old loved him well.
+And so much did he advance in favour that Sir Raimon wished him to be
+page to Lady Margarida his wife; and so it was done.
+
+‘But as it frequently befalls with love, it now befell that Love was
+bent on besieging the Lady Margarida with his siege, and he kindled her
+thoughts with fire. So much was she pleased with Guillem’s demeanour,
+and his speech, and his countenance, that one day she could not withhold
+herself from saying, “Tell me, Guillem, if a lady were to show you
+semblance of love, would you dare to love her?” Guillem, who understood
+her meaning, answered frankly, “Certainly, lady, if I knew that the
+semblance were true.” “By St. John,” replied the lady, “a good and noble
+answer; but now I will test thee, if thou canst know and distinguish
+truth from falsehood.” When Guillem heard these words, he replied, “May
+it be as it pleases you.”’
+
+The biographer goes on to describe how the thoughts thus enjoined upon
+Guillem by the lady rouse his soul from amorous reflection to desire;
+‘and henceforth he became a servant to Love, and began to invent stanzas
+graceful and gay, and tunes and canzos, and his songs found favour with
+all, but most with her for whom he sang.’ Thus, once again, the flame of
+poetry was awakened by the fire of passion. ‘But Love,’ the manuscript
+continues, ‘who rewards the labours of his servants when it pleases him,
+now thought of showing himself grateful. He assails the thoughts of the
+lady with love and desire; night and day she cannot leave off thinking of
+the poet’s valour and beauty.’
+
+‘One day the lady took Guillem aside, and spoke to him this wise:
+“Guillem, tell me, hast thou yet found out of my semblance if it is true
+or false?”[20] Guillem answered, “Lady, so God help me, from the hour I
+entered your service, no thought has entered my mind but that you are the
+best lady ever born, and the most truthful in word and appearance; this I
+believe, and shall believe all my life.”’
+
+Thus the fateful knot of passion is tied between these two; and fate is
+rapid in its approach. ‘For soon,’ the story continues, ‘the tell-tales,
+whom God hates, began to talk of their love, and to guess by Guillem’s
+songs that he was of one mind with Lady Margarida. These went on talking
+high and low, till at last it came to the ear of Sir Raimon. He was ill
+pleased and hot with rage through having lost the friend he loved so
+well, and more because of the shame of his spouse.’
+
+We expect to see the great baron crushing his faithless retainer in the
+first storm of indignation. But such is not his character. He is resolved
+to smite, but not till the guilty are convicted by their own words. With
+great discretion he refrains from questioning his wife, or from taking
+any further steps till he has seen Guillem without witnesses. One day
+when the poet is gone to hunt with the sparrow-hawk, Raimon follows him,
+secretly armed, but unaccompanied. He meets him in a lonely place, and
+the scene which passes between them is exceedingly characteristic of the
+men and of the time in which they lived. Guillem, on seeing the baron
+approach, at once recognises the danger of his situation. But he is too
+much of a courtier to show any embarrassment.
+
+At first their conversation runs on indifferent matters, courteous
+inquiries and answers as to Guillem’s sport and the like. But presently
+Raimon’s self-control begins to desert him. ‘Let us leave off this talk
+now,’ he begins abruptly, ‘and answer me truthfully, by the faith you owe
+me, all that I am going to ask you.’
+
+After some natural hesitation, Guillem submits to this comprehensive
+demand.
+
+‘Tell me, then,’ asks Raimon, solemnly, ‘as you love God and your faith,
+have you a lady for whom you sing, and to whom you are bound in love?’
+
+‘And how could I sing,’ William answers, ‘if Love did not bind me? Know,
+noble sir, that he has me wholly in his power.’
+
+Raimon answered, ‘I willingly believe that without love you could not
+sing so well; but now I must know who is your lady?’
+
+But to this Guillem demurs. Hitherto he has answered the questions of
+his master, as in duty bound; but here a higher duty intervenes, that
+of discretion in the service of love. In his excuse he quotes some lines
+of his brother poet Bernard de Ventadorn, to the effect that it is ‘a
+foolish and childish thing to reveal your love to a friend who can be of
+no service to you.’
+
+Raimon accepts the plea, but he meets the move with one of equal skill.
+
+‘Quite true,’ he says; ‘but I pledge my word that I will be of service to
+you, as far as lies in my power.’
+
+Guillem, thus brought to bay, sees only one way to save himself from
+immediate destruction.
+
+‘Know then,’ he exclaims, ‘that I love the sister of the Lady Margarida
+your wife, and I believe that she returns my passion; now you know all,
+and I pray you to assist me, or at least not to injure me.’
+
+To this Raimon assents very readily, and to prove his zealous friendship,
+he proposes an immediate visit to the lady herself, whose husband’s
+castle (for she also, as a matter of course, is married) happens to be
+in the immediate neighbourhood. The feelings of Guillem, as the two ride
+along, may be imagined.
+
+Before we follow them to the castle, let us for a moment look back on
+the scene we have just witnessed. Time: the latter half of the twelfth
+century; place: a lonely wood in the South of France; actors: two men
+moved against each other by jealousy, fear, revenge, the consciousness of
+wrong inflicted and received—the strongest emotions, in short, of which
+the human heart is capable. Yet note the calmness and refined courtesy
+of their manner, the neatness of repartee in a conversation where life
+and honour are at stake. Guillem, it must be remembered, is at the mercy
+of his antagonist. Instead of meeting him man to man, Raimon might have
+thrown his vassal into a dungeon, or wrung his secret from him on the
+rack. No one would have dared to interfere with the mighty baron, or to
+breathe suspicion on his wife’s honour. I fear, indeed, that an ordinary
+retainer would not have met with such considerate treatment at Raimon’s
+hands. But Guillem was a poet of reputation, who could not be dealt with
+in a summary manner. Hence the terms of equality which Raimon grants him
+as a matter of course; hence even the offer of assistance in his love
+affairs. For troubadours were privileged persons. Every one knew that
+the ladies worshipped by them, under various _senhals_, or pseudonyms,
+were frequently the wives of the greatest nobles of the land. Raimon
+himself is quite willing to acknowledge this poetic licence, as long
+as his own wife is not concerned. It, at any rate, speaks well for the
+genuine quality of the Provençal love-song, to see how both Guillem and
+his patron treat its origin from anything but real passion as a total
+impossibility. But whatever the reader may think of the morality of the
+principles alluded to, he must admit that they imply a refinement of
+manner and sentiment, somewhat at variance with the popular notion of the
+semi-barbaric state of early mediæval culture. But still stranger events
+are in store for us.
+
+On their arrival at Castle Liet, Raimon and the poet are hospitably
+received by the noble Lord Robert de Tarascon and his wife, the Lady
+Agnes, sister of Lady Margarida. Raimon, whose friendly offers to Guillem
+the reader no doubt fully appreciates, takes an early opportunity of
+cross-questioning his sister-in-law on the delicate subject of her
+lover, without, however, mentioning a name. But the lady is equal to the
+occasion. She has seen by Guillem’s expression, that some mischief must
+be brewing, and, knowing of her sister’s attachment, she at once sides
+against the jealous husband. She admits having a lover, and, when asked
+as to his identity, names Guillem without a moment of hesitation, and
+much to the relief of Raimon. Her husband, when told of the intrigue,
+fully approves the lady’s conduct, and both combine, in various ways,
+to further convince Raimon of a guilty intimacy between Guillem and the
+lady of Tarascon. So well do they succeed, that on his return home Raimon
+goes at once to tell his wife of his discovery; much to the dismay of
+that lady, as the reader need not be told. Guillem is summoned before his
+indignant mistress, and denies his guilt; his innocence being confirmed
+by the statement of the lady of Tarascon. Margarida is satisfied, but
+nevertheless bids Guillem declare in a song that to none but her is his
+love devoted. In answer to this summons Guillem writes the celebrated
+canzo, ‘Li dous cossire qu’em don’ amors soven’ (The sweet longing that
+love often gives to me); one of the most beautiful and most impassioned
+lyrics ever penned, and, alas! his last.[21] For Raimon, when he hears
+the song, at once fathoms its meaning. His fury now is boundless, but
+once more he curbs it, to poison the sting of his revenge. He again meets
+Guillem in a lonely place, slays him, severs the head from the body,
+tears out the heart, and with these dreadful trophies secretly returns to
+the castle. The heart he has roasted,[22] and at dinner asks his wife to
+partake of it. After she has eaten he discloses the terrible secret and
+simultaneously produces the gory head of her lover, asking her how she
+liked the flavour of the meat. The lady’s answer is noble and of tragic
+simplicity. ‘It was so good and savoury,’ she says, ‘that never other
+meat or drink shall take from my mouth the sweetness which the heart of
+Guillem has left there.’ The exasperated husband then rushes at her with
+his drawn sword, and she, flying from him, throws herself from a balcony,
+and dies.
+
+Thus the marriage law is vindicated, and M. Alexandre Dumas’ sentence of
+_tue-la_ carried out in a manner with which even that severe moralist
+could not but be satisfied. But Guillem’s contemporaries had not yet
+attained to this pitch of virtue. The news of the deed spread rapidly,
+and was received everywhere with grief and indignation; ‘and all the
+friends of Guillem and the lady, and all the courteous knights of the
+neighbourhood, and all those who were lovers, united to make war against
+Raimon.’ King Alfonso, of Aragon, himself invaded Raimon’s dominions,
+took from him his castles and lands, and kept him prisoner till death.
+All his possessions were divided amongst the relations of Guillem and of
+the lady—a somewhat unusual exercise of feudal jurisdiction, it would
+seem. The same king had the two lovers buried in one tomb, and erected
+a monument over them, just outside the door of the Church of Perpignan.
+‘And there was a time,’ the biographer adds, ‘when all the knights
+of Rossilho, and of Serdonha, of Confolen, Riuples, Peiralaide, and
+Narbones, kept the day of their death every year; and all the fond lovers
+and all the fond lady-loves prayed for their souls.’
+
+This is the story as rendered in the manuscript of the Laurentiana; and
+a beautiful story it is, told with exquisite skill, and with an artistic
+grouping of the psychological and pathetic elements for which many modern
+novelists might envy the obscure Provençal scribe. Boccaccio’s treatment
+of the same incidents, with changed names, in the thirty-ninth _novella_
+of the ‘Decameron,’ is greatly inferior to the present version. But this
+very finish of detail excites suspicions as to the historic truth of
+the extraordinary events so plausibly narrated. Further research into
+the matter confirms this suspicion. I have traced no less than seven
+different versions of Guillem’s life in the Provençal language preserved
+amongst the MS. collections of the libraries of Rome, Florence, and
+Paris. All these purport to be authentic biographies of the poet, and all
+agree in the main incidents of the story, differing, however, in details,
+and even in the names of the localities and persons concerned. The lady,
+for instance, is in some versions called Sermonda or Sorismonda, instead
+of Margarida. Other discrepancies and arbitrary additions tend to show
+that invention has been busy to embellish the tragic fate of a celebrated
+poet; and it has not been an easy task to divest the kernel of historic
+truth from later fictitious accumulations. I cannot enter here into
+tedious details, and must ask the reader to accept in good faith the
+results of what I may, without presumption, call a careful and patient
+investigation.
+
+The historic identity of Guillem de Cabestanh, a celebrated poet of the
+fourteenth century, is sufficiently proved, and there is no intrinsic
+or external reason to doubt that he was enamoured of a married lady,
+and killed by her jealous husband. It is also by no means unlikely that
+the discovery was brought about by an unguarded expression in one of
+the poet’s songs, although this circumstance is not mentioned in the
+oldest and simplest version. The chronologically second version, on
+the contrary, lays great stress on this interesting fact, naming the
+fatal song—none other than the beautiful and popular canzo, ‘Li dous
+cossire,’ already referred to. Here, then, we discover the clue to the
+numerous romantic additions of the later versions, which could be made
+with the greater impunity, as the real circumstances of the story
+began to fade from the memory of men. For most of these additions are
+evidently invented with a view to connecting this particular song with
+the tragic fate of the poet—an idea by no means wanting in poetic beauty,
+although not borne out by the dry facts of history. The ingenious way in
+which this connection is attempted is particularly shown in one of the
+manuscripts where the actual passage of the song from which Raimon is
+said to have derived his knowledge is quoted. The words run:
+
+    Tot qan faz per temensa
+    Devez en bona fei,
+    Prendre neis qan nous vei.
+
+In English, ‘All I am compelled to do by fear, you must accept in good
+faith, even if I do not see you.’ At first sight the suggestion seems
+plausible. The song, as we know, was written to account for Guillem’s
+apparent faithlessness, and to the jealous suspicion of the husband the
+allusion might seem plain enough. But it must be borne in mind that
+Raimon was not supposed to know to whom Guillem’s songs were addressed.
+After he had once found out that the poet spoke of his wife and to
+his wife in such a manner as is done in the _canzo_ in question, the
+further discovery of any particularly suggestive passage was quite
+unnecessary. The idea of connecting a song treating of the ordinary
+incidents of a love-affair with the death of the poet is evidently an
+after-thought, although by no means an inappropriate one. The author of
+the version followed by me in the above shows the highest degree of
+inventive boldness by adding entirely new incidents (_e.g._, the visit to
+Castle Liet), and rendering _verbatim_ long conversations, of which no
+cognisance could possibly have been obtained.
+
+Regarding the most striking incident, that of the lover’s heart being
+eaten by the lady, it is true that all the versions contain it, but other
+circumstances tend to throw grave doubts on its historic reality. For
+the same fact is told with some modifications of the Châtelain de Coucy,
+a celebrated poet of Northern France, no less historical than Guillem
+himself, and nearly his contemporary. The independent recurrence in the
+course of a few years of the same extraordinary fact is intrinsically
+much more unlikely than the supposition that the story of the eaten heart
+was, in some form or other, popular at the time, and therefore connected
+with the life of one of their celebrated poets by both northern and
+southern Frenchmen. Students of the ‘History of Fiction’ are aware that
+the local and individual application of a popular story to a popular hero
+is a most common process, and readers of Dunlop’s excellent work of that
+name may remember that the incident of the eaten heart is by no means
+confined to the age or country of Guillem de Cabestanh. I should indeed
+not feel surprised if one of our comparative mythologists were to prove
+that the vulture gnawing the head or liver of the fettered Prometheus is
+at the bottom of it all.
+
+But whatever may be the historical value of the story related in the
+above, it throws a striking and abundant light on the manners and
+feelings of mediæval Provence. Here we see the idea of the unlimited
+power of love carried to its extreme consequences. Margarida, a
+noble lady, adorned, as is expressly stated, with all virtues and
+accomplishments, does not hesitate at inviting the courtship of her
+inferior in rank in the most unmistakable manner. But the narrator, and
+evidently his public with him, think that everything is sufficiently
+accounted for by an allusion to the unconquerable impulse of love.
+
+And in the service of this love all means of defence, fair or foul, are
+thought permissible. Guillem betrays his kind master and benefactor, and
+afterwards, in order to save himself, calmly exposes the honour of a
+third person by an audacious falsehood. Raimon himself is quite willing
+to tolerate, or even to further, the poet’s intrigue with his wife’s
+sister; and the manner in which the lord and lady of Tarascon pay him
+back in his own coin displays the equally loose principles of those
+distinguished persons. The immediate discovery of the whole state of
+affairs on the part of the lady, moreover, betrays an acuteness of vision
+explainable only from personal experience of similar predicaments. When
+at last the long-abused husband discovers the intrigue, and takes cruel
+revenge, nobody seems to consider that he has been sinned against no less
+than sinning, and all true knights and lovers, the King of Aragon amongst
+them, hasten to punish the vile murderer, while the lovers are revered
+as saints and martyrs. Much as we may condemn the brutality of the
+husband’s revenge, or wish to excuse the fatal effects of irresistible
+passion, justice compels us to consider that the breach of the marriage
+vow was in this case aggravated by that of confidence, friendship, and
+fealty. But justice to a husband, as we know, was a thing unheard of in
+the code of Provençal gallantry—the very name was odious, and all but
+synonymous with criminal, or at least dupe. I do not, indeed, recollect
+a single instance amongst the numerous love-stories told in connection
+with the troubadours in which the object of passion was not a married
+lady; a strange point of affinity with the modern French novel to which I
+call the attention of those interested in national psychology. The final
+wedding-bells of English novels would be vainly listened for in Provençal
+fiction.
+
+If this frivolous conception of sacred ties repels our æsthetical and
+moral feelings, we cannot, on the other hand, refuse our sympathy to
+a passion so pure and so intense as that reflected in the _canzos_ of
+Guillem de Cabestanh. Only seven of his poems have been preserved to us,
+but these rank amongst the highest achievements of Provençal literature.
+In the whole range of international song I know of no sweeter lyric than
+Guillem’s ‘Lo jorn qu’eus vi domna premieramen,’ or that other _canzo_,
+which legend has connected with his death. The latter is also remarkable
+for its display of highest technical finish, while the remainder of
+Guillem’s songs are comparatively simple in structure, and contain
+few of those marvellous _tours de force_ of rhyme and metre which most
+troubadours delight in.
+
+Such artificialities of manner would, indeed, be ill adapted to the
+extreme simplicity of his theme, which is nothing but the deepest passion
+for one beloved object. There is in his poems no fickleness, no variation
+of mood, and if his literary remains were voluminous, the uniformity of
+his passion would pall upon us. As it is, this very monotony adds to the
+intensity of our impression. Guillem is a patient lover, a male type of
+the nut-brown maid. Everything he will suffer for his lady and from her;
+nay, he derives pleasure from his sufferings, as they have been inflicted
+upon him in the service of love, in _her_ service. At first sight he has
+become her bondsman, she has bewitched him with a smile, taken his sense
+and his thought with a word of her mouth. Sometimes he fancies that he
+must have loved her before seeing her, and delights in the delusion of
+having been destined by God to serve her. For her, therefore, he will
+live, and his songs shall tell the world of her worth and of his passion.
+
+This is the essence of Guillem’s songs. One of them only need be quoted
+here. It shows him in the attitude of a devoted lover. He had no other.
+
+    CANZO.
+
+    Lo jorn, qeus vi domna, premieramen,
+    Qant a vos plac qeus mi laissez vezer,
+    Parti mon cor tot d’autre pensamen,
+    E foron ferm en vos tut mei voler;
+    Q’aissim pausez, domna el cor l’enveja;
+    Ab un douz ris et ab un simpl’esgar,
+    Mi e qant es mi fezez oblidar.
+
+    Qel granz beutaz el solaz d’avinen
+    Eil cortes dit eil amoros plazer
+    Qem saubez far, m’embleron si mon sen,
+    Q’anc pois hora domna nol poc aver;
+    A vos l’autrei, cui mos fis cors merceja;
+    Per enantir vostre prez et onrar
+    A vos mi ren, q’om miels non pot amar.
+
+    E car vos am domna, tan finamen,
+    Qe d’autr’amar nom don’ amors poder;
+    Mas aizem da q’ab autras cortei gen,
+    Don cug de mi la greu dolor mover;
+    Pois quant cossir de vos cui jois sopleja,
+    Tot’ autr’amor oblit e desampar,
+    Ab vos remanh cui tenc al cor plus car.
+
+    E membre vos, sius plaz, del bon coven
+    Qe mi fezez al departir saber,
+    Don aic mon cor adonc guai e jauzen
+    Pel bon respeit en qem mandez tener;
+    Mout n’aic gran joi, s’era lo mals sim greja;
+    Et aurai lo, qan vos plaira encar,
+    Bona domna, q’eu sui en l’esperar.
+
+    E ges mals trags no men fai espaven,
+    Sol q’eu en cuit en ma vida aver
+    De vos domna qalaqom jauzimen;
+    Anz li mal trag mi son joi e plazer
+    Sol per aiso, car sai q’amors autreja,
+    Qe fis amans deu granz torz perdonar
+    E gen soffrir mals trags per gazanhs far.
+
+    Aissi er ja domna l’ora q’eu veja,
+    Qe per merce mi volhaz tan onrar,
+    Qe sol amic me denhez appellar.
+
+    _Translation._
+
+    The day when first I saw you, lady sweet,
+    When first your beauty deigned on me to shine,
+    I laid my heart’s devotion at your feet;
+    No other wish, no other thought were mine.
+    For in my soul you wakened soft desire;
+    In your sweet smile and in your eyes I found
+    More than myself and all the world around.
+
+    Your tender speech, so amorous, so kind,
+    The solace of your words, your beauty’s spell
+    Once and for ever have my heart entwined,
+    No longer in my bosom it will dwell.
+    Your worth to cherish it shall never tire.
+    Oh! then, your gentle grace let me implore;
+    My all I gave you, I can give no more.
+
+    So wholly, lady, is my heart your own
+    That love will not allow another’s love.
+    Oft when to gentle ladies I have flown,
+    Somewhat the burden of my pain to move,
+    The thought of you, the fountain of my bliss,
+    Has aye dispelled all other vain desires;
+    To you with tenfold love my heart retires.
+
+    Do not forget, I pray, the hopeful word
+    You granted me when last I saw your face;
+    My heart leaped up with pleasure when I heard
+    The joyful message vouchsafed by your grace.
+    In present grief my comfort still is this:
+    That when your heart to mercy is inclined
+    My ardent wish may yet fulfilment find.
+
+    Pride and unkindness have for me no sting,
+    As long as I may hope that in this life
+    One day from you may kindest message bring.
+    Grief turns to joy and pleasure springs from strife;
+    For well I know that Love has willed it so
+    That lovers should forgive the deadliest sin,
+    By deepest sorrow highest bliss to win.
+
+    The hour will come, O lady, well I know,
+    When from your yielding mercy I may claim
+    The one word ‘friend.’ I ask no other name.
+
+Several biographical facts may be gleaned from this song. First of all
+we meet with an allusion to the poet’s intercourse with other ‘gentle
+ladies,’ which shows a striking likeness to the lines previously quoted
+from Guillem’s most celebrated _canzo_. Margarida, it might be inferred,
+was not altogether free from a feeling of jealousy towards not one but
+several ladies, and both passages are evidently written by Guillem with a
+view to appeasing this ill-founded suspicion; a circumstance which throws
+still graver doubt on the fanciful connection of the first-mentioned
+lines with the incident at Castle Liet. Whether the temporary banishment
+alluded to in the present _canzo_ has anything to do with these lovers’
+quarrels remains undecided. But the poet’s complaints of cruelty tend to
+prove that the lady did not yield with the astonishing readiness implied
+by the biographer. Guillem, it appears, had to undergo a severe probation
+before the fatal gift of love was vouchsafed to him, and at the stage
+marked by the _canzo_ the name of ‘friend’ is the highest boon to which
+he ventures to aspire. Well for him if that stage had never been passed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+PEIRE VIDAL.
+
+
+Peire Vidal is one of the most versatile and many-sided amongst the
+troubadours. His character is a psychological riddle. High gifts and
+wildest eccentricities are strangely mixed up in it. But the riddle
+cannot be read from a purely individual point of view. Peire Vidal is
+also a type. His adventures and poems show as in a kaleidoscope the
+romantic and often exaggerated and whimsical ideas which animated his age
+and country.
+
+‘Peire Vidal’—the old biography begins—‘was born in Toulouse, the son of
+a furrier; he sang better than any other poet in the world, and was one
+of the most foolish men who ever lived, for he believed everything to
+be just as it pleased him and as he would have it.’ That he grew to his
+greatness out of the meanest circumstances was a lot which he shared with
+some of the most famous of his brethren, such as Marcabrun and Folquet
+of Marseilles, and it accounts to a certain extent for many of his
+follies and illusions. The time of his birth it is impossible to state
+accurately; it appears, however, from several remarks in his poems, that
+it must have been somewhere about the middle of the twelfth century. In
+his youth he seems to have been very poor; thus in one of his earlier
+_canzos_ he addresses a lady in the following simple and frank words: ‘I
+have no castle with walls, and my land is not worth a pair of gloves, but
+there never was nor will be a more faithful lover than I am.’ When his
+genius had made him the favourite and companion of kings and nobles, he
+did not lack wealth. In his songs we never find a request for assistance
+from his protectors, such as often occurs in the stanzas of other
+troubadours, and he was even in a position to keep many servants and
+followers. He soon tired of a quiet life, and left home to find fortune
+and renown. First he went to Spain, where he was kindly received at the
+court of Alfonso II., King of Aragon, one of the most liberal protectors
+of the troubadours; but his restlessness could not endure a long sojourn
+in the same place. He went to Italy, and for many years was travelling
+about between that country, Spain, and the South of France, always well
+received by nobles and princes, and always in love with beautiful women.
+It would be impossible to give the names of the different objects of his
+admiration. The general character of these futile attachments was that
+the poet believed himself quite irresistible, and supposed no interval
+to exist between his seeing and conquering. ‘Often,’ he says, ‘I receive
+messages with golden rings and black and white ribbons. Hundreds of
+ladies would fain keep me with them if they could.’ In another _canzo_
+he boasts that all husbands are afraid of him more than of fire and
+sword. In point of fact, however, the ladies he admired did not by any
+means justify these illusions, and his old biographer goes so far as to
+say that they all deceived him ‘totas l’engannavan.’ The best proof of
+the harmlessness of the poet’s love affairs seems to be that the husbands
+concerned were more amused than offended by his homage to their wives.
+One of them, however, took the matter less easily. When Peire Vidal
+boasted in his usual way of having received many favours from his wife,
+he took his revenge by imprisoning the poet and piercing his tongue
+through. This anecdote of the old manuscript is confirmed by different
+allusions to the fact in the poems of other troubadours. The Monk of
+Montaudon, who mercilessly ridicules Peire Vidal’s follies, says that he
+‘stands in need of a silver tongue.’
+
+The first strong and genuine attachment the poet seems to have formed
+was for the Viscountess Azalais, of the family of Roca Martina, wife of
+Barrai de Baux, Viscount of Marseilles. She was praised for her beauty
+and kindness by many of the greatest troubadours, and it was for her that
+Folquet of Marseilles, the amorous poet and afterwards ascetic bishop,
+sang his tenderest _canzos_. Peire Vidal in his poems always calls her
+Vierna, one of the nicknames by which the troubadours (in the same way as
+the antique poets their Lesbias and Lalages) addressed for discretion’s
+sake the fair objects of their admiration. Peire Vidal’s love in this
+case, unlike his former transient passions, was of long duration. Even
+the severest treatment, and a long banishment from the lady’s presence,
+could not extinguish his affection. Far from her he was unhappy, and sent
+her his songs as messengers of love and devotion. At first she was well
+pleased with the homage of the celebrated poet who spread the renown of
+her beauty over all the country. Moreover, Barral her husband was on
+very friendly terms with Peire, and sometimes even had to compose the
+little differences which soon arose between the eccentric troubadour
+and his beloved one. The poet complained bitterly of her cruelty and
+ingratitude towards him who had always been faithful to her, but this
+grief of unanswered love was favourable to his poetic genius. To this
+period belong his most beautiful _canzos_, full of touching pathos and
+marked by great artistic perfection. ‘I was rich and happy,’ he says
+in one of these songs, ‘until my lady turned my joy to grief, for she
+behaves to me like a cruel and pitiless warrior. And she is wrong in
+doing so, for I never gave her occasion to complain of me, and have
+always been her most faithful admirer. But this very faithfulness she
+will never forgive me. I am like a bird which follows the hunter’s pipe,
+although it be to its certain death. So I expose my heart willingly to
+the thousands of arrows which she throws at me with her beautiful eyes.’
+But presently he is afraid to offend her even by these modest complaints.
+In the _tornada_, he says, ‘O lady Vierna, I will not complain of you,
+but I think I deserve a little more recompense for all my waiting and
+hoping.’ Notwithstanding all these entreaties the lady had no pity for
+her unhappy lover. The slight favours she granted him were overbalanced
+by outbreaks of bad temper, and worst of all she began to find something
+ridiculous in the rather eccentric proofs of Peire’s unchanged devotion.
+At last an inconsiderate outbreak of his passion resulted in his being
+for a long time banished from her presence. One day, early in the
+morning, Count Barral had risen, and Azalais remained alone in her room.
+Of this occasion the enamoured troubadour availed himself to go there
+in secret. He knelt down before her couch and kissed the lips of his
+slumbering love. At first she believed him to be her husband, and smiled
+kindly, but when she fully awoke and saw it was the ‘fool’ Peire Vidal
+who had taken this liberty, she grew furious, and began to weep and to
+raise a great clamour. Her attendants rushed into the room, and the
+importunate intruder had a narrow escape of being severely punished on
+the spot. The lady immediately sent for her husband, and begged him to
+avenge Peire’s impertinence; but Count Barral, in accordance with the
+opinion of his time, did not consider the offence an unpardonable one,
+and reproved the lady for having made so much of a fool’s oddities. He
+did not, however, succeed in softening her wrath; she made the story
+known all over the country, and uttered such terrible threats that the
+poet began to fear for his safety, and preferred to wait abroad for a
+change in his favour. He went to Genoa, and soon afterwards, according
+to some manuscripts, followed King Richard on his crusade to the Holy
+Land. Though this latter assertion is, for chronological reasons, not
+very probable, yet Peire’s voyage to Palestine cannot be doubted. Here he
+composed the little song of love and homesickness which I have attempted
+to translate, following the original closely, but the tender grace and
+melodious charm of which it would be impossible to reproduce in our
+Northern idiom:
+
+    CANZO.
+
+    Ab l’alen tir vas me l’aire
+    Qu’eu sen venir de Proensa;
+    Tot quant es de lai m’agensa,
+    Si que, quan n’aug ben retraire,
+    Eu m’o escout en rizen;
+    En deman per un mot cen:
+    Tan m’es bel quan n’aug ben dire.
+
+    Qu’om no sap tan dous repaire
+    Cum de Rozer tro qu’a Vensa,
+    Si cum clau mars e Durensa,
+    Ni on tan fis jois s’esclaire.
+    Per qu’entre la franca gen
+    Ai laissat mon cor jauzen
+    Ab leis que fals iratz rire.
+
+    Qu’om no pot lo jorn maltraire
+    Qu’aja de leis sovinensa,
+    Qu’en leis nais jois e comensa.
+    E qui qu’en sia lauzaire,
+    De ben qu’en diga noi men,
+    Quel melher es ses conten
+    El genser qu’el mon se mire.
+
+    E s’eu sai ren dir ni faire,
+    Ilh n’ajal grat, que sciensa
+    M’a donat e conoissensa,
+    Per qu’eu sui gais e chantaire.
+    E tot quan fauc d’avinen
+    Ai del seu bel cors plazen,
+    Neis quan de bon cor consire.
+
+    _Translation._
+
+    With my breath I drink the air
+    That Provence my country sends me,
+    For a message ever lends me
+    Joy, from her most dear and fair.
+    When they praise her I rejoice,
+    Ask for more with eager voice,
+    Listen, listen night and morrow.
+
+    For no country ’neath the sun
+    Beats mine from Rozer to Vensa,
+    From the sea to the Durensa:
+    Nowhere equal joy is won.
+    With my friends, when I did part,
+    And with her I left my heart
+    Who dispelled my deepest sorrow.
+
+    Nothing harms me all the day
+    While her sweet eyes stand before me,
+    And her lips that rapture bore me.
+    If I praise her, no one may
+    Call my rapturous word a lie,
+    For the whole world can descry
+    Nothing wrought in sweeter fashion.
+
+    All the good I do or say
+    Only to her grace is owing,
+    For she made me wise and knowing,
+    For she made me true and gay.
+    If in glory I abound,
+    To her praise it must redound
+    Who inspires my song with passion.
+
+By such repeated proofs of the poet’s unchangeable love the heart
+of Azalais, was at last touched. Besides, fool as he was, Peire was
+undoubtedly one of the most renowned troubadours, and the proudest beauty
+could not be indifferent to the celebration of her charms in _canzos_
+as popular as they were exquisite. Barral importuned his wife till she
+promised the poet forgiveness of all past offences, and immediately sent
+the happy message to Peire. Some of the manuscripts say that Azalais
+wrote him a letter in which she promised him all he had been wishing
+for so long. Peire Vidal returned to France, and Barral on hearing of
+his arrival rode out to meet him, and guided him to Marseilles. Azalais
+received him gracefully, and granted him the kiss he had once taken. All
+was forgiven and forgotten, and the troubadour commemorated the happy
+reconciliation by a song radiant with joy and hope. This state of pure
+happiness, however, was not destined to be of long duration. The lady
+seems to have been disinclined to fulfil her promises; the complaints in
+Peire’s _canzos_ of her cruelty and falseness begin anew, and at last he
+very likely grew tired of his unrewarded pains. Certain it is that he
+did not stay very long at Marseilles, for he does not make the slightest
+mention of Barral’s death, which happened soon after, in 1192. This
+silence would have been impossible if he had been living at the time at
+his old friend and protector’s court.
+
+While he was yet the professed admirer of Azalais, the poet had admired
+more or less fervently several other ladies, from one of whom he now
+seems to have sought consolation. This was Loba de Peinautier, who lived
+in Carcassonne. Her name Loba (she-wolf) became the motive of one of
+Peire Vidal’s most fantastic exploits; he gave himself the designation of
+a wolf, and adopted the animal as a badge. Once he put on a wolf’s skin,
+and called upon the shepherds to hunt him with their dogs. They readily
+accepted the offer, and treated him so badly that he was brought more
+dead than alive to the house of his beloved. Here, in addition to his
+wounds, he had to suffer the pitiless jests of the lady; who was not at
+all pleased by this kind of admiration. But in this case also the husband
+was more merciful, and regarded the aberrations of the great troubadour
+with indulgence. He took the greatest possible care of him, and had
+him tended by the best physicians. It would be difficult to believe a
+consummate poet had really been guilty of such absurdities, if he did
+not bear witness against himself. ‘I do not mind,’ he says in one of his
+poems, ‘if they call me a wolf, and if the peasants hunt me as such I do
+not consider it a disgrace.’ The foolishness of the man, however, did
+not impair the genius of the poet, and some of his _canzos_ addressed to
+Loba are amongst the finest productions of Provençal literature. Whilst
+he was engaged in these and other love affairs the poet was also married,
+which of course did not interfere with his attachments of this kind more
+than the same circumstance did with Dante’s spiritual love for Beatrice
+Portinari. I mention the circumstance only because it throws fresh light
+on Peire’s wonderful capacity for illusion. On his voyage to the Holy
+Land, he became acquainted in Cyprus with a Greek lady, whom he married
+and brought home with him. Soon afterwards he was made to believe that
+his wife was the niece of the Greek emperor, and had as such a claim to
+the imperial crown. This idea was exactly to his taste, and he adapted
+himself to it without any difficulty. He had on a previous occasion, if
+we are to believe the satirical Monk of Montaudon, conferred knighthood
+on himself; now he assumed with equal facility the arms of the Emperor
+of Greece. He began collecting money, wherever he could find it, for an
+expedition to realise his claims. Meanwhile, he called himself and his
+wife by the title of ‘Imperial Majesty,’ and duly provided himself with
+a throne. It is needless to say that his schemes came to nothing; the
+only consequence was to expose him to greater ridicule than before. His
+brethren in poetry were not slow to avail themselves of this opportunity
+of lowering a renowned troubadour in general estimation, and to do him
+as much harm as they could. One bitter and contemptuous _sirventes_ will
+give an example of the amiable feelings with which rivals in art regarded
+each other. Its author is the Italian Marquis Lanza, and it runs thus:
+‘We have an emperor without sense or reason or consciousness; a worse
+drunkard never sat on a throne; no greater coward wore shield and lance,
+no greater scoundrel made verses and _canzos_. I wish a sword would split
+his head, and an iron dart go right through his body; his eyes ought to
+be torn out of his head with hooks. Then we will give him some wine, and
+put on his head an old scarlet hat, and for a lance he may have an old
+stick. So he may safely wander from here to France.’ Peire Vidal answered
+this friendly address with equal warmth. ‘Marquis Lanza,’ he says,
+‘poverty and ignorance have spoilt your manners. You are like a blind
+beggar in the street, who has lost all shame or decency.’
+
+It would hardly have been expected that, with all this trouble about his
+loves and his empire, the poet could have had time left to take part in
+the real political and religious struggles of his age. But his versatile
+genius was as much interested in public affairs as in his own private
+concerns. As one of the first poets of his time he was in continual
+intercourse with princes and nobles, and in consequence had ample means
+of knowing the politics of his protectors, and frequent occasion to
+use his poetical gift on their behalf. Among his most constant friends
+was King Alfonso II. of Aragon, at whose court the chief poets of the
+time gathered, and found shelter from poverty and contempt. The King
+himself practised the art of poetry; and we possess a _canzo_ by him
+which, if not of the first excellence, shows at least that he did not
+shrink from competing for the prize in the ‘Gaia Sciensa.’ According
+to his liberality so was the praise awarded to him in the songs of the
+most renowned troubadours. Bertran de Born, indeed, accuses him of
+treason and cowardice, but the passionate character of that poet made
+him unscrupulous in his attacks on political and personal enemies.
+Peter II., Alfonso’s son, inherited his father’s disposition towards
+the troubadours, and it was a great loss to them when he fell in the
+battle of Muret (1213) against the Crusaders. Peire Vidal was among the
+greatest favourites of both father and son. Alfonso once had suits of
+armour of the same kind made for himself and the poet, a striking mark
+of friendship in so great a prince. The poet showed his thankfulness
+by the only return he had to offer, his songs. Several of his _canzos_
+are dedicated to Alfonso, whose side he took in all the Kings wars and
+feuds. The very first _sirventes_ we have of Peire’s refers to the war
+between Alfonso and Count Raimon of Toulouse, and, notwithstanding the
+poet having been born in that city, it is an ardent war-song in favour of
+the intruder. The author, however, could not on this occasion withstand
+his natural inclination towards self-praise, and by his immoderate
+boasting lessened the effect of his song. ‘If I only had a good horse,’
+he says, ‘I should trample on all my enemies, for even as it is, when
+they hear my name, they are afraid of me more than the quail of the
+sparrow-hawk, because I am so strong and wild and ferocious; when I have
+put on my double white armour, and girt my sword round my loins, the
+ground trembles under me where I step, and there is no enemy of mine so
+bold as will not get out of my way as quickly as he can.’ He goes on in
+this strain through several stanzas, and promises at last that if the
+King returns to attack Toulouse, he, Peire Vidal, will enter the city
+alone with the routed enemy and conquer it. The story of Coriolanus may
+possibly have been in his mind, but there are not many traces of his
+acquaintance with ancient Roman history. As a reward for his prowess
+he looks forward to obtaining the much-desired knighthood, for in
+the tornada of the same _sirventes_ he promises Lady Vierna that soon
+she shall love in him a noble cavalier. This hope, however, was not
+fulfilled; he was obliged to be content with the knighthood which he had
+conferred on himself, and which of course other people did not recognise.
+Nevertheless, he remained invariably attached to Alfonso till the King’s
+death. This loss he felt very deeply, and the words in which he gives
+utterance to his grief show that his friendship was genuine. ‘In great
+affliction,’ he sings, ‘must live he who loses his good master, as I have
+lost the best whom death ever killed. Certainly, I should not live if
+suicide were not a sin.’ This song is dedicated to Peter II. of Aragon,
+the son of Alfonso, who is called ‘corn of a good ear.’ It was sent to
+him from the court of King Aimeric of Hungary, his brother-in-law, to
+which Peire had retired after the death of his protector, and where he
+appears to have seen something more of the Germans, whom he had always
+thoroughly disliked. In the same _sirventes_ he apostrophises them in the
+following words: ‘Germans, you mean, bad, and false people, nobody who
+ever served you has had any pleasure of it.’ On a former occasion he had
+expressed his feelings on the same subject even more energetically. ‘The
+Germans,’ he says in another _sirventes_, ‘are coarse and vulgar, and if
+one of them tries to be courteous he becomes quite intolerable; their
+language is like the barking of dogs. Therefore, I should not care to be
+Duke of Friesland, where I should always have to listen to the barking of
+these tiresome people.’ These terms applied to the language of Wolfram
+von Eschenbach and Walter von der Vogelweide must of course be taken _cum
+grano salis_, and are certainly more characteristic of the critic than of
+those criticised by him.
+
+In the Crusades, Peire Vidal took the deepest interest. We have already
+seen that he himself went to Palestine, but he worked for the cause by
+his songs more usefully than by his actual presence. I cannot refrain
+from quoting a few stanzas of one of his _sirventeses_ in the original
+_langue d’oc_, which may serve as an example of the poet’s energy in
+admonishing and reproaching those who were idle in the service of God:
+
+    Baros Jesus qu’en crotz fo mes,
+    Per salvar crestiana gen,
+    Nos manda totz comunalmen,
+    Qu’anem cobrar lo saint paes,
+    On venc per nostr’amor morir.
+    E si nol volem obezir,
+    Lai on feniran tuit li plag,
+    N’auzirem maint esquiu retrag.
+
+    Reis aunitz val meins que pages,
+    Quan viu a lei de recrezen,
+    E plorals bes qu’autre despen,
+    E pert so quel pair’ a conques.
+    Aitals reis fari’ad aucir,
+    Et en lag loc a sebelir,
+    Quis defen a lei de contrag,
+    E no pren ni dona gamag.
+
+The ‘infamous King’ thus denounced is Philip Augustus of France, whom the
+troubadours hated and despised almost as unanimously as they extolled
+Alfonso of Aragon.
+
+This poem, apart from its political allusions, is remarkable as a
+specimen of Peire Vidal’s peculiar manner of mixing the two different
+forms of _canzo_ and _sirventes_ together (compare p. 141). Immediately
+after the passage about the French King just quoted the poet broaches his
+favourite theme of love, and explains how the unseasonable passion of
+mature ladies is sure to destroy the whole courteous world. This sudden
+change occurs in a similar manner in another _sirventes_ where, after
+having reproached the same Philip Augustus as a coward and miser, the
+poet continues with great _naïveté_, ‘But now I must turn my song to my
+lady, whom I love more than my own eyes or teeth.’
+
+Peire Vidal’s faults and errors were in great measure the result of the
+exaggerated sentiments of the time, and do not detract from his high
+poetical genius. The best of his contemporaries estimated him correctly,
+and forgave the great poet the extravagance of his character. ‘The
+greatest fool,’ says Bartolomeo Zorgi, another celebrated poet of the
+time, ‘is he who calls Peire Vidal a fool; for without sense it would be
+impossible to make poems like his.’
+
+The exact date of Peire’s death we cannot tell. Most likely it took place
+about 1210.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+BERTRAN DE BORN.
+
+
+Bertran de Born is a perfect type of the warlike baron of the middle
+ages, continually fighting with his neighbours or with his own vassals,
+and treating the villeins and clowns on his estate with a brutal contempt
+all the more unpardonable in his case as he openly and deliberately
+advocates such oppression in his songs. But his warlike ambition was not
+confined to the squabbles of petty feudal lords. With sword and song he
+fought in the great political struggles of the time, and the important
+part he played in the incessant wars of Henry II. of England with the
+King of France and with his own rebellious sons ought to secure Bertran a
+place in any comprehensive history of our Angevin kings.
+
+As to the exact date of Bertran’s birth the manuscripts contain no
+information. By inference we find it must have been about the middle of
+the twelfth century. The old biographers call him Viscount of Autafort,
+a castle and borough of about a thousand inhabitants in the diocese of
+Perigord. His manhood fell in a stormy time of external and internal
+warfare.
+
+The marriage of Henry of Anjou, afterwards Henry II. of England, with
+the divorced faithless wife of the French King was an abundant source
+of evil to the young adventurer. It is true that the possessions of
+Aquitain accruing to him from the marriage for the moment added to
+his power, but in the long run his large dominions in the west and
+south-west of France tended to divert his attention from the true focus
+of his strength—England. The tedious quarrels in which his continental
+possessions involved him with his feudal overlord, the King of France,
+greatly increased the troubles of his eventful reign. But far more
+disastrous were the domestic consequences of this ill-assorted union.
+History and popular myth have combined to depict Eleanor as the prototype
+of a ruthless termagant. Whatever may have been the provocations of her
+truant husband—provocations which, by the way, her own conduct hardly
+justified her in resenting too harshly—the charge remains against her
+that by her instigation her sons were first incited to rebel against
+their father. With much trouble and danger to himself Henry had in 1170
+induced his English bishops to assist at a prospective coronation of his
+eldest son and namesake. Two years later the ceremony was repeated, young
+Henry’s wife, the daughter of King Louis VII. of France, being included,
+who for reasons unknown had been absent on the former occasion.
+
+The return which Henry received for this highest mark of confidence
+was the claim on the part of his son to be put in immediate possession
+either of Normandy or of England. The refusal of this outrageous demand
+became the cause of animosities between father and son. Eleanor fanned
+the flames of discord, and it seems to have been by her advice mainly
+that young Henry at last broke into open rebellion. He fled from his
+father’s court at Limoges and took refuge with the King of France at St.
+Denis, where three days afterwards he was joined by his two brothers
+Richard and Geoffrey. The war which ensued was carried on by both sides
+with atrocious brutality, not even relieved by bold exploits of arms.
+The name of the hirelings enlisted by the King of England—Brabançons,
+from Braband, the country of many of their number—has become a bye-word
+in history, and the utter want of filial piety, or indeed of any higher
+motive, on the part of the young princes is at once revolting and
+astonishing. More than once during his repeated wars with his sons the
+King’s life was attempted, and on one occasion when he was going to
+a parley with young Henry he was received by a shower of arrows and
+slightly wounded. Sons who thus disregarded the demands of natural
+affection could not be expected to be more scrupulous where their country
+was concerned. Patriotism, more especially English patriotism, never was
+the strong side of the Plantagenets. In consequence the young princes did
+not hesitate for a moment to barter away some of the fairest portions
+of England for promises of assistance from the King of Scotland and the
+Earl of Flanders, and it was only by Henry’s energy and good fortune that
+these disgraceful bargains were frustrated. The war dragged on till
+1174, and ended with a semblance of reconciliation; Richard being the
+last to submit to his father.
+
+It was necessary to dwell to this extent on these circumstances in order
+to gain a background for our centre-figure the Troubadour. There is no
+direct evidence that Bertran de Born took a prominent part in the first
+rebellion of the English princes, neither do any of his warlike songs
+seem to refer to it. But even in case his youth or other circumstances
+prevented him from being an actor in the events just described, he was
+sure to be an eager spectator. Soon afterwards we see him in the thick
+of the fight. He seems to have been on terms of intimacy with the three
+elder sons of Henry, as is proved by the familiar nicknames by which
+he addresses them. Young Henry he used to call ‘Marinier’ (seaman), an
+interesting fact which shows that a sailor-prince in the Royal family
+is not altogether a modern invention. Geoffrey, by marriage Duke of
+Brittany, was ‘Rassa,’ a name without any distinct meaning to us;
+and Richard ‘Oc e no,’ that is ‘Yes and no,’ which might pass for an
+indication of straightforward and plain dealing, or, indeed, of the
+reverse, according to the terms on which prince and poet happened to be.
+
+Bertran’s attachment to Prince Henry, the ‘Young King,’ as he and the
+old chroniclers frequently call him, was of the utmost importance for
+the poet’s life. It is, indeed, the redeeming feature of his character.
+From the first he seems to have espoused the young Prince’s cause, and
+no turn of fortune could ever make him waver in his fealty. It is sad
+to think that the influence thus acquired was used in further inflaming
+a nature already hot with pride and ambition. Bertran’s biographers lay
+particular stress on this point. ‘Whenever he chose’—the old manuscript
+says—‘he was master of the King of England and of his son; but he wished
+that the father should always be at war with the son, and the brothers
+with one another; and he also desired that there should be incessant feud
+between the Kings of France and England, and whenever there was peace or
+truce between them he was at great pains and trouble to undo the peace
+by means of his _sirventeses_, and to prove to each of them how they
+were dishonoured by such a peace; and he derived much good and also much
+evil from the mischief he made amongst them.’ In another place we are
+told that King Henry hated Bertran because the poet was ‘the friend and
+counsellor of the young King, his (Henry’s) son, who had made war against
+him; and he believed Sir Bertran bore the whole guilt of it.’ Not without
+reason does Dante place the troubadour in the ninth pit of hell, where,
+with Mahomet Ali, Mosca dei Lamberti, and other disturbers of Church
+and State, he is made to do penance for his disastrous counsels. Dante
+describes him carrying his own head severed from his body in his hand.
+‘Know then,’ says the spectre addressing the poet, ‘that I am Bertran de
+Born, he who gave evil encouragement to the young King, causing father
+and son to wage war against each other. Because I parted men thus joined
+together I now carry my own head severed from its principle of life, my
+body.’[23]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+BERTRAN AND RICHARD COUNT OF POITOU.
+
+
+How this great influence over the young King was acquired the old
+manuscripts do not tell us. The first time we hear of Bertran in history
+is in connection with the quarrels between Richard, at that time Count
+of Poitou, and his unruly barons in the south of France. Amongst these
+Bertran de Born took a prominent position. His worldly possessions were
+of comparatively small importance, but his fame as a poet, his personal
+valour, his indomitable fierceness and love of war made up for this want,
+and qualified him for the part of ringleader and prime intellectual mover
+of the rebellious party. A cause of quarrel between such an overlord as
+Richard and such a vassal as Bertran may easily be imagined; but beyond
+these public grounds of mutual animosity there seems to have been some
+personal grudge between them. The manuscripts speak of a lady in whose
+heart the troubadour supplanted his princely rival, and in addition to
+this fact—perhaps in consequence of it—we hear of Richard’s hostile
+interference in his adversary’s private concerns.
+
+Bertran de Born had a brother, Constantine by name, with whom he shared
+the possession of Castle Autafort. He is described by the manuscripts
+as ‘a good knight, but not a man to trouble himself much about valour
+or honour.’ A man of this kind stood little chance of holding his own
+against our troubadour, and internal evidence strongly points towards
+the latter as the aggressor in the endless quarrels between the two
+brothers. This, however, Bertran’s biographer does not acknowledge. He
+goes on to say that Constantine ‘hated Bertran at all seasons, and wished
+well to those who wished ill to Bertran, and he took from him the Castle
+of Autafort, which belonged to them both in common. But Sir Bertran
+soon recovered it, and drove his brother from all his possessions.’ At
+this juncture Richard interfered in favour of Constantine. Together
+with Aimar, Viscount of Limoges, and other powerful barons, he invaded
+Bertran’s domains, which soon became the scene of atrocities such as
+are the usual concomitants of civil feud. Castle Autafort itself was
+threatened, but its master remained undaunted. In a powerful _sirventes_
+he hurls defiance at his enemies. A war-song more recklessly bold, more
+graphically real, has seldom been heard.
+
+Let the reader judge. ‘All day long,’ Bertran says, ‘I fight, and am at
+work, to make a thrust at them and defend myself, for they are laying
+waste my land and burning my crops; they pull up my trees by the root
+and mix my corn with the straw. Cowards and brave men are my enemies. I
+constantly disunite and sow hatred amongst the barons, and then remould
+and join them together again, and try to give them brave hearts and
+strong; but I am a fool for my trouble, for they are made of base metal.’
+
+In these last sentences the poet discloses the secret of his power. It
+was the irresistible sway of his eloquence over men’s minds, his ‘don
+terrible de la familiarité,’ as the elder Mirabeau puts it, which enabled
+Bertran to play on men’s minds as on the strings of a lute, and to make
+them form and vary their purpose according to his impulse. In this
+very _sirventes_ we gain an idea of the manner in which he lashes the
+hesitating barons into resistance against the common oppressor. Talairand
+is accused of indolence—‘he does not trot nor gallop, motionless he
+lies in his cot, neither lance nor arrow does he move. He lives like a
+Lombard pedlar, and when others depart for the war he stretches himself
+and yawns.’ Another baron, whose name, William of Gordon, strikes the
+English ear with familiar note, is warned against Richard’s persuasive
+statecraft. ‘I love you well,’ Bertran says, ‘but my enemies want to
+make a fool and a dupe of you, and the time seems long to them before
+they see you in their ranks.’ The _sirventes_ winds up with a climax of
+fierce invective against Richard himself. ‘To Perigeux close to the wall,
+so that I can throw my battle-axe over it, I will come well armed, and
+riding on my horse Bayard; and if I find the glutton of Poitou he shall
+know the cut of my sword. A mixture of brain and splinters of iron he
+shall wear on his brow.’
+
+Bertran’s assertions of his dangerous influence over men’s minds were not
+the idle boastings of poetic vanity. A terrible conspiracy was formed
+against Richard, and the greatest nobles of the country, the Viscounts of
+Ventadorn, of Camborn, of Segur, and of Limoges, the Count of Perigord,
+William of Gordon, the Lord of Montfort, besides many important cities,
+are mentioned amongst the rebels. A meeting took place, and we may
+imagine the picturesque scene when ‘in the old monastery of San Marsal
+they swore on a missal’ to stand by each other and never to enter into
+separate treaties with Richard. The special causes of this rebellion are
+not known to us. We may surmise, and indeed know in a general way, that
+the hand of their lion-hearted lord weighed heavily on the provinces of
+Southern France. But the veil which covers this portion of Henry II.’s
+reign has never yet been fully lifted, and till that is done we must
+be satisfied with such hints as may be gleaned from scattered bits of
+information in ancient writers. Our Provençal manuscript offers a clue
+not without interest to the historical student. It speaks of certain
+_rendas de caretas_, rates of carts or wagons, most likely a toll which
+Richard had unlawfully appropriated, and which in reality belonged to the
+‘Young King,’ that is to Prince Henry, to whom it had been given by his
+father.
+
+This latter circumstance connects our story with less obscure portions
+of history. It is well known that in 1182 King Henry demanded of his
+sons Richard and Geoffrey to do homage to their elder brother for the
+possessions respectively held by them, a demand indignantly refused by
+Richard. Hence the invasion of Aquitain by young Henry, and hence perhaps
+also the latter’s intimacy with our poet, who, as the intellectual mover
+of the rebellion against Richard, was an ally by no means to be despised.
+Thus the war between the brothers went on raging for a time, Bertran
+fighting in the foremost ranks, and at the same time fanning the flame
+with his songs. We still possess _sirventeses_ in which he addresses the
+chief barons by name, reminding them of their grievances, praising the
+brave and castigating the waverers with his satire. Such were the means
+of diplomatic pressure in those days. But primitive though such measures
+of admonition may appear, they were none the less efficacious with those
+concerned. Papiol, Bertran’s faithful minstrel, went about the country
+boldly reciting his master’s taunts in the lordly hall of the baron or
+at the gate of the castle, where the throng of the vassals would listen
+to his song. Taking into account the excitability of the southern nature
+further inflamed by the struggles of the time, together with the general
+interest of the subject and the consummate art of treatment and delivery,
+one can form some idea of the dangerous influence of the troubadours,
+too dangerous and too generally acknowledged to be despised by the
+mightiest princes of the time.
+
+Bertran de Born is evidently quite conscious of the force of his songs,
+and the use he makes of his power betrays great sagacity of political
+purpose. But with him the love of war for war’s sake is so great that
+sometimes every deeper design seems to vanish before this ruling passion.
+His character is a psychological problem in this respect. A man who,
+after a life of wildest storm and stress, passed in continual strife with
+domestic and political foes, dies in peace and in the quiet possession
+of his usurped dominion, must have been endowed in a more than usual
+degree with calmness and deliberation. But there is no trace of this in
+his songs. They breathe one and all the recklessness and animal buoyancy
+of a savage chieftain who regards fighting as the only enjoyment and
+true vocation of a man. One of his warlike _sirventeses_ ends with the
+naïve exclamation by way of _tornada_ or _envoi_, ‘Would that the great
+barons could always be inflamed against each other!’ In another he gives
+vent to his insatiate pugnacity with most unqualified openness. ‘There
+is peace everywhere,’ he says, ‘but I still retain a rag (_pans_) of
+warfare; a sore in his eye (_pustella en son huelh_) to him who tries to
+part me from it, although I may have begun the quarrel! Peace gives me no
+pleasure, war is my delight. This is my law, other I have none. I don’t
+regard Monday or Tuesday, or week, or month, or year: April or March
+would not hinder me in doing damage to those who wrong me. Three of them
+would not get the value of an old leather strap from me.’[24]
+
+Things in Aquitain began in the meantime to take a more peaceful turn
+than our warlike singer could wish or expect. King Henry appeared on the
+scene as peacemaker between his sons, and by his command young Henry had
+to declare himself satisfied with a money compensation for his claims of
+overlordship. This compliance drew on him the momentary indignation of
+the troubadour, who calls him ‘a king of cowards;’ and adds that ‘not by
+lying asleep will he become master of Cumberland, or King of England,
+or conqueror of Ireland.’ The defection of their leader proved fatal to
+the league of the barons, who separately tried to make their peace with
+Richard and quietly submitted to his punishing wrath. Not so Bertran
+de Born. His first impulse was to give utterance to his contempt for
+the nobles who by their want of courage and union destroyed their last
+chance of safety. ‘I will sing a _sirventes_,’ Bertran exclaims, ‘of
+the cowardly barons, and after that not waste another word upon them.
+More than a thousand spurs have I broken in them, and never could I make
+them trot or gallop. Now they allow themselves to be robbed without
+saying a word. God’s curse upon them!’ His next thought must have been
+to find a new head and centre for such remnants of the rebellious forces
+as still remained unsubdued. In this endeavour he was more successful
+than might have been expected under the circumstances. Geoffrey, Henry’s
+younger brother, who had been commissioned by the King to facilitate
+the reconciliation between Richard and his barons, suddenly declared
+himself in favour of the latter, and began to invade Poitou with all the
+forces at his disposal. We have no direct evidence of Bertran’s active
+participation in this affair. But we know of his intimacy with Geoffrey,
+whom, after the desertion of the cause by young Henry, he hails as a
+worthy pretender to the crowns of England and Normandy. We are therefore
+justified in conjecturing that the bold troubadour’s advice may have had
+much weight with a prince of Geoffrey’s ambition.
+
+But here the matter was not to end. In this emergency young Henry
+offered his services to his father, promising to advise or if necessary
+to enforce a reconciliation between his brothers. But no sooner had
+he arrived at the seat of war than he also joined the league of the
+barons. Richard in his extreme need implored the aid of his father, who
+immediately entered into alliance with Alfonso of Aragon for the purpose
+of subduing his rebellious sons. The princes sought the support of the
+Count of Toulouse and other powerful nobles of the south of France. War
+on a large scale became inevitable, and this prospect was greeted by
+Bertran with an exuberance of joy. He revels beforehand in the brilliant
+and terrible scenes of a field of battle. ‘As soon as we arrive,’ he
+exclaims, ‘the tournament shall begin. The Catalans and the Aragonese
+will fall to the ground fast and thick. The pommels of their saddles
+will be of no use to them, for our friends strike long blows. And the
+splinters will fly up to heaven, and silk and samite will be torn to
+shreds, and tents and huts destroyed.’
+
+But once more Bertran’s high hopes of victory were to be cut short by
+the hand of fate. King Henry was laying siege to Limoges, and his two
+rebellious sons were preparing a large expedition for the rescue of the
+threatened city, when suddenly young Henry was taken ill with a violent
+fever and died shortly afterwards. On his death-bed he implored his
+father’s pardon and asked for a last interview, but the King, although
+deeply moved, was persuaded by his counsellors to refuse this favour. It
+is said that he feared a snare, and after his former experiences this
+suspicion was but too easily accounted for. He, however, sent a ring in
+token of forgiveness, which his son pressed to his dying lips. This death
+was a blow to both contending parties. In spite of their dissensions,
+King Henry had deeply loved his son, who, according to the unanimous
+testimony of his contemporaries, was a high-spirited youth of undaunted
+courage and noblest aspirations. Bertran’s grief also was true, and, for
+the moment at least, unselfish. His unwavering friendship for young Henry
+is the one redeeming feature in the reckless warrior’s character, and
+this feeling, which death itself had not destroyed, now inspired him with
+a song of noblest pathos. It is a dirge as sad and as true as ever friend
+has sung for friend. I have attempted the following literal translation
+of three stanzas, in which the metrical peculiarities of the original
+are strictly adhered to. These peculiarities, which frequently serve the
+troubadours for the display of their consummate skill, are here made
+the vehicle of genuine emotion, and give truth and colour to the poem.
+Note particularly the repetition of the same words at the end of the
+first, fifth, and eighth lines of each stanza, which strikes the note of
+unrelieved sadness with the monotony of a death-knell:—
+
+    PLANH.
+
+    Si tuit li dol el plor el marrimen
+    E las dolors el dan el caitivier
+    Que hom agues en est segle dolen,
+    Fosson ensems, sembleran tuit leugier
+    Contra la mort del jove rei engles,
+    Don reman pretz e jovens doloiros,
+    El mons escurs e tenhs e tenebros,
+    Sems de tot joi, pies de tristor e d’ira.
+
+    Estenta mort, plena de marrimen,
+    Vanar te pods quel melhor cavalier
+    As tolt al mon qu’anc fos de nulha gen;
+    Quar non es res qu’a pretz aja mestier,
+    Que tot no fos el jove rei engles:
+    E fora meils, s’a deu plagues razos,
+    Que visques el que mant autr’ enojos
+    Qu’anc no feron als pros mas dol et ira.
+
+    D’aquest segle flac, plen de marrimen,
+    S’amors s’en vai, son joi tenh mensongier,
+    Que ren noi a que non torn en cozen;
+    Totz jorns veiretz que val mens oi que ier:
+    Cascus se mir el jove rei engles
+    Qu’era del mon lo plus valens dels pros.
+    Ar es anatz sos gens cors amoros,
+    Dont es dolors e desconortz et ira.
+
+    _Translation._
+
+    COMPLAINT.
+
+    If all the pain, the grief, the bitter tears,
+    The sorrow, the remorse, the scornful slight,
+    Of which man in this life the burden bears
+    Were thrown a-heap, their balance would be light
+    Against the death of our young English King.
+    Valour and youth stand wailing at his loss;
+    The world is waste, and dark, and dolorous,
+    Void of all joy, full of regret and sorrow.
+
+    All-present death, cruel and full of tears,
+    Now mayst thou boast that of the noblest knight
+    Whose deeds were ever sung to human ears,
+    Thou hast deprived the world. No fame so bright
+    That it could darken our young English King.
+    ’Twere better, if it pleased our Lord, to give
+    Life back to him, than that the traitors live
+    Who to good men cause but regret and sorrow.
+
+    The world is base and dark and full of tears.
+    Its love has fled, its pleasure passed away;
+    A falsehood is its truth. Each day appears,
+    But to regret its better yesterday.
+    Look up, ye all, to our young English King,
+    The best among the brave and valorous!
+    Now is his gentle heart afar from us,
+    And we are left to our regret and sorrow.
+
+With the death of young Henry the rebellion was practically at an end.
+Again the barons tried to make peace with Richard and the King; again
+they submitted to the most humiliating terms of submission; but again
+also Bertran de Born’s courage remained undaunted, although against him,
+as the evil counsellor of young Henry, the wrath of the King was hottest.
+Soon the army of the allies arrived before Castle Autafort, and little
+hope of rescue remained. Still Bertran held out, and ultimately succumbed
+only to the treachery of a friend.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+SIEGE OF AUTAFORT—BERTRAN’S DEATH.
+
+
+The manuscripts tell a curious story with regard to this treachery. The
+reader will remember that at the beginning of the war Henry had entered
+into a league with the King of Aragon. This king was Alfonso II., well
+known as one of the most liberal protectors of the troubadours, who in
+return lavished their praise upon him. Bertran de Born was on terms of
+intimacy with him, and the manuscript tells us that ‘he was very glad
+that King Alfonso was amongst the besieging army, for he was his most
+especial friend.’ It appears that Castle Autafort was better provided
+with meat and drink than the camp, for King Alfonso, on the ground of
+their intimacy, asked Bertran for a supply of bread, wine, and meat.
+This the troubadour generously granted, but in return asked another
+favour, which was nothing less than that the King of Aragon should use
+his authority to remove the besieging engines from a certain side of
+the castle where the wall was rotten and would give way easily. Such a
+demand implied the fullest confidence in him to whom it was made, and
+this confidence unfortunately turned out to be misplaced. The King of
+Aragon immediately betrayed the secret to Henry; the assault was directed
+against the weak point of the defences, and the castle fell.
+
+Such is the story as told by Bertran’s biographer, and, if true, it fully
+accounts for the troubadour’s implacable hatred evinced by many poetic
+onslaughts on the private and political character of Alfonso. But we
+ought to hesitate in condemning on such doubtful evidence the conduct of
+a king who by the all but unanimous testimony of contemporary writers was
+a model of knightly virtues and wholly incapable of the base treachery
+here laid to his charge.
+
+However this may have been, Bertran’s castle was taken, and he a prisoner
+in the hands of his bitterest enemies. But even in this extremity
+Bertran’s genius did not forsake him, and it is on this occasion chiefly
+that we catch a glimpse of that undauntable strength of character which,
+combined with a keen insight into the secret springs of human impulse,
+explains his extraordinary sway over men’s minds. I follow closely the
+graphic account of the Provençal manuscript:—‘After the castle was taken
+Sir Bertran, with all his people, was brought to the tent of King Henry.
+And the King received him very ill, and said to him,
+
+‘“Bertran, Bertran! you have boasted that never half of your sense would
+be needful to you at any time, but know that now you stand in need of the
+whole of it.”
+
+‘“Sir,” replied Bertran, “it is true that I have said so, and I have
+spoken the truth.”
+
+‘And the King said, “Then now, it seems, you have lost your wits
+altogether.”
+
+‘“Sir,” said Bertran, “it is true that I have lost all my wits.”
+
+‘“And how is that?” replied the King.
+
+‘“Sir,” said Bertran, “the day that the valiant young Henry your son died
+I lost sense and cunning and consciousness.”
+
+‘And the King, when he heard Bertran’s words, wept for his son, and great
+grief rose to his heart and to his eyes, and he could not constrain
+himself, and fainted away from pain. And when he recovered himself he
+called out to Bertran, and said, weeping,
+
+‘“Sir Bertran! Sir Bertran! you are right and wise in saying that you
+lost your sense for the sake of my son, for he loved you better than any
+other man in the world; and for the love of him I release your person,
+your lands, and your castle, and I will receive you to my grace and
+favour, and I give you five hundred marks of silver for the damage you
+have suffered at my hands.”
+
+‘And Bertran fell at his feet, tendering him service and gratitude.’
+
+We may feel inclined to look upon the substantial data of the closing
+sentences with some amount of scepticism; but the consummate skill with
+which Bertran at first excites the curiosity of the King, the way in
+which he finally acts upon his feelings, all the more powerfully as his
+own grief is true and powerful—all this is much beyond the invention of a
+simple-minded Provençal scribe. These traits are too intrinsically real
+for mere fiction; they are inherent in the nature of a strong man and
+a great poet. It is also an undeniable fact that soon after the events
+described, Bertran was again in possession of his castle, and that the
+remonstrances of his unfortunate brother Constantine were treated with
+scorn by both Richard and King Henry.
+
+To the former Bertran now seems to have attached himself, and during
+the incessant feuds in which the lion-hearted monarch subsequently
+was involved with the King of France and his own unruly vassals the
+troubadour seems to have remained faithful to him, barring always
+such inclinations towards whoever might be the aggressive party,
+which Bertran’s unbounded love of fighting made excusable. We possess
+a _sirventes_ dated many years later in which the poet rejoices at
+Richard’s release from the German prison, ‘because now again we shall see
+walls destroyed and towers overthrown and our enemies in chains.’
+
+But I must not detain the reader with further stories of feuds and
+battles, of which most likely he has had already more than his fill.
+It remains to add a few words with regard to another side of Bertran’s
+life and poetry, his love affairs. These, it must be hoped, will form a
+somewhat more harmonious conclusion to an account of a wild, reckless
+career.
+
+Bertran’s love-songs are not the emanations of a pure guileless heart,
+such as the _canzos_ of Guillem de Cabestanh or Folquet of Marseilles.
+Upon the whole one is glad to find that they are not and do not pretend
+to be such; for a lover’s unselfish devotion could be nothing but
+pretension in a man of his character. Bertran was, and appears even
+in his _canzos_, a man of the world, to whom his love affairs are of
+secondary importance. Yet these _canzos_ are not without passion, and not
+seldom have a peculiar charm of simple grace, all the more delightful
+because of its contrast with the warlike harshness of his ordinary
+strains. What, for instance, can be more sweet and graceful than the
+following stanza, which occurs at the beginning of one of Bertran’s
+_sirventeses_?—
+
+    When the young blossoms of the spring appear
+    And paint the bushes pink and white and green,
+    Then in the sweetness of the nascent year
+    I clothe my song; at all times such has been
+    The wont of birds; and as a bird am I
+    Who love the fairest lady tenderly:
+    I dare to love her longing for love’s fruit,
+    But never dare to speak; my heart is mute.
+
+After such an opening the reader expects a love-song of tenderest
+pathos. But no. After another stanza, Bertran suddenly changes his
+mind. Perhaps the lady whom he silently adored did not understand or
+appreciate his passion. ‘As without a lady’—he now exclaims—‘one cannot
+make a love-song, I am going to sing a fresh and novel _sirventes_.’ And
+forthwith he begins his ordinary strain of invective against a whole
+catalogue of hostile barons.
+
+Of the objects of Bertran’s passion—for we know of two, and there may
+have been others of whom we do not know—the old manuscripts give us a
+prolix account. We first hear of a Lady Maenz or Matilda of Montignac,
+wife of Count Talairand (for as a matter of course she was married), and
+sister to two other ladies celebrated by the troubadours for their beauty
+and courteous demeanour. The Lady Maenz was wooed by many noble knights
+and barons; and even three scions of royalty, the Princes Richard and
+Geoffrey of England and King Alfonso of Aragon, are mentioned amongst
+her suitors. But Bertran’s valour and fame as a poet gained the victory
+in her heart over power and riches. Such at least is the account of the
+old biography, founded, it seems, on a somewhat vague statement in one
+of Bertran’s own poems, to the effect that his lady ‘refused Poitou, and
+Tolosa, and Bretagne and Saragosa, but has given her love to the valorous
+poor knight’—meaning of course himself.
+
+Unfortunately the course of true love did not run smooth for long; the
+blast of jealousy troubled its waters. Bertran had written a few songs in
+praise of another lady, the wife of his friend the Viscount of Camborn.
+Pure gallantry, he alleged, was the motive, but the Lady Maenz refused
+to view the matter in this innocent light, and angrily discarded her
+lover. Bertran was in despair; he knew, the manuscript says, ‘that he
+could never regain her, or find another lady so beautiful, so good, so
+gentle, and so learned.’ In this dilemma Bertran had recourse to the
+following pretty conceit of gallantry. Whether he had heard the story of
+the Athenian artist who, from the combined charms of the most beautiful
+women, moulded the type of the Goddess of Love, seems doubtful; but the
+coincidence of ideas between the troubadour and the antique sculptor
+is striking. For Bertran de Born, the biographer tells us, went to the
+most beautiful ladies of the country asking from each the loan of her
+greatest charm (metaphorically it must be understood), and from these he
+reconstructed the ideal type of his lost love. The poem in which this is
+done is a model of grace and gallantry, flattering alike to the divers
+ladies whose beauties are commemorated, and to the one who in her being
+concentrates and surpasses the charms of all others.
+
+But her heart was unmoved, and, in a fit of amorous despair we must
+suppose, the troubadour now offered his services as knight and poet to
+another lady, complaining at the same time bitterly of the cruelty of
+his former love. His offer was not accepted, neither was it disdainfully
+rejected. It would have been a breach of courtesy and good faith to
+deprive a lady of her lover, and much as the Lady Tibors (this was the
+name of Bertran’s new flame) may have been desirous of the praise of one
+of the greatest troubadours of the time, she resisted the temptations
+of vanity. Her answer to Bertran is a model of good sense; at the same
+time it smacks a little of that technical pedantry with which the ladies
+of Provence were wont to treat difficult cases of love. ‘Either,’ said
+the Lady Tibors, ‘your quarrel is of a slight and temporary kind—and in
+that case I will try to effect your peace with your lady; or else you
+have been guilty of a serious offence towards her—and, if so, neither I
+nor any good lady ought to accept your services. But in case I find on
+inquiry that your lady has left you from fickleness and caprice, I shall
+be honoured by your love.’ The first of these surmises fortunately turned
+out to be true. By the interference of Lady Tibors the lovers’ quarrel
+was settled, and in commemoration of the event Bertran was ordered to
+write a song in which he declares his immutable love for Lady Maenz,
+paying at the same time a grateful and graceful tribute to the kind
+peacemaker.
+
+This is all we hear of the beautiful Lady Maenz. But Bertran appears
+presently as the passionate admirer of another lady, of much more exalted
+rank. It must have been soon after his reconciliation with Count Richard
+that the troubadour met in his camp the Count’s sister Mathilda, the
+wife of the celebrated Duke Henry of Brunswick. The inflammable heart of
+the poet caught fire at her beauty, and his enthusiastic praise seems to
+have been received with much condescension. It tends to prove Bertran’s
+importance that it was by Richard’s express desire that his sister showed
+kindness to the troubadour, who, the manuscript adds, ‘was a renowned
+man and valorous, and might be of great use to the Count.’ In the praise
+of Mathilda Bertran wrote several beautiful _canzos_, one of which is
+particularly remarkable for an allusion in the first line to so prosaic a
+subject as dinner—the poem having been composed, it is said, one Sunday
+when that meal failed to be forthcoming at the ill-provided camp.
+
+In addition to these amorous entanglements Bertran was also married,
+although neither he nor his biographer deigns to mention so unimportant a
+personage as his wife. We know, however, that his children at Bertran’s
+death came to a compromise with their uncle Constantine as to the
+possession of Castle Autafort and its dependencies. One of his sons
+inherited with his father’s name some of his father’s poetic talent and,
+it appears, all his fierce passions. By this younger Bertran de Born, who
+has sometimes been mistaken for the great poet, we possess a _sirventes_
+against King John worthy of the paternal example. The luckless king
+is mercilessly assaulted. The loss of his continental possessions is
+attributed to cowardice and irresolution, and the king’s immoderate love
+of the chase does not escape notice. The barons also come in for their
+share of vituperation. In fact everything is done _more patrio_. Bertran
+died at an advanced age, having entered a monastery not long before his
+death.
+
+Such was the not inappropriate close of a life passed in the wildest
+turmoil of political strife. As a type of the warlike mediæval baron,
+reckless and ruthless, Bertran stands unsurpassed in history or
+literature. But we have seen that the refining and softening influences
+of friendship, of love, of knightly courtesy, were not wholly absent from
+his career.
+
+Another consideration suggests itself. Would it not be worth while for
+the authorities of the Record Office to secure a competent hand to glean
+from the biography of this and other troubadours the many important and
+hitherto totally neglected facts bearing on the continental policy of the
+Plantagenets?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE MONK OF MONTAUDON.
+
+
+Of the life of the Monk of Montaudon the old manuscripts tell us little.
+We are ignorant even of his name, and only know that he was descended
+from a noble family residing at Castle Vic in Auvergne. Being a younger
+son he was, as the biography naïvely puts it, ‘made a monk of,’ and
+entered the Abbey of Orlac (Aurillac), in the vicinity of his father’s
+castle; some time afterwards he became Prior of Montaudon. Soon, however,
+it became apparent that the cowl had not made the monk; he began to
+compose gay stanzas and satiric _sirventeses_ on the events of the day.
+The knights and barons of the adjacent castles were pleased with the
+poet’s gay, genial ways. They asked him to feasts and tournaments, and
+rewarded his songs with rich gifts, conscientiously remitted by him to
+the treasury of his cloister; a circumstance which goes far to explain
+the leniency with which his superiors looked on his infringements of the
+monastic rules. At last the monk asked permission of the Abbot of Orlac
+to regulate his way of living according to the commands of King Alfonso
+of Aragon, known to us as the revenger of Guillem de Cabestanh’s death,
+and a great protector and friend of troubadours in general. The granting
+of this comprehensive prayer tends to prove at once the lucrativeness of
+the monk’s poetic endeavours, and the considerate tolerance of the worthy
+prelate. For no sooner was the permission given than Alfonso bade the
+monk eat meat, compose gay songs, and court the favour of a lady. ‘Et el
+si fes,’ ‘and so he did,’ the manuscript adds significantly.
+
+There were held at that time certain gay assemblies at Puy Sainte Marie,
+where the noble ladies and gentlemen of many miles round met for a season
+to enjoy courteous pastimes. The knights measured their strength in the
+lists, the troubadours sang their sweetest _canzos_ for prizes, made
+more valuable by the beautiful hands which distributed them. At this gay
+court the Monk of Montaudon was now created master of the revels, and in
+this capacity had to hold the celebrated sparrow-hawk, a time-honoured
+ceremony, performed by him with portly dignity, we may imagine. At the
+beginning of each of these annual feasts the ‘Master of the Court of
+Puy’ stood in the midst of the noble guests, took a sparrow-hawk on his
+fist, and calmly waited till one of the great barons relieved him of his
+burden. The acceptance of the bird involved the obligation of bearing the
+not inconsiderable expenses of the whole feast, and was therefore the
+exclusive privilege of the richest and most liberal nobles. Perhaps it
+was owing to this pretty but frequently ruinous custom that the Court
+of Puy itself came to an untimely end. After its expiration the Monk of
+Montaudon went to Spain, where his abbot conferred upon him the dignity
+of Prior of Villafranca, in acknowledgment, most likely, of his exemplary
+life. This monastery, also, the monk enriched with the gifts of his
+literary patrons. He lived to an advanced age, and died much esteemed and
+loved by his brethren. He flourished about the end of the twelfth century.
+
+From this short sketch of the monk’s life some anticipatory notion of his
+poetry may be formed. There is in his works a spirit of freshness and
+animal vigour which ought somewhat to atone for a considerable admixture
+of grossness in thought and expression. Whatever the poet’s faults may
+be, hypocrisy is not amongst them; and, to leave no doubt whatever as
+to his tastes, he has dedicated three entire songs of moderate size to
+the enumeration of all the things in the world which excite his just
+displeasure. A fourth and supplementary poem describes the more agreeable
+aspects of life by way of contrast. This _catalogue raisonné_ of lights
+and shadows is exceedingly curious, and outspoken beyond the imagination
+and endurance of polite minds and ears.
+
+Amongst the most detestable things, the monk ranks quarrelsome and
+arrogant people, a halting horse, a young knight without a rent in
+his shield, a monk with a long beard, a proud though poor lady, and
+finally, an over-affectionate husband. This last point is again highly
+characteristic of the Provençal conception of marriage already referred
+to. Our poet also abhors a small piece of meat in a large dish; and that
+a little wine with a great quantity of water is not to his taste, we
+would willingly believe without the testimony of St. Martin, solemnly
+invoked. His culinary principles being thus established, the monk
+proceeds to take us into his confidence with regard to the tender secrets
+of his heart. We conclude, from his confessions, that he has met with
+some ill-treatment at the hands of those members of the fair sex who,
+although of maturer beauty, have not yet abandoned their claims to
+admiration. Only personal experience can account for the poet’s bitter
+resentment. Three times he returns to the point, growing more venomous
+with every new attack. In one instance he goes so far as to use the
+ungallant expression, ‘Vielha caserna’—old barracks.
+
+In this manner he goes on grumbling and complaining of contrary winds
+when he wants to start on a voyage, of badly-lined fur caps, false
+friends, bad fiddlers, and other miscellaneous evils of this wicked
+world. A whole litany of saints is called to witness frequently on such
+precarious points, as to remind one of the Italian brigand, who prays to
+his Madonna previously to cutting purses or throats, as the case may be.
+
+But the monk is not an entire pessimist. His praise is as eloquent as his
+vituperation. He likes gaiety and carousals, courteous knights and noble
+ladies. A powerful man, he wishes to be friendly to his friends, hostile
+to his foes. The same un-Christian sentiment is repeated still more
+emphatically in the further course of the poem.
+
+    The hated foeman’s death I cherish,
+    The more, if by my hand he perish.
+
+Milder impulses, however, are not wanting. In two charming, melodious
+stanzas the poet depicts the delights of a summer’s day passed with his
+love by the side of the murmuring brook, while the air is sweet with the
+fragrance of blossoms and the song of the nightingale. Truth compels me
+to confess, that in close juxtaposition to this charming idyl, the very
+material wish is expressed of having a ‘_grans salmos ad hora nona_’—that
+is, a large salmon for supper.
+
+The Monk of Montaudon, as the reader will perceive, was little given to
+sentimentality, and the love-songs which he wrote, in compliance with the
+custom of the time, show accordingly more cleverness than true feeling.
+They are, however, full of happy turns of expression, and particularly
+abound with well-chosen similes—a proof that the poet was by no means
+wanting in imagination. Nevertheless, it must be confessed that satire
+was his true field of action, and we are not surprised at seeing a man
+of his keen sense of ridicule turn this weapon against those objects of
+superlative romantic adoration—women. The weaknesses of the fair sex are
+indeed the theme of two remarkable _sirventeses_ by our troubadour, which
+we now must consider a little more closely. They deserve attention, both
+by the original boldness of their satire and by the quaint disguise in
+which this main purpose is clad. The form adopted by the monk is that
+of a vision, familiar to the reader from those two great monuments of
+mediæval literature, the ‘Divina Commedia’ and ‘Piers the Ploughman.’
+Heaven itself, indeed, is the scene of the troubadour’s poem, but a
+heaven how different from the celestial abode to which the inspired
+Italian singer was welcomed by Beatrice!
+
+The Monk of Montaudon introduces us into the midst of a legal action, the
+cause of which is, I am almost ashamed to say, that immemorial privilege
+of the fair sex to counteract the ravages of time by the rosy bloom of
+artificial colour. The scene of the action, as has been seen before,
+is heaven; the Judge, the Deity itself; the monks act as accusers; the
+ladies are defendants. The painted cheeks of the latter are alleged to
+outshine the votive pictures in the monasteries. Painting, and the mixing
+of colours, the monks assert to be their own inventions, to the use
+of which the ladies have no claim or title. This monstrous allegation
+the ladies, of course, deny indignantly. Colouring, they say, is their
+natural birthright, and has been practised by them long before either
+monks or votive pictures were thought of.
+
+At this juncture a compromise is proposed by the bench, to the effect
+that ladies on the right side of twenty-five shall be allowed to retain
+the bloom of youth by what means they please for a further term of
+twenty years. But the vicious monks refuse to grant more than ten years;
+and it is only by the intercession of those accomplished diplomats,
+SS. Peter and Lawrence, that a medium time of fifteen years is at last
+agreed upon by the contending parties. Forty years, then, is the limit up
+to which, to judge from this decision, a Provençal lady might, without
+incurring ridicule, play youthful parts in life’s comedy. ‘But,’ the monk
+adds, ‘I see that the ladies have broken their promise, which is unfair
+and wicked; few only have been faithful to their vow.’ He further enters
+upon a detailed enumeration of the various ingredients of paint which, by
+the way, seems to throw some new light on that interesting question in
+the history of mediæval art, the composition of colours previous to the
+introduction of the oil-medium. ‘The old monks,’ we hear, ‘are deprived
+of their beans, the only thing which they can eat; and they are therefore
+left without any food. The price of saffron also, which ought to be used
+for the sauces of _ragoûts_, has been driven up by the ladies to such a
+degree, that people over the sea begin to complain, as pilgrims tell us.
+Let the ladies take the cross, and go themselves to Palestine, to fetch
+the saffron of which they stand in such need.’
+
+In the second poem the ladies have been charged with the breach of the
+former treaty, and it seems that the monk has been summoned to heaven
+for a preparatory consultation. The Supreme Judge is indignant at such
+audacity. ‘Monk,’ he says, ‘I hear the ladies have broken their promise;
+go down, for the love of me, to tell them that if they again use colour,
+I shall take dire revenge.’ But the poet has evidently been under gentle
+pressure since the last trial. He now takes the part of the ladies in the
+warmest terms. ‘Gently, gently, my lord!’ he interposes; ‘you must have
+patience with the ladies, for it is their nature to sweetly adorn their
+countenance.’ To this opinion he adheres with obstinacy. In vain it is
+alleged against him that the ladies, by trying to perpetuate their youth,
+infringe the unalterable laws of Nature. The monk is not to be shaken.
+There is only one alternative, he thinks—either to grant unfading beauty
+to the ladies, or else to deprive the whole human race of the art of
+painting.
+
+This is, in brief outline, the argument of two of the quaintest
+productions mediæval literature can show. The bold cynicism with which
+the delicate secrets of the dressing-room are revealed justly surprises
+us in a troubadour of noble family and liberal education; but much more
+are we astonished at the familiarity with which the Deity itself is mixed
+up with these worldly matters. It is true that, in the old Mysteries
+and Miracle-plays, tolerated and even countenanced by the Church,
+sacred topics are treated with a naïve simplicity strange to modern
+religious feeling. But the experienced eye can almost always discern the
+under-current of sacred awe at the bottom of the wildest outburst of
+popular imagination. Even the ‘Wanton Wife of Bath,’ whose tongue is a
+match for all the saints in heaven, ‘trembles at his sight,’ when the
+Saviour himself appears in his glory. This sacred tremor is entirely
+unknown to the Monk of Montaudon, who, moreover, as an artistic poet
+addressing a refined audience, is without the excuse of popular rudeness
+and ignorance. Yet I think we should be unjust in ascribing to him any
+conscious intention of blasphemy, or even irreverence. Supposing even he
+had been a sceptic, he was at the same time too much attached to life and
+its pleasures to parade his heresies at the risk of his neck. The only
+way of solving the psychological puzzle is to follow the ancient example
+of the monk’s superiors, and to make ample allowance for the reckless
+buoyancy of a poet’s fancy, difficult to check at a certain point when
+once let loose. To give an idea of the ease with which he moves in the
+celestial regions, I will quote the opening stanza of another poem, the
+tone of which reminds one somewhat of the ‘Prelude in Heaven’ of Goethe’s
+‘Faust.’ It seems to have been written at a time when, after a prolonged
+stay at his monastery, the author was fain to set out on another
+expedition.
+
+    Up to heaven I found my way
+    Lately: you may trust my word,
+    Welcome sweet bade me the Lord,
+    He whose all-command obey
+    Land and sea, and hill and dell.’
+    ‘Monk, why do you seek my throne?
+    Tell me how fares Montaudon,
+    Where thy pious brethren dwell?
+
+The drift of the poem is easily discernible. Some of his monastic
+brethren had evidently remarked upon the poet’s worldly ways; and to
+silence these, the very highest authority is now brought to bear on the
+subject. This is the reassuring answer the monk receives to his pretended
+conscientious scruples: ‘I like you to laugh and sing, for the world
+grows merrier, and Montaudon gains through it.’ By such an argument,
+coming from such a quarter, the sourest of ascetics was reduced to
+acquiescence.
+
+A troubadour who, as we have seen, wholly disregarded the rules of
+courteous gallantry could not be expected to use much consideration where
+his own sex and his rivals in art were concerned. Accordingly, we find
+that one of the most venomous literary satires of that libel-loving age
+owes its existence to our author. It ought, however, to be mentioned, in
+justice to him, that another troubadour had set the example of wholesale
+abuse. The Monk of Montaudon’s _sirventes_ is, indeed, avowedly founded
+on a similar production by Peire of Alvernhe, in which that distinguished
+poet gives vent to his affectionate feelings towards no less than twelve
+contemporary troubadours, some of them celebrated poets, others entirely
+unknown to us, but evidently men of considerable reputation at the time.
+One of his victims, the sweet singer of love, Bernart of Ventadorn, has
+been mentioned before. Of another no less renowned troubadour, Guiraut
+de Bornelh, it is said that ‘he resembles a dry blanket in the sun, with
+his thin, miserable voice, which sounds like that of an old woman crying
+out water in the street. If he saw himself in a mirror [meaning, “as
+others see him”], he would not think himself worth a roseberry.’ In this
+manner Peire of Alvernhe goes on through twelve stanzas, battering down
+reputations in order to erect on their ruins the column of his own glory.
+‘Peire of Alvernhe,’ he winds up, ‘has a fine voice, and can sing high
+and low, filling the air with sweetest sound. His would be the highest
+praise, but for the obscurity of his words, which hardly any one can
+understand.’ The candid reader who would see in this last qualification a
+remnant of modesty would be vastly mistaken; for a dark, involved style
+was considered by connoisseurs as the sign of highest genius, and it was
+chiefly to his _motz oscurs_ (dark words) and _rims cars_ (rare rhymes)
+that Arnaut Daniel owed that place of honour awarded to him in Petrarch’s
+beautiful lines—
+
+    Fra tutti il primo Arnaldo Daniello
+    Gran maestro d’amor; ch’ alla sua terra
+    Ancor fa onor col suo dir nuovo e bello.[25]
+
+It is satisfactory to notice that in Peire of Alvernhe’s case exceeding
+pride has met with due castigation. For in some of the manuscripts the
+opening lines of the self-laudatory stanza have been travestied by a
+witty copyist into a very differing meaning. ‘Peire of Alvernhe,’ this
+altered version reads, ‘sings like a frog in a pond, although he praises
+himself above all the world.’ The remainder of the stanza, however, has
+been left unaltered, for Peire’s high literary position was an undeniable
+fact. The manuscripts call him ‘the best troubadour in the world till
+Guiraut de Bornelh (his “dry blanket”) came,’ and Nostradamus relates
+that Peire found such favour with the ladies as to enjoy the privilege of
+kissing the fairest amongst his audience after each _canzo_ he had sung.
+
+Such is the model the Monk of Montaudon has chosen, and it must be owned
+that the disciple is worthy of the master. The monk’s acquaintance with
+the most intimate details of his rivals’ biographies would do credit to
+a modern interviewer. ‘As Peire of Alvernhe,’ he begins, ‘has sung about
+the troubadours of past days, I am going to do the same for those that
+have come since, and I hope they won’t be angry with me for exposing
+their evil doings.’ And then he sallies forth on his crusade of abuse,
+devoting with laudible equality the space of six verses to each victim,
+‘a character dead at every stanza,’ as Sir Peter Teazle would say. The
+reader will be glad to hear that no mercy is shown to Peire of Alvernhe.
+‘He wears his coat these thirty years,’ we are told. ‘He is as lean
+as firewood, and his singing is getting worse and worse. Since he has
+joined company with a lewd woman at Clermont, he has not made a single
+good song.’ ‘Arnaut Daniel (Petrarch’s “great master of love”) has never
+in his life written anything tolerable, but only composed stuff which
+nobody can understand.’ Folquet of Marseilles, whose conversion from a
+gay troubadour to a religious zealot has been briefly mentioned before,
+is reminded that his father was a pedlar. ‘He swore a foolish oath when
+he said he would write no more songs, and it has been said that he
+consciously perjured himself.’
+
+But the most piercing darts of his quiver the monk reserves for a
+troubadour whose immeasurable vanity, almost bordering on madness, was
+indeed a tempting mark for the satirist. I am speaking of Peire Vidal, of
+whose life and works and follies the reader has had a full account. Only
+a few leading points need here be recapitulated.
+
+He was the son of a furrier, but had forgotten and made others forget
+his low origin. He believed himself to be an irresistible breaker of
+hearts, and had to pay dearly for his vain boasting of favours never
+granted. For a jealous husband, whose wife the Peire counted amongst his
+victims, had the poet’s tongue pierced, which, however, did not prevent
+the incorrigible braggart from continuing to call himself the dread of
+husbands, ‘who fear me worse than fire or pointed iron, God be thanked.’
+At one time he took part in a crusade, and married a Greek lady at
+Cyprus, with whom he returned home. For some reason or other he imagined
+his wife to be the niece of the Greek Emperor, and, as her husband,
+claimed a right to the imperial throne. In the meantime he adopted the
+style and title of an Emperor, and even thought of equipping a fleet to
+enforce his right to the throne. His follies naturally excited universal
+merriment, and we need not wonder at finding the Monk amongst the
+foremost of the scoffers. ‘Peire Vidal,’ he exclaims, ‘is one of the very
+last of poets. He has not got all his limbs, and a tongue of silver would
+be desirable for him. Once he was a miserable furrier, but since he has
+dubbed himself a knight he has lost his last remnant of wits.’
+
+In this strain the monk continues through fifteen stanzas, scattering
+abuse broadcast, and if his wit sometimes seems to desert him, it must,
+at least, be owned that his spite is genuine and unflagging. But in his
+case also the manuscripts contain an additional stanza of retributive
+justice, most likely by a later copyist. ‘With the sixteenth stanza,’ it
+says, ‘the false Monk of Montaudon will be satisfied, he who quarrels and
+fights with every one. He has deserted God for a flitch of bacon, and for
+his ever attempting to write _canzos_ and verses he ought to be hung up
+in the wind.’
+
+Such was literary criticism amongst the troubadours—a not very edifying
+spectacle, upon which, the reader perhaps may think, too many words
+have been wasted already. So we will drop the curtain on the Monk of
+Montaudon, not without a good-natured smile at his weaknesses, nor
+without wonderment at an age which burnt and quartered thousands of
+virtuous Albigeois, and tolerated, or even approved of, such doings and
+such utterances in a monk.
+
+But, before leaving the subject finally, I must warn the reader not to
+judge the general tone of the Provençal _sirventes_ by the few examples
+of personal satire here specified. The troubadours grow, as Schiller
+says, with their greater purpose. In reproving the moral evils of their
+time, the decay of piety, the avarice of the great, the outrages of
+clerical pride, they frequently attain to an almost Dantesque power
+of conception and imagery. I know of few grander ideas in poetry than
+Marcabrun’s picture of the enormous tree, whose branches mingle with the
+clouds, whose roots spread down to mid-earth. To it are tied innumerable
+multitudes of all classes, from king to beggar. For the tree is the
+eternal evil of the world, and avarice and covetousness are the bonds
+which fetter mankind.
+
+But such objective depth of idea must not be expected from the Monk of
+Montaudon. He is a broadly humorous figure, and although characteristic
+in many ways of his time and country, he must not blind us to the serious
+currents of thought moving the age in which he lived, and the literature
+of which he represents one feature. We must look at him as one of those
+burlesque types by which the terrible seriousness of man’s life and
+thoughts is fortunately relieved at intervals—a product of nature’s
+creative humour in one of her most whimsical moods.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE REFORMATION OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.
+
+
+The great struggle for religious liberty, which began with Huss and
+Wycliffe, culminated in the age of Luther, Calvin, and Cranmer, and
+continues to pervade modern thought and feeling, is apt to blind us to
+earlier movements in the same direction. The sixteenth century is so
+inseparably linked with our ideas of the Reformation, that to connect
+the word with a previous epoch seems almost like a paradox. But the
+intellectual night of the middle ages was not quite as dark as modern
+Protestant pride is apt to fancy, neither did nations and individuals
+bow without resistance to the yoke of Rome. The thirteenth century
+especially may be justly described as an epoch of religious revolution.
+Heresy raised its multifarious heads in all countries of Europe, from the
+Danubian principalities to the English shores of the Atlantic. Everywhere
+the vices of the clergy were laid bare with merciless satire, in many
+places the cry for liberty of thought and doctrine was raised, and the
+translation of the Bible into the language of the people is frequently
+found amongst the demands of heterodox theologians. And whatever the
+dissensions amongst the various sects might be, they were united in their
+hatred and opposition to the Church of Rome.
+
+This alarming circumstance was fully realised by the man to whose
+energy the resistance and final victory of Papal supremacy were in a
+great measure due, Pope Innocent III. Speaking of the various classes
+of heretics, he says: ‘Species quidem habentes diversas, sed caudas ad
+invicem colligatas.... Magisterium Ecclesiae Romanae refugiunt.’ As to
+the extraordinary knowledge of the Bible amongst some of the sects,
+another unimpeachable witness may be cited,—Reinerius, a Catholic
+convert and violent assailant of the Waldenses, who professes to have
+known a common peasant able to recite the whole of the book of Job, and
+several others who knew the New Testament by heart. It was not without
+reason, the reader will perceive, that about this time the Church became
+more and more anxious to wrench such a dangerous source of dissent and
+argumentation from the hands of the common people. Hence the notion,
+frequently insisted upon in ecclesiastical writings of the period, of the
+Bible being a book of unfathomable depth, all but incomprehensible to the
+greatest scholars, and useless, if not dangerous, to the vulgar.
+
+No country in those days offered a more favourable soil to the growth of
+heresy than the south of France. Its wealth, its practical independence
+from the central power of the French kings, and the natural spirit of its
+inhabitants, had fostered a degree of local freedom all but unequalled
+in other parts of feudal Europe. Particularly the citizens of the large
+towns showed a remarkable spirit of pride and political ambition. As
+early as the thirteenth century, we hear of a legally constituted
+‘_tiers état_,’ consisting of delegates of the towns, at the provincial
+assemblies of the county of Toulouse. A population of this kind was not
+likely to bow in silent awe to a priesthood, the vices and weaknesses
+of which were notorious, and formed a favourite butt for the satire of
+the troubadours. The step from antagonism to the representatives of the
+Roman Church to the rejection of its doctrine was easy, and hence we are
+not surprised to see the south of France described as the brood-nest of
+foulest heresy; nay, even the Provençal language, or _langue d’oc_, was
+harsh and repulsive to orthodox ears, and, as was mentioned before, Pope
+Innocent IV., in a bull dated 1245, forbade its use to the students.
+
+The chief sect existing in the county of Toulouse and its dependencies
+derived its name from the town or diocese of Albi. But it must be
+remembered that Albigenses, or, in its French form, Albigeois, is a
+collective name used by the Catholics almost synonymously with heretics,
+and without regard to the most important doctrinal and moral variations.
+The Vaudois or Waldenses, for instance, although frequently mixed up
+with the Albigenses, seem to have had little in common with them beyond
+their opposition to Roman supremacy.[26] My task being a purely literary
+consideration of the subject, I must deal with the Albigeois doctrine
+in the briefest fashion. Our knowledge of that doctrine is, moreover,
+anything but satisfactory or complete, being mainly derived from the
+statements of Catholic controversialists, the confessions of heretics
+preserved amongst the documents of the Inquisition, and the decrees of
+councils and provincial synods. The fanaticism of mediæval monks seems to
+have been fatal to the utterances of their adversaries. We do not indeed
+possess a single authentic document from an Albigeois source, and the
+celebrated embodiment of the Vaudois creed, called ‘The Noble Lesson.’
+which Raynouard dated from the eleventh century, is now generally
+acknowledged to belong to a much later period, when the sect was cooped
+up in its Alpine recesses, and had lost its real importance and vitality.
+It seems at any rate doubtful whether this curious document contains the
+pure doctrine of the original ‘Poor Men of Lyons.’
+
+From such sources as those indicated above, it may be concluded with
+tolerable certainty that the Albigenses were part of that great
+new-Manichean heresy, which, taking its rise amongst the Slav populations
+of the Balkan peninsula, gradually spread over almost every part of
+Western Europe, leaving traces of its name and aspirations in more than
+one modern language. The self-laudatory term of Cathari (from the Greek
+word καθαρός, pure) assumed by some of the heretics, was converted by the
+Germans into the generic term of ‘Ketzer,’ or heretic; and the Italian
+word ‘bugiardo,’ liar, is a lasting testimony of the repute in which
+Bulgarian veracity, deservedly or undeservedly, was held; not to mention
+other still more opprobrious epithets derived from the same root.
+
+In common with other new-Manichean sects, the Albigenses seem to have
+rejected a Trinity, and to have placed in its stead a dualism of
+creative principles: one good, the other evil; one representing the
+invisible and spiritual, the other the physical and tangible. More
+obnoxious perhaps than this merely speculative attempt at the solution
+of an old metaphysical problem must have been, in the eyes of Romish
+priests, those doctrines which more immediately clashed with Papal dogmas
+and rites. To these belong the abolishment of mass and sacraments, and
+of the veneration of the saints. The idea of transubstantiation the
+Albigenses treated with scorn, and, moreover, they founded this and other
+heterodox opinions on the exclusive authority of the Bible, or rather
+of the New Testament, for against the Hebrew books they had a strange
+prejudice. The spiritual tinge of their doctrine made them adverse
+to marriage or any form of sexual intercourse, from which indeed the
+initiated abstained totally. From a similar point of view we have to
+explain another of their moral precepts, viz., vegetarianism, founded
+not on the nature-worship of Buddhism, or on Shelley s humanitarian
+enthusiasm, but on the abhorrence of the flesh and everything procreated
+by the flesh. For the same reason the prohibition did not extend to fish.
+
+It is less apparent on what grounds they insisted upon another demand
+of modern philanthropists, the abolition of capital punishment. And it
+is not unlikely that our admiration of this almost unique instance of
+humanity in those cruel times would be considerably diminished by our
+knowledge of its motive. Most probably some absurd theological crotchet
+was at the bottom of it. For in that respect mediæval heretics were by no
+means in advance of their Catholic contemporaries. One of the questions,
+for instance, hotly discussed by Pope Innocent III. and the heretics,
+was, whether the number of nails used at the Crucifixion was three or
+four. The heretics inclined to the lower figure, and were soundly rated
+for that reason by a learned controversialist, who denounces their
+doctrine as unworthy of Catholics and Christians.
+
+The charges of all manner of vices raised against the Albigeois by
+monkish chroniclers ought naturally to be received with great caution.
+Sometimes even these bear unwilling testimony to the general purity of
+their manners. It is said that on one occasion Folquet, the fanatical
+Bishop of Toulouse, asked a knight recently converted to Catholicism, why
+he and his friends did not drive the heretics from the country. ‘It is
+impossible,’ was the answer; ‘we have grown up amongst them, our friends
+and relations are of them, and we know that they lead honest lives.’ It
+is, however, by no means improbable that the exaggerated asceticism of
+their moral code frequently led to secret vice and hypocrisy.
+
+The anecdote just related may at the same time give the reader an idea
+of the power and extension of the Provençal heresy, about the beginning
+of the thirteenth century, the period which chiefly concerns us here. It
+proves, and we know from other sources, that the sect was by no means
+limited to the lower orders. We hear, for instance, of a great teacher
+of the Albigeois, by name Guillabert de Castres, who had many followers
+amongst the highest nobility of Southern France. At one of his religious
+meetings, in 1204, he received amongst his flock five high-born ladies,
+one of them the sister of Count Raimon Roger of Foix, one of the most
+powerful lords of the country, of whom we shall hear again. The ladies,
+the old account runs, surrendered themselves to God and the Gospel. They
+consented to abstain from flesh, eggs, and cheese; the use of oil and
+fish, on the other hand, was conceded to them. They also promised never
+to take an oath nor to speak an untruth. Vows of perfect chastity, and
+of adherence to their creed at the risk of their lives, were further
+conditions of their reception amongst the faithful. The Count of
+Foix, and many knights and citizens, are said to have witnessed this
+conversion, and there is little doubt that the former himself followed,
+or perhaps had preceded, his sister’s example. But the same is not by
+any means certain of Raimon VI., Count of Toulouse, the champion of
+the national and religious freedom of Southern France. There is little
+evidence with regard to him of even an inclination towards the doctrinal
+views of the heretics, and he died a faithful son of the Catholic Church,
+although she refused him her comfortings in his last hours, and a grave
+after death. But it is just this orthodoxy of his dogmatical opinions
+which makes his position in the struggle so interesting. He is an almost
+unique instance in the middle ages of a strict adherent, nay a martyr, to
+religious toleration.
+
+Raimon VI. was not, like his friend the Count of Foix, a fighting baron
+in the ordinary sense. His personal courage on the battle-field was
+unimpeachable, but he did not love the fight for the fight’s sake. When
+the spreading of the heresy in his territories, fostered by his leniency,
+first began to alarm the watchfulness of Rome, he did everything in his
+power to avoid the thunders of the Church. Many were the penances and
+humiliations and promises of amendment to which he submitted without
+much personal reluctance, it would seem. But all attempts at a final
+reconciliation were frustrated by his one unalterable resolve, not to
+give over his subjects to the tender mercies of the Inquisition. Their
+safety and freedom were to him dearer than his lands and castles, more
+sacred even than the vows extracted from him under compulsion. Much fault
+may be found with Raimon’s general conduct in these transactions; even in
+his noble principle of toleration he may have been influenced by the ties
+of relationship and other personal motives. But the fact remains, that
+at a time when heretics were treated worse than robbers and murderers, a
+great prince struggled and fought, at the risk of his life and property,
+for the religious freedom of his subjects, whose belief he did _not_
+share.
+
+Raimon’s great antagonist—intellectually, and perhaps morally, infinitely
+his superior—was Pope Innocent III. He is one of those characters in
+history which leave their impress on periods of which they at the same
+time represent the highest development in one direction or another.
+Without him the Church of Rome might have succumbed to the aggressions
+of temporal and spiritual enemies, but neither would he have been
+possible except as the representative of a great spiritual power, full
+of latent vitality, and with a strong hold on the minds of the people.
+The one great idea of his life was the consolidation and enlargement of
+the Church, with regard to its dogma, its discipline, and its political
+power. To this aim he devoted the energy of his mind and the great stores
+of his acquired knowledge; to it he sacrificed his personal interests,
+perhaps his conscience. For, even accepting his own standard of duty, it
+is difficult to justify at least the one act of his reign which concerns
+us most immediately. This is, the diverting of the enthusiasm which found
+its tangible result in the Crusades, from the Turk, the common enemy of
+Christianity, to a comparatively harmless sect in his more immediate
+neighbourhood. I am alluding to the celebrated crusade preached by him
+against the Provençal heretics, fatal alike to the political freedom and
+to the independent literature of Southern France.
+
+When Innocent, in 1198, at the early age of thirty-seven, ascended the
+chair of St. Peter, one of his first desires was to impart new life
+to the hitherto somewhat sluggish action against the Albigenses. The
+bishops of the threatened dioceses were admonished to take immediate and
+energetic measures, and a number of Papal legates were successively
+despatched to stem the current of heresy by preaching, personal
+persuasion, and, if need be, severe repression. Amongst the priests most
+devoted to the cause of Rome, and most fanatical in their orthodox zeal,
+two names stand out prominently—that of Folquet, Bishop of Toulouse, once
+a gay troubadour, now an ascetic; and that of St. Dominic, branded by
+history as the originator of the Inquisition.
+
+Count Raimon’s attitude in the meantime seems to have been one of
+diplomatic evasion. When taken to task for his notorious connivance at
+the heretical movement, he meekly confessed his guilt, and promised
+the immediate expulsion of the culprits from his dominions. But no
+result followed; not even after the severest punishment of the Church,
+the Interdict, had been twice inflicted on him and his subjects.
+The instrument of the Papal wrath on the second occasion was Pierre
+de Castelnau, the legate; and his death at the hands of two unknown
+assassins, with which Count Raimon was charged, is the tragic close of
+the first scene of the Albigeois drama.
+
+This event gave new zest to the extreme measure resolved upon by the Pope
+shortly before—the preaching of a crusade against the heretics and their
+protector. The political wisdom of such a measure is at once apparent,
+and fully accounts for its ultimate success. The fertile valleys and
+wealthy cities of Provence offered a tempting bait to pious plunderers,
+who at the same time avoided a wearisome and dangerous journey to the far
+East without losing any of the spiritual privileges connected with the
+more onerous task. Moreover, the Papal mandate was chiefly addressed to
+the ruler and the nobles of the French kingdom, who for a long time had
+looked with a covetous eye on the broad acres and rich vineyards of their
+southern neighbours.
+
+The year 1209 marks the opening of the first crusade. The legates of
+the Pope guided the sacred army. Amongst the worldly leaders, the name
+of Simon de Montfort, father of the celebrated Earl of Leicester, is
+the most prominent. The incidents of this war, which lasted over twenty
+years, and laid waste the most flourishing provinces of France, are
+matter of history. Suffice it here to allude briefly to the revolting
+cruelties of the crusaders, and to such memorable events as the sieges
+of Lavaur and Beziers, and the decisive battle of Muret, at which Peter
+II. of Aragon, the brother-in-law and ally of Count Raimon, perished
+with the flower of his chivalry. It was at the sack of Beziers that that
+man of God, Arnaud, Abbot of Citeaux, when asked by the soldiers how to
+distinguish Catholics and heretics, spoke the pious words: ‘Kill them
+all; the Lord will know his own!’
+
+In the end, the Church remained triumphant. Raimon died with a broken
+heart and a broken fortune. His valour in the field of battle had been
+in vain; even his most humiliating attempts at reconciliation with the
+Roman See had come to naught, owing, in great part, to the personal
+hatred of the legates and local clergy, who, out-heroding Herod,
+frustrated the milder intentions of the Pope. It ought to be added, in
+alleviation of the guilt of the priests, that religious intolerance was
+supported in this case by worldly ambition and covetousness. The crusade
+soon took the form of a political war between the North and the South of
+France; it was a struggle of provincial autonomy against centralisation.
+This issue also was gained by the invaders. As early as 1215, the lands
+of the Count of Toulouse were by the Pope given to his champion, Simon
+de Montfort, who, it is true, never enjoyed their quiet possession, and
+died in the defence of his ill-gotten title. By his eldest son, Amaury,
+these claims were ceded to the King of France, who in the meantime had
+taken a prominent part in the crusade. In the final peace concluded with
+the crown of France at Paris, in 1229, Count Raimon VII., son of Raimon
+VI., barely succeeded in retaining possession of the scanty remains
+of his heritage during his own lifetime. His daughter and heiress was
+married to the brother of the King of France. This marriage sealed the
+doom of southern independence; its customs, its traditions, and its
+literature were rapidly merged in the overpowering influence of northern
+centralisation. The _langue d’oc_ descended to the level of a local
+patois.
+
+It is sad to relate that the last recorded action of Raimon VII. was
+his personal attendance at the conviction and burning alive of eighty
+heretics. With the Treaty of Paris, the last hope of the Albigeois
+movement had vanished, and its remnants were gradually hunted down by
+the bloodhounds of the Inquisition, now an established institution in
+beautiful Provence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+THE EPIC OF THE CRUSADE.
+
+
+On the tombstone of Count Raimon VI. the following two lines, in
+Provençal, were engraved:—
+
+    Non y a homes sus terra, per gran senhor que fos,
+    Quem gites de ma terra, si la glieza non fos;
+
+that is—‘No man on earth, how great a lord he may be, can drive me from
+my land but for the Church.’ These lines are taken from a narrative of
+the crusade against the Albigenses, in the _langue d’oc_—a work equally
+interesting as a contemporary source of history, and as a literary
+document. In the latter respect alone it concerns us here, and the reader
+is asked to consider the preceding historic remarks mainly as a necessary
+elucidation of the following extracts. A few dates as to the genesis and
+character of the poem itself may perhaps be welcome.
+
+The ‘Song of the Crusade against the Albigeois’ is evidently written by
+an eye-witness of many of the events described, and was, no doubt, at
+its first appearance, what we should call a most successful book. Its
+popularity is proved by the quotation already alluded to, as also by
+the fact that at an early date an abridgment of its contents in prose,
+for more popular use, was found necessary. In spite of this, only one
+manuscript[27] of the poem has reached our time. It was edited amongst
+the ‘Documents inédits sur l’histoire de France,’ by the well-known
+scholar, M. Fauriel, in 1837. The author of the poem is by no means
+reticent as to his identity or merits. ‘In the name of the Father, the
+Son, and the Holy Ghost,’ he opens his poem, after the manner of his
+time, ‘here begins the song which Master W(illiam) made; a clerk who
+was brought up at Tudela, in Navarra. He is wise and valorous, as the
+story says, and he was much cherished by clerks and laymen. Counts and
+viscounts loved him, and trusted his advice, owing to the destruction
+which he knew and foresaw by means of geomancy, which he had studied
+long. And he knew that the country would be burnt and laid waste, because
+of the foolish belief it had adopted.’
+
+But in spite of this emphatic declaration, M. Fauriel saw reason to
+call in question not only the authorship, but the very existence of the
+wise clerk of Tudela. The pretension of proficiency in the black art
+boldly put forward, seemed to him a suspicious circumstance, and his
+doubt was confirmed by linguistic difficulties, into which we cannot
+enter here. These latter, however, have been conclusively solved by
+more recent scholars, and William’s posthumous fame would be securely
+established, but for another circumstance fatal to at least part of
+his claim. Fauriel already had pointed out that after about the first
+third of the poem—at verse 2769 later scholars have determined—a sudden
+change takes place in the author’s opinions. Hitherto he has been a warm
+defender of the crusaders; the French invaders are called ‘our French
+barons,’ and the author would be thankful to any one ‘who would hang
+those robbers and villains who kill the crusaders.’ Folquet, the zealous
+Bishop of Toulouse, seems to him to have ‘no equal in kindness’ (‘degus
+de bontat ab el no s’aparelha’); and Simon de Montfort, the great enemy
+of Provence, is described as a ‘good cavalier, liberal and brave and
+kindly, sweet-tempered and open-hearted, and of good understanding.’ The
+heretical creed the author calls, as has been said, a ‘fola crezensa,’
+and the full measure of his wrath is emptied on its adherents. He
+complacently relates the cruelties committed against them, and objects
+only to the indiscriminate slaughter of innocent and guilty.
+
+But all this is changed in the second portion of the poem. The French
+have now become ‘homicides’ and ‘men of the sword;’ sometimes even the
+uncomplimentary epithet of ‘taverners,’ or pothouse-keepers, is applied
+to them. Folquet is summarily alluded to as the ‘avesque felon,’ or
+‘wicked bishop;’ and the Pope himself is reproached with his cruelty to
+Raimon. But the most striking contrast between the two portions of the
+poem becomes apparent in the judgment of Simon de Montfort’s character.
+The author’s hatred against him in the second part vents itself in
+bitterest invective, and is not appeased by death itself. The description
+of the great leader’s fall in our poem is extremely vivid; it is painted
+with the colours of hatred. At the same time the triumph at the enemy’s
+fall bears involuntary witness to his greatness. Simon is besieging
+Toulouse, the rebellious capital of the dominions lately granted to him
+by the Pope, and the author describes an assault made by the crusaders,
+and valiantly repelled by the inhabitants. Montfort, incensed at the
+little progress made by his troops, is complaining to his brother,
+who has just been hit by an arrow. There was in the city, the author
+continues, a machine for throwing stones, worked by women, both girls and
+matrons. A stone is thrown, and goes ‘straight where it ought to go.’
+This ‘ought to go’ is an admirable trait of the fatalism of hatred. ‘It
+hits,’ the author continues, evidently gloating over the details, ‘Count
+Simon on his helmet, with such force that his eyes and brain, and the top
+of his head, and his forehead, and his jaws, are knocked to pieces. And
+the Count falls to the ground, dead, and bleeding, and black.’
+
+The terror and grief caused by this sudden event amongst the crusaders
+are then briefly alluded to, but the author is again in his element when
+he describes the unbounded joy of the besieged, fully shared by himself.
+The suggestions of making a martyr and saint of Simon, in his epitaph,
+the author treats with the utmost scorn. ‘If by killing men,’ he says,
+‘and shedding blood, by destroying souls and consenting to murder, by
+trusting in false counsels and by incendiarism, by ruining the barons and
+shaming nobility, by fostering evil and crushing good, by the massacre of
+women and children, one can gain Jesus Christ in this world, then Simon
+must wear a crown and shine in heaven.’
+
+It is difficult to believe that the same hand which thus heaped shame on
+Simon’s grave should have penned the eulogistic lines of the first part
+of the poem, particularly if one considers that the change of opinion
+from the particular point formerly alluded to coincides with certain
+metrical and dialectical variations totally overlooked by Fauriel, but
+since pointed out by M. Paul Meyer. The theory of there being only one
+author, however, has by no means been totally abandoned. Its champions
+explain the revolution in the poet’s feeling partly from the impression
+made on him by the cruelties of the invaders, partly from a change in his
+situation during the interval of several years, which undoubtedly lies
+between the end of the first and the commencement of the second part of
+his work. Into the philological details of this interesting controversy
+this is not the place to enter. Suffice it to say that, all things
+considered, the dualistic supposition seems to be decidedly the more
+probable of the two, both on external and internal grounds.
+
+One or two specimens from the interesting poem must serve the reader to
+judge of the poetic gift of William, or whoever the author or authors
+may have been. It has already been said that in his dealings with Count
+Raimon the conduct of Innocent III. himself was marked by greater
+leniency than that of his legates. This feature in the Pope’s character
+has suggested to our author a most curious scene, which he introduces
+into his elaborate account of the Council of the Lateran in 1215. Raimon
+of Toulouse, the Count of Foix, and several others of the threatened
+nobles of Provence, attended personally to plead their cause before
+the Holy Father. The legates and many of the local clergy of the south
+of France—the implacable Folquet, Bishop of Toulouse, foremost amongst
+them—upheld the claims of Simon de Montfort. A long and passionate
+dispute on the subject between the Count of Foix and the Bishop of
+Toulouse is given verbatim. The Pope tries to quiet them. ‘Friends,
+justice shall be done,’ he exclaims. At last he retires for a few minutes
+to his orchard. But the zealous prelates will not let him rest. The Pope
+asks for a few minutes of reflection. He opens a book, and concludes
+from the passage that first meets his eye that the Count of Toulouse may
+yet hold his own. ‘My lords,’ he says to the prelates, ‘I cannot agree
+with you. How can I disinherit the Count, who is a true Catholic?’ But
+the prelates do not, it appears, believe in book messages. They clamour
+against the sentence, and Folquet, the most dangerous of all, unites his
+sweet persuasion with their violent remonstrance. The Archbishop of Auch
+and—awful to relate—three hundred cardinals follow suit. No wonder that
+the poor Pope at last grants the decree in Simon’s favour. ‘My lords,’
+he finally exclaims, ‘the cause is decided. The Count (Raimon) is a
+Catholic, and of loyal conduct; but let Simon hold the lands.’
+
+These speeches cannot be accepted in their literal meaning, any more than
+those found in the pages of Xenophon or Thucydides. The circumstance
+also of the Pope deciding clearly and confessedly against his own
+conscience is evidently the high-coloured statement of a partisan of the
+oppressed Count. (The scene, it must be remembered, occurs in the second
+and anti-clerical division of the poem.) But the incidents are related
+with so much freshness of individual characterisation that the author’s
+intimate acquaintance with the persons and events described cannot be
+doubted for a moment. At any rate it is a quaint picture, and not without
+historic significance, to see the great Pontiff, the breaker of thrones
+and the umpire of nations, quailing under the storm of fanaticism raised
+by himself. Moreover, the idea which suggested the situation to the poet
+is not without its grain of sober truth. For, as has already been said,
+it is an historic fact that Innocent III. on several occasions showed an
+unfortunately abortive desire to protect Raimon against the unfettered
+rage of legates and monks.
+
+From the council-chamber we follow our author to the battle-field. Here,
+also, he is perfectly at home, and his descriptions, although naturally
+less attractive as regards psychological observation, are none the less
+vigorous and interesting. There is the true ring of the ‘chanson de
+geste,’ the genuine popular epic, in his lines. A few historic remarks
+must precede our quotation. The reader will remember the name of Peter
+II., the valiant king of Aragon, whose sister was the wife of Raimon of
+Toulouse. Although by no means favourably inclined towards the heretics,
+Peter could not calmly look on while his brother-in-law was despoiled
+of his heritage. His attempts at mediation between Raimon and Simon de
+Montfort were many. He appealed to the Pope and the King of France. At
+last, when his peaceful efforts proved in vain, he resolved to brave
+temporal and eternal perils rather than forsake his friend. He assembled
+a large army, and in September 1213 joined his forces with those of the
+Count of Toulouse. The immediate object of the allies was the siege of
+Muret, a small fortified town, not far from Toulouse, into which Simon
+had thrown himself. I now leave the word to the old chronicler.
+
+‘The good King of Aragon, on his good charger, is come to Muret, and has
+raised his banner and laid siege to the town with many rich vassals whom
+he has called from their fiefs. He has brought with him the flower of
+Catalonia, and many great knights from Aragon. They think that no one
+will offer resistance to them, or dare to attack them. He sends a message
+to the husband of his sister at Toulouse to join him with his barons and
+his army and his warlike men. He (the king) is ready to restore their
+fiefs to the Count of Cominges and all his relations; after that he
+will go to Beziers, and from Montpelier to Rocamador he will not leave
+a single crusader in castle or tower. All shall die a miserable death.
+The brave Count, when he hears the message, is well pleased, and goes
+straight to the Capitol.’
+
+The next tirade[28] relates to the deliberations of the Count of Toulouse
+with the chief magistrates of his city, whom, in accordance with the
+freedom enjoyed by the burgesses of Provence, he has to consult on this
+important occasion. It further describes the departure of the army, and
+winds up with a truly epical prognostication of their tragic fate. ‘They
+arrive before Muret, where they were to lose all their own; so much
+beautiful armour and so many valiant men. Great pity it was, so help me
+God, and the whole world felt the loss.’
+
+‘The whole world felt the loss, believe me I speak truth. Paradise
+itself was shaken and damaged and all Christendom shamed and downcast.
+But listen, sirs, how the thing came to pass. Assembled are at Muret the
+good King of Aragon and the Count of St. Giles, with his barons, and all
+the citizens and commonalty of Toulouse. They mount their stone-throwing
+machines, and batter the walls of Muret on all sides. They enter the
+new town all together, and the French who are there are so hard pressed
+that they have all to seek shelter in the castle. At once a messenger
+is sent to the king. “Sir King of Aragon, know for true that the men of
+Toulouse have done so well that, by your leave, they have taken the city.
+They have destroyed the houses, and driven the French into the castle.”
+When the king hears this he is not well pleased. He goes to the consuls
+of Toulouse and admonishes them to leave the men of Muret in peace.
+“We should be foolish,” he says, “in taking the town, for I have had a
+letter—a sealed message—to say that Simon de Montfort will to-morrow
+enter the town, and when he is once enclosed in it, and when my cousin
+Nunos has arrived, we will attack the town on all sides, and take all the
+French and crusaders captive.”’
+
+The troops vacate Muret accordingly, and retire to their tents. They have
+hardly sat down to dinner when Simon, with a band of chosen knights,
+appears and at once enters the city. ‘The river was shining with their
+helmets and their blades as if it were made of crystal. Never, by St.
+Martial, were so many brave vassals seen among so small a band.’
+
+The night is passed by the two armies in preparations for the morrow’s
+combat. Disagreement reigns in the camp of the allies. In the council of
+war the Count of Toulouse, who does not wish to risk a pitched battle
+with his army of citizens, and advises the fortification of the camp, is
+cried down by hot-headed fools, and no plan is finally agreed upon. The
+confusion of the leaders naturally grows worse confounded amongst the
+motley crowd of soldiers and ill-trained citizens. Simon de Montfort’s
+scheme, on the other hand, is devised with masterly skill. He desires
+what Count Raimon tries to avoid—a pitched battle in the open country.
+Bishop Folquet gives his blessing to the departing army. The catastrophe
+foreshadowed in the manner alluded to is told briefly, in accordance with
+the rapidity of the actual disaster.
+
+‘They (the French) march straight to the tents across the fens, their
+banners floating in the air. The whole meadow is resplendent with their
+gilt armour. When the good King of Aragon sees them he awaits them with
+a small number of followers. But the people of Toulouse come running
+by. They listen neither to king nor count. They never hear a word till
+the French are come, who all rush to where they know the king to be. He
+cries out, “I am the king,” but they hear him not, and so cruelly is he
+wounded, that his blood is shed over the land, and there he fell down,
+at full length, dead. The others who behold him give themselves over
+for lost. Every one flies. No one defends himself. The French follow at
+their heels and kill them all. And so roughly have they handled them that
+those who escape with their lives think themselves delivered indeed.’ A
+general stampede of the men of Toulouse, who had remained in the camp,
+and many of whom are now drowned in the swollen waves of the Garonne,
+forms the closing scene of this wild battle piece. ‘All their goods,’
+the poet once more complains, ‘remained in the camp, and the loss was
+greatly felt all the world over. For many a man there remained lying on
+the ground quite dead. Great is the pity!’
+
+Such is the description of the battle of Muret by a contemporary, most
+likely an eye-witness. For here again the characters of the different
+leaders, their speeches, and their demeanour, are sketched with a
+boldness of individualisation which can have been derived from personal
+knowledge alone. As a historic source, the work under discussion is
+absolutely invaluable. English students especially ought to give it every
+attention. For the struggle which it describes involved questions of the
+utmost importance to the continental dependencies of the English crown.
+
+It ought to be added, that the battle of Muret was a fatal blow to
+Raimon’s cause, from which it never recovered. For years he continued
+the fight; but it was a struggle against fate, a hope against hope. A
+different issue of that day might have changed the development of France.
+It might also have given new and lasting vitality to the Reformation of
+the thirteenth century.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+FOLQUET OF MARSEILLES.
+
+
+The question remains to be asked,—which side did the troubadours take
+in this struggle? Did they prove themselves to be men of mettle in a
+contest in which their own literary existence was at stake no less than
+the freedom of their country? Both these questions can, with a very few
+exceptions, be answered in their favour; as a class, they stood to the
+cause of their natural friend and protector; and it must be remembered
+that that cause at the time was identical with religious toleration and
+opposition to the tyranny of Rome. With the theological side of the
+contest the troubadours, however, did not concern themselves much; it was
+their duty and joy to lash the vices of the priests with their satire,
+and to defend their country and their beautiful language against French
+intrusion; the subtleties of dualism and doketism they wisely avoided.
+It is true that the great Peire Cardinal once ventured to speak on the
+mooted point of purgatory and eternal punishment; but we shall presently
+see how untheological, or, which is the same, how purely human, was his
+interest in the subject. It seems, indeed, doubtful whether many of the
+troubadours espoused the opinions of their Albigeois countrymen. Of some
+of the fiercest antagonists of the priests we know the contrary, and of
+one troubadour only, Aimeric de Pegulhan, we are told parenthetically
+that he died in Italy, ‘en eretgia segon c’om ditz’—‘a heretic, as people
+say.’
+
+Of the few troubadours prominently mentioned on the side of the Pope,
+one, Uc de St. Cyr, lived chiefly in Italy; another, Perdigon, had to pay
+dearly for his apostasy. When, after the battle of Muret, he rejoiced
+in the misfortune of his benefactor, the noble Peter of Aragon, society
+seems to have laid its interdict on him, and he had to hide his shame in
+a convent, where he died. Of much greater importance than either is the
+celebrated Folquet of Marseilles, whose name, as Bishop of Toulouse, and
+as one of the most zealous persecutors of his heretical countrymen, has
+more than once been mentioned in these pages. The life and character of
+this man are a psychological problem of deepest interest; his career was
+varied and inconsistent in itself—so inconsistent that the identity of
+troubadour and bishop has been doubted. But there is no reason for such a
+doubt, historical or psychological, as we shall presently see.
+
+The birthplace of Folquet cannot be ascertained with absolute certainty.
+Most likely he was a native of Marseilles, where his father possessed a
+large amount of property. It had been acquired by mercantile pursuits,
+continued for a time by the poet himself after his father’s death, if
+we may believe an allusion in the Monk of Montaudon’s satire. Folquet,
+however, did not follow his father’s calling for long. He lived amongst
+the gay and fashionable at the courts of the great nobles, where his
+graceful bearing and his poetical gift made him a welcome guest. One of
+his protectors was Barral, Viscount of Marseilles, and it was his wife,
+Azalais, who became the poet’s idol, and may be regarded as the final aim
+and cause of all his further thoughts and deeds; including his ultimate
+conversion, I do not hesitate to add. Their intercourse was not one of
+the conventional flirtations so common between troubadours and high-born
+ladies. Neither was it a mutual and guilty passion, such as existed
+between Guillem de Cabestanh and Margarida. The old biographer lays
+particular stress on the fact, that ‘neither by his prayers nor by his
+songs could he ever move her to show him favour by right of love; and for
+that reason he always complains of love in his songs.’
+
+These songs fully bear out the statement of the manuscript. Their one
+almost incessant theme is love’s disappointment. But this theme Folquet
+treats like an artist. He avoids monotony by an ever new array of
+striking similes and allegories in which he clothes his longing. What,
+for instance, can indicate the hesitation of a timorous though passionate
+lover better than the image of a man who has reached the middle of a
+tree, and does not ascend further or regain the earth, for fear of losing
+his chance or his life? Two stanzas of the poem in which it occurs
+may follow here in the original. They are full of sweetness, and will
+not offer serious difficulties to the reader, if he will consult the
+subjoined translation, which I have tried to make as literal as possible.
+The graceful intertwining of the rhymes bears witness to Folquet’s
+consummate workmanship, and deserves the attention of modern poets.
+
+    CANZOS.
+
+    S’al cor plagues ben for’ ueimais sazos
+    De far canson per joia mantener;
+    Mas tan mi fai m’aventura doler,—
+    Quan bem cossir los bes els mals qu’ieu ai—
+    Que tug dizon que ricx sui e bem vai.
+    Mas cel qu’o ditz non sap ges ben lo ver:
+    Benenansa non pot negus aver
+    D’aquela re, mas d’aquo qu’al cor plai.
+    Per que n’a mais us paubres s’es joyos
+    Q’us ricx ses joy, qu’es tot l’an cossiros.
+
+    E s’ieu anc jorn fui gays ni amoros,
+    Er non ai joy d’amor ni non l’esper;
+    Ni autres bes nom pot al cor plazer,
+    Ans mi semblan tug autre joy esmai.
+    Pero d’amor lo ver vos en dirai:
+    Nom lais del tot ni no m’en puesc mover
+    Ni sus no vau, ni no puesc remaner;
+    Aissi cum sel qu’en mieg de l’arbr’estai,
+    Qu’es tan poiatz que non pot tornar jos
+    Ni sus no vai, tan li par temeros.
+
+    _Translation._
+
+    But for my heart, this would the season be
+    To sing of love and joy a joyous song;
+    But grievously I suffer from the wrong,—
+    Seeing the good and evil of my case—
+    Which all men do me when my fate they praise;
+    Who speaks suchwise is of the foolish throng,
+    Who know not that the joys of life belong
+    To none but who receives them with good grace.
+    Wherefore a joyous heart in poverty
+    Is better far than wealth and misery.
+
+    Maybe I once was happy for a space,
+    But joy and hope of love have passed away;
+    No other good can make me blithe and gay,
+    For all the world I hold in dire disdain.
+    Of love the full truth let me now explain:
+    I cannot leave it, nor yet on my way
+    Pass back or forward, neither can I stay;
+    Like one who mounts a tree mid-high, and fain
+    Would mount still higher, or downward move apace,
+    But fear and tremor bind him in his place.
+
+His father’s wealth, it is evident, was of little use to poor Folquet,
+and we can quite understand his chafing at the folly of men who would
+insist on envying his brilliant misery. For all his early dreams of
+happiness had been dispelled by the stern virtue of a woman.
+
+It seems, however, that although unwilling to grant him any favour,
+the fair Azalais was extremely jealous of the poet’s praise. This, at
+least, would appear from an anecdote in the manuscript. Count Barral
+had two sisters residing at his court, with whom Folquet lived on terms
+of intimate friendship. But his mistress did not believe in Platonic
+relations between troubadours and young ladies at court. Her jealousy
+fixed on one of her sisters-in-law, the lady Laura, of whom she declared
+Folquet to be enamoured. She refused to see her lover again, ‘and would
+have no more of his prayers and fine words,’ as the biographer naïvely
+adds. Folquet was in despair; ‘he left off singing and laughing, for
+he had lost the lady whom he loved more than the whole world for one
+with whom he had no connection beyond courtesy.’ This assertion of the
+manuscript deserves our belief. It is quite possible, and indeed seems
+indicated by a passage in one of his songs, that Folquet affected a
+tender feeling for Laura in order to divert the attention of spies, but
+his real passion was all for Azalais. His songs and his conduct leave no
+doubt on the subject. It is an open question whether the intercession
+of a noble lady sought by Folquet obtained him the full pardon of his
+mistress. But certain it is that he remained invariably attached to
+her through good and evil report. For misfortune was in store for the
+countess. Barral, for some reason or other, got tired of his wife,
+obtained an invalidation of his marriage, and wedded another lady.
+Folquet’s position was difficult. The count was his oldest friend and
+protector, whom he loved sincerely, as is proved by the beautiful elegy
+on his death, which ensued soon afterwards. But no considerations of
+worldly prospects or friendship could shake his allegiance to the lady of
+his love. We possess songs dedicated to her subsequent to the separation,
+in one of which, written the year after Barral’s decease, the praise of
+the count is, curiously enough, addressed to his divorced widow. Perhaps
+the great peacemaker Death had taken the sting from her resentment, and
+the pair loved to linger over the memory of the departed.
+
+From one of Folquet’s songs it has been concluded that, tired of his
+purposeless endeavours, he at last broke off his relation with Azalais.
+The poem is one of Folquet’s finest and most characteristic efforts,
+containing a violent impeachment of Love himself. ‘Too late,’ the poet
+says, ‘I have discovered Love’s falsehood. I am like one who swears
+never to gamble again after he has lost his whole fortune.’ He further
+complains that for more than ten years Love has been his bad debtor,
+promising payment and never keeping the promise, and at last he solemnly
+renounces his allegiance to the faithless god. The protest is forcible
+and well expressed; but it is by no means proved that the poet acted
+upon his wise resolution. On several previous occasions he had expressed
+similar resolutions, but always with little or no effect either on
+himself or on his cruel lady; and we find, indeed, not without a smile at
+the incongruity of the poetic mind, that the identical song in question
+is dedicated to Azalais.
+
+At last the lady’s death relieved him from his thraldom, but only to
+deliver him over to another still more fateful passion. The manuscript
+relates how this event, together with the loss of some of his dearest
+friends, preyed on the poet’s mind, and how in a fit of melancholy
+he renounced the world, together with his wife and two sons, who are
+mentioned for the first time on this occasion. Folquet joined the order
+of Citeaux, and soon became abbot of a rich monastery, from which
+position he not long afterwards was raised to the still more important
+one of Bishop of Toulouse. To his new vocation he brought the same
+zeal, the same perseverance, which marked his wooing of Azalais. It was
+the same flood of passion turned into a different channel. So far there
+is nothing to reproach in Folquet’s conduct, and we even can sympathise
+with a man in whom all worldly desire dies with the one object of his
+passion. But his zeal against the heretics, carried to the pitch of cruel
+persecution, forms an unjustifiable complement to his asceticism. Neither
+can we excuse Folquet’s violent hatred against Raimon VI. of Toulouse,
+at whose father’s hands the troubadour had received much kindness.
+Considered in this light, the scene at the Council of the Lateran, where
+the glib-tongued poet is employed to compass the Count’s ruin, gains a
+new and sinister meaning. Poetry itself Folquet seems to have abandoned
+on his entering the monastery. We possess of him only one religious song,
+a passionate expression of remorse and of terror at an impending eternal
+punishment, which most likely belongs to the time of his conversion.
+It is pleasant to think that his art at least remained undefiled by
+fanaticism.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+GUILLEM FIGUEIRA AND PEIRE CARDINAL.
+
+
+Against Folquet of Marseilles scores of troubadours might be named,
+who boldly espoused the cause of their country and of liberty against
+Frenchmen and priests. The opposition to the encroachments of the latter
+was of course not confined to Provence. The weaknesses of the clergy
+were known equally well to trouvères and troubadours, to Walther von der
+Vogelweide and the German minnesingers, and to Chaucer, and the author
+of ‘Piers the Ploughman.’ But nowhere was the conflict between clerical
+and temporal powers more bitter, nowhere were the questions at stake
+more important and more universally felt to be such, than in the South
+of France. Moreover, the satire of many of the troubadours received
+additional sting from personal injury. The prolonged siege which Guy of
+Cavaillon had to sustain in his castle was not likely to incline him
+favourably towards his oppressors, and the furious onslaught on the
+avarice of the French conquerors from the pen of Boniface de Castellane
+is evidently founded on bitterest and most immediate experience. Neither
+is there cause for wonder that the gentry in black gowns and white
+hoods, mentioned by Guillem de Montanhagol in his powerful _sirventes_
+against the cruelties and folly of the Inquisition, were not an
+altogether lovely sight in the eyes of that poet.
+
+Amongst the troubadours prominently engaged in the great struggle of
+their time, two distinct types may be recognised. One is the poetic
+freelance impatient of all restraint, and therefore doubly incensed at
+the oppression of both moral and religious liberties, the word ‘liberty,’
+in his parlance, being not unfrequently a synonym of ‘licence.’ A man
+of this stamp was Guillem Figueira, the hater of priests. ‘He was,’ the
+manuscript says, ‘of Toulouse, the son of a tailor, and a tailor himself.
+When the French took Toulouse, he went to live in Lombardy, and he knew
+well how to make songs and how to sing them; and he became a joglar among
+the citizens. He was not a man to get on with barons or gentle-folks,
+but he made himself most agreeable to loose women and landlords and
+pothouse-keepers; and whenever he saw a good courtier come near him he
+grew wroth and melancholy, and at once he set about humiliating him.’
+
+This by no means flattering portrait ought to be received with caution;
+maybe it was drawn by one of the ‘good courtiers’ who had experienced
+the poet’s cynical humour. A cynic Guillem no doubt was, a lover of
+low-life realism, defying polite society among his boon companions of the
+tavern, a genius akin to Rutebœuf, and Villon, and Rabelais. But there
+is nothing debased or debauched in his poetry, as far as we can judge
+by the specimens remaining to us, although the unreserved violence of
+his invective is remarkable even amongst the works of those keenest of
+satirists, the troubadours. One of his _sirventeses_ is noticeable by
+the word ‘Rome,’ uttered with the emphasis of hatred at the beginning of
+every stanza. In it the Church is held responsible for an infinitude of
+political and moral crimes, and the climax of invective is reached in the
+final outburst of angry passion.
+
+‘Rome, with wily prudence thou layest thy snares, and many a vile morsel
+thou devourest in spite of the hungry. Thou hast the semblance of the
+lamb, thy countenance is so innocent, but in thy heart thou art a rabid
+wolf, a crowned snake engendered by a viper, wherefore the devil greets
+thee as the friend of his heart.’
+
+It is a curious fact that the Church on this occasion was valiantly
+defended by a lady, Gomonde of Montpelier, who pays the furious poet in
+his own coin, and threatens him with the death of the heretic.
+
+Another _sirventes_ by Guillem directed against the vices of the clergy
+is marked by the same immoderate language, but a foundation of truth is
+unmistakably at the bottom of his extravagant structure of abuse. The
+following stanza, for instance, is eminently characteristic of orthodox
+tactics:—
+
+‘If you say a word against them (the priests), they accuse you, and you
+find yourself excommunicated. If you refuse to pay, there is no peace or
+friendship to be hoped from them. Holy Virgin, Lady Mary, let me see the
+day when I need no longer go in fear of them.’
+
+A man of a very different stamp from the well-meaning but somewhat
+inconsiderate and irresponsible Guillem Figueira, was the great Peire
+Cardinal, who may represent the second and much higher type of the
+anti-clerical troubadour. A biographical notice of about twenty lines,
+signed by one Michael de la Tor, is all the information we possess of the
+poet’s life. According to this sketch, Peire Cardinal was born at Puy
+Notre Dame, in the province of Velay, or Veillac, as the old manuscript
+calls it. He was of good parentage, ‘the son of a knight and a lady,’
+and was in his childhood destined for the Church. ‘And when he came to
+man’s estate he was attracted by the vanity of the world, for he found
+himself gay and handsome and young. And he made many beautiful poems and
+songs; few _canzos_, but many _sirventeses_ fine and excellent. And in
+these _sirventeses_ he gave many good reasons and examples for those who
+rightly understand them; and he greatly reproached the false clergy, as
+is shown by his _sirventeses_. And he went to the courts of kings and
+gentle barons with his joglar, who sang his _sirventeses_.’ According
+to the same account, Peire Cardinal lived up to nearly a hundred
+years. Another remarkable circumstance told of him is his knowledge
+of reading and writing—an accomplishment by no means common amongst
+troubadours—which he owed to his early training for the Church.
+
+Peire Cardinal is the unrivalled master of the _sirventes_, in its
+most important forms—the personal, the political, the moral, and the
+religious. The last two only concern us here more immediately. But a
+few remarks are necessary to indicate the poet’s manner and his general
+conception of the world. This conception is melancholy to a degree. Like
+most great masters of satire and humour, Peire Cardinal is a confirmed
+pessimist. The world appears to him as one vast conglomeration of
+selfishness and vice—a madhouse, inhabited by fools, whose remaining
+sense is just sufficient for them to recognise and hate a man of genius.
+This moody philosophy he has embodied in the original and striking
+treatment of a well-known story, which deserves our particular attention
+as one of the very few instances of narrative illustration in the poems
+of the troubadours.
+
+‘There was a city,’ Peire Cardinal says, ‘I don’t know where, in which
+rain fell one day of such a kind, that all the inhabitants who were
+touched by it lost their reason. All went mad but one, who happened to
+be asleep in his house at the time. This one, when he woke, rose, and,
+as the rain had ceased, went out amongst the people, who were all raving
+mad. One had his clothes on, the other was naked; one was spitting up
+to the sky, another threw stones, another logs of wood, another tore
+his gown.... One thought he was a king, and put on noble airs; another
+jumped over benches. Some threatened, others cursed; some were crying,
+some laughing, others talking they knew not what about, others making
+grimaces. He who had kept his sense was much astonished, for he saw they
+were mad; and he looked up and down to see if he could discover any one
+reasonable, but in vain: there was none. And he was greatly surprised
+at them, but much more were they at him when they saw he remained
+reasonable. They were sure he must be mad, as he failed to do as they
+did.’
+
+The surprise of the fools soon is converted into rage. They knock him
+down, and trample on him; they push him, and pull him, and beat him; at
+last, he is glad to escape into his house, thrashed, covered with mud,
+and more dead than alive.
+
+‘This fable,’ the poet exclaims, ‘depicts the world and all who inhabit
+it; and our age is the city chokeful of madmen. The highest wisdom is
+to love and fear God, and to obey his commandments. But now that wisdom
+is lost, the rain has fallen: covetousness has come, and pride and
+viciousness, which have attacked all the people. And if God honours one
+amongst them, the others think him mad, and revile him, for God’s wisdom
+appears to them folly. But the friend of God, wherever he be, knows them
+to be the fools, for they have lost the wisdom of God; and they think him
+mad, because he has abandoned the wisdom of the world.’
+
+These are words of a man of genius, who has experienced the buffetings
+of adverse fortune, and the scorn of a world incapable or unwilling
+to fathom his depth. Morbid words, if the reader likes, but forcibly
+uttered, and instinct with a noble disdain of the fashions and follies of
+the day. But Peire Cardinal’s grievances were not of a narrow, egotistic
+kind. His poems reflect the sad time in which he lived, and the national
+disaster which he witnessed with deepest indignation. The avarice and
+selfishness of clergy and laity, the want of patriotic feeling, the
+barbarism prevailing amongst the nobles, and other evils fostered
+by those troublous times of internal and external warfare, are the
+favourite subjects of the poet’s satire. It need hardly be added that his
+sympathies were all with the South against the North. Raimon VI. is his
+chosen hero, whom he encourages with his songs, and in whose temporary
+success he rejoices. ‘At Toulouse,’ he sings, ‘there is Raimon the Count;
+may God protect him! As water flows from the fountain, so chivalry comes
+from him. Against the worst of men—nay, against the whole world—he
+defends himself. Frenchmen and priests cannot resist him. To the good he
+is humble and condescending; the wicked he destroys.’
+
+In his accusations of the clergy, Peire is violent and sweeping; almost
+as violent as Guillem Figueira himself. But his censure almost always
+proceeds from a general motive; the difference between the two is that
+between a scholar and politician and a pamphleteer. Peire’s language,
+when he speaks of the domineering propensities of the priests, is
+as bitter as can be imagined, but his anger is founded on historic
+considerations of deepest import. It is the decay of the temporal power
+he deplores. ‘Formerly, kings and emperors, dukes, counts and comtors[29]
+and knights used to govern the world; but now priests have usurped
+its dominion with rapine and treachery and hypocrisy, with force and
+persuasion. They are incensed if everything is not conceded to them, and
+it must be done sooner or later.’ In another _sirventes_, Peire Cardinal
+alludes to the amiable habit of the priests—also mentioned by Guillem
+Figueira—of calling everyone a Vaudois or heretic who dares to resist
+their encroachments.
+
+One of the most forcible of Peire’s songs is directed against the
+avarice and covetousness of the priests, whom he compares to vultures
+scenting a dead body. In the same _sirventes_ we meet with one of those
+grand reflections which raise Peire Cardinal from the level of the mere
+satirist to that of the great moral poet. ‘Do you know,’ he says, ‘what
+becomes of the riches of those who have unjustly acquired them? A mighty
+robber will come, who will leave them nothing. His name is Death; he will
+prostrate them, and entangle them in a net four yards in length, and they
+will be sent to a house of misery.’
+
+It remains to point out one more feature of Peire’s works, which
+distinguishes them from those of all his brother poets. The troubadours,
+it has been said, had a wise and beneficial horror of theology. There
+is, as far as the present writer is aware, not a trace in their works
+of the slightest interest taken by any of them in the scholastic
+controversies of Catholics and heretics. The only exception to this
+rule is a _sirventes_ by Peire Cardinal, to which short reference has
+previously been made. Peire, as has been mentioned before, had received a
+learned education; he could read and write, and was evidently not without
+considerable claims to scholarship, according to the standard of his
+age. He was no doubt well versed in the absurd and hideously realistic
+conceptions of hell and purgatory with which mediæval theologians and
+preachers loved to fill the imagination of their audiences. His poem
+reads like a gentle satire, from the poet’s point of view, on their
+barren discussions. The boldness of his conception and language is at the
+same time astonishing in a writer of the thirteenth century,
+
+‘I will begin a new _sirventes_,’ he says, ‘which I shall repeat on the
+day of judgment to Him who made and fashioned me out of nothing. If He
+reproaches me of anything, and wishes to give me over to damnation, I
+shall say: ‘Lord, have mercy on me, for I have struggled with the wicked
+world all my life; now save me by your grace from torment.’
+
+‘And His whole court shall wonder when they hear my plea. For I say that
+He is unjust towards His own if He delivers them to eternal punishment.
+For he who loses what he might gain cannot complain of his loss.
+Therefore He ought to be gentle and indulgent so as to retain the souls
+of sinners.
+
+‘His gate ought not to be guarded, and St. Peter has little honour
+through being the porter. Every soul that wishes ought to be allowed to
+enter smiling. For that court is little to my liking where one laughs
+while others cry; and however great the king may be we shall find fault
+with him if he refuses us entrance.
+
+‘I will not despair, and on you, O Lord, my good hope is founded.
+Therefore you must save my soul and body, and comfort me in the hour of
+death. And I will propose to you a good alternative. Either send me back
+to where I came from on the day of my birth, or forgive me my faults. For
+I should not have committed them if I had not been born.’
+
+And with this poem, which teaches a deep truth in a half-playful manner,
+we must take leave of Peire Cardinal. His character is of an elevated
+type, and his gifts would do honour to any literature. He is undoubtedly
+the foremost representative of moral poetry amongst the troubadours.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+LADIES AND LADY TROUBADOURS.
+
+
+In a poetry so thoroughly imbued with one prevailing passion as is
+that of the troubadours, and in the civilisation of which this poetry
+is the utterance, woman naturally occupied a most important place. But
+to define this place is a matter of some difficulty. The poems of the
+troubadours themselves give us but scanty information in this respect.
+We there hear a great deal of the incomparable charms of Provençal
+ladies; their loving-kindness is extolled, or their cruelty complained
+of. But in few cases only are we enabled to realise from generalities
+of this kind an individual human being with individual passions or
+caprices. It would, indeed, be impossible even to decipher the numerous
+_senhals_ or nicknames under which the poets were obliged to hide the
+real names of their lady-loves from the watchfulness of evil tongues and
+cruel husbands, but for the aid of the Provençal biographies of the old
+troubadours, which in most cases offer a welcome clue to the identity of
+these pseudonymous flames.
+
+It is by this means that we gain cognisance of the beautiful ladies
+of Provence—such as the three sisters, Maenz of Montignac, Elise of
+Montfort, and Maria of Ventadour—praised in impassioned song by Bertran
+de Born, Gaucelm Faidit, and other troubadours; and of that lovely lady
+with an unlovely name, Loba (she-wolf) of Penautier, who turned the
+fantastic brain of Peire Vidal, and sent him into the wilderness clad
+in a wolf’s skin—a practical pun on the name of his mistress. From such
+hints as are found in these biographies and other contemporary sources,
+one may form a tangible idea of a Provençal lady of the twelfth or
+thirteenth century; of her position in society; and, most of all, of her
+decisive influence on the poetry of the troubadours.
+
+What was the type of the lady of Provence of whom so much has been said
+in verse and prose? Was she a demure, well-conducted person clad in sober
+colours, mending stockings and cutting bread and butter for the children;
+a model housewife, in fact, such as might be found in a best-possible
+world of Mrs. Lynn Linton’s devising? Or was she, on the other hand, a
+progressively minded female, despising the frivolities of society, and
+thirsting for medical degrees and the franchise, or whatever may have
+been the mediæval equivalents of these much-desired prerogatives? I fear
+that even Margarida de Rossilho, ‘the lady most praised of her time for
+all that is praiseworthy, and noble, and courteous,’ would have fallen
+far short of these divergent ideals of our latter days. Her main purpose
+of existence was—shocking though it may sound—altogether not practical,
+but ornamental. It was her choice and her duty to wield in a society,
+only just emerging from barbarism, the softening influence to which we
+owe the phenomenon of a highly finished literature and of an astonishing
+degree of social refinement at the very outset of the mediæval epoch.
+Whether this result was altogether unworthy of woman’s mission in the
+history of civilisation graver judges must decide.
+
+There is extant, dating from about the middle of the thirteenth
+century, a curious poem in rhymed couplets entitled ‘L’essenhamen de la
+donzela que fe Amanieus des Escas com apela dieu d’amors;’ _Anglicè_:
+‘Instruction to a young lady, composed by Sir Amanieu des Escas, called
+God of Love.’ In this treatise we are supplied with a minute account of
+the accomplishments expected from a well-educated young lady, and of the
+bad habits most prejudicial to her character. The poet is supposed to
+be addressing a noble damsel living at the court of some great baron,
+as a sort of ‘lady-help’ to his wife; this being a not unusual, and
+undoubtedly a most efficient, method of polite education in Provence.
+The young lady has accosted Amanieu on a lonely walk, asking for his
+advice in matters fashionable. This the poet at first refuses to tender,
+alleging that ‘you (the damsel) have ten times as much sense as I, and
+that is the truth.’ But, after his modest scruples are once overcome,
+he launches forth into a flood of good counsel. He systematically
+begins with enforcing the good old doctrine of ‘early to rise;’ touches
+delicately on the mysteries of the early toilet, such as lacing, washing
+of arms, hands, and head, which, he sententiously adds, ought to go
+before the first-mentioned process; and, after briefly referring to the
+especial care required by teeth and nails, he leaves the dressing-room
+for the church, where a quiet, undemonstrative attitude is recommended;
+the illicit use of eyes and tongue being mentioned amongst the
+temptations peculiarly to be avoided. Directions of similar minuteness
+assist the young lady at the dinner table; the cases in which it would be
+good taste, and those in which it would be the reverse, to invite persons
+to a share of the dishes within her reach are specified; and the rules
+as to carving, washing one’s hands before and after dinner, and similar
+matters, leave nothing to be desired. ‘Always temper your wine with
+water, so that it cannot do you harm,’ is another maxim of undeniable
+wisdom.
+
+After dinner follows the time of polite conversation in the _sala_
+(drawing-room), the arbour, or on the battlements of the castle; and
+now the teachings of Amanieu become more and more animated, and are
+enlivened occasionally by practical illustrations of great interest.
+‘And if at this season,’ he says, ‘a gentleman takes you aside, and
+wishes to talk of courtship to you, do not show a strange or sullen
+behaviour, but defend yourself with pleasant and pretty repartees. And
+if his talk annoys you, and makes you uneasy, I advise you to ask him
+questions, for instance: “Which ladies do you think are more handsome,
+those of Gascony or England; and which are more courteous, and faithful,
+and good?” And if he says those of Gascony, answer without hesitation:
+“Sir, by your leave, English ladies are more courteous than those of
+any other country.” But if he prefers those of England, tell him Gascon
+ladies are much better behaved; and thus carry on the discussion, and
+call your companions to you to decide the questions.’ I defy any modern
+professor of deportment to indicate a more graceful and appropriate way
+of giving a harmless turn to a conversation, or cutting short an awkward
+_tête-à-tête_.
+
+And the same sense of tact and social ease pervades the remainder of the
+poem, which consists chiefly of valuable hints how to accept and how to
+refuse an offer of marriage without giving more encouragement or more
+offence than necessary. Upon the whole, it must be admitted that ‘Amanieu
+des Escas, called God of Love,’ although undoubtedly a pedant, is the
+least objectionable and tedious pedant that ever preached ‘the graces’
+from the days of Thomasin of Zerclaere to those of Lord Chesterfield. But
+the important point for us is the enormous weight attached to these rules
+of etiquette in the education of the Provençal lady. Again and again the
+advantages of _cortesia_, _avinensa_, and whatever the numerous other
+terms for a graceful, courteous behaviour may be, are emphasised: ‘even
+the enemy of all your friends ought to find you civil-spoken,’ the poet
+exclaims in a fit of polite enthusiasm. However exaggerated and one-sided
+this point of view may appear to the reader, he ought to remember that
+in primitive societies the code of ethics can be enforced alone by the
+power of custom; the derivation, indeed, of our word morality from the
+Latin _mores_ is by no means a mere etymological coincidence.
+
+Prepared by an education such as I have tried to sketch, the lady
+generally contracted a marriage at an early age, the choice of a husband
+being in most cases determined by her parents or her feudal overlord. In
+the higher classes of society—and these alone concern us here—her own
+inclination was taken into little account. Her position at the head of
+a great baron’s family was by no means an easy one. She had to soften
+the coarse habits and words of the warlike nobles; and, on the other
+hand, to curb the amorous boldness of the gay troubadours who thronged
+the courts of the great barons. The difficulties and temptations of such
+a situation were great, and further increased by the perfect liberty
+which, in ancient as in modern France, married ladies seem to have
+enjoyed. Indirect, but none the less conclusive, evidence establishes
+this point beyond doubt. We hear, for instance, of ladies travelling
+about the country without attendance; like the pretty wives of Sir Guari
+and Sir Bernart, whom Count William of Poitiers deceived by acting a
+deaf-and-dumb pilgrim. Even the dueña, as a regular institution at least,
+seems to have been unknown in Provence. There certainly were jealous
+husbands who tried to protect their wives from gallant intrusion by
+watchfulness and strict confinement. The husband of the lovely Flamenca
+is an example of such fruitless care. But his fate could not invite
+imitation; and the universal horror expressed by all gallant knights and
+ladies at this fictitious and at some real instances of similar cruelty,
+sufficiently proves the high degree of personal freedom enjoyed by the
+ladies of Southern France.
+
+That this freedom was frequently abused is, unfortunately, no matter
+of doubt. France is not, and never has been, a prosperous climate for
+the growth of wedded happiness. The heroines of all the love-stories
+connected with the history of the troubadours are, indeed, with not
+a single exception that I am aware of, married ladies. This fact is
+certainly of deep significance, but its importance ought not to be
+overrated. We must remember that the troubadours and their biographers
+were by nature and profession inclined to magnify the force and
+extension of the great passion. Frequently they may, and in some cases
+we positively know that they did, mistake gracious condescension for
+responsive love; and to accept all their statements _au pied de la
+lettre_ would be about as advisable as to judge the institution of
+marriage in modern France solely by the works of Flaubert and Ernest
+Feydeau. In many cases, however, the perfect innocence of the relations
+between the troubadour and the lady he celebrates is fully acknowledged
+by all parties. It was the privilege of high-born and high-minded women
+to protect and favour poetry, and to receive in return the troubadours’
+homage. It is in this beautiful character as admirer and patroness of
+the literature of her country, that I wish first to consider the lady of
+Provence. In the choice of an individual instance of the relation alluded
+to, I have been guided by a feeling of historic, not to say poetic,
+justice.
+
+History and fiction have vied with each other in painting the picture
+of Eleanor, wife of Henry II. of England, in the darkest colours. The
+former convicts her of faithlessness to two husbands, and of conspiracy
+with her own sons against their father; the latter charges her with the
+murder of Rosamond Clifford. Any redeeming feature in such a character
+ought to be welcome to the believer in human nature. Her connection with
+Bernart de Ventadorn, one of the sweetest and purest of troubadours, is
+such a feature. The poet came to her court in sorrow. The lady he loved
+had been torn from him, and it was by her own desire that he left her and
+the country where she dwelt. He now turned to Eleanor for comfort and
+sympathy, and his hope was not disappointed. The old Provençal biography
+of Bernart is provokingly laconic with regard to the subject. ‘He went to
+the Duchess of Normandy,’ it says, ‘who was young and of great worth, and
+knew how to appreciate worth and honour, and he said much in her praise.
+And she admired the _canzos_ and verses of Bernart. And she received
+him very well, and bade him welcome. And he stayed at her court a long
+time, and became enamoured of her, and she of him, and he composed many
+beautiful songs of her. And while he was with her King Henry of England
+made her his wife, and took her away from Normandy with him. And from
+that time Bernart remained sad and woful.’
+
+This statement is incorrect in more than one respect, and may be cited
+as another instance of the desire on the part of the ancient biographers
+to give a dramatic, and at the same time an erotic, turn to the stories
+of their heroes. The allegation of the poet’s prolonged courtship of
+the Duchess of Normandy having been interrupted by the lady’s marriage
+with Henry is self-contradictory, for the simple reason that she became
+Duchess of Normandy and took up her residence in that country in
+consequence of this identical marriage, which took place in the same year
+with her separation from Louis VII. of France. Moreover, all the songs
+known to us as having been addressed by the poet to Eleanor are written
+after Henry’s accession to the English throne. One of these songs, in
+which Bernart calls himself ‘a Norman or Englishman for the king’s sake,’
+was most likely composed in England, whither Bernart had followed the
+court of his supposed rival.
+
+The same songs tend also to throw grave doubts on another statement
+of the old manuscript—that with regard to the mutual passion between
+lady and troubadour. It is true that his devotion frequently adopts the
+language of love; but there is no evidence to show that this love was
+returned by anything but friendship and kindness. He never boasts of
+favours granted, as troubadours were but too prone to do, and the joyful
+expectation expressed in one of his poems is evidently and confessedly
+a hope against hope. One somewhat obscure remark of the poet seems to
+indicate that King Henry did not regard the matter in an altogether
+innocent light. The line reads thus in the original Provençal: ‘Per vos
+me sui del rei partiz;’ which means, ‘For your sake I have parted from
+the king,’ and seems to indicate some sort of disagreement between the
+poet and the lady’s husband. But, supposing even that Henry’s jealousy
+were proved by this vague hint, we are not for that reason obliged
+to adopt his suspicions. Internal evidence points strongly towards a
+different relation—a relation much more common between the ladies and
+poets of Provence than is generally believed, and which is marked by
+fervent admiration on the one side, and by helpful and gentle, but
+irreproachable, kindness on the other.
+
+Frequently, however, the case was different. Not all ladies were
+inexorable: not all troubadours contented with a purely ideal worship.
+Ardent wooings led to passionate attachments, and lovers’ bliss was
+frequently followed by lovers’ quarrels. Such quarrels—or, it might be,
+differences of opinion on abstract points of love and gallantry—were,
+as we know, discussed in a poetic form: the ‘_tenso_,’ or ‘song of
+contention,’ being especially reserved for that purpose. It was mostly
+on occasions of this kind that ladies took up the lute and mingled their
+voices with the chorus of Provençal singers. The names of fourteen
+gifted women have in this manner been transmitted to us—a very modest
+figure, seeing that the entire number of the troubadours is close upon
+four hundred. But even of these fourteen lady-troubadours few, if any,
+seem to have been professional or even amateur poets. The works of most
+of them are exceedingly few in number, consisting, in several cases, of
+a single song or part of a _tenso_. This reticence on the part of the
+ladies cannot be praised too highly; it explains to us at the same time
+their position in the literary movement of their time. Literature in the
+twelfth and thirteenth centuries was a lucrative and honourable calling,
+followed by many members of the poorer nobility and of the lower classes.
+Professional singers of this kind naturally depended on their productions
+for a livelihood. Hence the number, and hence also the occasional
+coldness and formality, of their songs.
+
+But this was different with women. With them poetry was not an
+employment, but an inward necessity. They poured forth their mirth
+or their grief, and after that relapsed into silence. Even Clara of
+Anduse, the brilliant and beautiful lady who conquered the obstinate
+indifference of Uc de St. Cyr, the celebrated troubadour, and who is
+described as ambitious of literary fame, does not seem to have sinned by
+over-production. Only one of her songs remains to us, and there is no
+reason to believe that time has been more than usually destructive to her
+works.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+BEATRICE DE DIE.
+
+
+The only lady-troubadour of whose poems we possess a sufficient number
+to allow of a fair judgment of her capability is the Countess Beatrice
+de Die. She may also serve to illustrate the essentially subjective
+conception of the art of poetry which marks the phase in literature
+alluded to. The unvarying subject of her songs is the story of her love;
+without this passion she would have remained mute. Her first song is the
+embodiment of new-awakened happiness; her last a dirge over hopes dead
+and lost.
+
+‘The Countess de Die,’ says the old manuscript, ‘was the wife of Guillem
+de Poitou and a good and beautiful lady; she became enamoured of Rambaut
+of Orange, and wrote many fine poems of him.’ This Rambaut was the third
+ruler of that name of the country of Aurenga or Orange, in the south of
+France, from which the Dutch line of the house of Nassau derived its
+name. The English cavaliers, by the way, were considerably out in their
+etymological reckoning when they derisively squeezed the orange.
+
+Rambaut is well known as the author of numerous poems, some of them
+rather coarse in character. One of his songs is metrically curious by the
+poet relapsing at the end of every stanza into a few lines of prose, in
+which admirers of Walt Whitman will perhaps discover rhythm. In another
+poem he gives an elaborate prescription for gaining the hearts and
+bending the minds of women, quite in the spirit of the coarsest scenes
+of the _Taming of the Shrew_. The apparent disagreement of the poet with
+his own rules expressed in one stanza does not much alter the case in his
+favour, neither can we consider his calling one of his lady-loves by the
+nickname ‘my Devil’ a sign of refinement on his part. The exaggerated
+and boldly uttered opinion of his own poetic power is an additional
+unpleasant feature of Rambaut’s character. His songs to Beatrice de Die,
+of which several remain, are marked by extravagant gallantry rather than
+by true feeling. It may, for instance, be doubted whether the lady had
+much reason to be pleased with compliments of this kind: ‘The joy you
+give me is such that a thousand doleful people would be made merry by my
+joy. And on my joy my whole family could live with joy without eating.’
+
+The reader will notice the frequent repetition of the word ‘joy,’ which
+occurs once in every line of the stanza. This is an instance of the
+artificialities in which many troubadours, Rambaut of Orange foremost
+amongst the number, took pride. A similar metrical contrivance is found
+in another song by the same poet, most likely also addressed to the
+Countess de Die. It is called the ‘_rim dictional_,’ and consists of the
+combination, in the rhyming syllables, of two words which can be derived
+from each other by either adding or deducting one or more syllables.
+Thus, for instance, the feminine and masculine forms of the adjective
+and participle; _at-ada_, _ut-uda_ stand in the relation of ‘dictional
+rhymes.’ It is sadly significant to see that this silly contrivance has
+been adopted by Beatrice de Die in the song which expresses the fulness
+of her loving bliss. Perhaps it would be too bold to conjecture without
+additional evidence that, in this as in so many cases, the teacher had
+developed into the lover; but this sign of intellectual dependence is
+at any rate highly characteristic. To give the reader an idea of the
+sweetness of Beatrice’s metre and diction, I will quote one stanza of the
+poem alluded to in the original.
+
+    Ab joi et ab joven m’apais
+      E jois e jovens m’apaia;
+    Qar mos amics es lo plus gais
+      Per q’ieu sui coindet’ e gaia.
+    E pois ieu li sui veraia
+      Bes tanh q’el me sia verais.
+    Qanc de lui amar nom estrais
+      Ni ai en cor quem n’estraia.
+
+‘With joy and youth I am content; may joy and youth give me contentment!
+For my friend is most joyous, therefore I am amiable and gay. And as I am
+true to him, true he must be to me. For I do not withhold my love from
+him, so neither can I think that he should withhold his from me.’
+
+Unfortunately the serene sky of this happiness was soon to be
+overclouded. We can distinctly recognise the mutual position of the
+lovers. Count Rambaut, if he had at any time felt a serious passion for
+Beatrice, soon got over that weakness. In vain he tries to hide his
+apathy from the keen glance of the loving woman. She is appeased for
+the moment by his grandiloquent vows of eternal devotion; but soon her
+suspicion awakes again with renewed strength. Such are the feelings which
+have inspired the admirable _tenso_ respectively ascribed to Rambaut and
+Beatrice, but most likely composed by both of them in alternate stanzas
+of reproach and excuse. The poet, taxed with indifference and fickleness,
+explains that the rareness of his visits is caused by his fear of the
+evil tongues and spies ‘who have taken my sense and breath away.’ But
+the lady is little impressed with this tender care for her reputation.
+‘No thanks do I owe you,’ she says, ‘for refusing to see me when I send
+for you, because of the harm I might suffer through it. And if you
+take greater care of my welfare than I do myself, you must forsooth be
+over-loyal; more so than the Knights of the Hospital.’ Only by the most
+extravagant promises of amendment is the poet able to gain from the lady
+the qualified concession: ‘Friend, I will trust you so far, so that I
+find you true and loyal to me at all times.’
+
+A second song of the countess marks a further stage of this unfortunate
+amour. The poet now has dropped the mask; the lady is deserted—deserted
+for another love. The sight of her misery is pathetic, although, perhaps,
+less dignified than would be the silent pride of a noble-hearted woman.
+But pride is strange to the heart of poor Beatrice. Her desire is not to
+upbraid, but, if possible, to regain, her truant lover; and nothing she
+considers beneath her dignity that may accomplish this sole desire of her
+heart. Abject flattery of her lover and even the praise of her own beauty
+are resorted to by her with a naïve openness which, somehow, makes us
+forget her utter want of dignity. There is about her poem the true ring
+of simple pathos, which I have tried to retain as far as possible in the
+subjoined rendering of three of the stanzas:
+
+    CANZO.
+
+    A chantar m’er de so qu’eu no volria
+    Tant me rancur de lui cui sui amia;
+    Car eu l’am mais que nuilla ren que sia:
+    Vas lui nom val merces ni cortezia,
+    Ni ma beltatz ni mos pretz ni mos sens;
+    C’atressim sui enganad’ e trahia
+    Com degr’esser, s’eu fos dezavinens.
+
+    Meraveill me cum vostre cors s’argoilla
+    Amics vas me per qu’ai razon quem doilla.
+    Non es ges dreitz c’autr’amors vos mi toilla,
+    Per nuilla ren queus diga nius acoilla.
+    E membre vos cals fol comensamens
+    De nostr’amor; ja dompnedeus non voilla
+    Qu’en ma colpa sial departimens.
+
+    Proeza grans, qu’el vostre cors s’aizina,
+    E lo rics pretz qu’avetz m’en ataina.
+    C’una non sai, loindana ni vezina,
+    Si vol amar vas vos no si’ aclina:
+    Mas vos, amics es ben tant conoissens,
+    Que ben devetz conoisser la plus fina;
+    E membre vos de nostres partimens.
+
+    _Translation._
+
+    It is in vain, this silence I must break;
+    The fault of him I love moves me to speak.
+    Dearer than all the world he is to me;
+    But he regards not love nor courtesy,
+    Nor wisdom, nor my worth, nor all my beauty—
+    He has deceived me. Such my fate should be,
+    If I had failed to him in loving duty.
+
+    Oh, strange and past belief that in disdain
+    Your heart, oh friend, should look upon my pain;
+    That now another love should conquer you,
+    For all that I may say, that I may do!
+    Have you forgotten the sweet first communion
+    Of our two hearts? Now sorely would I rue
+    If by my guilt were caused this last disunion.
+
+    The noble worth, the valour you possess,
+    Your fame and beauty add to my distress.
+    For far and near the noble ladies all,
+    If love can move them, listen to your call.
+    But you, my friend, whose soul is keenest-sighted,
+    Must know who loves you, and is true withal.
+    And ah! remember now the troth we plighted.
+
+The reader need hardly be told that this touching appeal proved in vain.
+We have another song of Beatrice, in which she deplores the final loss
+of her friend. It is remarkable that even now no word of anger escapes
+her lips. She blames herself for a reticence of feeling which, if she had
+possessed it, might have averted her fate. This is the first stanza of
+the plaintive ditty:
+
+    Ah, sadly, sadly do I miss
+    A knight of valour once mine own!
+    To all at all times be it known,
+    My heart was his—was only his.
+        Foolishly my secret keeping,
+    I hid my love when he was near;
+    But in my heart I held him dear,
+        Day and night, awake and sleeping.
+
+And here we must take leave of the beautiful Beatrice de Die. She is not
+without interest from a psychological point of view, and represents the
+literary capabilities of her class by the intensely subjective character
+of her work, which is the immediate outgrowth of her feeling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+THE COURTS OF LOVE.
+
+
+There is yet one other important character in which I should wish to
+introduce the lady of Provence to the gentle reader. It has already been
+pointed out that to her influence the refinement of manners and the
+high conception of the duties of gallantry in the early middle ages are
+mainly due. But nowhere did her gentle sway exercise a more irresistible
+power than in that truest domain of womanhood—love. This love was little
+restrained in Provence by the legitimate bounds of marriage, but it was
+not altogether lawless for that reason. There were certain rules of
+conduct instinctively felt rather than definitely formulated, but which,
+nevertheless, no lady or gallant cavalier could transgress with impunity.
+Discretion, for instance, was a demand most strictly enforced by these
+self-imposed laws of the loving community. No lady of good feeling would
+have accepted the services of a knight who had failed in this respect
+to a former mistress. Neither was it thought compatible with correct
+principles for a lady to deprive another lady of her lover. Inquiries
+into the antecedents of intended _cicisbeos_ were of frequent occurrence,
+and only when a troubadour could prove his ‘being off with the old
+love’ could he hope for a favourable reception of his vows. We indeed
+know of one case at least where a lady, although herself desirous of the
+services of a poet, effected his reconciliation with a rival beauty.
+But this loyal feeling did not extend to that bugbear and scapegoat of
+gallant society in Provence—the husband. No amount of verbal falsehood
+or hypocrisy was thought unjustifiable in the endeavour to dupe his
+well-founded suspicion. His resentment of injuries received was, on the
+other hand, punished by the general interdict of polite society. Such, at
+least, is the no doubt somewhat high-coloured picture drawn by Provençal
+poets and romancers.
+
+To the great influence of noble ladies on public opinion, and to the
+_esprit de corps_ evinced by their recorded words and doings, we have to
+trace back the general and time-honoured idea of the ladies’ tribunal,
+or ‘court of love.’ To us in England Chaucer’s poem of that title has
+sanctioned the name.[30] A prettier picture moreover can hardly be
+imagined than that drawn by many old and modern writers of an assembly
+of beautiful women sitting in judgment on guilty lovers, and gravely
+deciding knotty points of the amorous code. The slight tinge of pedantry
+in such a picture only adds to its mediæval quaintness. The only drawback
+is that, like so many other pretty and quaint pictures, it has no
+counterpart in the reality of things; not as far, at least, as the south
+of France and the times of the troubadours are concerned. Friederich
+Diez, the lately deceased great philologist to whom the history of
+Romance literature and languages owes so much, has once and for ever
+destroyed the fable of the ‘courts of love’ in connection with the
+troubadours. This was done in 1825; but ever since the uprooted notion
+has gone on producing fresh and powerful shoots in the fertile soil of
+periodical and generally unscientific literature. It is, indeed, one of
+the few dainties of genuine or pseudo-Provençal composition which have
+been frequently and _ad nauseam_ dished up to the general reader of this
+country.
+
+The state of the case is briefly this:—
+
+In 1817 the well-known French scholar, M. Raynouard, published his large
+collection of Provençal poems, entitled ‘Choix des Poésies originales
+des Troubadours.’ In the second volume of this work he has inserted a
+long and elaborate inquiry of his own into the subject of the ‘courts
+of love.’ He determines the period of their duration as the time from
+the middle of the twelfth to the end of the fourteenth century or
+thereabouts, and gives a somewhat minute description of the legal and
+polite customs observed at these extraordinary tribunals. According to
+him the members of the court were noble ladies guided by a written code
+of love, their decisions again making precedent. An appeal to a different
+tribunal was admissible. The parties had, as a rule, to plead their
+cause in person; at other times, however, written documents—affidavits,
+as we should say—were accepted, the latter frequently taking the form
+of _tensos_. To these _tensos_, therefore, we ought to look for some
+confirmation of these statements; and, according to Raynouard, such
+confirmation is forthcoming in more than sufficient abundance. It is, as
+we know, the custom in these songs of contention for the two disputants
+to refer their case to the arbitration of third parties. ‘This _tenso_
+will last for ever,’ says one troubadour, after having exhausted his
+arguments. ‘Let us take our cause to the Dauphin; he will decide and
+conclude it in peace.’ But here is the rub. The umpires mentioned on
+this and many other occasions are always one or two, more rarely three,
+individuals, generally friends of the contending parties, or else
+well-meaning and courteous persons, men or women, who decide according
+to the rules of common sense, or quote the opinions of celebrated
+troubadours by way of rule and guidance. Not once is a ‘court of love’
+mentioned in these _tensos_, nor indeed in any other poem, by a genuine
+troubadour, The expression as well as the thing was unknown to them. Both
+belong to a much later time.
+
+The period of spontaneous production in the literature of most nations is
+followed by that of classification. Byzantine scholarship and Athenian
+tragedy belong to different phases of intellectual life. When the poetry
+of the troubadours began to decay, grammarians and metrical scholars
+sprang up, and artificial poetry flourished at the _Jeux Floraux_. In the
+same sense it may be said that ‘courts of love’ could not exist while
+love itself was alive. The laws of gallantry were inscribed in the hearts
+of ladies and troubadours while the brilliant, buoyant life of Southern
+France was in its acme. When this civilisation was crushed, when these
+beautiful times lived but in the remembrance of a few, it might become
+necessary to preserve in dead formulas and codes the remnants of a better
+past. But even in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the south of
+France seems not to have been a favourable soil for the ‘courts of love,’
+as certain amateur societies of gallant and literary ladies and gentlemen
+then began to be called. The chief witness on the subject, Andreas
+Capellanus, who quotes several sentences delivered by these _curiæ
+dominarum_, seems to refer chiefly to the north of France.[31] Another
+Frenchman, Martial d’Auvergne, an advocate in Paris, has introduced the
+technical language of the law into these amorous discussions; much to the
+edification of his contemporaries (he lived in the fifteenth century), to
+judge from the number of editions published of his work.
+
+The sober truth arrived at by these and many other considerations too
+long to mention may be summed up thus: ‘Courts of love,’ as established
+tribunals with written codes, are altogether fictitious. Amateur
+societies of that name occur in the late middle ages, but chiefly in the
+north of France. To the troubadours the name and essence of ‘courts of
+love’ were entirely unknown.
+
+
+
+
+_PART III._
+
+TECHNICAL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+THE ORIGIN OF RHYME.
+
+
+The foundation of poetry, that is of the expression of human feelings in
+verse, is rhythm. According to Aristoxenus, the greatest metrical scholar
+of Greece, rhythm is the division of time into equally recurring shorter
+and longer parts; but it becomes perceptible only by being applied to
+certain movements performed in this time (τὸ ῥυθμιζόμενον). This object
+of rhythm is, of course, different in the different arts. In music, it
+is the notes of a melody (μέλος); in dance, the movements of hands and
+feet (σωματικὴ κίνησις); and in poetry, the words (λέξις). In ancient,
+and especially in Greek, poetry, rhythm was the first and chief principle
+of verse; and Greek poets observed this principle with the greatest
+consistency, measuring their lines exclusively according to the length or
+shortness of the syllables, without taking any notice of the rhetorical
+accent of each word, which depends, of course, greatly on its meaning.
+This metrical system, founded entirely on the beauty of sound, agrees
+perfectly with what we know of the plastic art of the Greeks, where
+also the graceful and harmonious form predominates over the emotional
+expression of the features. There is something analogous to be found in
+the primitive poetry of the Teutonic nations. The aim of their poets was
+to impress the audience by the strong and heroic sound of their verses;
+and in consequence the principle of their metrical system was purely
+rhythmical. In _Beowulf_, as well as in the _Hildebrandliet_, or the
+_Wessobrunner Gebet_, each line contains a certain number of long and
+highly-accented (_hochbetont_) syllables, which are further emphasised by
+alliteration. The rhetorical importance of these syllables does not in
+the least influence their metrical value.
+
+Latin poetry was not at first equally strict. The earlier Roman poets
+always tried to make the rhetorical and the metrical accent coincide.
+This was the more easy for them, as their rules of quantity were not yet
+clearly defined. Only the later Roman poets, and among them especially
+Horace, who were under the influence of Greek literature, introduced the
+accurate rules of Hellenic prosody into their own language, and at the
+same time made the metrical accent quite independent of the rhetorical.
+A remarkable sign of the difference between the Roman and Greek metrical
+systems is the way in which the two nations used the most important terms
+of rhythmical art, arsis and thesis. Aristoxenus, founding his metrical
+system entirely on the rhythms of dance and music, called arsis the weak
+part of the metre, because there the dancer raised his foot (αἴρω), and
+thesis the strong part, when the dancer trod the ground (τίθημι)—exactly
+contrary to the modern use of these words made familiar by Bentley.
+The best Roman metrical scholars, such as Atilius Fortunatianus and
+Terentianus Maurus, on the other hand, led by the rhetorical accent of
+their language, called arsis the first, and thesis the second, part
+of the metre, whether weak or strong, following, however, in this the
+metrical ἐγχειρίδιον of an unknown late-Greek author.[32] The only
+exception is Martianus Capella, the author of ‘De Nuptiis Philologiæ
+et Mercurii,’ a work considered, during the middle ages, as a standard
+authority for all the branches of human knowledge. In his translation of
+Aristides Quintilianus, he adopted from him the use of arsis and thesis,
+although it was in direct contradiction to his own definition: ‘Arsis
+est elevatio, thesis depositio vocis ac remissio.’ The introduction of
+Greek prosody into the Latin language was simply a matter of art; and its
+reign could last only so long as the great poets of the classic period
+kept down the influence of popular poetry. As soon as the unlimited sway
+of these grand traditions ceased, the original tendencies of the Roman
+language began to oppose the Greek-Augustan orthodoxy; and this struggle,
+which lasted for many centuries, ended in the complete overthrow of the
+ancient prosody. It would lead too far to follow the traces of this
+process through its different phases; it is enough to say that, at the
+beginning of the middle ages, the rhetorical as against the metrical
+accent had more than reconquered its original rights in Latin poetry. In
+the grand religious songs of mediæval monkish poetry, such as ‘Dies iræ,
+dies illa’ or ‘Stabat mater dolorosa,’ the verses are measured entirely
+according to the modern principle of rhetorical accent. Even where the
+mediæval poets tried to keep up the appearance of ancient versification
+they could not abstain from yielding to the powerful influence of
+rising mediæval art. The best example of this fact is the favourite
+metre of monkish scholars, the Leonine hexameter. The poems written in
+this metre—as may be seen by the following two lines from the poem ‘De
+contemptu mundi,’ of the eleventh century,
+
+    Cumque laborum | cumque dolorum | sit sitabundus,
+    Nos irritans | nos invitans | ad mala mundus—
+
+utterly neglect the fundamental rules of ancient prosody. The same might
+be said, even in a higher degree, of Godfrid of Viterbo. He goes so far
+as to join two leonine hexameters and one pentameter in a stanza; for
+example:
+
+    Imperii sidus | plaudunt tibi mensis et idus,
+    Metra tibi fidus | regalia dat Gotefridus
+    Quæ tibi sæpe legas | ut bene regna regas.
+
+The principle of dividing the stanza into three parts which is the basis
+of Italian and German strophes, can be easily recognised here; and the
+mediæval poet might have written his sham hexameters much more properly
+in this way:—
+
+          { Imperii sidus
+          { Plaudunt tibi mensis et idus.
+    Pedes {
+          { Metra tibi fidus
+          { Regalia dat Gotefridus.
+
+    Cauda { Quæ tibi sæpe legas
+          { Ut bene regna regas.
+
+One of the most striking features of this rising poetry is the rhyme—an
+element quite independent of the metrical principle, and founded entirely
+on the sound and rhetorical accent of the words. This rhyme is used no
+longer as an occasional effect, in different places of the verse, but
+defined by the strictest rules of art. It has been a favourite subject
+of investigation with literary scholars, to determine who first used
+the rhyme. Monkish mediæval poets and Provençal troubadours have found
+enthusiastic defenders of their claims to this great invention. It
+appears however that the question itself was a mistake. Nobody invented
+the rhyme: it has existed as long as poetry itself. Horace and Homer knew
+it as well as Byron and Goethe; but the rhythmical principle prevailed
+too largely in the Latin and Greek languages to allow the rhyme, as
+a rhetorical element, to attain that influence which it gained by a
+natural process, when verses began to be measured according to the
+modern principle of rhetorical accent. Wilhelm Grimm, in his monograph
+‘Zur Geschichte des Reims,’ has collected with great care the numerous
+instances of rhyme in the classic Roman period. The rule is, as Grimm
+shows, that the chief cæsura in the third foot of the hexameter rhymes
+with the end of the verse; but in other places also the rhyming words
+may be found. Grimm, however, decidedly goes too far when he sees an
+intentional rhyme in all these cases. The Latin language, owing to its
+consonant final syllables in declensions and conjugations, possessed an
+immense quantity of rhyming material, and moreover each adjective had to
+agree with its noun, if it followed the same declension. It is therefore
+difficult to see how the poet could have avoided bringing into the same
+verse very often two or even more words ending in the same way. In a
+verse, for instance, like that quoted by Grimm from Virgil’s ‘Bucolics,’
+
+    Vare tuas cupiant et tristia condere bella,
+
+no Roman poet could have intended, nor a Roman ear have noticed, a rhyme
+between ‘tristia’ and ‘bella;’ especially as the different metrical value
+of the two syllables modified the sound of the two _a_’s. Grimm seems
+not to have been able to free himself altogether from the propensity
+of biographers to overrate the importance of their heroes. However, in
+innumerable other cases rhyme has decidedly been used of set purpose
+by the Roman poets, especially where the corresponding words are found
+either in the chief cæsura and the end of the same verse, or at the end
+of two verses following each other. Of both cases an example may be cited
+from Horace, whose fine ear and ability to avail himself of beauties of
+rhythm and sound make him an important witness for the intentional use of
+rhyme.
+
+    Ille gravem du_ro_ terram qui vertit arat_ro_,[33]
+
+affords an excellent instance of rhyme in the chief cæsura; while the
+lines
+
+    Non satis est pulchra esse poemata, dulcia sunto
+    Et quocumque volent animum auditoris agunto,[34]
+
+prove even the existence of a sort of feminine rhyme in Latin poetry.
+Horace also shows how the Roman poets used the rhyme for onomatopoetic
+purposes. In the celebrated line,
+
+    Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus,[35]
+
+the quick jump of the little animal could not have been better
+illustrated than by the rhyme of the two words immediately following each
+other—‘Schlagreim,’ as the German meistersingers appropriately call it.
+Though there can be no doubt that the Latin poets of the classic period
+knew and occasionally used rhyme, it never was to them of the same vital
+importance that it is to modern poets; and in fact it never could be, so
+long as the rhythmical accent preserved its unlimited power; for this
+is decidedly unfavourable to rhyme. In all those cases, for instance,
+where the chief cæsura of the hexameter rhymed with the end of the same
+verse, which, as we have seen, was the usual way, the two corresponding
+syllables had different metrical accents. In the line already cited,
+
+    Īllĕ grăvēm dūr_ō_ tērrām quī vērtĭt ărātr_ŏ_,
+
+the _o_ of _duro_ stands in the arsis, and therefore has quite a
+different sound from the _o_ in _aratro_, which stands in the thesis.
+This becomes the more evident in those very rare cases where the rhyme in
+this position contains two syllables, or is, as we should say, feminine.
+In Horace there is only one instance of this; and indeed what could be
+the use of a rhyme which, if the verse were read according to rhythmical
+principles, would be scarcely audible?—
+
+    Frātrēm mœ̄_rēntīs’_ rāptō dē frātrĕ dŏ_lēn’tĭs_.[36]
+
+But by the same fact the destructive influence of rhyme on the rhythmical
+principle becomes evident. The line, for instance, already quoted from
+Godfrey of Viterbo, would, if properly scanned, have sounded thus:
+
+    Mētră tĭbē _fīdūs’_ rēgālĭă dāt Gŏtĕf_rī’dŭs_.
+
+But this way of destroying the feminine rhyme by the rhythmical accent
+certainly did not tally with the feeling of the mediæval poet; and it
+may be assumed that he accentuated _fídus_ exactly like Gotef_rídus_, as
+if it were a trochee. This at the same time agreed perfectly with the
+rhetorical accent of the word. Reading the whole verse according to the
+same principle, the first part of it,
+
+    Métra tíbi fídus,
+
+became quite trochaic in character, and the idea of the hexameter is
+utterly destroyed. This destruction of the rhythmical principle in
+mediæval Latin poetry was almost contemporary with the same phenomenon
+in Teutonic literature. Here also the dominion of purely rhythmical
+measurement and alliteration was victoriously contested by rhyme and
+rhetorical accent. At the beginning of the middle-high-German period,
+alliteration as a principle of art disappeared; and by the great
+minnesingers of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries it was used only
+occasionally, and without any strict rule, just as rhyme was by the old
+Roman poets. It was chiefly preserved in old alliterative formulæ, such
+as ‘Haus und Hof,’ or our ‘Kith and Kin.’ A beautiful example of this is
+found in the last stanza but one of the ‘Nibelunge Nôt’:
+
+    Mit leide was verendet des künges hochgezît
+    als ie diu _l_îbe _l_eide z’aller jungeste gît.
+
+Rhythmical accent, however, existed side by side with rhetorical accent
+much longer in German than in any of the Romance languages; and traces
+of its influence may be found almost till the beginning of the modern
+high-German epoch.
+
+In the Romance languages the decline of the rhythmical principle was
+even more complete than in the mediæval Latin or in any of the Teutonic
+idioms. The feeling for rhythm in those languages was so entirely
+lost that they were not able even to preserve the rhetorical accent
+in sufficient strength to make it of any avail for metrical purposes.
+Although in most of the poems written in the Romance languages there is
+a certain resemblance to the iambic or trochaic fall, yet the scanning
+of a whole stanza according to these metres would in most cases prove
+impossible. In modern French, which has gone farthest in neglecting the
+rhythmical difference between the syllables within the same word, there
+is scarcely a single line of the most finished poets which could be read
+metrically without altering even that remnant of rhetorical accent which
+has been preserved. In the following verse, taken from Boileau’s sixth
+Satire,
+
+    Căr à peĭ_nē_ lĕs cōqs cŏm_m_ēnçănt leūr rămāgĕ,
+
+there are two striking examples of this fact; for the accent of the
+(if anything) iambic metre in the word _peine_ is on a syllable which
+in prose is scarcely pronounced at all, and in _commençant_ the last
+syllable is at least as long as the last but one. Where modern French
+poets try to introduce something resembling rhythm, they generally do
+so less by means of the rhetorical accent in words of several syllables
+than by putting the more or less important parts of the sentence, such
+as article and noun or personal pronoun and verb, in thesis and arsis
+respectively. In the main it may fairly be said that in Romance poetry
+metre is entirely founded on counting the syllables of the verse, and
+rhythm, properly speaking, has disappeared, except so far as it shows its
+influence in the combination of verses of different lengths in a stanza.
+
+This leads us to another consideration, which is of the highest
+importance in studying Provençal versification. Rhythm showed its
+influence on the poetry of the troubadours, not only in the single
+verses, but also in the composition of several verses of different sizes
+and cadences into an organic whole—the strophe. The harmonious beauty and
+impulsive lyrical pathos of Pindar’s odes excite the same admiration as
+does the steady epical flow of Homer’s hexameters; and to the inheritance
+of the strophe, and its development into the stanza, mediæval poems, and
+especially the canzos of the troubadours, owe their greatest charm. To
+the relics of ancient literature already mentioned was added the rhyme,
+defined by strict rules and made obligatory; and this new principle
+contributed not a little to give variety and harmonious beauty to the
+mediæval stanza. In investigating Provençal versification, it will
+therefore be necessary to consider (1) rhythm, as shown in the manifold
+measures of verse, (2) rhyme, and (3) the mode in which by these two
+elements combined the stanza of the troubadours was formed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+RHYTHM.
+
+
+In no other language of Western Europe has the artistic development of
+poetical forms ever reached so high a degree of perfection as that to
+which it was raised by the troubadours. The craftsmanship of the poets
+and singers, the refinement of the audiences in appreciating beauties
+of rhyme and metre which the modern ear can scarcely realise, are the
+more astonishing, since the period of the poetry of the troubadours is
+comparatively a very early one, and since their civilisation in other
+respects shows the characteristics of the early middle ages. Through
+various favourable circumstances, the _langue d’oc_ succeeded, first
+of all Romance idioms, in forming itself into a distinct and regular
+language, with strictly defined grammatical rules. The great number of
+final syllables of the same sound, which existed in the comparatively
+well preserved forms of declensions and conjugations, offered an
+immense quantity of rhymes; and this ease of rhyming, combined with the
+liveliness and sanguine temperament of southern Frenchmen, naturally
+gave rise to an early poetry. The primitive stages of this poetry
+have, as we know, disappeared; and we have lost in these popular songs,
+which undoubtedly existed, the most valuable material for the history
+of Provençal metrical art. The first troubadour, Count Guillem IX. of
+Poitou (1071-1127), appears as a finished poet, in full possession of all
+the refinements of Provençal metre, without any predecessor or previous
+document of lyrical poetry to account for his great accomplishments
+and experience. In fact, after him there is no important progress of
+metrical art; and, although several troubadours formed new stanzas and
+used difficult rhymes of their own, it may be said that, in the main, the
+first troubadour knew as much of the harmonious beauties of stanza and
+rhyme as the last—Guiraut Riquier, who died about two hundred years after
+the birth of Guillem.
+
+This great stability of the metrical rules soon led to a desire of
+fixing them by a theoretical system; and we know of several attempts to
+perform this difficult task. The most important and voluminous work of
+this kind must be our guide in the maze of Provençal subtlety; though
+in many cases it is more difficult to follow the mediæval scholar
+through his confused definitions than to abstract the rules from the
+poems themselves. The author of ‘Las Leys d’Amors,’ as he calls his
+compilation, considered, in accordance with the notions of his time, that
+it was a sign of highest scholarship to accumulate the greatest possible
+amount of undigested knowledge, without taking the trouble of grouping
+his heterogeneous materials. He desires to show his familiarity with
+almost all the branches of human knowledge. Grammar and rhetoric, prosody
+and dialectics, the trivium and quadrivium, have been objects of his
+study; and his work is undoubtedly one of the most valuable exponents of
+mediæval scholarship. In fact, it may be called the aggregate expression
+of the literary ideas of his time and country, the more so as it can
+scarcely be said to have been written by one author only. In the middle
+of the fourteenth century (1356 is the exact date of the work), the time
+of the great troubadours had long passed away; and their pure language
+was yielding more and more to the influences of southern patois and the
+northern _langue d’oïl_. To oppose the further decline of the language
+and poetry, several institutions were founded by patriotic and cultivated
+men, who, however, being scholars rather than poets, could not revive the
+spirit of the troubadours. One of the most renowned of these societies,
+which resembled modern academies, named the ‘Seven Poets of Toulouse,’
+commissioned their chancellor for the time being, Guillaume Molinier, to
+write, or rather to compile from the works of other scholars, and under
+their own supervision, a compendium of the rules of poetry. The result
+was ‘Las Leys d’Amors,’ which, founded entirely on the traditions of
+the troubadours, although written after their time, is of the greatest
+importance for the metrical analysis of their works. M. Gatien-Arnoult,
+keeper of the manuscripts of the Académie des Jeux Floraux at Toulouse,
+has published an accurate edition of the work from the manuscript
+belonging to that Academy.
+
+Another mediæval work, which it will often be necessary to refer to, is
+Dante’s treatise ‘De Vulgari Eloquentia.’ His remarks on the measurement
+of verse and the construction of stanzas were originally meant to apply
+to poems written in his own language. But the affinity between the poets
+of the _lingua di sì_ and those of the _langue d’oc_, and especially the
+great influence of the troubadours on Dante’s own metrical system,[37]
+make it permissible to apply the rules laid down by the great Italian to
+the works of the Provençal poets.
+
+In the fifth chapter of his treatise Dante defines the limits of
+the length of a verse in this way: ‘Nullum adhuc invenimus carmen
+in syllabicando endecasyllabum transcendisse nec a trisyllabo
+descendisse.’[38] By trisyllabus and endecasyllabus he means lines, or
+carmina, as he calls them, which in reality may consist of no more than
+two and ten syllables. For in Italian poetry feminine rhymes are so
+predominant in number that Dante does not think it necessary to take into
+consideration the small minority of masculine rhymes, and counts the last
+short syllable of the feminine rhyme even in those few cases where in
+reality it does not exist. The ‘Leys d’Amors,’ according to its national
+view, follows a totally different principle of measuring verse. It first
+states the difference between masculine and feminine rhymes, calling
+the former accen agut, and the latter accen greu. Then it counts the
+syllables of each verse really existing, neglecting, however, the last
+short syllable if the verse ends with a feminine rhyme. An example will
+best show the difference of the two systems. Of the two following lines,
+
+    anz li mal trag mi son joi e plazer
+    sol per aiso, car sai q’amors autreja,
+
+the first consists actually of ten syllables, the last of which has
+the metrical accent. This, therefore, the ‘Leys d’Amors’ would call a
+‘bordo de x. syllabas con accen agut.’ The second line, though actually
+containing eleven syllables, it would call a ‘bordo de x. syllabas
+con accen greu.’ Dante, on the other hand, would call both verses
+endecasyllabi, not taking any notice of the rime tronco in the first.
+The ‘Leys d’Amors,’ therefore, differs widely, and even more than might
+at first appear, from Dante, in saying that the shortest verse possible
+is that of four, and the longest possible that of twelve, syllables. For
+what Dante calls a trisyllabus may be, as we have seen, in reality a
+line of two syllables; and the ‘bordo de quatro syllabas’ of the ‘Leys
+d’Amors’ may consist actually of five syllables. Verses shorter than four
+syllables, according to the ‘Leys d’Amors’ are permissible only in the
+form of bordos empeutatz or biocatz. By bordos empeutatz are meant the
+different parts of a verse divided by a middle rhyme, such as
+
+    Perdut ai—e cobrarai.
+
+Bordos biocatz are short verses which are mixed with others of greater
+length, and form, if rhyming, a sort of echo; for instance:
+
+    El contrari far vol
+          E col.
+
+These limits, however, are too narrow, at least in one direction. In
+one of the poems of Guillem IX. of Poitiers there is a line consisting
+of no less than fifteen syllables, and therefore by far exceeding the
+number allowed by Dante or the ‘Leys d’Amors.’ This verse displays,
+notwithstanding its great length, a certain rhythmical beauty, which,
+considering the rarity of effects of that sort, makes it all the more
+remarkable. In the first stanza of the poem it runs thus:
+
+    q’una domna s’es clamada de sos gardadors a me.[39]
+
+The extreme in the other direction is reached by the troubadour
+Marcabrun, who has verses of one syllable only, such as Ay, and Oc.
+
+Between these extremes, verses of all lengths may be found now and
+then in the poetry of the troubadours; but nevertheless a preference
+for certain forms is visible. Dante’s views on the subject, which, on
+the whole, may fairly be applied to Provençal verse, are contained in
+the following sentence: ‘Pentasyllabum [viz., carmen, _i.e._ line]
+et eptasyllabum et endecasyllabum in usu frequentiori habentur, et
+post hæc trisyllabum ante alia: quorum omnium endecasyllabum videtur
+esse superbius tam temporis occupatione quam capacitate sententiæ,
+constructionis et vocabulorum.’ This, rendered by Provençal terms, means
+that verses of four, six, and ten syllables (con accen agut), and next to
+them those of two syllables, are most in use, but that the finest of all
+is the decasyllabic line. It may be useful to illustrate this rule by a
+few examples. The bordo of two syllables, as has been shown, is allowed
+only in bordos biocatz or empeutatz, and cannot form an independent
+foundation for a stanza. Of much greater importance is the verse of four
+syllables. The troubadours appreciated its graceful and easy fall, and
+used it with predilection. The beautiful poem of Guillem de Cabestanh,
+‘Li douz cossire,’ the finest of his, perhaps of all, Provençal canzos,
+is founded on this verse. Here it occurs with feminine rhyme only, in
+connection with the verse of six syllables, _e.g._:
+
+    _En sovinensa_
+      tenc la car’el dous ris
+    _vostra valensa_
+      el bel cors blanc e lis.
+
+The ‘Leys d’Amors’ quotes a poem, very likely invented for the occasion,
+where the stanza consists entirely of this verse. Here it occurs in
+both forms, with accen agut and accen greu. Notwithstanding a certain
+monotony, it is impossible to deny the merits of harmonious beauty and
+lyrical pathos to a stanza like the following:
+
+    Que fers de lansa
+    mays no m’acora;
+    que mi transfora
+    lo cor el cors
+    l’enveios mors
+    e verenos
+    coma poyzos
+    dels vilas motz,
+    quem fan jos votz
+    per maestria.
+
+The verse of six syllables has been used by Bernard de Ventadorn for the
+stanza of one of his best canzos, where it occurs alternately with accen
+greu and agut:
+
+    De domnas m’es vejaire
+    que gran falhimen fan;
+    per so quar no son gaire
+    amat li fin aman.
+
+However well suited in this case to the sentimental purposes of the
+troubadour, this verse is hardly fit to be used by itself in longer
+stanzas. There is a certain ‘entre deux’ about it, which deprives it of
+the graceful ease of shorter metres, without giving as an equivalent the
+grandeur of, for instance, the decasyllabic line. Its effect is much
+finer where it occurs combined with other verses in a stanza, as, for
+instance, in another poem of Bernard de Ventadorn, where it is found in
+connection with the verse of eight syllables, both showing accen greu:
+
+    Tant ai mon cor plen de joja
+    tot me desnatura;
+    flors blanca vermelh’e bloja
+    m sembla la freidura.
+
+This is at the same time one of the few examples where the octosyllabic
+verse is used in lyrical Provençal poetry. Dante, in consequence of
+its rarity, does not even mention it. But it is nevertheless of great
+importance, being the favourite metre of the romance. The two most
+important Provençal romances, ‘Flamenca’ and the ‘Roman de Giaufre,’ are
+written in it, as is also a novelette by Raimon Vidal, the author of a
+Provençal grammar. The first lines exhibit him as a ‘laudator temporis
+acti,’ after the manner of the later troubadours:
+
+    En aquel temps c’om era jais
+    e per amor fis e verais
+    cuendes e d’avinen escuelh.
+
+The octosyllabic verse with accen agut is more often found in lyrics than
+that with accen greu. In epic poetry both occur promiscuously.
+
+Of all the different verses the most important both in lyrical and in
+epical poetry, in Italian, French, and Provençal, is the endecasyllabus,
+or verse of ten syllables. The variety of different forms in which it
+occurs, and of purposes for which it is used, make a short account of
+its origin and development almost necessary. This variety is effected by
+the manifold ways in which the cæsura, one of the few relics of ancient
+metrical art, is used. The ‘Leys d’Amors’ says: ‘E devetz saber que en
+aitals bordos la pauza es la pauza en la quarta syllaba; e ges no deu hom
+transmudar lo compas del bordo, so es que la pausa sia de VI. syllabas
+el remanen de quatre, quar non ha bella cazensa.’ The pauza here spoken
+of is the cæsura, effected by a stronger accent being given to a certain
+syllable of the verse, and by a short rest which the voice naturally
+takes afterwards. This rest or pause may also be filled up by a short
+unaccentuated syllable which is not counted. In this case the pauza is
+feminine, or with accen greu: otherwise it has accen agut. As has been
+seen, the ‘Leys d’Amors’ lays down that the cæsura must be after the
+fourth syllable; and this indeed is the rule in lyrical poetry, from
+which that work takes all its examples. But the endecasyllabus occurs in
+much older documents in the _langue d’oc_ and _langue d’oïl_, namely, in
+the old popular epic; and to this it is necessary to refer in order to
+give a full account of its development. The oldest poetic monument in
+the Provençal language is a fragment of what seems a long didactic poem,
+and is commonly called ‘Boethius,’ because the parts of it which remain
+treat of an episode in the life of that author. Boethius, we may here
+recapitulate, a Coms de Roma, and one of the wisest and most religious
+men of his age, has been thrown into prison, on a false pretence, by his
+enemy the Pagan emperor Teirix. In his misery, Philosophy, the heroine of
+Boethius’s work ‘De Consolatione Philosophiæ,’ comes to comfort him. She
+appears to him under the form of a beautiful maiden, the daughter of a
+mighty king. In the hem of her raiment are wrought the Greek characters
+Π and Θ as symbols of ‘la vita qui enter es’ and ‘la dreita lei.’ In
+the middle of this description the manuscript breaks off, and leaves no
+indication of what was to follow. The time of this interesting document
+is, as Diez has shown by linguistic reasons, not later than about 960;
+and its great age adds to its value for metrical purposes. The metre is
+essentially the same as in all French poems of the Charlemagne cycle,
+viz., the decasyllabic; and it is used in very nearly the same way. In
+both languages it was the rule to give the fourth syllable of each verse
+the strongest metrical accent, and thus to effect after this syllable the
+cæsura or ‘pauza de bordo’ which has been explained above. ‘Boethius’
+has only verses con accen agut; and therefore to avoid monotony most of
+the pauzas are with accen greu, so that generally each line has eleven
+syllables, _e.g._:
+
+    Nos jove _ó_mne | quandiu que nos estam
+    de gran follía | per folledat parllam.
+
+The following lines afford examples of the masculine cæsura:
+
+    E qui nos pais | que no murem de fam
+    cui tan amet | Torquator Mallios.
+
+In a few cases, the second part of the verse contained one syllable less
+than usual, generally after a feminine pauza, which, as it were, covered
+this want, for instance:
+
+    donz fo Boécis | corps ag bo e pro.
+
+In these cases it might almost be supposed that the cæsura had been left
+out by neglect. But this supposition is disproved by the fact that also
+after a pauza con accen agut the second half of the verse is shortened
+in the same manner, a phenomenon which can be explained only from the
+effect of the interval after the accent on the fourth syllable. An
+instance of this is the line:
+
+    Qu’el era cóms | molt onraz e rix.
+
+Here the verse consists of only nine syllables. The metre in ‘Boethius’
+could therefore vary from nine to ten or eleven syllables. This variety
+was even greater in other poems, where the feminine rhyme occurs together
+with the feminine pauza, so as to bring the length of the verse to twelve
+syllables, _e.g._:
+
+    En autra térra | irai penre linhatge.
+
+The hiatus in the cæsura, as is evident from this and many other
+examples, was not considered a fault; and the first vowel was certainly
+pronounced. This seems to mark the transition to the more modern French
+heroic verse, the Alexandrine, which was not used in the old chanson de
+geste. In epic poetry also the position of the cæsura after the fourth
+syllable is almost universal. But there are some exceptions to this rule.
+In ‘Girartz de Rossilhon,’ the most important popular epic of the _langue
+d’oc_, the pauza del bordo occurs always after the sixth syllable, _e.g._:
+
+    Vecvòs per miei l’estorn | lo vilh Draugo
+    lo paire don Girárt | l’oncle Folco,
+
+or with feminine pauza and masculine ending of the verse:
+
+    Tan vos vei entrels vóstres | queus an cobrit,
+
+or with both feminine:
+
+    E fan lor cavals córre | per la varena.
+
+The same form of the decasyllabic verse is also found in some northern
+French epics, as in ‘Audigier,’ a later parody of the old heroic chanson
+de geste. The equal flow of this verse did not make it adaptable for the
+formation of stanzas; and there was the less occasion for such formation
+in the older epic poetry, as the rhyme or assonance remained unchanged
+through a great number of verses. This explains the tirade monorime which
+is the characteristic of the popular in contrast to the artificial epic.
+To break the monotony of this metre, however, many of the popular joglars
+introduced after a certain number of decasyllabic verses a shorter line,
+a bordo biocatz according to the expression of the ‘Leys d’Amors,’ which
+at the same time by its rhyme formed a transition to the following
+tirade. An instance occurs in the first part of the chronicle of the
+Albigeois, while in the second the shorter line is without any rhyme—one
+reason more for believing that the two parts were not both written by
+the same author, Guillem de Tudela. Moreover, lyric poets used a kind of
+tirade monorime intermixed with shorter verses, such as is found in the
+song by which Richard Cœur de Lion beguiled the hours of his imprisonment
+in Germany. The first stanza of this song may be quoted as an example of
+this form:
+
+    Ja nus homs pres non dira sa razon
+    adrechament, si com homs dolens non;
+    mas per conort deu hom faire canson:
+    pro n’ay d’amics, mas paubre son li don.
+    Ancta lur es, se per ma rezenson
+    soi sai dos ivers pres.
+
+The word ‘pres’ recurs at the end of each of the shorter verses, and
+forms a sort of burden. The same song also exists in French, and the
+latter seems indeed to be the original version.
+
+It would lead us too far to follow the traces of the decasyllabic
+verse through the Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese languages. In Italy
+the position of the cæsura was not fixed by strict rules as in the
+_langue d’oc_ and _langue d’oïl_; sometimes there are two accents and
+corresponding pauzas on the fourth and seventh or eighth syllables,
+and sometimes only one on the sixth. The cæsura in the decasyllabic
+metre which occurs in the canzos and sirventeses of the troubadours, is
+different from that in the tirade monorime of the popular epic. It has
+been seen that here in case of a pauza con accen greu the first part
+of the verse, and therefore the whole verse, became one syllable too
+long. The stricter metrical rules of lyric poetry did not admit of such
+liberties. Hence, if the lyrical cæsura is masculine, the chief accent
+is on the fourth syllable; if it is feminine the chief metrical accent
+goes back to the third syllable, and the fourth, which in epic poetry is
+always strongly accentuated, becomes weak. The masculine lyrical cæsura,
+which shows no difference from the epical, is found, for instance, in the
+beginning of Bertrand de Born’s sirventes:
+
+    Pos als barós | enoja e lor peza
+    d’aquesta pátz | qu’an faita li dui rei;
+
+while the lyrical pauza con accen greu occurs in the third stanza of the
+same poem:
+
+    Cum aquésta | ni autra c’om li grei.
+
+The epical cæsura in its feminine form is found very seldom in the poetry
+of the troubadours. Two of the rare instances occur in a canzo of Guillem
+de Cabestanh; and there the case is the more remarkable, as the epical
+and lyrical pauzas appear intermixed. The two verses are:
+
+    Don mi remémbra | douza terra el pais,
+
+and
+
+    En autra térra | irai penre lenhatge.
+
+In both cases the epical pauza might be got rid of by a slight
+alteration, which, however, is not confirmed by the authority of any
+manuscript. In the first case, ‘membra’ might easily be written instead
+of ‘remembra,’ by which means the epical cæsura would become lyrical;
+and in the second case the _a_ of ‘terra’ might be supplied by an
+apostrophe, by means of which the pauza would altogether disappear. In
+the last stanza of the same poem, as preserved in several manuscripts, is
+found the only example in lyrical poetry of the second hemistich being
+shortened after the feminine pauza, which, as has been seen above, occurs
+several times in ‘Boethius.’ The line is this:
+
+    Q’ieu non vólgra | qe fos ma cusina.
+
+But the difficulty is not serious; for this and other reasons, metrical
+and philological, prove that the stanza is a spurious addition of a
+later ignorant scribe. This instance shows how important a knowledge of
+metrical rules is for the critical editing of a Provençal author.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+RHYME.
+
+
+The immense number of rhyming words in the Provençal language has been
+already referred to. Of the fifty-four forms of the verb of the first
+conjugation, only nine have the accent on the root, while forty-five have
+it on one of the final syllables; hence all the verbs of this conjugation
+rhyme with each other in these forms. Again, all the derivative syllables
+of the adjectives and nouns, like at-ada, ut-uda, or atge, ansa, ensa,
+and many others, have the accent on these syllables, and offer great
+choice of material to the poet in search of rhymes. Consequently, in all
+Provençal poetry, the rhyme plays a principal part, and metrical scholars
+considered it their most important task to introduce the student into
+the minutest subtleties of its beauty. Dante intended to speak of rhyme
+‘secundum se’ in one of the later parts of his book, which he never
+wrote; in the existing parts he speaks of it only in connection with
+the stanza. In accordance, however, with the ‘Leys d’Amors,’ it will be
+necessary to consider the essence of rhyme in itself, before proceeding
+to its influence on the combination of verses in a stanza, and of
+stanzas in a poem.
+
+The ‘Leys d’Amors’ uses the word rim or rima in a perfectly different
+sense from the modern rhyme. Its definition is this: ‘Rims es certz
+nombres de syllabas, ajustat a lui autre bordo per pario d’aquela
+meteysha accordansa e paritat de syllabas, o de diversas am bela
+cazensa.’ Rim exists therefore not only if the accordansa is the same,
+which constitutes approximately what is now called rhyme, but also though
+the ends of the two verses concerned sound quite differently, provided
+that a certain harmony or cazensa is effected simply by their lengths
+or accents. This must be borne in mind while we consider the division
+of rims into four classes as given by the ‘Leys d’Amors,’ viz., rims
+estramps, accordans, ordinals, and dictionals. The division is not very
+logical; for some of the rims enumerated have nothing to do with the
+essence of rhyme. Rim estramp in its exact meaning is nothing but the
+absence of rhyme or even assonance between two verses. In the poetry of
+the troubadours there is scarcely a line which has not its corresponding
+rhyme, either in its own or in another stanza, so that rims estramps
+are of no importance for the present purpose. Everything that is now
+called rhyme and was used by the troubadours is contained under the
+second head, rims accordans. This accordansa may be sonan, consonan, or
+leonisme; and the rims sonans and consonans must be again subdivided into
+bords (French, bâtard) and lejals. Rim sonan bord is what is now called
+assonance, and is very frequently found in Spanish poetry. The ‘Leys
+d’Amors’ gives examples of it con accen agut,
+
+    Encarcerat tenetz mon cor am_or_s,
+    E delivrar nol pot autra mas v_o_s;
+
+and con accen greu,
+
+    La mors quieu port a mi dons es tan g_randa_,
+    Quieu lo thezaur del realme de F_ranza_, etc.
+
+In the poems of the troubadours this assonance was not permissible.
+Accordingly, the ‘Leys d’Amors’ does not approve of it, though admitting
+that it was daily used in the mandelas, or popular chansons. ‘For these,’
+says the author, with all a scholar’s contempt for popular poetry, ‘I
+do not care, because I do not see nor can I find a known author for
+them.’ Rim sonan lejal, which exists only with accen agut, is what is now
+called masculine rhyme; that is to say, the last syllable in the rhyming
+lines must contain the same vowel with identical consonants (if any)
+after, but different ones before, it. The examples of this are of course
+innumerable. The second kind of rims accordans is called consonan. This
+also is subdivided into bord and lejal. The rim consonan bord is always
+con accen greu, so that only the second and unaccentuated syllable agrees
+with the corresponding one in the other verse, _e.g._:
+
+    Sino de liei que del sieu foc m’abran_d_a
+    Quar ela sab la maniera quos tu_d_a.
+
+The modern ear would not discern this kind of rhyme; and the troubadours
+also never used it. Perhaps the author of the ‘Leys d’Amors’ introduced
+it merely in order to give completeness to his system. Rim consonan
+lejal has always accen agut, and is found where the last and accentuated
+syllable in two verses is exactly the same in spelling, but different
+in meaning. Examples of this class are numerous in the poetry of the
+troubadours: the following is from a canzo of Serveri de Gironne:
+
+    E costumatz tanh que sia tan gen (adj. gentilis)
+    Que governar se puesca tota gen (noun, gentem).
+
+The same rhyme is also found in mediæval and modern French poetry, where
+it is called ‘rime riche.’ The chief characteristic of an accordansa
+consonan is the identity of vowels and consonants in the last syllable,
+but in the last syllable only. On the other hand, in the third division
+of accordansa, the leonisme, the last syllable but one, also must to a
+certain extent agree in the corresponding verses. Leonismetat is again
+subdivided into rims leonismes simples, and parfaitz. In the former the
+consonants before the vowel in the last syllable but one must differ: in
+the latter they must be identical. Rim leonisme simple con accen greu is
+what is now called feminine rhyme, as in
+
+    tot autra dona d’esser bella
+    lai on es cesta damaisella.
+
+Con accen agut, it is again one of those cases where, as in the rim
+consonan bord, the rhyme is extended to an unaccentuated syllable, which
+in this case appears before the rhyming syllables. The ‘Leys d’Amors’
+gives the following example:
+
+    Tan prozamens feric G_ă_st_ó_s
+    De lansa massas e b_ă_st_ó_s.
+
+The following is rim leonisme parfait con accen greu:
+
+    l’autrui beautat tein es ef_fassa_.
+    li viva colors de sa _fassa_;
+
+con accen agut:
+
+    Al arma dona s_anĕ_t_á_t
+    Qui fug a tota v_anĕ_t_á_t.
+
+The former would be called in German ‘weiblicher rührender Reim;’ and of
+the latter the same may be said as of the leonisme simple con accen agut.
+In this case the rhyme is extended backwards as far as the last syllable
+but two; sometimes even the last four or five syllables are included in
+the accordansa leonisme. The ‘Leys d’Amors’ gives an instance of what it
+calls rim mays perfait leonisme, in which the last five syllables are
+intended to rhyme in two different verses:
+
+    So don le cors p_ren noyridura_
+    Lo fai tornar _en poyridura_.
+
+In case the leonismetat is effected by two separate words, these words
+of course must always differ in their meaning. It may also be mentioned
+that rims consonans as well as leonismes are called contrafaitz, if the
+syllables or letters forming the rhyme are divided by the end of a word;
+as, for instance:
+
+    a celz que la vezo ni l’auzon
+    quan las donas sa beutat lauzon.
+
+Such is the division which the ‘Leys d’Amors’ gives of rhymes in
+general. The system shows a certain scholastic consistency; but the real
+essence and origin of rhyme are entirely overlooked, or even wrongly
+defined. Entirely different things are brought under the same head, as,
+for instance, assonance and masculine rhyme (rim sonan); while, on the
+other hand, things which decidedly belong together are separated. Thus
+the simple rhyme is called rim lejal sonan, while the simple feminine
+rhyme, which is obviously derived from it, is classed together with
+the rim leonisme, from which it differs essentially. The same is the
+case with the rims consonan lejal and leonisme parfait con accen greu.
+In subsequent chapters the work gives a complete list of the different
+artificial rhymes. They are too numerous to be discussed here; besides
+which, many of them are nothing but subtleties of the author, and are
+hardly ever used by the better troubadours. It is only necessary to
+consider those which are of real importance in studying the relics
+of Provençal poetry. The order also in which the different kinds are
+enumerated need not be followed: it is sometimes arbitrary, and sometimes
+utterly confused.
+
+After expounding what rhyme is, the ‘Leys d’Amors’ very properly proceeds
+to ask where rhyme is to be found. Every possible combination in this
+respect is brought under a new head, viz., rims ordinals. This expression
+is exceedingly ill chosen; for the words rims ordinals suggest some new
+kind of rhyme essentially different from rims consonans or sonans, while
+in reality they indicate only the different positions which these same
+rhymes can have in verse or stanza. The author avoids giving a definition
+of rims ordinals, but begins at once to explain how ‘aytals ordes se fai.’
+
+Rhyme, it is explained, may connect the different parts of one and the
+same line with each other, or with the end of this line. The middle rhyme
+is called, in correspondence with the bordos empeutatz, rim empeutat
+or multiplicatiu. An example of the former mode occurs in one of Peire
+Cardinal’s sirventeses:
+
+    Car los—garzos—vezon en patz sezer.
+
+In the following line both kinds are combined, the rhyme being the same
+in the middle parts of the verse and at the end of it:
+
+    Mon port—conort—e mon cofort.
+
+In some cases, as for instance between the cæsura of the decasyllabic
+verse and its end, the middle rhyme was strictly prohibited. But this
+middle rhyme is found very often between the same sections of different
+verses, as for instance in the above-mentioned sirventes of Peire
+Cardinal:
+
+    que fan—l’efan—d’aquela gent engleza
+    qu’avan—no van—guerrejar ab Frances;
+    mal an—talan—de la terr’ engolmeza
+    tiran—iran—conquistar Gastines.
+
+In order to display his art, the poet moreover made each pair of rhymes
+in the same line a rim consonan lejal. This kind of rhyme was sometimes
+carried to such an extent that each syllable of a whole verse agreed
+with the corresponding syllable of another. This was called a rim
+serpenti. Of such exaggeration there is probably no instance in the good
+troubadours; the ‘Leys d’Amors’ gives the following:
+
+    Bos—dieus—clarratz[40]—cara
+    Los—mieus—gardatz—ara.
+
+Next come the rhymes between the ends of the verses of one and the
+same stanza. The simplest form possible in this case was that all
+the verses of a stanza should have but one rhyme, which suggests the
+tirade monorime in the popular epic. The ‘Leys d’Amors’ calls this rim
+continuat. Although very simple, this rhyme was used by the most finished
+troubadours, such as Marcabrun and Aimeric de Peguilhan. Sordello
+bewailed in it the death of his friend Blacatz; and in the last-named
+poem combined with the long verse of twelve syllables, it has an
+excellent effect owing to its dreary monotonous sound.
+
+When there are two or more rhymes in a stanza, their order is varied in
+many different ways. The most simple mode is what the ‘Leys d’Amors’
+calls rims encadenatz; and next to this the rims crozatz. Rims encadenatz
+are crossed rhymes, viz., _a b: a b_. This position of the rhymes,
+continued through a whole stanza, is not often to be found in the better,
+or at least more artistic, troubadours. Johan de Pena, one of the less
+celebrated, has used it in a stanza of charming simplicity:
+
+    Un guerrier per alegrar
+    vuelh comensar, car m’agensa
+    que non lo dey plus celar,
+    trop l’auray tengut en pensa;
+    e guerrejaray d’amor,
+    endomens que ma guerrieira
+    a trobat guerrejador
+    que guerreja volontieira.
+
+Rims crozatz are found, to quote but one instance, in the two quatrains
+of a sonnet.
+
+These are the principal divisions of rhyme in its relations to a single
+stanza. But the troubadours employed it also to keep up a certain
+connection between several, sometimes all, the different stanzas of a
+poem; and in this respect it must now be considered.
+
+A change of rhyme from strophe to strophe—rims singulars—is rare, and,
+as a rule, found only where the stanza is very long and artificially
+composed. An example occurs in a song by Peire Cardinal, each stanza of
+which consists of no less than fifteen lines. Gaucelm Faidit and the
+Monk of Montaudon have used rims singulars also in shorter and simpler
+stanzas. The ‘Leys d’Amors’ gives no rule as to their use, but confirms
+indirectly what has been said, by giving as an example a very long and
+complicated stanza. Directly opposed to the rims singulars are the rims
+or coblas unisonans, where all the stanzas of a poem have the same rhymes
+in the corresponding lines. Sometimes poems of this kind are very long,
+so that the poet had to find a great number of consonant words, which
+however, in the _langue d’oc_, was not as difficult as it would have been
+in one of the Teutonic languages. But in spite of this some of the German
+minnesingers, such as Count Rudolf of Neuenburg and Friedrich von Hausen,
+who were under the influence of the troubadours, tried to compete with
+them in the richness of their rhymes and the variety of their stanzas.
+Of Friedrich von Hausen a song remains, which is an exact imitation, in
+one stanza even a translation, of one of Folquet de Marseilles’ canzos,
+which the German poet probably learned during the crusade of 1190, on
+which he accompanied the Emperor Frederick I. Sometimes the stanzas of a
+poem are grouped together in twos, threes, or fours, by means of equal
+rhymes. Such cases are described by the ‘Leys d’Amors’ as coblas doblas,
+triplas, &c. The better to display their skill, the greatest artists
+among the troubadours liked to choose for their rhymes rare and unusual
+words, the meaning of which, at the same time, was not easy to discover.
+The greatest master in these ‘rims cars,’ and ‘motz oscurs,’ was Arnaut
+Daniel, whom Dante, very likely for that reason, calls the first of all
+troubadours. But Peire d’Alvernhe also says of his poems, as a proof of
+their high art, ‘qu’apenas nulhs hom las enten.’ To give an idea of this
+obscurity, which, however, did not increase by any means the beauty of
+a canzo, it will suffice to quote a stanza from one of Arnaut Daniel’s
+poems, entirely written in rims cars:
+
+    En breu brizaral temps braus,
+    el bizel brunel e brancs
+    qui s’entresenhon trastug,
+    desobre claus rams de folha,
+    car no chant’ auzels ni piula
+    m’ensenh amors, que fassa donc
+    tal chan qui n’er segons ni tertz,
+    ans prims d’afrancar cor agre.
+
+It is worthy of notice that in the first lines the troubadour has used
+alliteration to increase the strange sound of his words. The lines serve
+at the same time as an example of another way of connecting stanzas with
+each other. All the different verses are without a rhyme in their own
+stanza, but find it in the corresponding verse of another, or of all
+the other stanzas. Rhyme of this kind is called by the ‘Leys d’Amors’
+rim espar, while Dante uses the expression clavis. When the clavis runs
+through all the verses of each stanza, the case is described as rimas
+dissolutas. Arnaut Daniel seems to have been particularly fond of this
+form; for the sestina also, which he invented, and which Dante praised
+and imitated, is founded on the same principle. Other poets preferred
+generally to introduce only one clavis or, at most, two, interrupting in
+this way, sometimes with great effect, the equal flow of the rhymes. A
+modification of the rims espars is the rims capcaudatz. This takes place
+if the clavis is the last verse of the first stanza, and is introduced
+into the following, not in its corresponding place, but by way of first
+rhyme. Of the two stanzas, for instance, quoted by the ‘Leys d’Amors,’
+the first ends with the line, ‘Li fizel de mortal pena,’ and the first
+line of the second accordingly shows the same rhyme in ‘verges eratz e
+vergena,’ and continues the scheme exactly in the same way as the first
+stanza. The various combinations of stanzas by means of the rhyme are
+one of the most interesting parts of Provençal versification, and show a
+great refinement of taste in the mediæval poets. To convey an idea of the
+skill manifested in this way, it will be useful to give a short sketch
+of a canzo which, in this as in all other respects, may be considered as
+the standard piece of Provençal poetry. This is Guillem de Cabestanh’s
+celebrated song, ‘Li douz cossire,’ through which, it is said, the poet
+lost his life, while making his name immortal. The poem consists of six
+stanzas, divided by means of corresponding rhymes into three groups of
+coblas doblas. But these three groups are again connected with each
+other; for the third stanza resumes the last feminine rhyme of the
+second, and uses it as first rhyme, introducing, however, new additional
+rhymes. The fifth stanza stands in exactly the same relation to the
+fourth. The four last lines of the second stanza show the following
+rhyming words—parvensa, temensa; fei, vei. The first rhyme of the third
+stanza must be feminine; and therefore the penultimate couple of rhymes
+is used, with some irregularity, as a kind of rims capcaudatz, and the
+beginning is
+
+    En sovinensa
+    tenc la car’el dous ris,
+    vostra valensa
+    el bel cors blanc e lis, &c.
+
+The highest principle of art, variety in unity, seems to be here
+attained. In many cases this principle of connecting the different
+stanzas led to the most childish and trifling artificialities, as, for
+instance, in what the ‘Leys d’Amors’ calls rims retrogradatz, where the
+second stanza begins with the last rhyme of the first, and reproduces all
+the subsequent rhymes in reversed order.
+
+This becomes yet more absurd if applied, as it sometimes is, to a single
+stanza, or even a single verse. In this case the stanza or verse has to
+be constructed in such a way that, without altering their meaning, the
+lines or words can change their places. The following lines, for instance,
+
+    Vengutz es lo senhor d’amon
+    Salutz grans portar en lo mon,
+
+could equally well be read the last first; or even the words could change
+their position, in this way:
+
+    Le senhor d’amon es vengutz
+    portar en lo mon grans salutz.
+
+The ‘Leys d’Amors’ adds, that he who likes to ‘despendre son temps’
+with such trifles may even find words like papa, tafata, in which the
+different syllables can be changed ad libitum. The fourth and last class
+of rhymes, as given by the ‘Leys d’Amors,’ the rims dictionals, contains,
+for the greater part, unimportant trifles of this kind. Rim dictional
+itself means the combination of two words in the rhyming syllables,
+which can be derived from each other, by either taking away or adding
+a syllable. Thus the feminine and masculine forms of the adjective
+and past participle, at-ada, ut-uda, stand in the relation of rims
+dictionals. An example of another kind of derivation is given in the
+following lines:
+
+    Mayres de Dieu prega to filh humil,
+    quem denhe dar, sil platz humilitat;
+    per miels tener lo dreg sendier util
+    que menals bos al port d’utilitat.
+
+This is an arbitrary invention, without any intrinsic value for the uses
+of genuine poetry. But some of the subdivisions given show how much the
+decline of the poetry of the troubadours was the consequence of their
+relying too much on the formal side of their art. Some poets seem to have
+particularly delighted in introducing rims leonismes parfaitz, or, as
+they are also called, rims equivocs, which, besides being different as
+regards the meaning of the words, show also a slight difference in sound
+of the vowels. In the following lines, for instance,
+
+    Sias tempratz e gent apres
+    En tas paraulas et apres,
+
+the first apres, being the participle of apprendre, sounds the _e_ a
+little more open than the second apres, afterwards. It was considered
+a great proof of poetical finish to introduce different vowels in
+combination with the same consonants into a stanza. The elder Gavaudan
+seems to have written the following verses entirely for this purpose:
+
+    Mos sens es cl_a_rs
+    als bos entended_o_rs;
+    trop es osc_u_rs
+    a selh que no sap gaire;
+    per que cuj_a_rs
+    lai on no val val_o_rs,
+    non es sab_e_rs
+    ni sens a mo vejaire.
+
+In a poem attributed by different manuscripts to Bernard de Ventadorn
+and Daude de Pradas, the poet has introduced all the five vowels in this
+way. This fact seems not to have been known to the author of the ‘Leys
+d’Amors:’ he would probably otherwise have mentioned a practice so much
+to his liking.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+THE STANZA.
+
+
+We now come to the third division of the subject—the formation of the
+stanza. The consideration of metre and rhyme has shown the skill of the
+troubadours, but also the danger into which their marvellous finish led
+them, viz., to forget the real poetical value of their work over the
+beauty of form. This danger was not equally imminent in forming the
+stanza, seeing that its rules were too securely founded on the national
+sense of harmony, and too difficult to comply with, to afford an occasion
+for easy trifling. The stanza, accordingly, we have to consider as the
+highest development of art reached by the troubadours. It is therefore
+surprising that the ‘Leys d’Amors’ says nothing of any importance
+regarding its composition. The author of the work had evidently a very
+vague idea of the real essence of the stanza. The only guide, therefore,
+in our investigation must be Dante’s work, ‘De Vulgari Eloquentia,’ in
+which he draws a full and logical account from his own deep knowledge and
+experience. But many of his expressions will be obscure until the musical
+system of the middle ages is better understood. The rules of musical
+rhythm are indeed inseparably connected with all forms of Provençal
+poetry. But the way at least may be partially cleared, and the words of
+the great Italian poet illustrated by examples from the works of the best
+troubadours.
+
+The definition which the ‘Leys d’Amors’ gives of a stanza, or, as it
+calls it, cobla, is very unsatisfactory, or rather is no definition at
+all. It is expressed in a long poem of the author’s own manufacturing,
+the meaning of which is simply that a cobla may consist at least of
+five, and at most of sixteen verses, not including the shorter lines
+known under the name of bordos biocatz. Nothing more is said on this
+important subject. Of a division of stanzas according to their metrical
+and musical composition the author seemingly knows nothing. Dante, on the
+other hand, begins his long and careful investigation by stating first
+that ‘omnis stantia ad quandam odam recipiendam armonizata est.’ The word
+‘odam’ in this connection must be understood in a double sense—a musical
+and a metrical: in the former it means simply melody, in the latter
+the metrical scheme of the stanza. But this oda is very different in
+different cases: ‘quia quædam [stantiæ] sunt sub una oda continua, usque
+ad ultimum progressive, hoc est sine iteratione modulationis cujusquam
+et sine dieresi;[41] et dieresim dicimus deductionem vergentem de una
+oda in aliam; hanc voltam vocamus cum vulgus alloquimur.’ In the cases
+here referred to, therefore, the flow of melody or verse must not be
+interrupted by a marked rest or pause, but must go on in an equal strain
+to the end of the stanza. This kind of stanza, Dante continues, was
+used chiefly by the great Arnaut Daniel, and especially in the sestina
+invented by that troubadour, and imitated by Dante himself. A stanza of
+one of Arnaut’s sestine will at once make the meaning of Dante’s words
+clear:
+
+    Lo ferm voler qu’el cor m’intra,
+    nom pot ges becs escoissendre ni ongla
+    de lauzengier, sitot de maldir s’arma;
+    e per no l’aus batr’ ab ram ni ab verga
+    sivals a frau, lai on non aurai oncle
+    jauzirai joi en vergier o dins cambra.
+
+It would be impossible to find a point where to divide this stanza on
+any principle. There are no groups of verses marked by rhyme, seeing
+that there is no rhyme; there is no change between accen agut and accen
+greu; there is not even a strong grammatical pause. Accordingly it may be
+concluded that the musical accompaniment of the words was not interrupted
+by any striking harmonious modulation such as would have made a rest
+necessary. Exactly the same may be said of Dante’s own sestina,
+
+    Al poco giorno, ed al gran cerchio d’ombra,[42]
+
+which is constructed on the same principle. In many other cases also
+where there are rhymes a division of the stanza according to Dante’s
+system is utterly impossible, because the different parts allow of no
+forming into groups by the recurrence of the same order of rhymes. For
+instance, the following stanza of Jaufre Rudel must have been sung to a
+continued oda without any interruption:
+
+    Quan lo rius de la fontana
+    s’esclarzis, si cum far sol;
+    e per la flors aiglentina
+    el rossignoletz el ram
+    volf e refraing et aplana
+    son dous chantar et afina,
+    dreitz es queu lo meu refranha.
+
+Stanzas, however, ‘sub una oda continua,’ are not the rule. ‘Quædam
+vero sunt,’ Dante continues, ‘dieresim patientes, et dieresis esse non
+potest, secundum quod eam appellamus, nisi reiteratio unius odæ fiat vel
+ante dieresim vel post vel utrimque.’ The criterion, therefore, of the
+possibility of a dieresis or volta is, first of all, that in the poem
+there should be certain groups defined musically by the repetition of
+the same melody, and metrically by the recurrence of the same rhymes and
+of verses of the same length. The volta can, as has been seen, be either
+before or after such a group, or between two different groups if both
+parts of a stanza are divided in this way. Dante gives the terms for all
+these combinations in the following words: ‘Si ante dieresim repetitio
+fiat, stantiam dicimus habere pedes, et duos habere decet, licet
+quandoque tres fiant, rarissime tamen. Si repetitio fiat post dieresim,
+tunc dicimus stantiam habere versus; si ante non fiat repetitio, stantiam
+dicimus habere frontem; si post non fiat, dicimus habere syrma sive
+caudam.’ These few words contain in a nutshell the whole theory of
+Italian, and, with some slight changes, also of Provençal, stanzas. It
+remains to enter into the special cases referred to by this rule. The
+first alternative Dante mentions is that of a division effected by the
+repetition of certain melodic and rhythmic phrases in the first part of a
+stanza. After these groups, which in this case are called pedes, a rest
+or volta becomes necessary; and after this a new melody begins, which
+lasts to the end of the stanza, and is called a cauda.[43] The following
+is one of the very numerous examples of a stanza consisting of two pedes
+and a cauda:
+
+       1. { Ai deus, ar sembles ironda,
+          { que voles per l’aire,
+          { qu’eu vengues de noit prionda
+          { lai al seu repaire!
+    Pedes
+       2. { bona domna jauzionda
+          { mortz es vostr’ amaire,
+          { paor ai quel cors mi fonda,
+          { s’aissom dura gaire.
+
+          { domna, vas vostr’ amor
+          { jonh mas mas et ador
+    Cauda { bel cors ab fresca color,
+          { gran mal me fatz traire.
+
+In this case the cauda is as long as one pes, consisting, as it does, of
+four verses. Very seldom, says Dante, are there more than two pedes to
+a cauda. This, however, applies only to the Italian literature of his
+time. In Provençal poetry there are many instances of three pedes in a
+stanza; and the favourite form of the Italian poets of the cinquecento,
+the ottava rima, must also be defined as a stanza consisting of three
+pedes and a cauda. The most important form of lyrical Italian poetry,
+the sonnet, consists of pedes and cauda. The two quatrains show the
+required repetitio unius odæ, and the two terzine form the cauda. If
+the repetition of a melodic and metrical phrase takes place after the
+volta, and only there, the two groups in the second part of the stanza
+are called versus, while the first undivided part assumes the name of
+frons. The number of versus scarcely ever exceeds two. This form is also
+very common in Provençal poetry. In the following stanza of Guillem IX.
+of Poitiers, the first three lines form the frons, and the last four are
+divided into two versus of two lines each:
+
+              { Eu conosc ben cel qui bem di
+    Frons     { e cel quim vol mal atressi,
+              { e conosc ben celui quem ri,
+
+    Versus 1. { e sil pro s’azautan de mi,
+              { conosc assaz;
+              {
+    Versus 2. { qu’atressi dei voler lor fi
+              { e lor solaz.
+
+These two principles of division in a stanza, viz., pedes and cauda, or
+frons and versus, Dante seems to consider as the most important. In both
+cases the stanza is actually divided into three parts; and this, indeed,
+was the fundamental principle of the Italian lyrical stanza, which in
+this respect, in conformity with the middle-high-German strophe, differs
+from the _langue d’oc_. Into old Italian poetry this tripartite division
+was perhaps introduced from the leonine hexameter, which, as has been
+stated before, sometimes took a similar form. In the Teutonic languages
+it seems much older; and indeed it is to be found in the old Icelandic
+ljôđahâttr, where the first two lines are of equal length and belong to
+one another, while the third one, longer than each, stands by itself. In
+the German popular epic this principle is not visible; but it appears
+again unmistakeably in the mediæval ‘minneliet.’ The usual form in the
+latter is pedes and cauda, which here are called Stollen and Abgesang. It
+is impossible here to consider the interesting phenomena arising from the
+conflict of this principle with the Provençal bias in those cases where
+the German minnesinger tried to imitate the stanzas of the troubadours.
+The prevalent principle in Provençal poetry seems to have been the
+division of a stanza into two corresponding parts; and, accordingly, to
+the above-mentioned combinations two more of great importance must be
+added. The first of these, which Dante also is acquainted with, is the
+division of a stanza into pedes and versus. In this case the stanza is
+divided into four parts; but each pair of these is so closely connected
+that the Provençal principle of a division into two halves is fully borne
+out—the more so, as there were evidently only two different melodies,
+each of them being repeated. The instances are again very numerous. In
+the following stanza of Peire d’Alvernhe’s, the pedes and versus consist
+of two lines each:
+
+    Pes 1.    { Rossinhol, en son repaire
+              { m’iras ma domna vezer,
+              {
+    Pes 2.    { e digas lil meu afaire
+              { et ill diguat del seu ver,
+
+    Versus 1. { quem man sai—com lestai;
+              { mas de mill sovenha,
+              {
+    Versus 2. { qui ges lai—per nuill plai
+              { ab ri not retenha.
+
+The fourth and last combination occurs when the stanza consists of a
+frons and a cauda, that is to say, when the two parts are undivided in
+themselves, but when a new melodic and metrical period begins after a
+certain number of verses. This form shows the Provençal principle of a
+division into two parts more clearly than any of the others; but Dante,
+from his point of view, is also right in not approving of it, or rather
+in not acknowledging it as a division at all, seeing that there is no
+‘repetitio unius odæ.’ One out of many examples of this phenomenon is a
+stanza of Bertrand de Born’s, where the frons and cauda consist of three
+lines each:
+
+          { Autr’ escondig vos farai plus sobrier
+    Frons { e no mi posc orar plus d’encombrier:
+          { seu anc failli vas vos neis del pensar,
+
+          { quant serem sol en chambr’o dins vergier,
+    Cauda { faillam poder deves mon compaignier,
+          { de tal guiza que nom posc’ ajudar.
+
+The end of the first and the beginning of the second musical and
+metrical phrase, as marked by the diesis or volta, was generally further
+strengthened by the conclusion of the grammatical sentence. In most of
+the numerous stanzas already quoted, the volta contains either a full
+stop or a semicolon, or at least a comma. The sentence is seldom carried
+on through the volta, though even the best troubadours were not always
+careful in applying this rule.
+
+By these various methods, the stanza was strictly divided into different
+parts. But, on the other hand, the feeling of the troubadours for unity
+and harmony was too keen not to make it desirable to bridge over somehow
+the gap made by the volta, and to preserve the connection between the
+two sides. This was done by means of the rhyme, which, as has been seen,
+was used for a similar purpose between the different stanzas of a poem.
+This process is called by Dante concatenatio; and this concatenatio might
+be effected in two different ways. The first and simpler mode consists
+in the cauda or versus adopting one or several rhymes of the frons or
+pedes. This is the course usually followed; and almost all the stanzas
+above quoted may serve as examples. So in Bertrand de Born’s poem the
+cauda repeats both the rhymes of the frons. In Guillem IX.’s stanza the
+versus take up the only rhyme of the frons, adding a new one of their
+own. This concatenatio, however, was not considered absolutely necessary;
+and Peire d’Alvernhe, for instance, one of the most finished troubadours,
+introduces into the versus of his stanza rhymes entirely different from
+those found in the pedes. Another kind of concatenatio is effected by
+adding, either before or after the volta, a line which contains the rhyme
+of the other part of the stanza. How the troubadours contrived not to
+disturb the flow of their melody by this new and seemingly inharmonious
+element it is difficult to say. Perhaps it was sung to a sort of
+recitative or arioso of its own, which served as a prelude to the new
+melody of the second part. The meaning of this will be clearly shown by
+the following stanza by Raimbaut de Vaqueiras:
+
+    Era pot hom conoisser e proar
+    Que de bos faitz ren deus bon gazardo,
+    qu’al pro Marques n’a fait esmend’e do,
+    quel fai son pretz sobrels melhors pojar;
+    si quel crozat de Frans e de Campanha
+    l’an quist a deu per lo melhor de totz,
+    e per cobrar lo sepulcr’e la crotz
+    on fon Ihesus, qu’el vol en sa companha
+    l’onrat marques, et al deus dat poder
+    de bos vassalhs e de terr’e d’aver
+    e de ric cor per melhs far so quel tanha.
+
+This stanza consists of a frons and two versus of three lines each. The
+first four lines are a whole in themselves; and after them the frons
+ought to be concluded by the volta, as is indicated by the punctuation
+after ‘pojar.’ But the poet adds a fifth line, in order to introduce a
+rhyme from the versus, and in this way effects the concatenatio he needs.
+There was yet another way of connecting the two parts of the stanza which
+might in a certain sense also be called concatenatio, but which was
+seemingly unknown to Dante. The following stanza of Cercalmont’s,
+
+    Senhors e dompnas gerpira
+    s’a lei plagues queu li servis,
+    e quem diria m’en partis,
+    fariam morir des era,
+    qu’en autra non ai mon esper
+    noit ni jorn ni matin ni ser,
+    ni d’als mos cors no consira,
+
+consists evidently of a frons and a cauda, of three lines each. The
+fourth verse does not belong to either, and its rhyme is not to be
+found in the same stanza; therefore it is to be called a clavis. But
+nevertheless it is of use for the purpose of connecting the frons with
+the cauda; for, by considering it as a kind of centre, and going from it
+to the beginning and to the end of the stanza, the reader will see that
+the two parts exactly agree as regards the length of the verses, and even
+their feminine rhyme.
+
+In the eleventh chapter of his ‘De Vulgari Eloquentia’ Dante speaks of
+the relations between the parts of a stanza so far as the number and
+length of the lines are concerned. He enumerates and explains no less
+than nine different cases. For the present purpose, however, these are
+scarcely of any importance; for the rules given by him cannot be traced
+to the poems of the troubadours. In this respect the Provençal poets seem
+to have exercised great liberty, being protected against choosing bad
+proportions by their refined sense of harmony.
+
+It still remains to mention a form of Provençal poetry, of which the
+essence cannot be explained nor the rules defined without the aid of
+Dante’s statements. This is the tornada, a kind of postlude or envoi
+to the stanza, in which the poem is dedicated to the lady-love or the
+protector of the troubadour, who is generally introduced under a senhal
+or pseudonym to keep the real name secret. Peire Vidal always calls the
+beautiful Azalais ‘Vierna,’ while the senhal ‘Bels Castiatz’ designates
+his noble protector Sir Aimeric de Monrial. The ‘Leys d’Amors’ says that,
+as a rule, there ought to be two tornadas, the first of them containing
+the senhal. This, however, is not confirmed by the majority of Provençal
+poems, which contain many examples of a single tornada. In another
+respect also the ‘Leys d’Amors’ is very inaccurate. It says that the
+tornada must be identical in form with the latter half of the stanza, if
+this consists of an even number of lines, adding or leaving out one line
+where the number of the verses cannot be divided by two. But this applies
+only to those stanzas where no division is to be found. Where there is a
+diesis the rule is quite different, and can be learned only from Dante,
+who speaks of the tornada in the ‘Convito,’ where he derives the word
+from tornar, owing to a part of the oda returning in it. Accordingly the
+rule in the divided stanza is that the first tornada repeats the metrical
+form and rhyme of that part of the stanza—cauda or versus—which stands
+after the volta. Where there is a second tornada it generally agrees
+with the first, being, however, always the shorter of the two. All this,
+of course, the author of the ‘Leys d’Amors’ could not know, because he
+was ignorant of the metrical and musical formation of the stanza; but it
+is of the highest importance for the study of Provençal versification,
+and shows again the great value of Dante’s work in that respect. The
+above-stated rule is confirmed by so many examples from the canzos of the
+troubadours that it is scarcely necessary to bring new evidence for it.
+It will be more useful to mention some of the more important exceptions,
+which in this, as in other cases, ‘firmant regulam.’ If the last stanza
+of a poem ends with two versus, the tornada sometimes repeats only one
+of them. Sometimes also part of the cauda remains unrepeated. In other
+cases the tornada repeats exactly the metre of the cauda, but differs
+slightly from its rhymes. In a sirventes of Marti de Mons, which was
+written in the fifteenth century (1436), and by which the poet gained the
+‘englantina’ in the competition of the Academy of Toulouse, the cauda of
+the last stanza consists of the following four verses:
+
+    doranavant no cal plus dart ny lansa
+    depus que dieus s’es mes de nostra part;
+    qu’a tout l’erguelh al verenos leupart
+    que ta lonc temptz nos ha donat dampnatge.
+
+The first of these lines serves as concatenatio; and for that reason its
+rhyme agrees with the first part of the poem. In the tornada this reason
+of course did not exist; and therefore the poet very skilfully rhymes
+the first line with the last line of the tornada instead of making it
+like the first verse of the cauda. The tornada, therefore, is this:
+
+    Confort d’amors, fons he cap de paratge
+    vostre car filh faytz que prim ho de tart
+    nos velha dar totz ensemps bona part
+    de paradis, le sobrier heretatge.
+
+In many cases also there is no tornada at all, or it may be said to
+consist of the last stanza of the poem, if in this the senhal and
+dedication are introduced.
+
+The principles insisted upon in the foregoing remarks may perhaps best
+be illustrated by an accurate metrical analysis of the subjoined canzo
+of Bernard de Ventadorn. For the purpose in question this poem has
+the double advantage of presenting a great complication of metrical
+rules, and of showing at the same time how the troubadours succeeded in
+combining such a complicated structure with the beauty of genuine poetry.
+
+    _a._ Be m’an perdut lai enves Ventadorn
+         tuit mei amic, pos ma domna nom ama,
+         et es be dreitz que jamais lai no torn,
+         qu’ades estai vas mi salvatg’ e grama.
+         veus per quem fai semblan irat e morn,
+         quar en s’amor mi deleit em sojorn,
+         ni de ren al nos rancura nis clama.
+
+    _b._ Aissi col peis qui s’eslaiss’ el cadorn
+         e no sap re tro que s’es pres en l’ama,
+         m’eslaissei eu vas trop amar un jorn;
+         qu’anc no saup mot tro fui en mei la flama
+         que m’art plus fort que no fai focs de forn;
+         e ges per so nom posc partir un dorn,
+         aissim te pres s’amors que m’aliama.
+
+    _c._ Nom meravilh si s’amors mi te pres,
+         que genser cors no cre qu’el mon se mire;
+         bels es e blancs e frescs e gais e les,
+         e totz aitals cum eu volh e dezire;
+         no posc dir mal de leis, que non i es;
+         qu’el n’agra dig de joi, seu l’i saubes,
+         mas no l’i sai: per so m’en lais de dire.
+
+    _d._ Totz temps volrai sa honor e sos bes
+         elh serai hom et amics e servire,
+         e l’amarai, be li plass’o belh pes,
+         qu’om no pot cor destrenher ses aucire.
+         no sai domna, volgues o non volgues,
+         sim volia, qu’amar no la pogues;
+         mas totas res pot hom en mal escrire.
+
+    _e._ A las autras sui aissi escasutz:
+         laquals si vol mi pot vas si atraire,
+         per tal coven que nom sia vendutz
+         l’onors nil bes que m’a en cor a faire;
+         qu’enojos es prejars, pos es perdutz:
+         per mius o dic, que mals m’en es vengutz,
+         qu’enganat m’a la bela de mal aire.
+
+    _f._ En Proensa tramet mans e salutz,
+         e mais de bes qu’om no lor sap retraire,
+         e fatz esfortz, miraclas e vertutz,
+         car eu lor man de so don non ai gaire;
+         qu’eu non ai joi mas tan com m’en adutz
+         mos Bels Vezers en Faituratz sos drutz
+         en Alvergnatz lo senher de Belcaire.
+
+    _g._ Mos Bels Vezers per vos fai deus vertutz
+         tals c’om nous ve que no si’ ereubutz
+         dels bels plazers que sabetz dir e faire.
+
+This poem consists of six stanzas and a tornada. The length of each
+stanza is seven verses, that of the tornada three. In each stanza there
+is, according to Dante’s expression, a diesis or volta, for there is
+the required reiteratio unius odæ. This reiteratio takes place before
+the volta, while after the volta no division is possible. The stanza
+therefore must be divided into two pedes of two lines each and a cauda
+of three lines. According to rule, the metrical division is marked by
+a strong grammatical break (at least a semicolon), the only exception
+being stanza _b_, where a punctuation in the volta is not possible. The
+tornada repeats as usual the form and rhymes of the cauda; and in it the
+poem is dedicated to the poet’s lady-love, who is addressed by a senhal.
+Bel Vezer was in this case Agnes de Montluçon, wife of the troubadour’s
+lord and protector, who raised him from the state of a common servant and
+gave him the first lessons ‘del gay saber.’ The verse of the stanza is
+decasyllabic; it occurs with masculine and feminine rhyme. The stanza may
+be formulated metrically by using capital letters for the decasyllabic
+line, and adding to them the sign ~ for the accen greu; the volta may be
+marked by a semicolon, and the division of the pedes from each other by a
+colon:
+
+                            A B~: A B~; A A B~.
+
+Hence it appears that in each stanza there are only two different rhymes,
+the cauda repeating those of the pedes, which is the simplest form of
+concatenatio. Moreover, each couple of stanzas have the same rhyme, or
+are coblas doblas; the poet in consequence had to find, three different
+times, eight masculine and six feminine rhyming words, which, though not
+a very difficult task in the _langue d’oc_, required a certain amount
+of skill. In the last group of stanzas this number was increased by the
+tornada to ten and seven respectively. Nevertheless there are only two
+cases of the same words with the same meaning occurring in the rhymes,
+or of motz tornatz en rim as the ‘Leys d’Amors’ calls them. Both these
+cases, _f_ 3 = _g_ 1 and _e_ 4 = _g_ 3, occur in the tornada, where they
+were not as strictly forbidden as in other positions. On the other hand
+there are many examples of ‘rime riche’ in its masculine as well as
+feminine form. The former or rims consonans lejals are _a_ 1 = _b_ 1 =
+_b_ 6, _c_ 6 = _d_ 1, _d_ 5 = _d_ 6, _e_ 3 = _e_ 5 = _f_ 5. The latter or
+rims leonismes parfaitz are _e_ 2 = _f_ 2. But in all these cases it is
+very doubtful whether these rhymes were intentional, since they exhibit
+no system or order. A remarkable sense of the effects of sound is shown
+in the alliterative use of the letter _f_ in _b_ 4 and 5, by means of
+which the pains of the unhappy lover are onomatopoetically expressed.
+
+In the verse of ten syllables the cæsura is always of importance: it
+therefore remains to take note of it. The cæsura, where it appears
+feminine, has been divided into the epical and the lyrical, the
+difference being that in the epical pauza del bordo the accent always
+remains on the fourth syllable, after which another unaccentuated
+syllable is added to the first hemistich, while in lyrical poetry the
+accent itself is removed from the fourth to the third syllable. In the
+present poem the pauza con accen agut is by far the more common; where it
+occurs with accen greu it always takes the lyrical form. These cases are
+_d_ 5 and 6, _e_ 1, and _f_ 1.
+
+It may be worth while to notice that once, _d_ 5, the word domna is
+placed in the lyrical pauza. The troubadours, in addressing their
+lady-loves, seem to have liked this particular position of the word,
+by means of which it received a certain emphasis. In many canzos of
+different troubadours there are instances of this device; in one of
+Guillem de Cabestanh’s songs it occurs twice, or, according to a Parisian
+manuscript in which the poem is also preserved, even three times.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+SOME INTERLINEAR VERSIONS.
+
+
+I.
+
+_CANZO BY GUILLEM DE CABESTANH._
+
+    Li douz cossire
+      The sweet thoughts
+    Qem don amors soven,
+      Which to me gives love often,
+    Domnam fan dire
+      Lady, me make say
+    De vos maint vers plazen;
+      Of you many a poem pleasant;
+    Pessan remire
+      Thinking I gaze (on)
+    Vostre cors car e gen,
+      Your body dear and comely,
+    Cui eu dezire
+      Which I desire
+    Mas qe non faz parven;
+      More than (not) I make appearance;
+    E sitot me deslei
+      And although myself I make (appear) disloyal
+    Per vos, ges nous abnei,
+      For you(r sake), scarcely (not) you I deny;
+    Q’ades vas vos soplei
+      For soon towards you I pray
+    De francha benvolensa.
+      With genuine love.
+    Domna, on beutaz gensa,
+      Lady, where (in whom) beauty is an ornament,
+    Maintas vez oblit mei
+      Many times I forget myself
+    Q’eu lau vos e mercei.
+      That I may praise you and implore mercy.
+
+    Toz temps m’azire
+      All times me may hate
+    L’amors qeus mi defen,
+      The Love which you (from) me withholds
+    S’eu jal cor vire
+      If I ever the heart turn
+    Ad autr’ entendemen;
+      To another (loving) understanding;
+    Tolt m’ avez rire
+      Taken away (from) me you have laughter
+    E donat pessamen.
+      And given thought.
+    Plus greu martire
+      More severe martyrdom
+    Nuls homs de me no sen;
+      No man of me (than I) not feels;
+    Qar vos qe plus envei
+      For you whom more I desire
+    De re q’el mon estei,
+      Of (than a) thing which in the world is
+    Desautorc e mescrei
+      I disavow and deny
+    E desam en parvensa;
+      And un-love in appearance;
+    Tot qant faz per temensa
+      All how much I do through fear
+    Devez en bona fei
+      You must in good faith
+    Prendre, neis qan nous vei.
+      Take, even when not you I see.
+
+    En sovinensa
+      In memory
+    Tenc la car’ el dous ris,
+      I hold the face and the sweet smile,
+    Vostra valensa
+      Your worth
+    El bel cors blanc e lis;
+      And the beautiful body white and lithe;
+    Si per crezensa
+      If through faith
+    Estes ves deu tan fis,
+      I were towards God as faithful,
+    Vius ses falhensa
+      Alive without failure
+    Intrer’ en paradis;
+      I should enter into paradise.
+    Q’ aissim sui ses toz cuz
+      For so myself I am (have) without all (any) hesitation
+    De cor a vos renduz
+      Of the heart to you given
+    Q’autra jois nom aduz;
+      That another joys not to me gives;
+    Q’una no porta benda,
+      For one not wears a band
+    Q’en prezes per esmenda
+      That I of her should prize as compensation
+    Jaser ne fos sos druz
+      To lie (with her) nor that I were her lover
+    Per las vostras saluz.
+      (In exchange) for the your greetings.
+
+    Toz jorns m’agensa
+      All the days me stirs
+    Desirs, tan m’abelis
+      Desire, so much me attracts
+    La captenensa
+      The bearing
+    De vos per cui languis;
+      Of you for whom I languish;
+    Bem par qem vensa
+      Good to me it seems that me should conquer
+    Vostr’ amors, q’ans qeus vis
+      Your love, for before that you I saw
+    Fo m’ entendensa,
+      It was to me a knowledge
+    Qeus ames eus servis;
+      That you I should love and you I should serve;
+    Q’ aissim sui remansuz
+      For thus myself I am (have) remained
+    Sols ses autres ajuz
+      Alone without other helps
+    Q’ ab vos, e n’ ai perduz
+      But (from) you and therefrom I have lost
+    Mans bes, quis vuelhals prenda;
+      Many boons; he who for himself will (have) them take (them);
+    Q’a mi plaz mais q’atenda
+      For to me it pleases more that I should wait
+    Ses toz covenz saubuz
+      Without all covenants known
+    Vas don m’ es jois creguz.
+      (With) towards (her) from whom to me (has) is joy grown.
+
+    Ans qe s’encenda
+      Before that itself may inflame
+    Inz el cor la dolors,
+      Inside in the heart the pain,
+    Merces desenda
+      Mercy may descend,
+    Domn’ en vos et amors,
+      Lady, into you and love,
+    Qe joi mi renda
+      Which joy to me may give
+    En lonhs sospirs e plors.
+      Amidst long sighs and tears.
+    Nous o defenda
+      Not you this may forbid
+    Paratges ni ricors;
+      Parentage nor wealth;
+    Q’oblidaz m’es toz bes,
+      For forgotten (by) me is every boon,
+    S’ab vos nom val merces;
+      If with you not me helps mercy;
+    Ai! bella dousa res,
+      Oh! beautiful sweet thing,
+    Molt feraz gran franqesa
+      Much will you do great frankness
+    M’amessez o non ges;
+      (If) me you would love or not (scarcely)
+    Q’eras no sai qe s’es.
+      For now not I know which (itself) it is.
+
+    Non trop contenda
+      Not I find resistance
+    Contra vostras valors;
+      Against your worth(s);
+    Merces von prenda
+      Mercy you thereof may take
+    Tals q’a vos si’ onors;
+      Such as to you would be an honour;
+    Ja nom entenda
+      Ever not me may hear
+    Dieus mest sos prejadors,
+      God amongst his worshippers,
+    Si volh la renda
+      If I will (take) the income
+    Dels qatre reis majors
+      Of the four kings greatest
+    Qe ab vos nom valgues
+      So that with you not to me should be of use
+    Dieus e ma bona fes;
+      God and my good faith;
+    Qe partir nom posc ges
+      For part (from you) not (me) I can scarcely
+    Tant fort si es empresa
+      So strongly itself is (has) inflamed
+    M’ amors, e si fos presa
+      My love, and if it were found
+    En baisan nius plagues,
+      (In) kissing and if you it pleased
+    Ja no volgram solves.
+      Ever not should I wish myself that I severed.
+
+    Anc res q’a vos plagues
+      Ever a thing that (to) you pleased
+    Bona domna cortesa
+      Good lady courteous
+    Tan no m’ estet defesa,
+      So much not to me was forbidden
+    Q’eu ans no la fezes,
+      That I sooner not it should do
+    Qe d’als mi sovengues.
+      Than of another thing (myself) I should think.
+
+
+II.
+
+_IDYLL BY MARCABRUN._
+
+    A la fontana del vergier,
+      At the fountain of the orchard
+    On l’ erb’ es vertz jostal gravier,
+      Where the grass is green near the gravel
+    A l’ ombra d’ un fust domesgier,
+      In the shade of a tree indigenous
+    En aizement de blancas flors
+      In the beauty of white flowers
+    E de novel chant costumier,
+      And of new song familiar
+    Trobei sola ses companhier
+      I found alone without companion
+    Cela que no volc mon solatz.
+      Her who not relished my conversation.
+
+    So fon donzel’ ab son cor bel,
+      This was a girl with her body beautiful
+    Filha d’un senhor de castel;
+      The daughter of one lord of a castle;
+    E quant eu cugei que l’ auzel
+      And when I thought that the birds
+    Li fesson joi e la verdors,
+      Her made (gave) joy and the greenery
+    E pel dous termini novel,
+      And (because of) the sweet season new
+    E que entendes mon favel,
+      And that she would listen (to) my address
+    Tost li fon sos afors camjatz.
+      Soon (the) were her manners changed.
+
+    Dels olhs ploret josta la fon
+      From her eyes she cried by the fountain
+    E del cor sospiret preon.
+      And from the heart she sighed deeply.
+    ‘Jhesus,’ dis ela, ‘reis del mon,
+      ‘Jesus,’ said she, ‘king of the world,
+    Per vos mi creis ma grans dolors,
+      Through you me grows my great grief
+    Quar vostra anta mi cofon,
+      For your disgrace me injures,
+    Quar li melhor de tot est mon
+      For the best of all this world
+    Vos van servir, mas a vos platz.
+      You go to serve, but to you it pleases.
+
+    Ab vos s’en vai lo meus amics,
+      With you (himself) away goes (the) my friend
+    Lo bels el gens el pros el rics,
+      The beautiful and the gentle and the brave and the worthy
+    Sai m’en reman lo grans destrics,
+      Here to me therefrom remains the great grief
+    Lo deziriers soven el plors.
+      The longing often and the tear.
+    Ai! mala fos reis Lozoics
+      Alas! evil be (befal) king Louis.
+    Que fai los mans e los prezics
+      Who makes the commands and the preachings,
+    Per quel dols m’es el cor intratz.’
+      Through which the pain to me is into the heart entered.’
+
+    Quant eu l’auzi desconortar,
+      When I her heard lament
+    Ves leis vengui jostal riu clar.
+      To her I came near the brook clear.
+    ‘Bela,’ fi m’eu, ‘per trop plorar
+      ‘Beautiful one,’ said (myself) I, ‘by too much crying
+    Afola cara e colors:
+      Degenerates face and colour:
+    E no vos qual dezesperar,
+      And not you it beseems to despair,
+    Que cel que fai lo bosc folhar
+      For he who makes the bush bring forth leaves
+    Vos pot donar de joi assatz.’
+      You can give of joys enough.’
+
+    ‘Senher,’ dis ela, ‘ben o cre,
+      ‘Sir,’ said she, ‘well this I believe
+    Que Deus aja de mi merce
+      That God may have of me mercy
+    En l’ autre segle per jasse,
+      In the other world for ever
+    Quon assatz d’ autres peccadors;
+      As enough of other sinners;
+    Mas sai mi tol aquela re
+      But here me he takes that thing
+    Don jois mi crec; mas pauc mi te
+      Of which joy me grew; but little me he holds worth
+    Que trop s’es de mi alonhatz.
+      As too (far) (himself) he is from me gone.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES
+
+
+[1] Even the oldest Provençal poem of importance known to us, a popular
+version of the story of Boethius, belonging, according to Raynouard, to
+the tenth century, shows in most essential points the same grammatical
+structure as the language of the Troubadours, barring such irregularities
+and archaisms as are fully accounted for by the age and origin of the
+work.
+
+[2] The religious poems of the Vaudois, especially the celebrated ‘Noble
+Lesson,’ a medley of moral and dogmatic precepts, do not concern us, they
+being both by language and tendency entirely removed from the sphere of
+artistic literature.
+
+[3] A curious collection of all imaginable law cases, called ‘Albres de
+Batalhas,’ or ‘Tree of Contention,’ and written most likely originally in
+French, may be mentioned as throwing a curious though faint light on a
+recent controversy. One of the fictitious actions is between a Frenchman
+and a licentiate of London who has come to Paris to take his degree in
+the celebrated university of that city, a case of frequent occurrence,
+although ‘as every one knows the Kings of France and England are always
+at war with each other.’ In answer to some argument of the Englishman his
+antagonist exclaims in his boisterous way: ‘We Frenchmen don’t care about
+your laws or the _emperor_ who made them.’ What better precedent could
+the advocates of Queen Victoria’s new title demand than this testimony of
+an enemy, who curiously enough speaks of his own monarch as the king?
+
+[4] In one passage, it is true, he uses the words, ‘que ay escrichas
+questas razos,’ ‘I who have written these things,’ but that may be a
+shorter way for saying ‘dictated,’ which the expression in the text
+evidently indicates.
+
+[5] In the second-mentioned poem the instruction takes the whimsical form
+of a reproof to a joglar for _not_ knowing the various subjects mentioned
+in the text. ‘I will tell you the truth without a lie,’ the ingenuous
+poet opens his diatribe; ‘you are a bad fiddler and worse singer from
+beginning to end.’
+
+[6] Pulci says that Angelo Poliziano called his attention to Arnaut’s
+work, in acknowledgment evidently of what he considered a remarkable
+antiquarian achievement.
+
+[7] ‘Galahalt’ was the go-between of the Queen and her lover. The word
+became nationalised in Italian as equivalent to ‘Pandar.’
+
+[8] This kind of personal apprenticeship to a renowned troubadour, be
+it here parenthetically stated, was, in the good times, the common way
+of acquiring the complicated and difficult art of poetry. Other poets
+taught themselves with the assistance of the great models preserved in
+writing, or transmitted by word of mouth and sound of voice or fiddle.
+Jaufre Rudel says prettily, that meadows and orchards, trees and flowers,
+and the cries and songs of wild birds have been his teachers. The
+‘Academies,’ _i.e._ teaching and examining bodies, were, like the schools
+of the German master singers, creations of a late epoch.
+
+[9] M. Damase Arbaud some time ago published a charming collection of
+popular ditties (‘Chants Populaires de Provence,’ Aix, 1862), containing
+amongst other pieces some beautiful Christmas songs or _noëls_ evidently
+of great antiquity, although still sung in Provence. Some of these poems,
+the editor believes, date back from the times of the Troubadours. But the
+oral tradition to which they owe their preservation has unfortunately
+changed their linguistic character beyond recognition.
+
+[10] The _senhal_ or pseudonym of his lady-love.
+
+[11] Songs of dispute or contention.
+
+[12] ‘The other day by the roadside I heard a shepherd sing a song, which
+said: “False traitors have killed me.” And when he saw me approach, he
+jumped to his feet to do me honour and said, ‘God be with you, sir; for
+now I have found a friend, leal and discreet and without falsehood to
+whom I may complain of love.’
+
+[13] A curious exception to this rule occurs in a _balada_ published
+by Professor Bartsch from a Paris manuscript. It is evidently written
+in imitation of a popular model, and differs _in toto_ from the spirit
+and diction of the poetry of the Troubadours, with which it has nothing
+in common but the language. Here we have a refrain of purely musical
+significance at the end of some of the lines, and also the exclamation
+of the dancers referred to in the text. Here also, curiously enough,
+the words take a narrative turn, thus seeming to foreshadow the gradual
+transition of the term ballad from its old to its modern meaning. A
+stanza may follow here:—
+
+    A l’entrada del tems clar, eya,
+    Per joya recomençar, eya,
+    E per jelos irritar, eya,
+    Vol la regina mostrar
+    Q’el’est est si amoroza.
+    Alavi’, alavia, jelos,
+    Laissaz nos, laissaz nos
+    Ballar entre nos, entre nos.
+
+(‘At the beginning of the bright season, eya, in order to begin again
+joy, eya, and to irritate the jealous, eya, the queen resolves to show
+how amorous she is. Away, away, ye jealous, let us, let us, dance by
+ourselves, by ourselves’).
+
+[14] An article in the _Cornhill Magazine_ (July 1877), called a ‘Plea
+for certain Exotic Forms of Verse,’ may be consulted with advantage, as
+regards the adoption of these French metres by some modern English poets.
+For modern French poetry, that charming volume ‘Petit Traité de Poésie,’
+by Théodore de Banville, is the chief source. Of the mediæval development
+of his own language and the _langue d’oc_ M. de Banville unfortunately
+says little or nothing. Villon seems the earliest author known to him.
+Rutebœuf he ignores.
+
+[15] According to the _Leys d’amors_, this choice of one of two arguments
+proposed by one troubadour to another, is the characteristic feature of
+the _partimen_ in distinction from the _tenso_ generally.
+
+[16] A notorious freebooter of the time.
+
+[17] Attacks on the morals of the clergy are frequent in Provençal
+literature; but of poems containing heretical opinions in matters of
+dogma I know only one, by Peire Cardinal. It is a passionate plea against
+the eternity of punishment, and might have been quoted with advantage
+in a recent ecclesiastical trial. It is, however, by no means unlikely
+that other poems of heterodox import may have been accidentally or
+wilfully destroyed in the course of ages. The fact that a bull of Pope
+Innocent IV., dated 1245, prohibits to students the use of Provençal, as
+a language of heretics, tends to confirm this surmise.
+
+[18] This poem may be found in Bartsch’s ‘Chrestomathie Provençale,’ 2nd
+edition, p. 55.
+
+[19] The exact meaning of the word _sirventes_ is not easy to define. It
+is evidently derived from the Latin verb _servire_, and may therefore
+loosely be rendered as the ‘song of a serving-man in praise or in the
+interest of his master.’ The _Leys d’amors_ calls the _sirventes_ ‘a
+song which contains censure and vituperation, and castigates wicked and
+malignant people.’ This tolerably meets the case. The use of the word
+by later grammarians for a song in praise of the Virgin is a manifest
+corruption of its original meaning.
+
+[20] The characteristic change between plural and singular in the lady’s
+address to Guillem adds greatly to the impressiveness of the original.
+Here, for instance, she says, ‘Eram digaz (Tell _you_ me), t’es tu
+anquera (hast _thou_ found out),’ etc.
+
+[21] See the interlinear version of it; Index, ii.
+
+[22] Another biographer adds with ghastly accuracy, ‘_a pebrada_,’ with
+pepper—‘devilled,’ as we should say.
+
+[23] Some readers may care to know the whole passage referring to our
+troubadour, one of the most weird and impressive of the ‘Inferno.’ It
+occurs in the 28th Canto towards the close, and runs thus:—
+
+    Ma io rimasi a riguardar lo stuolo,
+    E vidi cosa ch’io avrei paura
+    Senza più pruova di contarla solo;
+    Se non che conscienzia m’assicura,
+    La buona compagnia che l’uom francheggia
+    Sotto l’usbergo del sentirsi pura.
+    Io vidi certo ed ancor par ch’io ’l veggia,
+    Un busto senza capo andar, si come
+    Andavan gli altri della trista greggia.
+    E ‘l capo tronco tenea per le chiome
+    Pesol con mano, a guisa di lanterna:
+    E quei mirava noi, e dicea: O me!
+    Di sè faceva a sè stesso lucerna;
+    Ed eran due in uno ed uno in due:
+    Com’ esser puo, Quei sa che sì governa.
+    Quando diritto appiè del ponte fue
+    Levò ‘l braccio alto con tutta la testa
+    Per appressarne le parole sue,
+    Che furo: Or vedi la pena molesta
+    Tu che, spirando vai veggendo i morti:
+    Vedi s’alcuna è grave come questa.
+    E perchè tu di me novella porti,
+    Sappi ch’io son Bertram dal Bornio, quelli
+    Che al rè giovane diedi i mai conforti;
+    Io feci ’l padre e ‘l figlio in sè ribelli:
+    Achitofel non fè più d’Absalone
+    E di David, coi malvagi pungelli.
+    Perch’io partii così giunte persone,
+    Partito porto il mio cerebro lasso!
+    Dal suo principio chè ’n questo troncone;
+    Così s’osserva in me lo contrappasso.
+
+    But I remained to look upon the troop,
+    And saw a thing which I should be in fear,
+    Without more proof of telling, I alone,
+    But that my conscience reassureth me,
+    The good companion which emboldens man
+    Under the hauberk of its feeling pure.
+    I certes saw, and seems I see it still,
+    A trunk without a head proceeding, so
+    As went the others of the sorry flock.
+    And by the hair he held his truncate head
+    In guise of lantern, pendulous in hand:
+    And that gazed on us, and it said, ‘Oh me!’
+    He of himself made light unto himself,
+    And they were two in one, and one in two:
+    How it can be He knows who governs thus.
+    When he was right against the bridge’s foot,
+    He raised, with all the head, his arm on high
+    So to approach to us the words thereof,
+    Which were: ‘See now the troublous penalty
+    Thou who go’st breathing, looking at the dead,
+    See whether any is so great as this.
+    And, for that thou mayst carry of me news,
+    I, know thou, am Bertran de Born, the man
+    Who gave the young king ill encouragements.
+    I mutually made rebels son and sire:
+    Ahithophel made Absalom no more
+    And David with his wicked goadings on.
+    Because I parted persons thus conjoined,
+    My brain, alas! I carry parted from
+    Its principle which is in this my trunk.
+    So retribution is in me observed.
+
+                   W. M. ROSSETTI’S _translation_.
+
+[24] I must warn the reader not to mistake the above lines for an attempt
+at rendering a somewhat similar war-song generally ascribed to Bertran
+de Born, and translated into English as one of his poems. It is the
+magnificent _sirventes_ beginning ‘Bem platz lo gais temps de pascor’
+(Well I love the gay time of spring), and so much is it in the spirit of
+our troubadour that even one of the old manuscripts has his name affixed
+to it. Unfortunately, however, the evidence of numerous other and better
+manuscripts is against this plausible surmise, and by their authority
+the poem must be ascribed to William de St. Gregory, a troubadour
+comparatively little known.
+
+[25] ‘First among all, Arnaut Daniel, the great master of love, who still
+does honour to his country by his new and beautiful parlance.’
+
+[26] Owing to the noble protection granted to the remnants of the old
+Waldenses in the valleys of the Cottonian Alps by Cromwell, and continued
+by subsequent English governments, till the full emancipation of the
+sect by King Charles Albert in 1848, their history and doctrines have
+excited a great deal of interest in this country. A rich and valuable
+literature on the subject exists in our language, disfigured only by the
+desire, on the part of theologians, to absolutely identify the original
+doctrine of the Vaudois with that of the Protestant reformers. This kind
+of retrospective propagandism may have been useful in the days of the
+Commonwealth to raise Puritan sympathy for oppressed fellow Protestants,
+but surely is out of place in our critical times. The works by Blair,
+Faber, Gilly, Allix, and others are well known. The reader’s attention
+is called to an interesting volume by Dr. Todd, containing a description
+of the Waldensian manuscripts in the library of Trinity College, Dublin,
+also reprints of articles by the late Hon. Algernon Herbert, Dr. Gilly,
+and other authors, on the Waldenses and their representative poem,
+the ‘Noble Lesson.’ Here also will be found a curious account of the
+re-discovery of certain interesting MSS., brought over to England by
+Morland, Cromwell’s envoy to the Duke of Savoy, and deposited by him
+in the library of Cambridge University. They were long supposed to
+have disappeared, but were ultimately found by Mr. H. Bradshaw, the
+accomplished scholar, in 1862, on the identical shelf where Morland had
+deposited them. The possibility of this strange neglect Mr. Bradshaw
+explains from the fact that ‘the history of the MSS. was lost sight of,
+and they had come to be regarded as miscellaneous pieces, _apparently in
+Spanish_.’ The italicised suggestion reveals a beautiful development of
+modern philology at Cambridge. Does that state of things continue at the
+present day? What reason is there to believe the contrary, or what chance
+of improvement?
+
+[27] The great value of this MS., which is on parchment, and in perfect
+condition, is proved by a curious endorsement on the last page, dated
+1336, to the effect that one Jordan Capella obtained on it a loan of
+fifteen ‘_livres tournois_,’ by no means an inconsiderable sum in those
+days.
+
+[28] The poem is written in tirades, or paragraphs of varying lengths,
+bound together by the same rhyme. At the end of each tirade there is
+a short line which, in the second portion of the poem, is, as a rule,
+literally repeated in the first line of the following tirade, while in
+the first part it only anticipates its rhyme. This difference is the
+chief metrical evidence against the one-author theory.
+
+[29] The degree of nobility between the Viscount and the simple Baron.
+
+[30] Grave doubts have recently been thrown on the authenticity of this
+poem. Into these I cannot enter here. But it seems strange that the
+bearing of the reality or fictitiousness of the ‘courts of love’ on the
+mooted point should have been entirely overlooked. Chaucer’s visit to
+France (1359) coincides with the time when amateur judges and juries
+deciding questions of gallantry were all the rage, and these might
+very well have suggested to him the symbolical machinery of the poem.
+But of course the intrinsic probability of Chaucer having written _a_
+poem on the ‘Court of Love’ does not amount to much compared with the
+philological arguments of Mr. Skeat (see ‘Athenæum,’ November 4, 1876).
+At the same time it seems surprising that neither he nor Mr. Furnivall
+is apparently acquainted with the historical controversy on the point,
+in spite of Diez’s admirable work, and of the paper I wrote on the
+subject in a monthly periodical. If this is true of scholars, what can
+be expected of the general reader? At this rate the ‘courts of love’ may
+protract their spurious existence for another century or so—in England at
+least.
+
+[31] The reader interested in these matters may find some account of
+Andreas’ book in the pretty little edition of Chaucer for which Mr.
+Robert Bell is responsible (vol. iv. pp. 116 _et passim_). All the absurd
+stories of the Chaplain the ingenuous editor accepts as gospel truth.
+Queen Eleanor, Richard Cœur de Lion, and other worthies are named as
+the presidents of these amorous parliaments, of which the world knew
+nothing till hundreds of years after their deaths. Several of the _arrêts
+d’amour_ are quoted, and the power of the court is said to have extended
+even to the assessing of pecuniary damages and the inflicting of corporal
+punishment. This _naïveté_ is the more touching on Mr. Bell’s part,
+as, unlike Mr. Furnivall and Mr. Skeat, he is acquainted with Diez’s
+pamphlet. But his faith is proof against the most trenchant criticism.
+
+[32] Westphal, _Fragmente und Lehrsätze der griechischen Rhythmiker_, pp.
+14, 101.
+
+[33] _Sat._ 1. i. 28.
+
+[34] _Ars Poet._ 99.
+
+[35] _Ars Poet._ 139.
+
+[36] _Epist._ 1. xiv. 7.
+
+[37] The stanza of the Sestina, as we know, both Dante and Petrarch took
+from Arnaut Daniel, whom the latter calls—
+
+    ‘Fra tutti il primo Arnaldo Daniello
+    Gran maestro d’amor.’
+
+[38] _Opere Minori_, ed. Fraticelli, ii. 212.
+
+[39] In this, as in all other cases, the expression of the ‘Leys d’Amors’
+has been used in measuring verses, which, besides being more appropriate
+for the _langue d’oc_, seems also the more logical.
+
+[40] Clarratz is evidently a mistake; very likely it should be read
+clartatz = clarté.
+
+[41] Dieresis probably, where it occurs in this treatise, is always a
+misreading for diesis, which is the proper term for what Dante means.
+
+[42] _Canzoniere_, ed. Giuliani, p. 227.
+
+[43] The meaning of the word coda in modern music is not exactly the same
+as the one here given by Dante, but might well be derived from it.
+
+
+                            LONDON: PRINTED BY
+                  SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
+                           AND PARLIAMENT STREET
+
+[Illustration]
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77644 ***
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+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77644 ***</div>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp66" style="max-width: 12.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/tp-deco.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[i]</span></p>
+
+<h1>THE<br>
+TROUBADOURS</h1>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[ii]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">O for a draught of vintage that hath been</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tasting of Flora and the country-green,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">Dance and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse right"><span class="smcap">Keats</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[iii]</span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage larger">THE TROUBADOURS</p>
+
+<p class="center">A HISTORY OF<br>
+<i>PROVENÇAL LIFE AND LITERATURE IN<br>
+THE MIDDLE AGES</i></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br>
+FRANCIS HUEFFER</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter titlepage illowp66" style="max-width: 12.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/tp-deco.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+<p class="titlepage">London<br>
+CHATTO &amp; WINDUS, PICCADILLY<br>
+1878</p>
+
+<p class="center smaller">[<i>The right of translation is reserved</i>]</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[iv]</span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage smaller">LONDON: PRINTED BY<br>
+SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br>
+AND PARLIAMENT STREET</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE.</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Articles by the present writer on the subject of
+Provençal life and literature have appeared off and
+on in the ‘New Quarterly Magazine,’ the ‘Gentleman’s
+Magazine,’ ‘Macmillan’s Magazine,’ and the
+late ‘North British Review.’ But this book is not a
+reprint of essays, although some of the materials
+formerly used have been re-embodied in it. It
+claims on the contrary to be the first continuous and
+at all adequate account in the English language of
+the literary epoch which forms its subject. For I
+cannot concede that name to a book on ‘The Troubadours,
+their Loves and Lyrics,’ published some years
+ago; for reasons which it is not my province here to
+state. And yet, excepting only the English version
+of the unsatisfactory book which the Abbé Millot
+compiled from St. Palaye’s excellent materials, by
+that indefatigable translator and abridger in the last
+century, Mrs. Dobson, that volume is the only work
+on the Troubadours which England can boast of,
+at least as far as I am aware,—and of any important
+contribution to the subject I should be aware. By
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[vi]</span>the side of the admirable criticisms of old French
+literature which we owe to English authors from
+the days of Cary and the ‘London Magazine’ to
+those of Mr. Andrew Lang and other gifted writers
+of the present time, this neglect of the <i>langue d’oc</i>
+appears all the more glaring, especially when one considers
+the further fact that many of the districts in
+which the troubadours flourished were at the time
+when they flourished attached to the English crown.
+The amount of historical, and more especially English
+historical, material to be gleaned from the biographies
+and the works of the troubadours is indeed
+of the utmost value to the student.</p>
+
+<p>In the composition of this book I have chiefly
+depended on the original poetry of the troubadours,
+but it is far from my wish to deny the services I owe
+to the works of French and German scholars, such as
+Raynouard, Francisque Michel, Dr. Mahn, and Diez,
+the founder of the modern school of Romance philology,
+a school which counts amongst its members
+Professors Bartsch, Tobler, Holland, in Germany,
+and MM. Paul Meyer and Gaston Paris in France;
+to mention only a few of the most distinguished
+names. Monographs of single troubadours, especially
+those of Peire Vidal by Professor Bartsch, and of the
+Monk of Montaudon by Dr. Philipson, have been
+of great use to me. I may also refer to my own
+critical edition of Guillem de Cabestanh’s works.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span>Beyond this general acknowledgment I have not
+thought it necessary to encumber these pages with
+continuous notes of reference.</p>
+
+<p>For my book is not intended as a scientific and
+exhaustive treatment of the subject. The time for
+that has not yet come in England. My present purpose
+was rather to attract learners than to teach
+more or less proficient students. In plain language
+I wished, in the first instance, to write a readable
+book, and according to general prejudice such an
+achievement is impossible on the scientific principle.
+For scholarly purposes, I have, however, added a
+technical portion, chiefly concerned with metrical
+questions, in which the importance of Dante’s scientific
+treatise for the classification of Provençal metres,
+pointed out by Professor Boehmer, has been for the
+first time proved by systematic application. The
+style and manner of this purely scientific portion
+sufficiently distinguish it from the remainder of
+the book. Still an additional warning to the unwary
+reader may not seem superfluous.</p>
+
+<p>As another warning rather than encouragement
+to the same ingenious person I have added some
+interlinear versions of Provençal poems. It is
+addressed to those easy-going amateur philologists
+who believe themselves able to master a language
+by simply plunging into its literature without any
+previous study of grammar or dictionary. The
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span>similarity of Provençal to the Latin and the
+more familiar Romance languages offers especially
+dangerous temptations in that respect. To test the
+truth of my remarks, I would ask the reader to
+attempt one of the poems at the end of this book
+with the sole aid of intelligent ‘guessing,’ and afterwards
+to compare the result of his conjecture with
+the literal version. He will then come to the conclusion
+that the <i>langue d’oc</i>, owing chiefly to the
+number of its homonymous words and the somewhat
+unsettled condition of its grammatical structure, is the
+most difficult, as it is the earliest, amongst languages
+sprung from the Latin stock.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<table>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#PART_I">PART I.</a><br>
+    <i>GENERAL.</i></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a><br>
+    THE LANGUE D’OC.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Decline of classic language</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its mixture with German dialects</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Derivation of Romance languages</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Provençal branch</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its limits</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its relations to the sister languages</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its dialects</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its perfection by the Troubadours</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its decline</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a><br>
+    EARLY POPULAR EPICS.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The North-French epic</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The cycles of Arthur and Charlemagne</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The popular epic chanted</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Ferabras</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Girart de Rossilho</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a><br>
+    THE ARTISTIC EPIC.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Roman de Jauffre</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Flamenca</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_15">15</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a><br>
+    OTHER NARRATIVE AND DIDACTIC POEMS.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Castia-Gilos</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Lay of the Parrot</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Essenhamen de la Donzela</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Rhymed chronicle of Navarre</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The Song of the Crusade</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Tale of the Heretic</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Legends</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Boethius</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Corbiac’s Tezaur</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Breviari d’Amor</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The biographies of the Troubadours</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Their authors</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a><br>
+    APOCRYPHA.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Provençal literature chiefly lyrical</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Fauriel’s theory</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Aversion to epic poems</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Arnaut Daniel an epic poet</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His praise by Dante</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His lost epic of ‘Lancelot’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His obscurity</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>An anecdote from his life</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a><br>
+    SOCIAL POSITION OF PROVENÇAL POETS.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Joglars and Troubadours</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Troubadours exclusively lyrical poets</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Their social origin</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The sons of citizens</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Priests</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Reigning Princes</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Richard I. of England</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>William IX. of Poitiers</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Protectors of the Troubadours</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Reward of the Troubadours</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Their friendship with princes</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Intercourse with noble ladies</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Frequently innocent</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_61">61</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a><br>
+    THE JOGLAR.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Singers and musical composers</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Distinction between troubadours and joglars</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Joglars chiefly narrative poets</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Guiraut Riquier’s attempted reform</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His ‘Suplicatio’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br>
+    TRACES OF POPULAR SONG—THE PASTORELA.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Guiraut Riquier’s pastorelas</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Gui d’Uisel’s pastorelas</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Marcabrun’s pastorelas</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a><br>
+    OTHER POPULAR FORMS.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The alba</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its oldest form dramatic</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Guiraut de Bornelh’s alba</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The common form of the alba</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Alba by an anonymous poet</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The serena</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a><br>
+    THE BALADA.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its age</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Artistic and popular</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Subject of the balada love</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its musical accompaniment</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>‘Coindeta soi’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The dansa</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a><br>
+    ARTIFICIAL FORMS OF POETRY.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Comparative simplicity of North-French forms</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Arnaut Daniel inventor of the sestina</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Imitated by Dante</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_103">103</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[xii]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Metrical scheme of sestina</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Modern imitations</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Origin of the sonnet</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The descort</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Prose interludes</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The breu doble</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The retroensa</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a><br>
+    THE TENSO.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Form of the tenso</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Definition of the Leys d’Amors</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>‘Turn and turn about’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Actual discussions</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Fictitious disputants</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Topics of discussion</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Tenso between Bernart de Ventadorn and Peirol</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Triple tenso</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Savaric de Mauleon</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Personal tenso</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br>
+    THE SIRVENTES.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its want of formal distinction</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its influence on men’s minds</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>General remarks on its tone</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Etymology of the word</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Chief divisions of the sirventes</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The planh</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Crusader’s song</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a><br>
+    THE CANZO.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The canzo representative of Provençal poetry</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its frequent monotony</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Owing to over-elaboration</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its beauties</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its spontaneity</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The vers</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_146">146</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#PART_II">PART II.</a><br>
+    <i>BIOGRAPHICAL.</i></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a><br>
+    GUILLEM DE CABESTANH.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His Provençal biography</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Discrepancies of other accounts</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Historical identity of Guillem de Cabestanh</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The origin of fictitious additions</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The fatal canzo</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The story of the eaten heart possibly of mythical origin</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Morals and manners of medieval Provence</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>One of Guillem’s canzos</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a><br>
+    PEIRE VIDAL.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His Provençal biography</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His eccentricities</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His love for Viscountess Azalais</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His journey to Palestine</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>A canzo written during the journey</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His love for Loba</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>‘Emperor of Greece’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His friendship with King Alfonso</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>A crusader’s song by Peire</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His death</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a><br>
+    BERTRAN DE BORN.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>A type of the warlike baron</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Historic retrospect</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Bertran’s attachment to Prince Henry of England</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>He instigates the Princes to rebellion against Henry II.</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_188">188</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a><br>
+    BERTRAN AND RICHARD COUNT OF POITOU.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The causes of their quarrel</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Bertran’s brother Constantine</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>A sirventes by Bertran</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His connection with the rebellion of Henry II.’s sons</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Young Henry’s death</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Bertran’s ‘Complaint’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a><br>
+    SIEGE OF AUTAFORT—BERTRAN’S DEATH.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>King Alfonso’s treachery</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Fall of the castle</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Bertran’s meeting with King Henry</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His friendship with Richard Cœur de Lion</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Bertran’s canzos</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His love affairs</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His death</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</a><br>
+    THE MONK OF MONTAUDON.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His youth</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His worldly life</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His office at Puy Ste. Marie</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His ‘likes and dislikes’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His satires on women</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His cynicism</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His satire on the poets</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</a><br>
+    THE REFORMATION OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Wide-spread heresy</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its chief seat in the South of France</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The Albigeois and Vaudois</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The Noble Lesson</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Doctrines of the Albigenses</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Great teachers amongst them</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_235">235</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[xv]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Noble converts to their sect</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Raimon VI. of Toulouse</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Pope Innocent III. his antagonist</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The first crusade</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Victory of the Church</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</a><br>
+    THE EPIC OF THE CRUSADE.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its authorship</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Discrepancies between the two parts</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Description of Simon de Montfort’s death</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Council of the Lateran</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The Battle of Muret</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</a><br>
+    FOLQUET OF MARSEILLES.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Most troubadours anti-Papal</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Folquet’s birthplace</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His love for Azalais</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>A canzo addressed to her</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Her jealousy</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Her death</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>He enters the order of Citeaux in consequence</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His fanaticism</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</a><br>
+    GUILLEM FIGUEIRA AND PEIRE CARDINAL.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Guillem Figueira ‘the hater of priests’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His cynicism and love of low life</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His sirventes against ‘Rome’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Peire Cardinal represents a higher type</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His life</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His high moral tone and pessimism</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>A fable</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His praise of Raimon VI.</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>His accusations of the priests</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>A theological sirventes</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_270">270</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</a><br>
+    LADIES AND LADY TROUBADOURS.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The lady of Provence</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Her polite education</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Her position in society</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Eleanor, wife of Henry II., the patroness of Bernart de Ventadorn</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The poems of lady troubadours subjective</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</a><br>
+    BEATRICE DE DIE.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The representative lady troubadour</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Her love for Rambaut of Orange</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>She imitates his style</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Her tenso written in conjunction with Rambaut</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Her song of resignation</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_288">288</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</a><br>
+    THE COURTS OF LOVE.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Their fictitious character</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Raynouard’s theory untenable</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Andreas Capellanus</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#PART_III">PART III.</a><br>
+    <i>TECHNICAL.</i></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a><br>
+    THE ORIGIN OF RHYME.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Definition of rhythm</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Metrical system of Greek, of Roman, and of early Teutonic poems</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_300">300</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Different meanings of arsis and thesis</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_300">300</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The leonine hexameter</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_302">302</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Rhyme independent of metrical accent</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Known to ancient poets</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Wilhelm Grimm’s history of the rhyme</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_303">303</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Examples from Virgil and Horace</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_304">304</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Rhyme destructive of the rhythmical principle</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Influence of rhythm on Provençal poetry</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</a><br>
+    RHYTHM.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Stability of metrical rules in Provençal poetry</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Las Leys d’Amors</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Dante’s ‘De Vulgari Eloquio’ applicable to Provençal poems</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_313">313</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The limits of the length of a verse</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_313">313</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Verses most frequently used</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_316">316</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The decasyllabic verse (endecasyllabus)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The cæsura</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>In ‘Boethius’ and epical poems</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The lyrical cæsura</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_323">323</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</a><br>
+    RHYME.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Definition of the Leys d’Amors</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_326">326</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Accordansa sonan, consonan, and leonisme</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_326">326</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Rime riche</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_328">328</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The position of rhyme (‘rims ordinals’)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Artificialities</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Connection of stanzas by means of rhyme</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_333">333</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The ‘clavis’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_335">335</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Guillem de Cabestanh’s canzo ‘Li douz cossire’</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_336">336</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Further artificialities</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_337">337</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</a><br>
+    THE STANZA.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Its formation</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Dante’s work of great value</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Definition of Leys d’Amors unsatisfactory</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Musical considerations</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_342">342</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Pedes and cauda</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_344">344</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Frons and versus</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_345">345</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Pedes and versus</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_347">347</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Frons and cauda</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_347">347</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Concatenatio</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_348">348</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The tornada</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_351">351</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Metrical analysis of a canzo by Bernart de Ventadorn</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_353">353</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.</a><br>
+    SOME INTERLINEAR VERSIONS.</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Canzo by Guillem de Cabestanh (‘Li douz cossire’)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_358">358</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Idyll by Marcabrun (‘A la fontana’)</td>
+    <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_364">364</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="PART_I"><i>PART I.</i><br>
+<span class="smaller">GENERAL</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE LANGUE D’OC.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>When about the end of the fourth century (<span class="allsmcap">A.D.</span>)
+Germanic and Asiatic hordes began to invade the
+Western Empire with more and more irresistible
+force, the refined voice of Roman eloquence and
+poetry was soon drowned by the noise of barbarous
+tongues. Even before this irruption of new elements
+the language of the Romans had lost much of its
+classic purity. It was no longer the idiom of Cicero
+and of Horace. Familiar phrases, provincialisms and
+barbarisms had found their way into the written
+language. Thence it is that we find the illiterate
+expressions of the comic characters in Plautus and
+Terence occupying a place as legitimate words in
+the dictionaries of the Romance idioms.</p>
+
+<p>When with the already decaying language of
+the fourth and fifth centuries the variegated dialects
+of the conquering barbarians were mingled, confusion
+became worse confounded and linguistic chaos
+seemed at hand. It need not be said that for artistic
+purposes this mongrel type of speech became
+totally unfit. But in the same measure as the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>healthy, though uncultured, peoples of the North
+were destined to revivify the old institutions of
+Roman political life, their languages also added new
+vitality to the decaying forms of Roman speech.
+The chaos was a preparatory stage of amalgamation
+and new development. For the formation of languages,
+like any other natural process, is ruled by
+a strict law of decay and growth.</p>
+
+<p>In the derivation of the Romance dialects from
+the common Latin mother-tongue, two main principles
+are observable. The German invaders, like
+all barbarous conquerors, soon adopted the speech
+of their more civilised subjects; but they adhered
+to certain terms and denominations of objects
+particularly familiar or dear to them. Thus the
+terms for warfare and many of its chief implements
+were characteristically retained by them.
+The French <i>guerre</i> and the Italian <i>guerra</i> are
+identical with the old High German <i>werra</i>, our <i>war</i>;
+and the title of highest dignity in the French army
+of the present day, <i>Maréchal</i> (mediæval Latin
+<i>mariscalcus</i>), means nothing but <i>shalc</i> (groom) of
+the mares.</p>
+
+<p>The second cause of transformation and re-formation
+already inherent in the Latin language of
+the second and third centuries (<span class="allsmcap">A.C.</span>) is what philologists
+term the analytic or dissolving principle. Synthetic
+or primitive languages indicate the declension
+of a noun or the conjugation of a verb by a modification
+of the word itself; analytical languages by
+the addition of other words. Thus, <i>patris</i> in Latin
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>answers to our three words <i>of the father</i>, or to the
+French <i>de le</i> (contracted <i>du</i>) <i>père</i>. The addition of
+the article subsequently makes the modification of
+the noun itself superfluous; hence <i>père</i> answers to
+the four modifications of the Roman <i>pater</i>. But
+the same tendency existed in the late-Latin speech
+itself, and the <i>de le père</i> presupposes a <i>de illo patre</i>. In
+an analogous manner, the <i>j’ai fait</i> or <i>ho fatto</i> of the
+French and Italian languages is beyond doubt derived
+from a Latin <i>habeo factum</i>, instead of the simpler
+and older <i>feci</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Of the various languages of Latin growth, the
+Provençal was the first to attain to an independent
+characteristic type of expression. The limits of
+its domain have been variously defined; but it
+extended far beyond the boundaries of the later
+Provence, even beyond those of modern France, comprising,
+for instance, parts of Spain, such as Aragon,
+Valencia, Catalonia, and the Balearic Islands. Its
+northern limit may be roughly stated to be the line
+drawn from the mouth of the Gironde to that of the
+Saone. The political autonomy of the south of
+France, which secured it from the international and
+national troubles of its northern neighbour, greatly
+favoured peaceful progress and enjoyment of life.
+Moreover, the rich, bountiful soil, and the prosperity
+and natural gaiety of the inhabitants, were conducive
+to the early growth of poetic feeling; and it may be
+assumed that long before the time of the Troubadours,
+rustic lays, accompanied by the sounds of the
+viola, used to enliven the harvest homes of Provençal
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>villages. Of this popular epoch no record now remains,
+except the language itself—at once the result
+and embodiment of a nation’s longing for utterance.
+The generic term applied to the language of southern
+France seems to have been ‘Provençal,’ in allusion
+no doubt to the Provincia Romana of the Cæsars.
+For this term we have the weighty authority of
+Dante, also that of an old Provençal grammar called
+‘Donatus Provincialis.’ The Troubadours themselves,
+however, never use this perhaps more scientific
+denomination. They generally speak of Lengua
+Romana, a term which of course applies with equal
+propriety to all the languages derived from the
+Latin. But what do poets care about philological
+distinctions? Another term, <i>langue d’oc</i>, afterwards
+transferred to a province of France, was undoubtedly
+known in the middle ages. It is derived from the
+affirmative particle <i>oc</i>, i.e. ‘yes,’ and chiefly used to
+distinguish Provençal from its sister-languages, the
+<i>lingua di sì</i> (Italian) and the <i>langue d’oïl</i>, (northern
+French, <i>oïl</i> = <i>oui</i>). From the latter it was a totally
+distinct language both in grammar and pronunciation,
+quite as distinct, for instance, as Portuguese
+from Spanish, or Dutch from English. On the
+strength of the latter parallel the much-mooted
+question as to the possibility of conversation between
+Trouvère and Troubadour may perhaps receive some
+new light from an adventure of the late Mr. Buckle,
+who, while travelling in a railway carriage in Holland,
+addressed a gentleman in the language of
+the country, but received after a time the polite
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>answer that he, the Dutch gentleman, was sorry he
+did not understand—Italian.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>langue d’oc</i> was again subdivided into
+numerous provincial dialects, but of these little or
+no trace appears in the songs of the Troubadours.
+For they were court poets, and the idiom they used
+a court language, spoken in its purity by no one
+beyond the magic circle of polite society. It seems,
+however, that the dialects of Limosin and the neighbouring
+districts, and of Provence proper, showed
+the nearest approach to this language of poets and
+courtiers. Such at least is the decided opinion of
+the grammarian and poet Raimon Vidal, not himself
+a native of those parts. ‘Every person,’ he says,
+‘who wants to produce or understand poetry, ought
+to know, first of all, that none is the natural and
+proper accent of our language but that of Limosin,
+Provence, Auvergne, and Quercy. Therefore I tell
+you, that when I speak of Limosin, you must understand
+all these countries and those that are near
+them or lie between them; and all people born or
+brought up in those parts have the natural and
+correct accent.’</p>
+
+<p>The origin of the Provençal language can of
+course not be referred to a particular year nor even
+to a particular century. Its development was
+gradual and slow. But it is a remarkable fact, that
+after it had once taken literary form and substance,
+no signs of change or further growth are noticeable.
+Two centuries in the German or English, or indeed
+any living language, constitute enormous differences
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span>as regards phraseology, orthography, and grammatical
+structure. Johnson had difficulties in fully understanding
+Shakespeare, a modern German is puzzled
+by many expressions in Luther’s Bible; and this,
+after these languages had become fixed by the introduction
+of printing, and a generally acknowledged
+standard of grammatical regularity. But the first
+troubadour known to us, Guillem of Poitiers, born
+in 1071, uses exactly the same grammar, the same
+structure of sentences, and even in all essential
+points the same poetic diction, as his last successor
+two hundred years after him.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The cause of
+this unusual stability must be looked for in the fact
+already pointed out, that the Provençal was not,
+strictly speaking, a living language used by all, and
+for all purposes, but the exclusive speech of an exclusive
+class, reserved moreover for the expression
+of courteous love and chivalry. Even where, for the
+purposes of satire and personal invective, the terms
+of low life are introduced, they have to submit to
+the strict rules of grammar and metre.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the thirteenth century the
+<i>langue d’oc</i>, as a means of poetic utterance at least,
+disappears again, as suddenly almost as it had
+emerged from obscurity. Learned societies and
+scholarly poets and writers vainly tried to keep alive
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>the interest which had vanished with the last of the
+knightly singers. <i>Jeux floraux</i> were started, and
+golden primroses rewarded the successful efforts of
+learned competitors. But the true life of poetry
+was gone. By the crusade against the Albigeois
+and the subsequent conquest of the French south
+by the north, the spirit of the Provençal nobility
+had been broken. No lordly castles invited, no gifts
+encouraged the Troubadour, and by his silence all
+vitality and zest was lost to the <i>langue d’oc</i>, which
+henceforth degenerated into a common patois; the
+rapid intrusion of northern French idioms consequent
+on the political events alluded to accelerating
+its final doom—final, for all the attempts at reviving
+the old splendour of the <i>langue d’oc</i> have
+as yet proved abortive. The patois of Mistral’s
+<i>Mireïo</i> has little in common with the language of
+the mediæval singers, and his gifted disciples’
+strenuous efforts stand little chance against the
+crushing influence of an idiom formed by Voltaire’s
+prose and Alfred de Musset’s poetry.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br>
+<span class="smaller">EARLY POPULAR EPICS.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The north of France was the birth country and
+chief seat of epic poetry in the Middle Ages. The
+<i>chanson de geste</i>, the <i>roman</i>, the <i>fabliau</i> frequently
+bear witness of a consummate grace of narrative
+diction. Even the lyrical effusions of the Trouvère
+not seldom take the form of the monologue or
+dialogue. The poet loves to hide his personality
+under the mask of a fictitious character. Sometimes
+he is the maiden longing for love and spring, who
+from the seclusion of her cloister raises her voice
+against the robbers of her liberty, <i>malois soit de deu
+ki me fist nonnete</i>; sometimes, like Rutebœuf, he
+listens to the vulgar quarrels of ‘Charlie and the
+barber,’ or, like Charles d’Orleans, the sweet
+chansonnier in French and English, holds converse
+with</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent8">... l’amoureuse deesse</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qui m’apela demandant ou j’aloye.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The narrative and dramatic instincts of modern
+French writers are distinctly manifest in their
+mediæval <i>confrères</i>.</p>
+
+<p>This is different with the Troubadour, the poet of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>Southern France. He is the lyrical singer <i>par excellence</i>,
+speaking in his own undisguised person and
+of his own subjective passion. Hence the truth and
+intensity, but hence also the monotonousness and conventional
+phraseology of passion, alternately characteristic
+of the Provençal love-song. But the narrative
+instinct was not entirely wanting in the poets of the
+<i>langue d’oc</i>. The great wave of epic song which
+kept continually crossing the Channel from the Celt
+to the French Norman, and back again to the Saxon
+and Anglo-Norman, left its flotsam on the shores
+of Southern France. Neither did the half-mystic
+glory of Charlemagne and his peers fail to impress
+the imagination of the chivalrous Troubadours. We
+possess, or at least know of the existence of,
+Provençal epics from both the Carlovingian and
+Arthurian circles. Although comparatively small in
+number and importance, these deserve a passing
+mention.</p>
+
+<p>The epic poetry of southern, like and on the
+same principle as that of northern France, may be
+broadly divided into the popular, and the artistic or
+individual narrative. The two classes differ as
+widely as possible both as regards metrical form and
+poetical treatment. The popular epic was sung or
+chanted to a monotonous tune, the artistic recited.
+The former uses frequently the assonance (identity
+of vowels, but difference of consonants) in strophes
+or tirades of varying length; the latter, exclusively
+rhyme in couplets. The popular epic is fond of
+introducing standing formulas and epithets, and the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>recurrence of similar situations or motives is marked
+by the naïve repetition of the identical phrase. The
+poet himself disappears behind his work; he is
+nothing but the mouthpiece of popular feeling and
+tradition. Different from this, the artistic poet
+takes individual shape in his work. He groups his
+material with conscious study of narrative effects,
+frequently adds new inventions to the legend he
+treats, and is fond of interrupting the narrative by
+reflections of his own, moral or otherwise as the case
+may be.</p>
+
+<p>Of the popular epic very few specimens remain,
+and of these few one at least, the ‘Ferabras,’ seems
+a translation from the North-French. The representative
+poem of the class is the old Provençal
+epic, ‘Girart de Rossilho,’ a splendid example of
+early mediæval spirit, crude in sentiment and
+diction, coarse and irregular in its metrical structure,
+but powerful and of sterling quality, like the hero
+it celebrates. Like the ‘Chanson de Roland’—the
+representative epic of Northern France—Girart
+de Rossilho belongs to the Carlovingian circle of
+legendary lore. But there is a considerable difference
+between the two poems as regards the conception of
+the Carlovingian idea, if that modern term may be
+allowed. The older French poem shows the great
+Emperor in full possession of his power, and surrounded
+by his loyal Peers. The younger Provençal
+epic reflects the revolutionary spirit of the great
+vassals under the weak descendants of the great
+Charles. Its hero, indeed, Girart of Rossilho, is the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>head of these rebellious barons, and his brave deeds
+in the wars with his feudal lord are held up to admiration,
+while, on the other hand, the Emperor
+Charles Martel (evidently a mistake on the part of
+the minstrel for Charles the Bald, correctly reintroduced
+in a later French version) is made the embodiment
+of meanness and treachery. After perusing
+Girart’s exploits, some of them of a rather doubtful
+character according to our notions, it is satisfactory
+to know that he at least departed life with a
+clean bill of morality. The author himself seems to
+feel somewhat uneasy on the subject. ‘But,’ he
+argues, ‘if Girart did great evil at first, he made
+full and speedy compensation at last, for he did
+great penance in a cloister—which he himself built
+beautifully and at great cost.’ There he is said to
+have supported amongst other pious personages
+‘one hundred maidens.’ ‘And the priests,’ the
+manuscript continues, ‘do nothing but pray God for
+him and the Lady Bertha his wife. And he gave
+them a thousand marks free of taxes; and one
+can see well that he means to go there.’ Thus the
+Holy Church was the gainer, and having, as Mephistopheles
+says, ‘a good stomach able to digest
+ill-gotten pelf,’ she may, for all we know, have long
+rejoiced in the prosperity of the holy damsels.
+Whether Girart actually entered his pious institution
+the manuscript does not say; but such a close of
+such a career was by no means rare in the middle
+ages.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE ARTISTIC EPIC.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The remains of the artistic epic, although scanty, are
+more numerous than those of popular origin. They
+were held in greater estimation, and therefore naturally
+had a better chance of being saved from
+oblivion. Moreover, the fact of their being recited
+without the aid of music made the reference to a
+written text more desirable than was the case with
+the popular tales which were chanted to popular
+tunes, and for the sole enjoyment of popular and
+uncritical audiences, not likely to resent arbitrary
+variations or slips of memory. Amongst courtly
+productions might be named the celebrated ‘Roman
+de Jauffre,’ describing the love-affair of that knight
+with the beautiful Brunesen, and other adventures,
+also the story of Guillem de la Bar, not long ago made
+public by M. Paul Meyer, from the sole manuscript
+in the possession of the Marquis de la Grange. The
+author of the latter poem is Arnaut Vidal, remarkable
+as the first winner of the golden violet at the
+‘Jeux Floraux’ of Toulouse; the prize being justly
+awarded to him for a sweet song in praise of the
+Virgin, still extant.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span></p>
+
+<p>But all these attempts are thrown into the shade
+by a work which, quite apart from its philological and
+literary interest, is invaluable to the student of
+mediæval manners and customs. This is ‘Flamenca,’
+a narrative poem in octosyllabic couplets, dating
+most likely from the first half of the thirteenth
+century. Copious extracts, and an analysis of the
+work, have been given by Raynouard in the first
+volume of his celebrated ‘Lexique Roman,’ and the
+whole has since been edited from the only manuscript
+in existence at Carcassonne, by M. Paul Meyer,
+who has added a translation into modern French
+(Paris, 1865). Unfortunately the beginning and the
+end of the poem are missing, and with the former
+the name of the author, frequently mentioned in the
+introductory lines of mediæval romances, has most
+probably been lost. It is therefore to an anonymous
+entity alone that we are able to concede the attributes
+of a scholar well versed in antique and contemporary
+literature, of a man of the world who
+knew the manners and morals of good society, and
+of a poet of genius.</p>
+
+<p>The technical Provençal name of a poem like
+‘Flamenca’ would be <i>nova</i>, and with a slight variation
+of the final syllable the word will serve the
+same turn in our language. For ‘Flamenca’ in all
+essential points answers to the definition of a
+novel. It is a picture of contemporary society in
+the same sense, and quite as close, as is ‘Tom
+Jones’ or ‘Vanity Fair.’ From the popular epic it
+naturally differs as widely as can be imagined, but
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>even with the other artistic romances of the same
+period it has little in common. These latter depend
+for their interest chiefly on a number of adventures
+more or less loosely strung together; in
+‘Flamenca’ there is a plot in our modern sense,
+artistically worked up to a climax and illumined by
+cleverly drawn characters and psychological observations.
+It is indeed evidently the author’s intention
+to delineate and point out the evil consequences of
+certain psychological phenomena, and in this respect
+‘Flamenca’ might indeed almost be described as a
+‘novel with a purpose,’ the ‘purpose’ leading the
+poet much beyond the limits of probability and
+narrative economy, as ‘purposes’ are apt to do.
+The plot of ‘Flamenca,’ moreover, is evidently a pure
+invention, while the poets of ordinary chivalrous
+romances always rely more or less on legendary
+sources.</p>
+
+<p>Flamenca, the lovely daughter of Count Gui de
+Nemours, is wooed by the King of Hungary and by
+Lord Archimbaut Count of Bourbon. Her father
+prefers the latter suitor, who is said to be one of the
+best and most valorous knights in the world; an
+important circumstance which the reader is asked to
+remember. Count Archimbaut, on being told of the
+decision in his favour, makes preparations on the
+grandest scale to visit his bride, whom he has never
+seen, but of whom the descriptions of her beauty
+given by his messengers have deeply enamoured
+him. The festivities arranged for his reception at
+the court of Nemours are described at some length,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>and give the poet an opportunity of deploring the
+decay of liberality amongst the great nobles, of
+courtesy, of love, and of chivalry in his own time, a
+complaint frequently met with in the works of the
+later troubadours.</p>
+
+<p>Early on a Sunday morning Count Archimbaut
+is introduced by her father to Flamenca, who, like a
+well-educated young lady, ‘did not pretend to be
+doleful, but was a little shamefaced.’ ‘Here is your
+bride,’ Count Gui says; ‘take her if you like.’ ‘Sir,’
+answers the bridegroom, ‘if she does not gainsay it,
+I never was so willing to take anything in my life.’
+Then the lady smiled, and ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘one can
+see that you hold me in your power, as you give me
+away so easily; but as it is your will I consent.’
+This ‘I consent’ throws Archimbaut into a transport
+of joy, and he presses her hand passionately. But
+here the interview ends. The gentlemen retire,
+Archimbaut taking leave of her with his eyes at the
+door, while Flamenca did not show pride, but gave
+him good countenance, frequently saying, ‘God be
+with you!’</p>
+
+<p>What can be prettier than this quaint picture of
+mediæval wooing, and what more magnificent than
+the wedding ceremony performed in the presence
+and with the assistance of five bishops and ten
+abbots, and lasting much too long for the impatience
+of Archimbaut, ‘for it was past the sixth hour (noon)
+before he had married her’? At the banquet the
+bridegroom and the father of the bride have to wait
+at table according to ancient custom; but the eyes
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>of the former continually go where his heart is, and
+inwardly he curses the appetite of the guests and
+the long-winded songs of the joglars. After nine
+days’ feasting he hurries home to prepare his house
+for his bride. All this looks auspicious enough for
+the happiness of the couple. But this bright beginning
+is but a clever trick on the narrator’s part to
+show in its darkest dye the monstrous vice which
+turns brightness itself into night. This vice is
+jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>The King of France, to do honour to his
+trusty baron Gui of Nemours, escorts Flamenca
+to her husband, and attends with his wife and his
+court the festivities arranged by Archimbaut to
+celebrate the occasion. At the tournament which
+takes place the king carries on the point of his lance,
+by way of <i>gage d’amour</i>, the sleeve of a lady’s dress.
+‘I don’t know whose it was,’ the poet adds diplomatically.
+The queen’s jealousy suggests Flamenca,
+and she loses no time to impart her suspicion to
+Archimbaut, who immediately takes fire at the
+thought. He keeps his countenance while his
+guests are present, but inwardly he feels sad, and
+tormented by ‘a burning sickness called jealousy.’
+‘What was I thinking of,’ he frequently says to
+himself, ‘when I took a wife? God! I was mad.
+Was I not well off and happy before? Evil befall
+my parents that they should have counselled me to
+take what did never good to any man!’</p>
+
+<p>The symptoms of the ‘burning sickness’ are
+described with graphic vivacity. Archimbaut shuts
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>himself up; in every visitor he suspects a suitor of
+his wife; he pretends to be very busy, and adds, in
+a whispered aside, ‘I should like to kick you out
+head foremost.’ He then calls to his servants for
+water, to wash for dinner, in order to make people
+go, and if this does not avail he will say, ‘Dear sir,
+will you have dinner with us, for it is time? I hope
+you will. There will be a good opportunity for flirting’—looking
+all the while like a dog who shows his
+teeth.</p>
+
+<p>So far so good; but we can hardly believe that a
+noble and gallant knight should lose all sense of
+decency so entirely as to go about unwashed and
+unshaven, letting his beard grow long and matted
+‘like a badly made sheaf of oats,’ except in places
+where he had torn out the hair and stuffed it in his
+mouth. The poet here decidedly makes a concession
+to his courtly audience, who naturally were
+delighted to hear a jealous husband likened to a
+‘mad dog.’</p>
+
+<p>At last Archimbaut resolves to keep his wife a
+close prisoner in a tower, and ‘May I be hanged
+by the throat,’ he says, ‘if ever she go out without
+me even to church, to hear mass, and that only on
+high feast days!’ So poor Flamenca is shut up in
+the tower with only two devoted maidens, Alice and
+Margarida, to comfort her in her misery. And here
+the poet takes the opportunity of indulging in a
+psychological excursion which one would expect in
+Feydeau or the younger Dumas rather than in a
+<i>romancier</i> of the thirteenth century. As she could
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>not love her husband and had no child to be fond of,
+he suggests, it was a blessing, or ‘a great favour of
+God,’ as he puts it, for Flamenca, that the feeling of
+love entirely ceased in her for a season. For if she
+still had had love in her heart with no object to
+centre it upon, her condition would have been infinitely
+more unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>But Flamenca’s fate is not to last, nor are Archimbaut’s
+misdeeds to be left unpunished for ever.
+The avenger is nigh. He takes the form of a perfect
+beau of the period, described by the poet in the
+most glowing colours; with his riches, his valour,
+his courteous demeanour, his love of poetry and
+song, his scholarship—for he has gone through his
+<i>trivium</i> and <i>quadrivium</i> at the University of Paris—and
+last, not least, his beauty, down to the whiteness
+of his skin and the very shape of his mouth
+and ears. Guillem de Nevers, for such is his name,
+hears of Archimbaut’s jealous atrocities, which have
+become the butt of all the gay troubadours of the
+country, and at once resolves to comfort the lady
+and punish the monster. The question is, how to
+baffle the watchfulness of this Argus and Cerberus
+combined. The manner in which this question is
+solved is a marvel of ingenuity.</p>
+
+<p>The first and greatest difficulty is to establish
+communication with the imprisoned lady. The
+tower is watched against any possibility of approach,
+and she never leaves it except to go to church.
+The church, therefore, must be the scene of operations.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span></p>
+
+<p>Guillem de Nevers ingratiates himself with the
+priest, who accepts him as his clerk, and in this disguise
+the lover succeeds in entering the private pew,
+from which, thickly veiled and concealed by a trellis
+work, Flamenca is allowed to attend mass. When the
+clerk approaches the lady to let her kiss the mass-book
+according to sacred rite, she is struck with his
+beauty, and still more astonished when, instead of a
+sacred formula, he breathes a suggestive <i>Ailas</i>! (alas).
+More than these two syllables he dares not utter in
+the presence of the watchful Archimbaut. Flamenca,
+on her return home, begins to muse on the
+strange behaviour of the clerk. At first she feels
+almost aggrieved by his exclamation. ‘What right
+has he,’ she says, ‘to be miserable? he is strong, and
+free, and happy. Maybe he is mocking my own
+suffering. And why should he be so cruel as to add
+to my grief? Tears and sighs are my lot. A slave
+compelled to carry wood and water is enviable compared
+with me. My fate could not be worse even
+if I had a rival and a mother-in-law.’ But the two
+chambermaids know better. With the sagacity of
+their class they at once fathom the mystery. ‘Your
+beauty,’ Margarida suggests, ‘has ravished his
+heart, and, as he has no other way of speaking to
+you, he has exposed himself to great peril to let you
+know the state of his feelings.’</p>
+
+<p>An answer has now to be thought of, and the
+united wisdom of the three fair conspirators decides
+upon the query <i>Que plans?</i> (what is your complaint?)
+and these two syllables, softly whispered, gladden
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>the heart of Guillem on the ensuing Sunday. His
+immoderate rapture on seeing his passion noticed by
+its fair object gives rise to a remark on the part of
+the poet which strangely foreshadows the celebrated
+dying speech of Cardinal Wolsey. ‘If Guillem,’
+the passage runs literally, ‘had served God as he
+served Love and his lady, he would have been lord
+of Paradise.’</p>
+
+<p>Flamenca on her part is most anxious to be
+certain that her frightened whisper has been understood,
+and the poet describes with masterly touches
+a charming scene in the lady’s closet, when Alice
+has to take a book—it is the romance of Blanchefleur—and
+hold it exactly in the position and at the
+distance that Guillem has presented the missal.
+The lady then bending over the pages whispers the
+two syllables, and inquires whether she has been
+heard, which question the obliging chambermaid
+answers with an ‘Oh, certainly, Madam! if you
+have spoken in such a tone, he must have understood
+you.’</p>
+
+<p>In this manner the lovers continue to correspond,
+a week elapsing between each question and answer,
+unless a devoutly wished-for saint’s day shortens the
+interval. A lover who for months feeds his passion
+on dissyllables, sweetened only by an occasional
+lifting of Flamenca’s veil or a furtive touch of her
+finger, deserves at any rate the praise of constancy.
+Does the reader care to hear the dialogue in which
+this extraordinary intrigue is carried on? Here is
+the series of questions and answers, divided, it must
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>be remembered, by an interval of several days, and
+exchanged under the very eyes of the jealous husband,
+who mistakes for pious mutterings of the
+Catholic ritual what in reality is offered at a very
+different shrine:—</p>
+
+<p>Guillem, in answer to Flamenca’s question above
+cited: <i>Muer mi</i> (I die). Flamenca: <i>De que?</i> (what
+of?) G.: <i>D’amor</i> (of love). F.: <i>Per cui?</i> (for
+whom?) G.: <i>Per vos</i> (for you). F.: <i>Quen puesc?</i>
+(how can I help it?) G.: <i>Garir</i> (heal me). F.:
+<i>Consi?</i> (how?) G.: <i>Per gein</i> (by subtle craft). F.:
+<i>Pren li</i> (use it). G.: <i>Pres l’ai</i> (I have). F.: <i>E cal?</i>
+(what craft?) G.: <i>Iretz</i> (you must go). F.: <i>Es on?</i>
+(where to?) G.: <i>Als banz</i> (to the baths).</p>
+
+<p>This requires a word of explanation. Bourbon in
+Auvergne, the seat of Count Archimbaut, was then,
+as it is now, a well-known spa, of the arrangements
+of which the author gives rather a curious description.
+‘Here,’ he says, ‘every one, stranger or native,
+can bathe in excellent fashion. In each bath-room
+you can see written up for what malady it is good.
+No lame or gouty person would come there but he
+would go away quite cured, provided he stopped
+long enough. Here one can bathe when he likes,
+provided he have come to terms with the landlord
+who lets the bath. And in each of the cells
+there is to be found boiling water, and in another
+part cold.... Adjoining these baths are rooms
+where people can lie down and rest and refresh
+themselves as they like.’ There is also a capital
+portrait of the typical lodging-house keeper, who—wonderful
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>touch of nature which makes Margate
+and Bourbon kin—recommends a particular room
+‘because Count Raoul takes it every time he comes
+to Bourbon.’</p>
+
+<p>With this worthy and his wife, dame Bellepille,
+Guillem has made himself exceedingly popular.
+He has paid his bills without haggling, has dined
+at their table, and taken absinthe (<i>de bon aluisne</i>)
+with the husband. At last he has persuaded the
+couple to decamp for a season and leave him in
+sole possession of their house—for a consideration,
+it need hardly be added. This house he has had
+connected by a subterraneous passage with one of
+the bathing cells, and to the latter Flamenca is summoned
+by the mysterious phrase alluded to. The
+lady understands the hint, and at once takes the
+necessary measures for carrying out the scheme.
+She feigns sleeplessness and pain—nothing but a
+bath can cure her. Archimbaut, anxious for her
+safety, gives his consent, and himself conducts her
+to the arms of her expectant lover, who receives
+her with knightly courtesy and leads her, together
+with the two faithful damsels, through his subterraneous
+passage to a room splendidly adorned to receive
+such a visitor. The jealous husband in the meantime
+keeps watch before the door of the bath-room,
+with the key in his pocket, while the careful damsels
+have not forgotten to bolt the door inside.</p>
+
+<p>Such is the just and inevitable punishment of
+jealousy according to the doctrine of the Troubadours.
+But, strangely enough, this punishment,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>unknown to himself though it be, ultimately works
+Archimbaut’s cure. He notices the change in his
+wife’s manner; she shows no affection for him, and
+even neglects the ordinary forms of politeness. At
+last he gets tired of his suspicions, and accepts a
+compromise proposed by his ill-treated wife to the
+effect that the lady is to be restored to liberty on
+her own solemn promise of faithfulness to her husband.
+And here I fear that poor Flamenca will
+forfeit the claim to the reader’s lenient sympathy to
+which the cruelty of her husband has hitherto entitled her.
+With a virtuosity of mental reservation
+worthy of any Jesuit she swears by all the saints
+and in the presence of her inwardly chuckling damsels
+that ‘henceforth I will guard myself quite as well
+as you (Archimbaut) have hitherto guarded me.’
+On this happy turn in her affairs the lady takes
+leave of her lover for a season. He must resume
+his rank and add to his fame by new deeds of valour.
+But she agrees to see him again at a tournament
+which Archimbaut proposes to hold in celebration
+of his happy recovery. In answer to his lady’s
+command, Guillem goes to the war and makes the
+country ring with his prowess. Archimbaut becomes
+acquainted with him and eagerly invites him
+to attend at his feast, where he himself introduces
+the valorous and renowned young knight to his wife.
+The lovers keep their countenance and greet each
+other in distant politeness, but in secret they meet
+again and renew their bliss. At the tournament
+Guillem carries all before him, but second to him
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>alone shines Archimbaut, who has become again
+the valorous and accomplished knight he was before
+the fell disease attacked him. In the midst of
+their joustings and feastings the manuscript breaks
+off, evidently not long before the end of the poem.</p>
+
+<p>Such is the story of Flamenca. Its moral tone
+is not very high, although certainly not worse than
+that of the typical French novel. But few modern
+novelists would successfully compete with the natural
+grace and perfect workmanship of the mediæval
+poet. The plot, although simple, is well constructed,
+and the story developes itself rapidly and consistently.
+The characters also are drawn with consummate
+skill. They are both types and individuals, one of
+the chief criteria of high art-creation. It is true
+that the effects of jealousy on Archimbaut are exaggerated
+to the verge of caricature: the poet here
+bowed to the prejudice of his age. At the same
+time the minutest symptoms of the disease are laid
+bare with an astounding acuteness of psychological
+diagnosis. But, more than all, there is true passion
+in the work in spite of occasional concessions to the
+allegorical and hyperbolical tendencies of romantic
+feeling. And the whole is transfused with the
+splendour of southern sunshine, the joy and life and
+love of beautiful Provence.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br>
+<span class="smaller">OTHER NARRATIVE AND DIDACTIC POEMS.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>‘Flamenca’ is unequalled in mediæval literature for
+natural eloquence of diction and psychological
+subtlety; in the <i>langue d’oc</i>, more especially, there
+is nothing worthy of being mentioned by the side of
+it. We possess, however, some shorter stories well
+invented and gracefully told, as for instance an
+amusing novelette in verse by Raimon Vidal of
+Besaudun, the tendency of which may be easily
+guessed by its title ‘Castia-Gilos,’ or ‘Jealousy
+Punished.’ Another quaint story, the ‘Lay of the
+Parrot,’ by Arnaut de Carcasse, also deserves mention.
+A poem called by its anonymous author a
+‘roman’ would answer better to our term ‘allegory.’
+It contains an elaborate description of the
+abode of Love, at whose court Joy, Comfort, Hope,
+Courtesy, and other symbolical personages, collectively
+described as the ‘Barons of Love,’ make their
+appearance. A hundred beautiful damsels, each
+with her lover, enliven the scene, and to this gay
+parliament the god holds forth in a long speech full
+of wholesome information and counsel in accordance
+with the most approved code of Provençal gallantry.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span></p>
+
+<p>This work marks the transition from the story
+to the didactic poem, of which latter class the
+‘Essenhamen de la Donzela,’ or ‘Advice to a Young
+Lady,’ by Amanieu des Escas, is the most celebrated
+specimen. The teaching of good manners is not a
+very lively task, and it must be admitted that the
+Troubadours have at least shown considerable ingenuity
+in hiding the pedantry of their rules and prescripts
+under a whole flower-bed of pretty allegorical
+devices. Of Amanieu des Escas we shall hear
+again. It need hardly be added that these codifications
+of good manners, just like the grammatical
+and metrical treatises of which Provençal literature
+can show a respectable number, belong to a comparatively
+late period, when courtesy and refined
+speech began to fade from the living intercourse of
+men.</p>
+
+<p>The next section of narrative poetry to which
+brief reference must be made differs widely from the
+works hitherto mentioned. It is the historic epic or
+rhymed chronicle, two specimens of which, important
+alike from the literary and the historic point of view,
+are extant. The first gives an account of a war
+waged in the kingdom of Navarre between 1276-77.
+It has been edited from the only existing manuscript,
+with excellent notes, by M. Francisque Michel in
+1856. A Spanish edition was published seven
+years previously at Pampeluna. The author is one
+Guillem Auclier, of Toulouse in Languedoc, as stated
+at the beginning of the poem. He was himself an
+active partisan in the war, and gives a lively description
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>of the events he witnessed. Frequent episodes
+relating to contemporary events, such as the expedition
+of St. Louis against Tunis, furnish details of
+great historic interest. The literary character of the
+poem, however, does not essentially differ from
+similar mediæval productions, and a detailed analysis
+may therefore be dispensed with. Metrically it is
+interesting as an early specimen of the Alexandrine
+or dodecasyllabic verse, which appears here in so-called
+‘tirades monorimes’ of fifty lines, a shorter
+verse at the end of each tirade serving to connect it
+with the following strophe. At other times this
+shorter line is literally repeated at the commencement
+of the next tirade—an interesting peculiarity,
+characteristic of Provençal poems of this class, which
+betrays strong feeling for metrical continuity. It is,
+however, not improbable that the musical accompaniment
+to which these poems were chanted made
+a repetition of the final cadence desirable. A not
+uninteresting literary controversy has been raised as
+to the identity of the author of the present poem
+with a troubadour of the same name and birthplace
+of whom we possess four political songs of considerable
+power. Millot doubts this identity on account
+of a passage in one of the songs which speaks of a
+young Englishman desirous to regain all that the
+valiant Richard had possessed in France. Millot,
+who knew little Provençal, misunderstands the passage
+in the sense of Richard being mentioned as
+still alive; in which case the author of the song
+could of course not have described, and been eye-witness
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>of, events which took place nearly a century
+after the death of the lion-hearted king. But
+Millot’s supposition is quite erroneous, and the
+young Englishman alluded to is evidently King
+Edward I., whose accession (1272) seems to have
+roused expectations to be temporarily realised under
+his grandson. That the aspirations of the Black
+Prince, and later on of Henry V., should have been
+foreshadowed at this early period, is undoubtedly
+an important fact to the student of English history—one
+of the numerous important facts, indeed, which
+might be gleaned from the works of the Troubadours,
+and which make the total neglect of these works
+amongst us so unaccountable.</p>
+
+<p>Of much greater importance than the Navarrese
+chronicle is the celebrated song of the crusade
+against the Albigeois heretics and their chief protector,
+Count Raimon of Toulouse. The author
+or authors (for most probably there were two) of
+this poem also were contemporaries and eye-witnesses
+of many of the incidents of this cruel war,
+the ultimate issue of which proved fatal to the
+literary and political independence of the south of
+France. A fuller account of this work will be
+found where we come to consider the prominent
+part taken by the Troubadours in the vital struggle
+of their country.</p>
+
+<p>In connection with the chronicle of the Albigeois
+crusade may be mentioned the only poem of importance
+which the <i>langue d’oc</i> contributed to the
+spirited dogmatic controversy incessantly carried on
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>between the heretics and the champions of the
+Church. The little interest taken by the Troubadours
+in the doctrinal aspect of the case may account
+for this paucity of documents.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> A great number of
+heretical writings have undoubtedly been destroyed
+by the intolerant rage of monks and inquisitors, but
+it is by no means certain that many, or indeed any,
+of these were written by, or in the language of, the
+Troubadours. If so, one cannot but wonder why
+the violent attacks on the moral depravity of the
+clergy, with which Provençal literature is teeming,
+should have escaped the same fate.</p>
+
+<p>The poem I am speaking of certainly leaves
+nothing to be desired as regards orthodoxy. It is
+written by Izarn, a monk, and a more striking
+specimen of monkish effrontery would be looked for
+in vain in any literature. So grotesque indeed is
+the cynicism displayed, that one almost suspects
+an ironical sceptic cleverly disguised in the mask of
+the zealot; but there are other features of the poem—little
+touches, for instance, of vanity and unctuous self-laudation—which
+place the author’s real purpose
+beyond a doubt. The ‘Novas del Heretge,’ or
+‘Tale of the Heretic,’ is written in the form of a
+dialogue between the author and one Sicart de
+Figueiras, apparently an important member, or, as
+he calls himself, a ‘bishop,’ of the Albigeois sect.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>The opening lines are important to the historian of
+theology. They prove that the Neo-Manichean
+heretics believed, or at least were said by the Catholics
+to believe, in something very like metempsychosis.
+‘Tell me,’ the monk begins, ‘in what school you
+have learned that the spirit of man, when it has lost its
+body, enters an ox, an ass, or a horned wether, a
+hog or a hen, whichever it sees first, and migrates
+from one to the other until a new body of man or
+woman is born for it?... This thou hast taught
+to deluded people whom thou hast given to the
+devil and taken away from God. May every place
+and every land that has supported thee perish!’
+This style of spiritual vituperation was likely to prove
+but too effective, being as it was enforced by very
+material means of coercion. For the conversation, as
+we gather from the next-following lines, takes place
+in one of the prisons of the sacred tribunal. ‘The
+fire is alight,’ Izarn continues; ‘the people are
+assembled to see justice done, and if you refuse to
+confess you will certainly be burnt.’ Motives of
+much less force would be sufficient to overcome the
+resistance of the worthy Sicart. His conscientious
+scruples are indeed of the very slightest description;
+he is anxious only about the terms of his capitulation.
+‘Izarn,’ he says, ‘if you assure me and give
+securities that I shall not be burnt or immured or
+otherwise destroyed, I don’t care what other punishment
+you may inflict; only save me from that.’
+But he knows his captors too well to expect his life
+from motives of pity. Treachery is the price of his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>safety, and of that commodity he offers liberal
+measure. ‘Berit,’ he says, ‘and Peire Razol’ (two
+other spies, it may be conjectured) ‘don’t know half
+of what I do. I will tell you everything you ask
+both about believers and heretics, but you must
+promise me secrecy.’ Next follows a somewhat
+rambling explanation of the cause of his desertion,
+in which the souls of five hundred people whom he
+claims to have rescued from eternal perdition play a
+principal part. But he is particularly anxious to
+impress upon the monk that poverty has not been
+the motive of his action. ‘First of all,’ he says, ‘I
+want you to know that I have not presented myself
+to you owing to hunger or thirst, or from any need
+whatsoever; pray be aware of that.’</p>
+
+<p>The meaning of all this is that he wants to point
+out, as indeed he does afterwards in so many
+words, how valuable an acquisition he would be,
+and how glad the Church of Rome ought to be
+to receive him on terms however favourable. This
+seems reasonable enough, but the matter appears in
+a very different light when he begins to describe
+with glowing colours the treasures which his confidential
+position amongst the heretics has placed at
+his disposal. An account of the easy and luxurious
+life he led amongst the heretics is evidently inserted
+with a view to disparage and expose as hypocritical
+pretence the appearance of rigorous morality assumed,
+and in most cases no doubt justly assumed, by the
+elders of the dissenting churches. But all these
+comforts and enjoyments, Sicart declares, he has forsaken
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>for the call of Heaven, interpreted to him by
+the eloquent voice of that chosen vessel, Izarn—the
+author, that is. The complacency with which the
+monk by the mouth of his convert pays a compliment
+to his own theological sagacity, mentioning
+especially ‘nine questions’ which have completely
+baffled the heretic, and not omitting at the same time
+an incidental reference to his poetical gift, is as
+amusing as it is characteristic. It furnishes, moreover,
+the best proof against the suspicion of a
+hidden satirical purpose, which the tone of the
+poem may have excited in the reader’s mind. The
+subtlest humorist could not artificially reproduce
+the naïve genuineness of this self-praise. No
+wonder that, convinced by such excellent argument,
+Sicart is willing to atone for former errors by
+the merciless persecution of his late friends and
+co-religionists. ‘Not twopennyworth of love or
+peace shall they find at my hands,’ he savagely
+exclaims, promising at the same time to betray to the
+Inquisition the most secret places where they and
+their treasures are hidden—all sentiments highly
+and unctuously approved of by the excellent Izarn,
+it need scarcely be added.</p>
+
+<p>No more barefaced disclosure of the vilest
+motives of the human heart can well be imagined
+than is to be found in this poem. ‘Mr. Sludge the
+medium’ himself would hesitate before entering into
+competition with the worthy monk and his no less
+desirable convert. If the utterly demoralising influence
+of religious persecution on both persecutors
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>and at least the weaker part of their victims needed
+further proof in our days, this poem might be held
+up as a warning example.</p>
+
+<p>It is perhaps hardly fair to mention together with
+such a production other works by monkish authors
+sometimes replete with simple-minded piety and never
+without the quaint charm of mediæval narrative.
+Such are the paraphrases of Biblical and other
+religious legends of which Provençal literature shows
+a goodly array. None of them, however, calls for
+detailed notice, their character showing no essential
+deviation from similar works in other languages, and
+their subject and treatment being widely remote
+from the artistic poetry with which this book is
+chiefly concerned. Suffice it to mention the
+names of some of the saints chosen for treatment,
+such as St. Alexius, St. Honorat, and Sta. Fides,
+(the MS. of the last-mentioned legend dating, according
+to Fauchet, as far back as the eleventh
+century), also rhymed paraphrases of the apocryphal
+gospels of ‘St. Nicodemus,’ and the ‘Infancy of
+Christ.’</p>
+
+<p>Of much greater importance than any of these
+is a semi-religious didactic poem treating of that
+favourite hero of the pseudo-historic Muse in the
+middle ages, Boethius, and the spiritual comfort he
+derived in his worldly misfortune from what Shakespeare,
+perhaps with a faint reminiscence of this very
+man, calls ‘adversity’s sweet milk philosophy.’ The
+goddess of that divine science appears to Boethius,
+‘Count of Rome,’ in prison, to which he has been
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>sent by the Emperor Teiric (Theodoric), a usurper
+and unbeliever whose claims to the throne the single-hearted
+statesman refuses ta acknowledge, and
+whose vices he has publicly reprimanded. Boethius
+is condemned on a false charge of having invited
+the Greeks to invade Rome. In his dungeon he
+laments his fate and regrets his sins, an opportunity
+for moralising of which the poet avails himself by
+enforcing the didactic key-note of his poem: ‘The
+good and evil deeds of our youth find their just
+reward in advanced age.’</p>
+
+<p>The darkness of the prison is suddenly brightened
+by the appearance of a beautiful maiden clad
+in garments of resplendent richness. She is the
+daughter of a mighty king, and her own power and
+gifts are without measure. ‘Beautiful is the lady,’
+the poet repeats, ‘although her days have been
+many; no man can hide himself from her glance.’
+She herself has woven her gorgeous robes, ‘one
+fringe of which could not be bought for a thousand
+pounds of silver.’ At the bottom of her garment is
+inscribed the Greek letter Π, while her headdress
+shows a Θ, the former signifying, according to the
+poet, ‘the life which is entire,’ the latter ‘the just law
+of heaven.’ A number of birds ascending steps
+which are suspended between the two letters signify
+mankind in its struggle for divine righteousness.
+Some more allegory of the same kind finishes the
+poem, which is evidently the fragment of a much
+larger work, founded possibly on the celebrated
+‘Consolatio Philosophiæ.’</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span></p>
+
+<p>The value of the fragment as it stands is of a
+philological rather than of a literary kind, owing to
+the numerous archaic forms and words occurring in
+it, many of which have disappeared from the later
+Provençal. With the exception of a short hymn in
+praise of St. Eulalia (published by Diez in his
+admirable edition of the work under discussion),
+‘Boethius’ is generally considered to be the earliest
+poetic specimen of the <i>langue d’oc</i>, belonging, as it
+undoubtedly does, to the tenth century, and therefore
+preceding the first of the Troubadours by at least a
+hundred years. Of the remainder of the didactic
+poems the briefest notice must suffice. One class of
+them are large accumulations of human knowledge—encyclopædias
+in fact without the alphabetical
+arrangement—such as the ‘Tezaur’ (Treasure) by
+Master Corbiac, treating in Alexandrine lines of
+most known and unknown sciences, including geology,
+music, history, and necromancy; and the still
+more celebrated ‘Breviari d’Amor,’ an enormous
+compendium of mediæval wisdom, and most probably
+one of the most ponderous books ever written
+in spite of its promising title. Two manuscripts
+of this work are in the British Museum. The
+author’s name is Matfre Ermengau, a monk of
+Beziers, and the poem was begun, according to a
+statement in the preface, in 1288. How long it took
+the laborious poet to compose his 27,000 lines,
+heaven only knows. A poem by Daude de Pradas
+on the birds used for falconry, belonging to this
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>class, may be of some interest to historically minded
+lovers of sport.</p>
+
+<p>But of much greater importance, and indeed invaluable
+to the student of manners and customs, is a
+second category of didactic poetry, consisting of rules
+and precepts of demeanour for certain classes of
+society, young ladies, pages, joglars or minstrels, and
+others. Some of these ‘ensenhamens,’ as they were
+called—for instance, that by Amanieu des Escas—have
+already been referred to in these pages.
+Others will be mentioned in due course.</p>
+
+<p>In the poems of the historic and didactic orders
+rhyme and metre were to a great extent mere accessories,
+and of many of them prose versions, made
+evidently for the sake of cheapness and convenience,
+are actually in existence, such as the transcription
+of the Song of the Albigeois Crusade, also of the
+Gospel of Nicodemus, and other legendary poems.
+These and numerous other prose works, theological,
+moral, medical, and juridical,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> are entirely beyond
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>the scope of the present work—with one exception.
+This is a curious collection of biographies of the
+principal troubadours found in several manuscripts,
+and varying from a few lines of matter-of-fact information
+to lengthy and circumstantial accounts
+of a suspiciously romantic character, including attempts
+at furnishing a commentary, critical and
+anecdotal, for single poems. In some cases several
+biographies of the same poet are found, one richer
+than another in interesting details, and showing
+evidently the desire on the part of later authors to
+improve upon an originally simple story. But in
+spite of this the immense value and general authenticity
+of this source cannot be denied, especially in
+cases where the author gives his name and declares
+himself an eye-witness of the events he describes.
+At the end of the biography of Bernard de Ventadorn,
+we read, for instance, the following interesting
+notice:—‘Count Eble de Ventadorn, the son of the
+viscountess whom Sir Bernard loved, told me Uc de
+St. Cyr what I have caused to be written down of
+Sir Bernard.’ The same Uc de St. Cyr, himself a
+well-known troubadour, also wrote (or at least composed,
+for his powers as a scribe may seem doubtful
+on his own showing&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a>) the life of Savaric de Mauleon
+and probably of several other contemporary poets.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>Another biography is claimed by one Miquel de la
+Tor, and in many other instances references to eye-witnesses,
+or claims to personal and immediate
+knowledge, are made. Unfortunately accounts of
+only 104 out of about 400 troubadours of whose
+existence we know have been preserved. But
+even as it is we ought to be thankful to the mediæval
+scribes, who, as regards the Troubadours,
+have at least partially removed the darkness which
+overhangs, for instance, the personal histories of
+North-French Trouvères or German Minnesingers,
+not to name more recent and infinitely more important
+epochs of English literature.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br>
+<span class="smaller">APOCRYPHA.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Here the brief summary of the non-lyrical literature
+in the Provençal language comes to a close. In
+a work mainly devoted to the poetry of the Troubadours
+I have not thought it necessary to attempt
+anything like completeness of enumeration, my
+intention being mainly to give the reader some
+idea of the general aspect of a literary epoch
+almost entirely engrossed by one branch of art, the
+artistic song. A prevailing impulse of this kind is
+of course by no means unexampled in the history of
+poetry. The gregariousness of human beings in
+general is equally noticeable in the representatives
+of human thought and feeling. The age of Homer
+loved epic breadth, that of Elizabeth dramatic
+point and action; in our time the novel seems to
+rule the literary market. There were, of course,
+English romance-writers in the sixteenth century,
+just as there are English dramatists and lyrical
+poets of great power in the latter half of the nineteenth;
+but that does not in either case disprove the
+fact of a collective national instinct in the direction
+pointed out.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span></p>
+
+<p>In the same sense it may be said that narrative
+poetry in mediæval Provence occupied a decidedly
+subordinate position. This is, at least, what the
+facts we know and the documents we possess lead us
+to believe. But documents and facts are not always
+satisfactory materials to prop up a preconceived
+theory. Certain scholars have in the face of them
+supplied the <i>langue d’oc</i> with an extensive and
+splendid epical literature, the treasures of which
+have unfortunately been lost to us, though why this
+loss should have fallen on the narrative in preference
+to the lyrical branch of poetry is not explained.
+The chief upholder of this opinion is the late M.
+Fauriel, the deservedly celebrated author of the
+‘Histoire de la Littérature Provençale;’ but the
+foundation on which he rests his theory must be
+owned to be of the slenderest kind.</p>
+
+<p>Among the <i>ensenhamens</i>, or instructions to particular
+classes of society, already mentioned, there
+are two, by Guiraut de Calençon and Guiraut de
+Cabreiras respectively, addressed to joglars, a class
+of singers, and professors of other more or less dignified
+arts, of whose duties and position in society we
+shall hear more hereafter. Amongst other accomplishments
+they are exhorted to acquire familiar acquaintance
+with certain favourite subjects of romance
+and story, a full enumeration of which is given in
+each instance.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> These two poems, together with a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>passage from ‘Flamenca,’ descriptive of a feast enlivened
+by song, give us a most welcome insight
+into the tales of woe and joy most apt to raise tears
+or merry laughter amongst the fair ladies of Provence.
+Here we meet with the names of many
+heroes of history and fiction. King Menelaus and
+his frail spouse, together with most of the renowned
+chieftains of the Greeks and Trojans, represent
+Homeric myth, Romulus and Remus prehistoric
+Roman tradition. Queen Dido, it need hardly be
+said, occupies a prominent place, as does also her
+singer Virgil, whom mediæval belief has surrounded
+with the necromancer’s mysterious halo in addition
+to his fame as a poet. Charlemagne and his champions—not
+forgetting Ganelon the traitor—were
+equally well known in Provence, while the influence
+of Celtic legendary lore, both with regard to poetry
+and music, is curiously illustrated by the mention in
+‘Flamenca’ of a joglar who plays on the violin the
+<i>lais del cabrefoil</i> (lay of the honeysuckle) popularly
+ascribed to Tristan, the lover of Iseult. In addition
+to these another Instruction may be mentioned, addressed
+by one Arnaut Guillem de Marsan to a
+young gentleman of noble lineage who comes from
+a distance to consult him about amorous matters.
+Here the knowledge of the favourite subjects of romance
+is recommended as an accomplishment most
+adapted to gain the favour of a lady.</p>
+
+<p>From such passages as these M. Fauriel concludes
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>that of all the subjects mentioned in them elaborate
+treatments in the shape of epics or romances existed
+in the <i>langue d’oc</i>. But this supposition surely is
+quite unsupported by the evidence direct or indirect.
+The myths and semi-historic facts referred to, such
+as the deeds of Charlemagne or King Arthur, were
+the common stock of European nations in the
+Middle Ages, migrating from the Welsh shores of
+the Atlantic to the eastern confines of Germany, and
+back again to Saxo-Norman England. Trouvères,
+Troubadours, and Minnesingers were equally well
+acquainted with these inexhaustible sources of amusement,
+and a wayfaring minstrel was naturally expected
+to give a more or less original version of the familiar
+theme. But none of the passages mentioned above
+refers to any existing poem on the subjects it enumerates,
+or indeed to any written document at all,
+which latter, moreover, in nine cases out of ten would
+have been of little use to the popular singer. The
+existence, therefore, of an extensive epical literature
+in the Provençal language remains a mere conjecture
+in spite of M. Fauriel’s eloquent special pleading.</p>
+
+<p>There is, however, no reason to deny that more
+than one narrative poem may have fallen a victim
+to time, and in some instances at least we have
+strong circumstantial evidence pointing that way.
+One of these cases leads to considerations so interesting
+in other respects that a short statement of it
+may be welcome to the reader. It is well known
+that the works of the Troubadours were at an early
+period read and admired in the neighbouring country
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>of Italy, and that the poets in the <i>lingua volgare</i>
+recognised in them at once their models and allies
+in the struggle against the predominance of Latin
+scholarship. Students of the ‘Divina Commedia’ or
+of Petrarch’s ‘Trionfi’ are aware of the prominent
+position assigned to the Provençal singers amongst
+the poets of the world, and they may also remember
+that of the Troubadours themselves none is mentioned
+with higher praise than Arnaut Daniel.
+Petrarch calls him <i>gran maestro d’amore</i>, the ‘great
+master of love, whose novel and beautiful style still
+(i.e. about the middle of the fourteenth century) does
+honour to his country;’ and Dante, in his philological
+and metrical treatise ‘De vulgari Eloquio,’ declares
+himself indebted to Arnaut for the structure of
+several of his stanzas. The ‘sestina,’ for instance,
+a poem of six verses in which the final words of the
+first stanza appear in inverted order in all the others,
+is an invention of this troubadour adopted by Dante
+and Petrarch, and, most likely through the medium
+of French models, by Mr. Swinburne, as we shall
+presently see.</p>
+
+<p>But another far more lasting monument has been
+erected to Arnaut in the immortal lines of the ‘Purgatorio,’
+where Guido Guinicelli, in answer to Dante’s
+enthusiastic praise of his poetry, points to another
+shade, and</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘O frate, disse, questi ch’io ti scerno</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Col dito (ed additò uno spirto innanzi)</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Fu miglior fabbro del parlar materno.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Versi d’amor e prose di romanzi</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Soverchiò tutti ...</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse right">Canto xxvi., verses 115-119.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘O brother,’ cried he, pointing with his hand,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘This spirit whom I show far better knew</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">To weld the language of his native land.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">In lays of love and in romances too</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">He bore the palm.’ ...</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse right">(<span class="smcap">Cayley’s</span> translation.)</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">This artful ‘smith of his mother-tongue’ is our
+troubadour, who, when addressed, replies in pure
+Provençal, a language evidently quite familiar to
+Dante. The above-cited lines are generally considered
+to be the clue to the apparently excessive
+admiration lavished on Arnaut by the Italian poets.
+There can indeed be no doubt that, in addition to
+his fame as a lyrical singer or troubadour proper,
+his equal excellence as a narrative poet is here referred
+to, the word ‘<i>prose</i>’ being used not in our
+modern sense, but for the rhymed couplets of the
+epic in contradistinction to the elaborate stanzas or
+<i>versi</i> of the love-song.</p>
+
+<p>The further question arises, what were the works
+on which Arnaut’s reputation as an epical poet was
+founded, and for the answer to this question we
+again must look in the works of Italian poets.
+Pulci, the humorous author of the ‘Morgante
+Maggiore,’ mentions our troubadour twice amongst
+the writers of Carlovingian epics, explaining his statement
+by the further indication that he (Arnaut)
+‘wrote most diligently and investigated the deeds
+of Rinaldo (i.e. Renaut de Montauban, the eldest of
+the <i>quatre fils Aimon</i>) and the great things he did
+in Egypt.’ This seems to prove conclusively that as
+late as the end of the fifteenth century, when Pulci
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>wrote, an epic poem on ‘Renaut’ by Arnaut Daniel
+was known amongst scholars in Italy.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p>
+
+<p>But a still later and in one sense still more important
+testimonial to Arnaut is found in Torquato
+Tasso, who, it appears, mentions him as the author
+of a poem on ‘Lancelot.’ For this enables us to
+connect our troubadour with a second and perhaps
+the divinest passage in Dante’s divine poem. The
+reader need scarcely be reminded that the story
+which kindles to open and conscious flame the silent
+passion of Francesca da Polenta and Paolo Malatesta
+is a romance of Lancelot—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Di Lancilotto come amor lo strinse;</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">and nothing is more probable than that Dante
+should have thought of Arnaut Daniel’s lost epic
+when he wrote the inspired lines that are in everybody’s
+memory.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per più fiate gli occhi ci sospinse</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quella lettura, e scollorocci ’l viso;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quando leggemmo il disiato riso</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Esser baciato da cotanto amante,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Questi che mai di me non fia diviso</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">La bocca mi bacciò tutto tremante.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Galeotto fu il libro e chi lo scrisse;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quel giorno più non vi legemmo avante.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">More than one time that reading struck our eyes</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Together, and discoloured us in face:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But it was only one point conquered us:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Whereas we read about the longed-for smile</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">How by so great a lover it was kissed,</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">This one, who from me ne’er shall be disjoined,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Trembling all over, kissed me on the mouth.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A Galahalt&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> was the book, and he that writ:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Further that day we read in it no more.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse right">(<span class="smcap">W. M. Rossetti’s</span> translation.)</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Many poets might wish to rest their posthumous
+fame on such lines rather than on their own works;
+but it may be inferred on the other hand that Arnaut
+Daniel (if he really be the author referred to) must
+have been a mighty mover of the heart to gain such
+a tribute from the lips of Francesca da Rimini.</p>
+
+<p>It may seem strange that the Provençal biography
+is completely silent with regard to Arnaut’s epical
+achievements. But, in the best times at least, the
+professional story-teller was strictly divided from
+the Troubadour, and the biographer may have
+thought it wiser to say nothing on the subject. With
+reference to the same matter it is perhaps significant
+that Arnaut is described as a ‘joglar’ in the Provençal
+notice of his life. In Italy this point of etiquette
+was, of course, of no importance; and hence most
+likely the indirect channel through which Arnaut’s
+fame as a writer of romance has reached posterity.</p>
+
+<p>It must be confessed, however, that the
+Troubadour’s lyrical efforts would hardly lead one
+to credit him with lucid exposition or narrative
+grace. Arnaut Daniel is the Browning of Provençal
+literature. He delights in ‘motz oscurs’ (dark
+words) and ‘rims cars’ (dear or scarce rhymes) and
+equally far-fetched similes. One of these latter, a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>symbol of unrequited love, became almost proverbially
+attached to his name. ‘I am Arnaut,’ it
+ran, ‘who loves the air, who hunts a hare with an
+ox, and swims against the stream.’ His intentional
+obscurity and his mannerism were largely imitated, but
+no less frequently attacked and travestied by contemporary
+poets and satirists. Petrarch’s allusions
+to ‘his novel speech,’ and Dante’s expression, ‘smith
+of his mother-tongue,’ evidently allude to Arnaut’s
+peculiarities of style. We can also quite understand
+how the great Florentine could admire a dark shade
+of melancholy, a bold originality of thought, and a
+hankering after scholastic depth, but too nearly akin
+to his own mental attitude; but how far these
+qualities would have fitted into the frame of a
+narrative, or whether the poet succeeded in dropping
+them for a season, must remain an open question.
+It is curious that one of the brightest and most
+amusing bits of literary gossip which Provençal
+biography can show is attached to the sombre figure
+of this troubadour. As there will be no occasion
+in the following pages to return to the biography of
+Arnaut, the clever little anecdote may follow here.
+It will serve at the same time as a specimen of
+Provençal prose. A literal translation is subjoined:</p>
+
+<p>‘E fo aventura qu’el fo en la cort del rei Richart
+d’Englaterra: et estan en la cort us autres joglars
+escomes lo com el trobava en pus caras rimas qe el.
+Arnautz tenc so ad escarn e feron messios cascus de
+son palafre qe no fera, en poder del rei. E’l reis
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>enclaus cascun en una cambra. E’N Arnautz de
+fastic quen ac non ac poder qe lasses un mot ab
+autre. Lo joglars fes son cantar leu e tost. Et els
+non avian mas de X jorns d’espazi; e devia s jutjar
+per lo rei a cap de cinq jorns. Lo joglars demandet
+a’N Arnaut si avia fag; e’N Arnautz respos; “qe
+oc, passat a tres jorns.” E non avia pensat. E’l
+joglars cantava tota nueg sa canso per so qe be la
+saubes; e’N Arnautz pesset col traisset ad escarn,
+tan qe venc una nueg e’l joglars la cantava e’N
+Arnautz la va tota retener e’l so. E can foron denan
+lo rei, N’Arnautz dis qe volia retraire sa canso; e
+comenset mot be la canso qe’l joglars avia facha.
+E’l joglars can l’auzic gardet lo en la cara e dis q’el
+l’avia facha. E’l reis dis co s podia far? E’l joglars
+preguet al rei q’el ne saubes lo ver. E’l reis
+demandet a’N Arnaut com era stat. E’N Arnautz
+comtet li com era stat. E’l reis ac ne gran gaug e
+tenc so a gran escarn. E foron acquistat los gatges,
+et a cascun fes donar bels dos.’</p>
+
+<p>‘And it happened that he (Arnaut Daniel) was
+at the court of King Richard of England; and there
+being also at the court another joglar the latter boasted
+that he could invent rhymes as scarce as could
+Arnaut. Arnaut thought this good fun, and each gave
+his horse as a pledge to the king, in case he could
+not do it (viz. gain the bet). And the king locked
+them up each in a room. And Sir Arnaut, being
+tired of the matter, was not able to string one word
+to another; the joglar made his song with ease and
+speedily. And they had no more than a space of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>ten days allowed to them. And the king was to
+judge at the end of five days. The joglar then asked
+Sir Arnaut if he had done. “Oh yes,” said Sir
+Arnaut, “three days ago.” But he had not thought
+of it. And the joglar sang his song every night so
+as to know it well. And Arnaut thought how he
+could draw him into ridicule; so one night, while
+the joglar was singing, Arnaut took care to
+remember the whole song and the tune. And
+when they were before the king, Arnaut declared
+that he wished to sing his song, and began
+to sing in excellent style the song that the joglar
+had made. And the joglar, when he heard this,
+stared him in the face, and declared that he himself
+had made the song. And the king asked how
+this was possible, but the joglar implored him to
+look into the truth of it. The king then asked Sir
+Arnaut how this had happened, and Sir Arnaut told
+him how it had happened. And the king had great
+joy at this, and thought it most excellent fun. And
+the pledges were returned, and to each he gave fine
+presents.’</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br>
+<span class="smaller">SOCIAL POSITION OF PROVENÇAL POETS.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Sufficient has been said in the preceding pages to
+show the superiority of lyrical over epic poetry in
+Provence. This inequality of the two branches
+implied a commensurate difference of praise and
+social esteem awarded to those who excelled in
+either of them, and it is perhaps from this point of
+view that the two great divisions of poets in the
+<i>langue d’oc</i>, respectively described as ‘joglars’ and
+‘trobadors,’ or, in the French and generally adopted
+form of the word, ‘troubadours,’ may be most distinctly
+recognised. The two professions were frequently
+united in the same person, and the duties
+belonging to either are in many respects identical, or
+at least similar to such a degree as to make strict
+separation almost impossible; but it seems sufficiently
+established that the verb ‘trobar’ and its derivative
+noun first and foremost apply to lyrical poetry. To
+speak therefore of the Troubadour as the singer of
+songs, of cansos and sirventeses and albas and
+retroensas, is a correct and tolerably comprehensive
+definition, borne out moreover by the historic fact
+that, with the sole exception of Arnaut Daniel (who,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>as was mentioned before, is in his biography called a
+joglar), none of the celebrated troubadours is known
+to have written narrative poems. These latter, on
+the other hand, are either, like ‘Flamenca’ and
+‘Jaufre,’ by anonymous authors, or else by such men
+as Arnaud de Carcasses or Matfre Ermengau, who
+have acquired little or no fame as lyrical poets, and
+moreover belong to the thirteenth and fourteenth
+centuries, when the song-tide of the earlier epoch was
+ebbing fast.</p>
+
+<p>To the Troubadour, the undisputed leader of the
+poetic profession, we must turn first. It has been at
+all times, and is still, an all but impossible task to
+define the social position of a literary man, <i>quâ</i>
+literary man. So much depends upon his success in
+his profession, his family, his personal bearing, that
+a general rule can never comprise all individual
+cases. The same applies to the Provençal poets of
+the middle ages. It would be absurd to say that
+differences of rank did not exist in that primitive
+republic of letters. The composite nature of a
+profession, the humbler associates of which were
+often fain to amuse popular audiences at wakes and
+fairs with rude songs or tricks of jugglery, entirely
+precludes the social equality of all its members.
+But in the art of poetry a common ground was at
+least established, where men of all classes met on
+equal terms, and where the chance of success was
+little if at all furthered by accidental advantages of
+birth. The maxim of <i>carrière ouverte au talent</i>
+was fully carried out, and we find that the most
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>celebrated troubadours were frequently men of low
+origin, who by mere dint of genius conquered fame
+and gain. Folquet for instance, the gay troubadour,
+subsequently Bishop of Toulouse, and zealous
+persecutor of the Albigeois heretics, was the son of
+a simple merchant, and the great Bernart of
+Ventadorn seems to have been of still humbler
+descent—at least, if we may believe the testimony
+of an amiable brother poet, who delights in informing
+the public that Bernart’s father was a common
+serving-man, good at shooting with the bow, and
+that his mother gathered brushwood to light the
+fire. Marcabrun, another celebrated and at the
+same time most eccentric troubadour, was, according
+to one account, a foundling left at the gate of a rich
+man, while another biography calls him the (apparently
+illegitimate) son of a poor woman of the
+name of Bruna, the latter statement being confirmed
+by the troubadour’s own boast:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Marcabrus lo filhs Na Bruna</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Fo ergendratz en tal luna</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qe anc non amet neguna</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ni d’autra non fo amatz.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In English: ‘Marcabrun, the son of Madame Bruna,
+was begotten under such a moon that he never
+loved a woman, and never was loved by one.’</p>
+
+<p>It has been computed that to the middle and lower
+classes twenty-two troubadours owe their origin, to
+which number probably many of those must be added
+of whose circumstances no record has been left. The
+clergy furnished no less than thirteen poets, some of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>whom confined themselves to religious and didactic
+subjects, and therefore, strictly speaking, ought not to
+be called troubadours. Others, however, had no
+such conscientious scruples, and one of the most
+daring and outspoken satirists in Provençal literature
+was a monk. Uc de St. Cyr, destined by his father
+for the clerical profession, escaped from the university
+of Montpellier and became a troubadour, while in
+other cases gay poets turned monks and closed a
+wild career with repentance and holy exercise. Of
+Gui d’Uisel, a canon of Brioude and Montferrand, it
+is told that he dutifully abandoned the muse by
+command of the Papal legate.</p>
+
+<p>By far the largest proportion of the troubadours
+known to us—fifty-seven in number—belong to the
+nobility, not to the highest nobility in most cases, it
+is true. In several instances poverty is distinctly
+mentioned as the cause for adopting the profession
+of a troubadour. It almost appears, indeed, as if
+this profession, like that of the churchman and sometimes
+in connection with it (see the Monk of Montaudon),
+had been regarded by Provençal families
+as a convenient means of providing for their younger
+sons. Bertran de Born, on the other hand, owed the
+successful enforcement of his claims to the heritage
+he held in common with his unfortunate brother
+Constantine as much to his song as to his sword.</p>
+
+<p>It remains to refer to no less than twenty-three
+reigning princes of more or less importance of
+whose poetic efforts we have cognisance. With a
+few exceptions the contributions to literature of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>these distinguished amateurs are but slight. But
+that does not diminish the significance of the fact of
+these powerful men entering into competition with
+the sons of tailors and pedlars.</p>
+
+<p>Richard I. of England occupies the foremost
+place amongst these princely singers. The beautiful
+canzo composed in his Austrian prison, and preserved
+in both the <i>langue d’oc</i> and <i>langue d’oïl</i>, is
+deservedly popular. It is perhaps less generally
+known that Richard occasionally made his poetry
+the vehicle of political invective. There is extant
+by him a song in which he violently attacks the
+Dauphin, Robert of Auvergne, accusing him of venality
+and breach of faith. The Dauphin, nothing loth,
+meets violence with violence, using in his retort the
+same complicated metre in which the Prince had
+attacked him. The same Dauphin appears again in
+another poetical encounter of a rather less elevated
+kind. This time his antagonist is a homely citizen
+of the name of Peire Pelissier, who, combining the
+useful with the agreeable, had metrically reminded
+the Dauphin of a certain sum of money owing to
+him. The indignation with which the noble poet
+rejects the low demand is beautiful to see. But the
+very fact of his entering into such a contest with
+such an antagonist shows the equalising, not to say
+levelling, influence which the universal desire for
+poetic fame exercised on the minds of men in those
+days.</p>
+
+<p>By far the most important poet of this class,
+and one of the most remarkable, as he was chronologically
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>the first, of all troubadours, is William IX.,
+sovereign Count of Poitiers, a noble prince, well
+known in history. The time of his reign, about
+the end of the eleventh century, marks the commencement
+of Provençal poetry, and this sudden
+appearance of an accomplished poet, mastering
+the most intricate rules of rhyme and metre ever
+invented, is unique in the history of literature.
+It is indeed in this case also explainable only
+from the disappearance of previous stages of poetic
+development.</p>
+
+<p>William of Poitiers is an interesting character in
+many respects. He is the prototype of the Troubadour,
+the wayfaring singer, wandering through the
+beautiful land of Provence in search of praise and
+amorous adventure, the latter not always as strictly
+moral nor yet as sentimental as might be desired.
+Even in those gallant days his dangerous gift of
+captivating women’s affections seems to have attracted
+more than ordinary notice. ‘The Count of
+Poitiers,’ says the Provençal biography, ‘was one of
+the most courteous men in the world and a great
+deceiver of ladies; and he was a brave knight and
+had much to do with love-affairs; and he knew well
+how to sing and make verses; and for a long time
+he roamed all through the land to deceive the
+ladies.’ The poems of the Count further illustrate
+these statements in a manner not always delicate,
+but always witty and amusing. It ought to be
+added that, before his end, William repented of his
+evil ways, in witness of which the last of his remaining
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>songs gives utterance to regretful sorrow and
+anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>But the chief importance of William’s life and
+poetry for our present purpose lies in the light which
+these throw on the high esteem in which the poet’s
+art was held in those days. For it must be remembered
+that the man who proudly donned the Troubadour’s
+garb was the same Duke of Aquitain and
+Count of Poitiers whom William of Malmesbury
+mentions amongst the great warriors of his time, and
+who, in the unfortunate crusade of 1101, appeared at
+the head of three hundred thousand fighting men.</p>
+
+<p>Such were the princely amateurs in mediæval
+Provence. Turning from these to the Troubadours
+proper, that is to professional poets who owed their
+sustenance to their song, we find that they occupied
+an important and honoured position in fashionable
+circles. There is scarcely a noble family in the
+south of France whose name is not by one or more
+of its members connected with the history of the
+Troubadours. His love of poetry and poets is
+a redeeming feature in the lion-hearted Richard’s
+wild career, but he had inherited this feeling from
+his mother, the much-maligned Queen Eleanor,
+whom we shall meet again as the generous friend of
+a celebrated singer. The kingly house of Aragon
+vied with that of Anjou in its liberal protection of
+the gay science. The names of Alfonso II., Peter
+II., and Peter III. continually occur in the grateful
+acknowledgments of the Troubadours; and to another
+monarch of Spanish origin, King Alfonso X.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>of Castile, belongs the honour of having given
+shelter to the remnant of Provençal poets after the
+fall of their own country. At his court lived and
+deplored the decline of poetry the last of the
+Troubadours, the noble Guiraut Riquier. Many
+other protectors of the Troubadours, no less liberal
+though less illustrious, will be incidentally mentioned
+in these pages.</p>
+
+<p>At the courts of these princes and nobles the
+Troubadour was eagerly welcomed. Without any
+distinct charge or office he partook of the liberality
+of his protector, half guest, half courtier, but without
+any of the irksome duties of the latter, and free to
+come and go where his wayward mood attracted him.
+We hear of frequent and rapid changes of abode in
+the lives of many troubadours, mostly in consequence
+of some imbroglio with a lady. But Provençal
+poets were naturally a restless tribe, ever in
+search of new lands and new loves.</p>
+
+<p>The gifts with which the Troubadour’s song was
+rewarded varied in nature and value according to
+the wealth and liberality of the donor. Horses gaily
+caparisoned, rich vestments, and money are not unfrequently
+mentioned. The Monk of Montaudon
+rails at a brother poet for having accepted <i>manh vielh
+vestimen</i> (many an old coat) previously worn to rags,
+we may suppose, by its economical owner. But
+other nobles showed a more generous appreciation
+of poetry, and in one case at least we hear of a
+liberal host who, enraptured by his poet-guest’s song,
+presents him with his own palfrey and dress. This
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>instance at the same time illustrates the spontaneous
+nature of most of these gifts. The troubadour
+was not like an English poet laureate or the bard
+of a Welsh prince, receiving a yearly salary in money
+or kind, and bound for certain emoluments to accomplish
+a certain amount of verse. An engagement
+of this kind was as unsuitable to his disposition
+as it would have been inconsistent with the
+terms of equality on which he lived with his protector.
+The perfect ease of intercourse existing between
+poets and princes of the highest rank is indeed
+astonishing. Bertran de Born, a petty baron, called
+the sons of Henry II. of England by familiar nicknames,
+and Raimon de Miraval, a poor knight of
+Carcassonne, used the same liberty with the mighty
+Count Raimon VI. of Toulouse, with whom he was
+united by the bonds of tenderest mutual friendship.
+Even the powerful Raimon de Rossilho, proud by
+nature and further excited by jealous suspicion, has
+to treat a servant of his own household with the
+utmost consideration, merely because this retainer
+happens to be Guillem de Cabestanh, the author of
+some popular love-songs. Only when the poet’s guilt
+is established beyond a doubt does Raimon give way
+to his revengeful passion.</p>
+
+<p>Another privilege enjoyed by the troubadour,
+and prized by him much higher than all those previously
+mentioned, was the favour of noble ladies,
+granted to him as the guerdon of his impassioned
+song. The relation between lady and troubadour has
+been a favourite subject with writers of history and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>romance from the early middle ages to the present
+time, and it is to be feared that the popularity of
+Provençal poets rests quite as much on their love-affairs
+as on their literary achievements. From the
+story of Flamenca previously told and numerous
+other incidents to be mentioned in the following
+pages, the reader may form an idea of the laxity of
+morals in those days, especially as regards the
+marriage-vow. Considering this moral atmosphere
+and the free intercourse of the sexes existing in
+Provençal society, where the <i>dueña</i> or any similar
+institution seems to have been unknown, the frequent
+occurrence of a guilty passion between a
+troubadour and a high-born lady—for instance, the
+wife of his protector—is intrinsically but too probable.
+But it is nevertheless an undoubted fact, although
+the old biographers are by no means prone to
+acknowledge it, that the homage offered by the
+troubadour and accepted by the lady did not
+necessarily imply guilty weakness on the part of
+the latter. This is sufficiently proved by the attitude
+of a third and strongly interested party, the
+husband. In many instances he thought himself
+honoured by the eloquent praise lavished on his
+wife, and was willing to make allowance for occasional
+outbursts of passion mixed with the more
+conventional terms of distant adoration. Count
+Barral de Vaux, the good-natured husband of
+Azalais, the lady whom Peire Vidal celebrated
+under the pseudonym of Vierna, went so far as to
+adjust little differences arising between his wife and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>that eccentric poet. Count Richard of Poitou also
+encouraged his sister Mathilda to accept the homage
+of Bertran de Born, which seems to establish the
+acknowledged possibility of a perfectly innocent
+relation of the kind alluded to beyond a doubt.
+The future King of England would hardly have
+exposed a lady of his house to ignominious suspicion
+for the sake of a vassal, much as he stood in dread
+of the dangerous gifts of that vassal.</p>
+
+<p>And this last remark indicates at the same time
+the clue to the whole extraordinary phenomenon
+of the privileged social position of the Troubadours.
+These poets were the stern censors of moral and
+political depravity as well as the singers of love.
+They possessed the public ear, and, conscious of their
+power, they wielded it, often no doubt to noble
+purpose, but no less frequently with a strong admixture
+of that personal bias which so few pamphleteers
+and party writers know how to eschew.
+The bitterness and rancour of the Provençal
+<i>sirventes</i> are equalled by few satirists of other nations,
+surpassed by none; and many a noble—and many
+a lady too, for that matter—who might be comparatively
+indifferent to the Troubadour’s praise were
+fain to evade his blame by ministering to his comfort
+or his vanity.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE JOGLAR.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The name ‘Troubadour,’ we have seen, is synonymous
+with our ‘lyrical poet.’ His office was, strictly
+speaking, limited to the writing, or at least producing,
+of songs. But for the publication of these poems
+two more cooperators were required—the musical
+composer and the singer or reciter. Frequently
+the Troubadour invented his own melodies, and
+takes pride in stating that fact; some even combined
+with these two faculties that of the executive
+musician; ‘Pons de Capduelh,’ we are told, ‘was a
+poet (<i>trobava</i>), and could play the violin and sing.’
+Others, however, were not so variously endowed,
+and in that case they engaged the services of an
+assistant, technically called joglar. The joglar proper
+seems to be an exclusively Provençal institution.
+The necessities of musical composition and promulgation
+of course existed more or less in all poetic
+communities. Boccaccio says of Dante that he loved
+to associate with musicians who supplied his canzone
+and sestine with melodies, but we nowhere read that
+he kept a professional composer for that purpose.</p>
+
+<p>The exact border-line between troubadour and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>joglar cannot be drawn without difficulty. Sometimes,
+as we have seen, the two offices were combined
+in one person, at others the same individual
+rose from the lower to the higher class. Of
+Marcabrun, for instance, subsequently one of the
+most celebrated troubadours, we are told that he
+began his career as apprentice or joglar to another
+poet named Cercamon.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> The safest distinction is
+arrived at by bearing in mind that the joglars were
+principally, though by no means exclusively, musicians
+and executants, the converse ratio of the creative
+and executive faculties obtaining amongst the
+superior class of poets. For that position the Troubadours
+claimed for themselves, and took good care
+to let the world know of their claim. Towards the
+joglars, immediately dependent on their productions,
+they frequently adopt the tone of haughty condescension.
+‘Bayona,’ Raimon de Miraval addresses
+an unfortunate singer, ‘I know well it is for a <i>sirventes</i>
+that you have come amongst us. And counting
+this there will be three; for two I have made already
+by which you have gained much gold and silver,
+Bayona, and many a worn coat, and other clothes
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>good and bad.’ ‘Goodness! Bayona,’ he says in
+another poem, ‘how poverty-stricken do I see you!
+badly dressed in a mean gown! But I will draw
+you from your poverty with a sirventes which I
+offer you.’ In other places the troubadours express
+anxious doubts as to the memory and capacity of
+their interpreters, and seriously exhort the latter to
+adhere strictly to the original as transmitted to them
+by personal instruction. ‘My son,’ Perdigo addresses
+his joglar, ‘on your honour, I charge you to take good
+care that you understand the work and do not deface
+it.’ Other poets sought safety from truncation in
+the well-knitted and compact woof of their stanzas,
+which would not allow of the omission of a single
+verse or rhyme without manifest detriment to the
+whole organism. ‘Marcabrun,’ that celebrated
+troubadour boasts of himself, ‘knows how to turn
+and interlace sense and verse in such a way that no
+other man can take away a single word;’ which precaution,
+by the way, answered against plagiarists as
+well as against slovenly reciters.</p>
+
+<p>But the same feeling of ill-disguised contempt
+which some troubadours betray for their immediate
+subordinates, others extend to the whole class of
+singers and performers, and especially the works of
+later poets are full of bitter invective against the
+meanness, vulgarity, and innumerable other vices
+and shortcomings of the joglars. The nobles are
+reproved for receiving them at their castles, and the
+decline of poetic art is not unjustly attributed to the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>growing taste for the buffooneries cultivated by the
+lower grades of the body poetic.</p>
+
+<p>All things considered, this antagonism was not
+wholly unjustified. It has already been said that
+the humbler members of the profession were fain to
+turn an honest penny by enlivening the feasts and
+fairs of villagers by ingenious tricks of jugglery, and
+whoever will consult the ‘Instructions to Joglars,’
+above mentioned, will find a considerable portion of
+the modern <i>répertoire</i> anticipated. Even dancing
+on the tight rope, and training and producing clever
+dogs and monkeys, were accomplishments not wholly
+beneath the dignity of the joglar. No wonder that
+noble troubadours shunned all contact with a
+profession comprehending such doubtful elements.
+But of course there were joglars and joglars, just
+as in our times there are artists and artists; and
+a man like Perdigo, who himself wrote beautiful
+songs, and kept a singer to sing them, and who
+was knighted by the Marquis of Montferrat on
+account of his poetic merits, would no more have
+considered a common trickster his equal than Mario
+or Faure would artistically fraternise with the
+‘Great Vance.’</p>
+
+<p>And yet the old biographer calls Perdigo repeatedly
+and persistently a joglar. It is in such
+cases as this that the distinction between the two
+classes alluded to practically ceases. Joglars were
+received in the best society on the same terms of
+equality as were granted to the more exclusive
+brethren; the same gifts of horses and rich garments
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>rewarded their efforts, and these efforts also
+were to a large extent identical with those of the
+troubadours, excepting perhaps the one circumstance
+that the joglars, although poets themselves,
+included the pieces of other authors in their <i>répertoire</i>,
+while the troubadours, if gifted with executive
+talents, always confined themselves to their own
+productions.</p>
+
+<p>But another line of distinction may be drawn
+from the purely literary point of view previously
+indicated. The Troubadours, it has been said,
+were lyrical poets, and seem to have looked upon
+romancers, novelists, <i>et hoc genus omne</i> with all the
+superciliousness of a higher caste. Of one poet it is
+distinctly stated that he was <i>no bos trobaire mas
+noellaire</i>, ‘not a good troubadour, but a story-teller.’
+The Joglars, on the contrary, as we know from the
+‘Ensenhamens,’ were bound to know and reproduce
+the whole store of facts and fables more or less
+common to the mediæval literatures of Western
+Europe. The slight and temporary character of
+most of these reproductions, and the comparative
+neglect with which they were treated by Provençal
+literati, have previously been touched upon, the scarcity
+of epical manuscripts in the <i>langue d’oc</i> being the
+natural corollary of these two causes. For the number
+of joglars capable of wielding the pen must have been
+very small, and the scribes and scholars to whom we
+owe the admirable and large collections of lyrical
+pieces were naturally much less anxious to preserve
+the humble productions of the narrative muse.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>Hence the astounding fact above referred to that
+even of the epics of so renowned a poet as Arnaut
+Daniel not a single specimen remains, and the other
+circumstance, no less surprising, that the Provençal
+biographer passes over these important and evidently
+most popular works with complete silence, saving his
+literary conscience by a cursory reference to Arnaut
+as a ‘Joglar.’ It is a further significant fact that
+most of the narrative poems preserved—barring
+the scanty remains of the popular epic which
+belong to a separate epoch and circle of literary
+production—date from a comparatively late period
+when the all-engrossing sway of lyrical poetry, and
+with it the vitality of Provençal literature itself, began
+to dwindle. The social aspects of this decline and
+fall, its causes, and the vain efforts to check its
+detrimental force, are brought home to us in the
+stanzas of a noble-minded poet, Guiraut Riquier,
+justly called the Last of the Troubadours. For at
+his death, about the end of the thirteenth century,
+the final expiration of the literature and of the independent
+and artistically available idiom of Provence
+may be said to commence.</p>
+
+<p>Of the life of Guiraut Riquier comparatively
+little is known, his biography being, strange to say,
+not included in any of the Provençal collections.
+On the other hand we are more than usually well
+instructed as to the chronology of his works. For
+to almost every one of his poems the date of its
+production is affixed in the MS., which moreover
+expressly claims to be an exact copy of the poet’s
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>original. From the latter statement we may at the
+same time infer the penmanship of Guiraut, which
+in those days was never unaccompanied by other
+literary attainments. But, besides this, the scholarly
+cast of his mind is sufficiently proved by the
+troubadour’s work. The wonder is how with this
+tendency could coexist in him the sweetest and
+freshest fragrance of poetic <i>naïveté</i>—a <i>naïveté</i> and
+spontaneity all the more admirable as they are altogether
+rare amongst the Troubadours. To him Provençal
+literature owes perhaps its nearest approach
+to the unalloyed impulse of popular song. To this
+side of his creativeness we shall have to return on
+a later occasion.</p>
+
+<p>Guiraut’s lines had not fallen in pleasant places.
+The old times of glory and well-being for the
+Troubadours were past and gone, and although
+Guiraut found a protector and friend in Alfonso X.,
+King of Castile, to whom, as he says in 1278, his
+poetic services had been devoted for sixteen years,
+this protection seems not to have been of a kind to
+exempt the troubadour wholly from the cares of
+existence. With a bitterness recalling Dante’s
+complaint of the steepness of strange stairs and the
+salt flavour of strange bread, Guiraut speaks of the
+<i>vergonha e paor</i>, the shame and fear with which he
+enters the presence of a noble lord <i>per demandar lo
+sieu</i>, to ask him for his property.</p>
+
+<p>To the above-named King Alfonso was presented
+a curious memorial or supplication, in which Guiraut
+Riquier deplores the degradation of his noble calling
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>and at the same time suggests various remedies for
+the growing evil. This was not the only or the last
+time that the troubadour stood up in the defence of
+his art. In a powerful sirventes dated 1278, he
+refutes the attacks of fanatic priests on poetry—that
+is, poetry in the true and elevated meaning of the
+word. ‘So little,’ he complains, ‘is the noble science
+of poetry valued nowadays, that people scarcely
+desire or suffer it, or will listen to it.... And our
+preachers declare it to be a sin, and reprove every
+one bitterly for its sake.’ He fully admits the
+justice of these reproaches in many cases in which
+poets invent ‘vain things whence sin may arise or
+war and disunion.’ ‘But,’ he concludes, ‘those who
+with mastership string together noble words, and with
+wisdom and knowledge teach the truth, can never
+find sufficient honour and reward.’</p>
+
+<p>The reader who might be inclined to see a tinge
+of scholastic pedantry in this passionate plea for
+‘wisdom and knowledge,’ ought to consider the root
+of the evil combated by Guiraut. The long war
+with France and the crusaders had left its detrimental
+mark on the manners and morals of Provençal
+nobles. Their fortunes were wasted, their castles
+destroyed, and the new generation brought up in the
+camp knew little of the taste and refinement of
+previous ages. Hence the bitter attacks in the
+poems of the later troubadours directed against the
+vices of the nobles, their avarice, their stinginess,
+their coarseness of taste which delighted alone in
+the vulgar jests of the lowest joglars. It is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>especially against the encroachments of the latter on
+the domain of artistic poetry that Guiraut’s angry
+protest is directed. The mixing up of the two
+classes of Joglars and Troubadours he believes to be
+the first cause of the disease, and as the intellect of
+the time had grown too obtuse to draw the line, he
+demands an external sign of distinction. Hence
+the somewhat strange proposal laid down in his
+celebrated missive to the King of Castile.</p>
+
+<p>The ‘Suplicatio qe fes Guiraut Riquier al rey
+de Castela per lo nom del joglars l’an LXXIII.’ is a
+most curious document. Nothing would be easier
+than to draw into ridicule a man who intended to
+prop a tottering literature with a name, a title. But
+at the same time this man is so much in earnest
+himself, and his cause so noble, that one’s smile at
+his Quixotic notion involuntarily gives way to
+a feeling of deep sympathy. Guiraut begins his
+poem with a short exordium of complacent self-laudation,
+in which he dwells at some length on his
+competence to treat the subject:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pus dieus m’a dat saber</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Et entendemen ver</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De trobar, etc.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Next follow the usual compliments to his protector,
+and, this duty discharged, Guiraut begins to speak
+from the fulness of his heart. ‘You know,’ he says,
+‘that all men live in classes differing and distinguished
+from each other. Therefore it seems to
+me that such a distinction of name ought also to be
+made amongst the Joglars; for it is unjust that the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>best of them should not be distinguished by name as
+well as they are by deed. It is unfair that an
+ignorant man of small learning, who knows a little
+how to play some instrument and strums it in
+public places for whatever people will give him, or
+one who sings low ditties to low people about the
+streets and taverns, and takes alms without shame
+from the first comer—that all these should indiscriminately
+go by the name of Joglars.... For
+joglaria was invented by wise men, to give joy to
+good people by their skill in playing on instruments....
+After that came the Troubadours to record
+valiant deeds, and to praise the good and encourage
+them in their noble endeavour.... But in our days
+and for some time past a set of people without sense
+and wisdom have undertaken to sing and compose
+stanzas, and play on instruments ... and their
+jealousy is roused when they see honour done to
+the good and noble.’ Every one, he reasons, ought
+to be named according to the work he does, and it
+would be quite just, he characteristically adds, to
+apply the name of Joglars to all poets and singers
+indiscriminately if they were all more or less of the
+same kind and worth, like common citizens. This,
+however, is not the case, and the good suffer by
+being mixed up with the low and vulgar.</p>
+
+<p>To check this confusion by a tangible sign, to
+distinguish by an acknowledged name and title the
+trickster and player of instruments, who flatters the
+senses by momentary enjoyment, from the learned
+and serious poet whose works are graven on the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>memory and long survive their author, to do this
+and save poetry from impending ruin, Guiraut says,
+is a worthy task for the wise and noble King
+Alfonso.</p>
+
+<p>The king’s answer to this request is extant. It
+is written in verse, but otherwise composed with all
+the gravity of a state paper, and at the same time
+with a lucidity of argument rarely found in mediæval
+writings. ‘Although,’ the king justly remarks, ‘it is
+unwise and of dangerous consequence to speak about
+the affairs of strangers, yet he who holds honour
+dear, and possesses sense and wisdom and power
+withal, ought to consider the interests of others together
+with his own.’ After this cautious beginning,
+the king fully admits the reason of Guiraut’s complaint,
+and points out the injustice of comprising all
+the members of the poetic, musical, and histrionic
+professions under the common title of Joglar, a
+word which the king learnedly adds is derived
+from the Latin <i>joculator</i>, and therefore is wholly unfit
+to designate the higher branches of the art of poetry.</p>
+
+<p>In Spain, we are further told, these things are
+managed better; musicians and mountebanks and
+poets have each a name of their own, and nobody
+can mistake the one for the other. A similar distinction
+the king now proposes for the domain of
+the <i>langue d’oc</i>, and for that purpose divides the
+whole poetic community into three classes. First
+and lowest are named the people who would not
+dare to show themselves at court, and who hang
+about taverns and village-greens, showing off the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>tricks of learned dogs and goats, imitating birds’
+voices, or singing coarse songs. These in future are
+to be called by the Italian word ‘<i>bufos</i>,’ ‘as is the
+custom in Lombardy.’</p>
+
+<p>Different from these are the musicians and
+reciters of stories who contribute to the amusement
+of the nobles by these arts or other agreeable pastimes.
+These, and these alone, ought to claim the
+name of ‘<i>joglars</i>,’ and they ought to be received at
+court and liberally remunerated according to their
+merits.</p>
+
+<p>The third and highest class comprises those who
+possess the gift of composing verses and melodies,
+and for that reason are entitled to the name of
+<i>inventores</i>, which, as the king remarks, is the Latin
+equivalent of the vernacular <i>trobadors</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But a last and highest distinction is reserved for
+those amongst the poets who combine the useful
+with the agreeable, and in the sweet rhymes of their
+canzos enforce moral and religious maxims. These
+are in future to be called <i>doctors de trobar</i>, doctors
+of poetry; for, adds the king, who is fond of etymology
+and not wholly averse to a pun:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent4">... Car doctrinar</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sabon ben qui’ls enten.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Whether the degree was ever conferred remains
+uncertain. It is obvious that the creating of twenty
+doctors of poetry would not make one poet. At
+the same time if a man or men of high poetic
+gifts had arisen, the improved social position intended
+for them would have been a gain and an
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>encouragement. But it is a melancholy fact that
+what seems most spontaneous and involuntary in
+man—genius—obeys, after all, the universal rules of
+supply and demand, and that when once literary
+vitality and literary interest are departed from a
+nation it is hopeless to galvanise the corpse with
+artificial life. Guiraut’s scheme in itself is therefore
+hardly worth mentioning. But it is interesting as a
+symptom of the same tendency of the age towards
+mixing up poetry with scholarship which soon afterwards
+led to the institution of Academies, and Jeux
+Floraux, and Poet-Laureateships, and traces of which
+have survived till the present day in Provence and
+elsewhere.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">TRACES OF POPULAR SONG IN THE POETRY OF THE TROUBADOURS.—THE PASTORELA.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The Troubadours, it has been said more than once,
+were court poets, their songs a court literature, taking
+its theme from, and reciprocally appealing to, the
+upper classes of society. There was an advantage
+and a still greater drawback connected with this
+exclusiveness of culture and sympathies. In the
+early middle ages it was of the utmost importance
+to raise, and abide by, a standard of refinement in
+opposition to the prevailing coarseness of the age.
+But, on the other hand, the fresh and ever-bubbling
+source of spontaneous feeling was absent, which
+their <i>rapport</i> with the people supplied to the French
+Trouvère, the German Minnesinger, and our own
+Elizabethan dramatists, court poets though all these
+were. Hence the monotony and laboured dryness
+of many of the troubadours’ songs, and the narrow
+range of thought covered by their works compared
+with the mediæval literature of other countries.
+There were, however, exceptions to the rule, and
+although not a particle of the presumably rich fund
+of Provençal folklore has been thought worth
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>preserving,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> still there is distinct evidence that its
+charms were appreciated by several of the knightly
+singers, in spite of prejudice and courtly superciliousness.
+The results of this appreciation are certain
+characteristic forms of song evidently derived
+from popular sources, although treated with artistic
+finish by the Troubadours. The tone of these poems
+differs so essentially from the ordinary bias of Provençal
+literature, that it seemed well to treat of them
+in separate chapters.</p>
+
+<p>No better sign of the sterling value of Guiraut
+Riquier’s talent could be required than the fact that
+the first name we meet with in this new field is his.
+The same troubadour who boldly protested against
+the increasing coarseness amongst the nobles was
+able to perceive in the natural artlessness of the
+people’s song a new element of refined poetry. It
+was perhaps from the infusion of this new life-blood
+that he expected the revival of his art quite as
+much as from the artificial safeguards of the poets’
+social position which the King of Castile could
+grant. Guiraut Riquier is the Provençal representative
+of the ‘Pastorela,’ or ‘Pastoreta,’ the shepherd’s
+song. The popular origin of this form of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>poetry cannot well be denied. There is about the
+life of the shepherd amongst hills and lonely places,
+the tending of his flocks, and the very knitting of
+his stockings, a touch of simple pensive poetry
+which has escaped few nations, and it may be asserted
+that in the primitive songs of every people on
+earth the pastoral idea is represented in one form or
+another. It is equally true that artistic and artificial
+poetry has taken up and remodelled the original
+subject in a somewhat arbitrary manner. From
+Theocritus and Virgil and Guarini and Tasso down
+to our modern operatic stage the shepherd with his
+pipe, the shepherdess with her crook and surrounded
+by snow-white lambkins, have been introduced in the
+most becoming poses. But the innate raciness of
+the theme could never be wholly obliterated.
+Adam de la Halle’s ‘Robin et Marion,’ written in
+the fourteenth century, and justly claiming to be the
+first comic opera in France, is full of the life and the
+rollicking fun of the people; and the original features
+of broad Scotch humour and common sense may be
+discovered under the thin layer of rococo tinsel
+in Allan Ramsay’s ‘Faithful Shepherd.’ Guiraut
+Riquier belongs to the more realistic class of pastoral
+poets. He occupies an intermediate position
+between Adam’s broad out-spokenness and Tasso’s
+euphuism. His shepherdess—for a shepherdess and
+only one is the heroine of his six pastorelas—is
+evidently a real being taken from real life; at the
+same time the coarsenesses of this reality are sufficiently
+toned down to suit the fastidious taste of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>a courtly audience. Another uncommon feature,
+especially in a Troubadour’s creation, is the strenuous
+virtue with which the rustic beauty resists the
+most tempting offers of her knightly lover. She is
+meek and courteous and affable, but she knows
+exactly where to draw the line between innocent
+flirtation and serious passion. Whether such a
+character in such a sphere of life partakes more of
+idealism or of realism the ingenuous reader must
+decide. But it is most improbable that a Troubadour
+should have doubted, or allowed others to
+doubt, his absolute irresistibility unless convinced of
+the contrary by the most undeniable proof. We
+may therefore assume that Guiraut Riquier’s adventure
+with a shepherdess, if not absolutely copied
+from life, is at least partly drawn from autobiographical
+sources.</p>
+
+<p>The first of Guiraut’s six remaining pastorelas is
+dated 1260, and describes the poet’s meeting with
+the shepherdess. ‘The other day,’ he says, ‘I was
+walking by the side of a brook, musing and alone,
+for love led me to think of song, when suddenly I
+saw a sweet shepherdess, lovely and kind, watching
+her flock. I stopped before her, seeing her so
+comely, and she received me well.</p>
+
+<p>‘My question was: “Sweetheart, are you loved
+by some one, and do you know what love is?”
+“Certainly, sir,” she answered without guile, “and I
+have plighted my troth, there is no doubt on the subject.”
+“Maiden, I am glad to have found you, if
+it may be that I should please you.” “Sir, you have
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>thought of me too much; if I were foolish I might
+fancy a great deal.” “Maiden, do you not believe
+me?” “Sir, I must not.”</p>
+
+<p>‘“Sweet girl, if you accept my love I am longing
+for yours.” “Sir, it is impossible; you have a sweetheart,
+and I a lover.” “Maiden, however that may
+be, it is you I love, and your love I would enjoy.”
+“Sir, look somewhere else for one who is more
+worthy of you.” “Better than you I do not wish
+for.” “Sir, you are foolish.”</p>
+
+<p>‘“I am no fool, sweet mistress. Love gives me
+leave, and I yield to your loveliness.” “Sir, I would
+I were rid of your wooing speech.” “Maiden, as I
+live, you are too coy. My prayer is humbly made.”
+“Sir, I must not forget myself so much; alas! my
+honour would be lost if I trusted too lightly.”
+“Maiden, my love compels me.” “Sir, it would
+little beseem you.”</p>
+
+<p>‘“Maiden, whatever I may say have no fear that
+I would dishonour you.” “Sir, I am your friend,
+for I see your wisdom checks your passion.” “Maiden,
+when I am in fear of doing wrong I think of
+‘Beautiful Semblance!’”&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> “Sir, I much like your kind
+behaviour; for you know how to please.” “Maiden,
+what do I hear?” “Sir, that I love you.”</p>
+
+<p>‘“Tell me, sweet maiden, what has made you
+speak such pleasant words?” “Sir, wherever I go
+I hear the sweet songs of Sir Guiraut Riquier.”
+“Maiden, let us not cease to speak of what I ask
+you.” “Sir, does not ‘Beautiful Semblance’ favour
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>you, she who guards you from loose flatteries?”
+“Maiden, she will not hear me.” “Sir, she is right.”’</p>
+
+<p>I have given the first pastoral <i>in extenso</i>, to convey
+an idea to the reader of the charming tone pervading
+the whole number. The idea is simple
+enough: an amorous knight, whose importunate
+offers to an unprotected girl are kept in check by mere
+dint of graceful, witty, sometimes tart reply. This
+motive is essentially the same in the five remaining
+pieces of the series. Several variations are, however,
+introduced with the aggregate result of a kind
+of plot or story. Two years are supposed to have
+elapsed between the first poem and the second.
+Again the pair meet; and again there are passionate
+importunities on the one, and graceful evasions on
+the other side. Remarkable is especially the sly
+humour with which the girl receives the knight’s
+excuses for his long absence. The first stanza,
+with a translation subjoined, may serve as specimen:—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">L’autrier trobei la bergeira d’antan,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Saludei la, e respos mi la bella;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pueis dis: ‘Senhor com avetz estat tan</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’ieu nous ai vist? ges m’amors nous gragella?’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">‘Toza si fa mai qe no fas semblan.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Senhor, l’afan per qe podetz soffrir?’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">‘Toza, tals es q’aissi m’a fag venir.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Senhor et ieu anava vos cercan.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">‘Toza, aissi etz vostres anhels gardan.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Senhor, e vos en passan so m’albir.’</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">My shepherdess I found of yester year,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And to my greeting she made meek reply:</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">‘Sir, do you hold,’ she said, ‘my love so dear,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">That year and day have passed since you were nigh?’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">‘I love you, maiden, more than may appear.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘How could you bear the burden of your pain?’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">‘It is my love that brought me here again.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Sir, many a time I sought you far and near.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">‘Your flock alone, O maiden, you hold dear.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Through many lands to wander <i>you</i> are fain.’</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Nothing new occurs in the third pastoral. But
+in the fourth, dated three years after the third and
+seven years after the first poem, matters are considerably
+altered. The shepherdess has been united
+to her swain, and the knight finds her rocking a
+sleeping child in her lap. Time has worked its
+changes on the knight also, and at first she does not
+or pretends not to recognise him. To one of his
+amorous protestations she replies: ‘That is just
+what Guiraut has told me, and yet I have not been
+deceived by him.’ ‘Girl,’ he answers, ‘Guiraut has
+never forgotten you, but you refuse to remember
+me.’ ‘Sir,’ the girl says, evidently in her old vein
+of mocking compliance, ‘his graceful bearing pleased
+me much better than you do, and if he came again
+I could not resist him.’ In the further course of the
+conversation Guiraut lays great stress on the fame
+the girl owes to his songs all over Provence. He
+also, by a very blunt question, elicits the fact that the
+father of the child is one ‘who has taken me to
+church,’ a circumstance which by no means abates the
+passionate ardour of the troubadour. But he finds
+the matron as inexorable as he had found the maiden,
+and at last has to depart on his way with the reluctant
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>compliment: ‘I have tried you sorely, but have
+found you of unexceptionable conduct.’</p>
+
+<p>Another space of seven years is supposed to
+elapse before we hear anything more of the shepherdess.
+These long intervals give a strange touch
+of realism to the story; for one does not see why the
+poet should wilfully destroy the illusions of youth
+and beauty without some reason founded on fact
+and chronology. This time the shepherdess and
+her daughter are on their return from a pilgrimage
+to Compostella. They are resting by the roadside,
+when the knight riding past sees them, and asks
+for news from Spain. At first the conversation takes
+a political turn, quite in accordance with the mature
+age of the parties, one would think. But the troubadour
+is incorrigible. He soon relapses into love-making,
+and goes so far as to threaten the lady with
+satirical songs in case of non-compliance. Even an
+appropriate allusion to his grey hair cannot bring
+him to reason. He listens with an ill grace, and at
+last takes angry leave.</p>
+
+<p>The sixth and last scene of the drama is laid at
+an inn, where the knight has sought shelter from the
+rain. He notices that the buxom landlady and
+her daughter are whispering together, and after some
+time recognises in the former the shepherdess of
+auld lang syne; very lang syne, for again six years
+intervene between this and the last meeting.
+Guiraut at once broaches his favourite topic. Hearing
+that the lady is a widow, he gallantly suggests:
+‘Surely a woman like you ought not to be without a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>lover!’ She frankly confesses that there is an aspirant
+to her hand, but she does not feel inclined to
+change her condition a second time, for the very
+sensible reason, amongst others, that her wooer has
+‘seven children all under ten.’ ‘My only comfort,’
+she adds, pointing to her daughter, ‘the source of
+my joy, stands before you.’ This touching appeal
+draws the attention of the knight towards the girl,
+and immediately her youthful charms produce the
+usual effect on his inflammable heart. The sudden
+transfer of allegiance he excuses by the treatment
+he has received, and implores the daughter to make
+amends for the mother’s cruelty. But again he receives
+nothing but pretty speeches, and thus the
+adventure comes to a close.</p>
+
+<p>Another poet much connected with the pastoreta
+is Gui d’Uisel, a celebrated troubadour of Limousin,
+who belonged to the church, and ultimately is
+said to have abandoned his poetic pursuits by an
+express command of the Papal legate. In connection
+with two brothers and a cousin he seems to have
+formed a sort of co-operative society on the principle
+of divided artistic labour and accomplishment.
+‘They were all four poets,’ the old biography says,
+‘and made excellent songs. Elias (the cousin)
+wrote the good tensos;&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> Eble the wicked ones; and
+Peter sang what the other three had invented.’
+Gui, as was said before, was famous for his pastoral
+songs, several of which are extant. They show
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>little of Guiraut Riquier’s healthy realism, but are,
+on the other hand, full of quiet lyrical charm. In
+one of them he prettily describes the reconciliation
+between a shepherd and his lass, brought about by
+the troubadour’s own counsel. The opening stanza
+is perhaps unsurpassed in Provençal literature for
+gentle, melodious flow of verse:—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">L’autre jorn cost una via</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Auzi cantar un pastor</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Una canson qe dizia,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Mort m’an semblan traidor.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E qant el vi qe venia</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Salh en pes per far m’onor,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E ditz, ‘Deus sal, mo senhor,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’er ai trobat ses bauzia</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Leial amic celador,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A cui m’aus clamar d’amor.’&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Marcabrun also, the satirical poet, of whom more
+will have to be said hereafter, is amongst pastoral
+poets. He has little of Gui d’Uisel’s lyrical sweetness,
+and his discourse with a shepherdess—for his
+poem also takes the form of a dialogue—is not
+always over-refined. But here again, strange to say,
+the flatteries of the troubadour find no favour with
+the maiden—a circumstance the recurrence of which
+greatly tends to increase one’s belief in the virtue
+of Provençal shepherdesses.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br>
+<span class="smaller">OTHER POPULAR FORMS.—THE ALBA AND SERENA.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Songs of the morning and evening—<i>alba</i> and <i>serena</i>—are
+amongst the most characteristic embodiments
+of Provençal poetry. To us these words come through
+the medium of northern French, and their original
+meaning has been lost on the way. <i>Aubade</i> and
+<i>serenade</i> mean amongst modern nations, from the
+shores of the Baltic to the shores of the Mediterranean,
+the musical entertainments performed or arranged
+by the lover under his lady-love’s window at
+morning or eventide. In music these words have
+received a still different technical meaning, founded,
+however, on the same peculiar significance of the
+term. For in their <i>serenades</i> and <i>aubades</i> the composers
+of the last century, at least, employ in preference
+such instruments as are most adapted for
+open-air effects.</p>
+
+<p>In modern poetry ‘Hark, hark, the lark!’ from
+‘Cymbeline,’ may be regarded as the most perfect and
+typical specimen of the <i>aubade</i>. But the difference
+between this and the Provençal <i>alba</i> is of a radical
+nature. The <i>aubade</i> shows or implies the lovers to
+be divided; in the <i>alba</i> they are united; as regards
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>form, the first is an address, the second a dialogue,
+or, at least, the successive utterance of two persons.
+One of these speakers, and the principal of the two,
+is in most and, according to my opinion, in the oldest
+of these songs, not either of the lovers, but the faithful
+watcher or sentinel guarding them from intrusion.
+Hence we find that the wonderfully beautiful morning
+songs, evidently written in imitation of Provençal
+models by Wolfram von Eschenbach, the great
+mediæval German poet, are actually called ‘Wächterlieder,’
+or sentinel songs. Reminiscences of the
+same kind seem also to have inspired Brangaene’s
+warning, mingled with the love-songs of Tristan and
+Isolde, in Wagner’s opera.</p>
+
+<p>The purest and earliest form of the <i>alba</i>, like
+that of the Scotch ballad, was no doubt purely
+dramatic, the speaker or speakers beginning their
+monologue or dialogue without any previous introduction.
+The narrative stanza at the beginning,
+found in most of the existing <i>albas</i>, is evidently an
+after-thought. It became necessary, owing to the
+imagination of the hearers failing to supply the
+situation at a time, perhaps, when these hearers became
+partly readers, and the additional help of the
+joglar’s action and vocal flexibility ceased in consequence.
+This, however, is mere conjecture from
+analogy, for the dates of the Provençal specimens
+are difficult to determine. In the magnificent <i>alba</i>
+by Guiraut de Bornelh, a celebrated troubadour of
+the spring-time of Provençal literature, the introductory
+stanza has been dispensed with. ‘Glorious
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>King,’ is the watchman’s song, ‘true light and brightness,
+Almighty God and Lord, grant faithful help
+to my friend, for I have not seen him since the night
+came, and soon it will be dawn.’ ‘Sweet friend,
+be you awake or asleep, sleep no longer, but gently
+rise, for in the East I see growing larger the star
+which harbingers the morn; for well I know it.
+And soon it will be dawn.’ ‘Sweet friend, I call to
+you in my song; sleep no longer, for I hear the
+bird that goes seeking the day through the grove
+(<i>qe vai qeren lo jorn per lo boscatge</i>), and I fear that
+the jealous knight may assail you, and soon it will
+be dawn.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Sweet true friend,’ the lover replies, in the last
+stanza, ‘I sojourn in so glorious a place that I wish
+dawn and day might never appear; for the fairest
+lady ever born by mother I hold in my arm, and
+little do I heed the fell jealous knight or the dawn.’</p>
+
+<p>It is strange to note the coincidence of imagery
+and even of expression with which the same situation
+has supplied the troubadour, and Shakespeare
+in ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ The simplicity, one might
+almost say the obviousness, of all true poetry here
+finds a striking illustration. Given the parting of two
+lovers at early morn, and the ‘earliest cry of new-awakened
+birds’ heralding or seeking the day, the
+morning star, the dawn, and the defiance of its perils
+by the lover—all this suggests itself almost as a
+matter of necessity. To the same simplicity of
+motive we have to ascribe the freshness and beauty
+of many of the <i>albas</i>. In them the troubadours
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>frequently display an intensity of language, an originality
+and picturesqueness of description, which
+we look for in vain in their more elaborate poems.
+What, for instance, can be more impressive in its
+striking symbolism than the opening address to the
+‘Glorious King, the true light and brightness,’ or
+more subtle and poetic than the conception of the
+lark seeking or longing for the morn with its anxious
+cry? It is another proof of the enormous value of
+the popular element in artistic poetry. While in
+contact with this healthy spirit, the Troubadours
+held it unnecessary, perhaps beneath their dignity,
+to show the formal capabilities of their craft.</p>
+
+<p>At the same time the <i>alba</i> was by no means
+without its formal rule or custom. This also is
+more or less strictly exemplified by the stanzas
+above quoted. The reader will notice the refrain
+or burden at the end of each stanza, another proof
+of the antiquity of the species; he will also remark
+the recurrence of the word ‘<i>alba</i>.’ This word is
+always found in the burden, or, where that feature is
+wanting, in the last line of every stanza, of which
+sometimes it is actually the concluding word. To
+this quaint and evidently very primitive device the
+name of these poems is owing. The only exception
+to this rule known to me is found in an anonymous
+<i>alba</i> which in other important respects differs from
+and is inferior to the genuine poems of the class.
+For here, instead of an outpouring of feeling, we
+have a narration as of a past event suddenly interrupted
+by a violent diatribe against the sentinel
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>for ‘hurrying on the day,’ and concluded as abruptly
+by an address of the lady to her ‘friend Sir Stephen,’
+probably the poet himself, warning him of his danger
+in tarrying with her.</p>
+
+<p>This arrangement is quite whimsical. But even
+within the limits of the regular <i>alba</i>, several variations
+are possible. Instead of the sentinel the lover
+or even the lady may be the speaker, the short reply
+at the end of the poem being in that case allotted
+to the faithful friend. To this, the second important
+division of the morning song, belongs an anonymous
+poem, which, as regards beauty of diction and sentiment,
+marks perhaps the acme of the power of the
+troubadours in this direction, and for that reason
+may be quoted in full. Here we find perfect euphony
+of language combined with a truth of feeling
+which, especially in the refrain—changelessly reiterated
+from the first stanza to the last—reaches a
+climax of passion. The subjoined translation will
+enable the reader to follow the original line for line.
+A few remarks as to form may be deemed necessary.
+The poem opens with the short narrative stanza
+already referred to. Then follow the words of the
+lady, partly spoken in soliloquy, partly addressed to
+her lover. In the last verse we suddenly come to
+a short laudation of the lady’s own merits, which is
+no doubt intended as a monologue of the watcher.
+From a purely poetic point of view these lines may
+appear an anticlimax, but they give a quaint archaic
+tinge to the whole conception.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center">ALBA SES TITOL.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">En un vergier sotz fuelha d’albespi</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tenc la domna son amic costa si</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tro la gaita crida qe l’alba vi.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Plagues a dieu ja la nueitz non falhis</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nil mieus amicx lonh de mi no s partis</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ni la gaita jorn ni alba no vis,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Bels dous amicx, baizem nos, ieu e vos</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Aval els pratz on chantols auzellos</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tot o fassam en despieg del gilos.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Bels dous amicx, fassam un joc novel</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ins el jardin on chanton li auzel</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tro la gaita toque son caramel;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per la douss’ aura q’es venguda lai</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Del mieu amic bel e cortes e gai</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Del sieu alen ai begut un dous rai.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘La domna es agradans e plazens</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per sa beautat la gardon mantas gens,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Et a son cor en amar lejalmens.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oy dieus, oy dieus, de l’alba! tan tost ve.’</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center">ALBA<br>BY AN ANONYMOUS POET.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Beneath a hawthorn on a blooming lawn</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A lady to her side her friend had drawn,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Until the watcher saw the early dawn.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Oh that the sheltering night would never flee,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oh that my friend would never part from me,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And never might the watch the dawning see!</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Now, sweetest friend, to me with kisses cling,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Down in the meadow where the ousels sing;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">No harm shall hate and jealous envy bring.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘There let with new delight our love abound</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">—The sweet-voiced birds are carolling around—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Until the watcher’s warning note resound.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘I drink the air that softly blows my way,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">From my true friend, so blithe, so fair, so gay,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And with his fragrant breath my thirst allay.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘The lady is of fair and gentle kind,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And many a heart her beauty has entwined,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But to one friend is aye her heart inclined.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ah God, ah God, the dawn! it comes so soon.’</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the course of time, as the <i>alba</i> became more
+and more an established form of art, the old popular
+features were gradually abandoned. Instead of introducing
+fictitious <i>dramatis personæ</i> with fictitious
+dialogue, the poets begin to speak in their own
+proper persons, and the <i>alba</i> lapses into the ordinary
+rank and file of subjective lyrical forms. Only the
+external signs of the refrain and the recurrence of
+the word <i>alba</i> remain to account for the title, and
+even this rule has been abandoned in the curious
+little poem by ‘Sir Stephen’ above referred to. Of
+the variations arising from this process only one
+may be mentioned here, on account of its originality
+of conception. Guiraut Riquier is the author. Here
+the motive of the <i>alba</i> appears entirely reversed.
+For here we meet with a lover tossing sleepless on
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>his lonely couch and thinking of his love. To him
+night is full of gloom and terror, and ‘<i>e dezir vezer
+l’alba</i>’ (I long to see the dawn) is the burden of his
+song.</p>
+
+<p>To the same versatile poet we owe the representative
+specimen of the <i>serena</i> or even-song. Formally
+it resembles the morning song, with which it
+shares the refrain, and in it the recurrence of the
+verbal key-note, which in this case is <i>ser</i>, or evening.
+As regards its relation to the <i>alba</i>, it may be
+said that the same sentiment appears here in converse
+significance. For the <i>serena</i> is sung by a
+lover to whom a meeting has been promised, and
+who deprecates the day and its brightness that sever
+him from his heart’s desire. Although by no means
+wanting in truth and poetical suggestiveness, the
+situation is somewhat too subtle for the imagination
+of the people, and there is little evidence of a popular
+source of the <i>serena</i>, which appears to be little
+more than an outgrowth and modification of the
+<i>alba</i> in its more artificial development.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE BALADA.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The <i>balada</i> is not to be mistaken for the ballad of
+modern parlance. It is, as its etymology indicates,
+a song serving to accompany the dance. This
+destination proves at once its antiquity and its popularity.
+There is little doubt that in some form or
+other the <i>balada</i> has subsisted from the times of
+Greek and Roman religious ceremonies down to our
+own days. In a country full of Southern beauty and
+Southern gaiety, its growth was a thing of natural
+necessity, like that of corn or wine. No political
+change or calamities could crush it. It survived
+the ravages of the crusaders in the thirteenth century,
+and the influences of ‘classical’ literature in
+the eighteenth. When Tristram Shandy entered
+the rich plain of Languedoc, the first thing he
+perceived was a lame youth whom Apollo had
+recompensed with a pipe, to which he had added
+a tambourin of his own accord, running sweetly
+over the prelude, and the reapers singing:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Viva la joya</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Fidon la tristessa.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Unfortunately there is again little or no record
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>of the earlier development of this charming branch
+of poetry. But traces of its spirit and grace remain
+in the few specimens transmitted to us through the
+medium of the Troubadours, and these bear, in the
+freedom and variety of their metrical treatment,
+the distinct mark of their affinity with popular
+models. It ought to be added that the <i>baladas</i> remaining
+to us are mostly by anonymous authors,
+which would tend to prove that the more celebrated
+and more dignified poets kept aloof from the unsophisticated
+species. On the other hand, some of the
+specimens show all the refinement and a good deal
+of the artificiality of Provençal versification. One
+of them, for instance, is written almost entirely in
+what is technically called <i>rims dictionals</i>—a curious
+metrical device, for an explanation of which the
+reader is referred to the technical portion of this
+book. A set rule for the structure of these dance-songs
+it would be difficult to find, but it appears
+that most of them have a few introductory lines
+by way of prelude, after which the stanzas themselves
+begin. The refrain also is not unfrequent,
+and would suggest the falling in of a chorus—the
+only sign, by the way, of the existence of that important
+musical component. For the artistic <i>balada</i>—differing
+in this essentially and significantly from the
+popular roundelay—is supposed to be sung and the accompanying
+dance to be performed by a single person.
+The idea of a dance <i>en masse</i>, or even in couples,
+verbally and mimetically addressing each other,
+seems excluded. Hence the subjective character
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>of the poetry. By its contents the <i>balada</i> could not
+be distinguished from any other love-song. In some
+cases, indeed, its identification would be altogether
+difficult but for the heading in the MS., or the actual
+occurrence of the term <i>balada</i> in the poem itself,
+as found, for instance, in the charming song to be
+presently quoted. The exclamations ‘Let us sing,’
+‘Let us dance,’ which occur in modern opera and
+which establish at least some external connection
+between the two arts, are almost entirely wanting.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a>
+And yet the Provençal <i>balada</i> is a dance-song in the
+most emphatic sense of the word. The secret lies in
+the rhythm, the metre. This, in most of the <i>baladas</i>,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>is graceful waving motion itself. In conjunction with
+the musical accompaniment the effect must have
+been of surpassing charm. As to the nature of this
+musical accompaniment an interesting passage may
+be found in the <i>Leys d’amors</i>. Speaking of the <i>dansa</i>
+the old Provençal writer asserts that it must have ‘a
+slight and joyous tune, not quite so long as those of
+the <i>Vers</i> or the <i>Canso</i>, but a little more lively, such
+as is suited for dancing, as the name indicates.
+But nowadays people use this tune very badly, for
+the singers hardly know how to get into a good
+dance rhythm. And as they are unable to do so,
+they have changed the tune of the <i>dansa</i> into the
+tune of the <i>redondel</i>, with their minims and the semi-breves
+of their motets.’ To us the melodious beauties
+indicated by these words are, it is to be feared,
+lost for ever. But even without this important aid,
+sufficient remains to connect the fall of the lines
+with the graceful harmonious action of the human
+body. This association of ideas is common amongst
+Southern nations; the Greek metrical terms <i>arsis</i>
+and <i>thesis</i> are derived from the lifting up and setting
+down of the dancers’ feet. But even in the
+literature of Teutonic nations songs occasionally
+occur which act on brain and feet as would the
+lively rhythm of a valse by Strauss or Lanner. I
+will mention only a single English specimen by
+way of illustration. In a ‘Mad-Song’ called the
+‘Lady distracted with Love,’ originally sung in
+Tom D’Urfey’s ‘Don Quixote’ (first performed in
+1694) and to be found in that author’s ‘Pills to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>purge Melancholy,’ especially the second division
+of each stanza appears to me a model of the dance-song
+in its northern transformation. It is supposed
+to depict the phase of ‘mirthful madness,’ and runs
+thus:—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Or if more influencing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Is to be brisk and airy,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">With a step and a bound</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And a frisk from the ground</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I’ll trip like any fairy.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">As once on Ida dancing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Were three celestial bodies,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">With an air and a face</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And a shape and a grace</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I’ll charm like beauty’s goddess.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">But how infinitely more graceful than these lively
+verses is the soft gliding rhythm of the following
+Provençal stanzas!</p>
+
+<p>‘<i>Coindeta soi</i>,’ ‘I am graceful, joyous,’ the lady
+begins,—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Coindeta soi, si cum n’ai greu cossire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per mon marit qar nol volh nil desire.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’ieu beus dirai per qe son aussi droza</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qar pauca soi joveneta e toza</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E degr’aver marit don fos joyoza</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Al cui toz temps pogues jogar e rire.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ja deus mi sal, si ja soi amoroza</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De lui amar mia sui cobeitoza</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ans qan lo vei ne soi tan vergonhoza</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’en prec la mort q’el venga tost aucire.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas d’una re m’en soi ben acordada</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">S’il mieus amics m’a s’amor emendada</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vel bel esper a cui me soi donada</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Planh e sospir qar nol vei nil remire,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">E dirai vos de qem soi acordada</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qel mieus amics m’a longamen amada</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A li sera m’amors abandonada</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">El bels espers q’eu tant am e dezire,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">En aqest son fas coindeta balada</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E prec a totz qe sia lonh cantada,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E qe la chant tota domn’ ensenhada</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Del mieu amic q’eu tant am e dezire.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent10">Coindeta soi.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">An attempt at translation in prose or verse would
+be as impossible as it would be superfluous. The
+charm lies in the music of the words. Moreover,
+the subject is by no means edifying. It is the ever
+recurring burden of Provençal poetry: a lady dissatisfied
+with her husband and openly calling for
+death to come and kill him soon in order that she
+may be united to her lover.</p>
+
+<p>Essentially identical with the <i>balada</i> is the <i>dansa</i>,
+of which also several examples are found in the
+manuscripts. The difference which the <i>Leys d’amors</i>
+tries to establish between these and other variations
+of the dance-song are evidently pedantic quibbles,
+and, moreover, not borne out by the best models.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br>
+<span class="smaller">ARTIFICIAL FORMS OF POETRY.—THE SESTINA.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>In the forms of lyrical verse hitherto considered
+by us we were able to trace some popular germs,
+considerably modified and highly developed though
+they might appear. But any such connection
+ceases in the numberless variations of verse and
+stanza, in which the unrivalled workmanship of the
+troubadours loved to shine. That this ease of inventing
+ever new and ever more complicated combinations
+frequently led to excesses of artificiality
+need not surprise us. Our admiration of the marvellous
+ingenuity displayed by the poets is mingled
+with regret at seeing it wasted on trifles.</p>
+
+<p>The number and variety of these efforts would
+defy all attempts at perfect classification and nomenclature.
+The troubadours altogether were sparing
+in the use of technical terms, but even the later
+grammarians found it impossible to affix names to
+all the metrical refinements and <i>tours de force</i> in
+which Provençal poets delighted. It is amusing to
+observe the different attitude in this respect of the
+poets and metrical theorists of Northern France.
+The rhyming capacities of their language were as
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>inferior as their own craftsmanship to the language
+and the art of the troubadours. In consequence
+they found it desirable ‘to make a little go a long
+way,’ and, for example, dubbed with the sonorous
+name of ‘Chant Royal’ the mere repetition of the
+rhymes of a somewhat complicated stanza throughout
+a poem of moderate length: a feat performed
+almost unconsciously by the troubadours in numberless
+canzos and sirventeses. The <i>ballade</i> made
+celebrated, although by no means invented, by the
+genius of Villon, and which, by the way, differs as
+widely from the Provençal <i>balada</i> on the one
+hand, as it does from the Scotch ‘ballad’ on the other,
+is a similar contrivance of a still simpler nature.
+This simplicity, of course, by no means detracts from
+the poetic merit of these poems, and the manner, for
+instance, in which the refrain is used in both cases
+betrays considerable skill. But compared with the
+consummate workmanship of the troubadours, these
+efforts appear mere child’s play.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p>
+
+<p>Of the elaborate rules of Provençal metrical
+science and practice, both as regards the rhyme
+and the construction of stanzas, full account will be
+given in the technical section. For the present it
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>will suffice to name a few examples chosen for
+their quaintness and originality rather than for any
+extraordinary display of workmanship.</p>
+
+<p>The most important amongst these is the <i>sestina</i>.
+It was invented by Arnaut Daniel, the master of
+‘dear rhymes’ and ‘obscure words,’ of whom and
+of which previous mention has been made. For his
+propensities in that direction Arnaut himself tenders
+a very plausible excuse. He shifts the responsibility
+from his own shoulders to those of his lady. If she
+were kind to him, he alleges, melodious rhythms and
+pleasing simple verses would naturally flow from his
+pen. The lady’s cruelty therefore is answerable for
+involved sentences and harsh rhymes. The plea is
+not altogether without force. But Arnaut’s natural
+tendency towards the incomprehensible and strikingly
+original is at the same time established beyond a doubt.
+One of his favourite devices was to construct a stanza
+without a single rhyme in the stanza itself. But instead
+of this the close of the first line would match with that
+of all the other stanzas of the poem, the second line
+with the second, and so forth. In one poem, for
+instance, the last word of the opening line of the
+first stanza is <i>larga</i>, that of the second stanza
+<i>embarga</i>, that of the third <i>descarga</i>, and so on
+through all the corresponding lines of the poem.
+To modern and northern ears the consonance thus
+suspended for eight or more lines is hardly perceptible.
+But in the south and in the middle ages
+this was different. Even so great a master of form
+as Dante highly approved of Arnaut’s practice, and,
+what is more, avowedly imitated it (‘et nos eum
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>secuti sumus.’—<i>De Vulgari Eloquio</i>, cap. 10). The
+result of this imitation is one of the sweetest love
+poems of the ‘<i>Canzoniere</i>,’ the <i>sestina</i> beginning,
+‘Al poco giorno ed al gran cerchio d’ombra.’ Two
+other poems of the same kind are attributed to Dante
+by some commentators, although others doubt their
+authenticity.</p>
+
+<p>The fundamental scheme of the <i>sestina</i>, as has
+already been stated, is that of blank-verse stanzas,
+being in the relation of rhyme to other blank-verse
+stanzas. But here this principle is carried to a climax.
+For not only the consonances, but the actual rhyme-words
+of the first strophe are repeated throughout the
+poem. The difficulty of writing sense and poetry
+under such conditions is increased by the curiously
+inverted order in which these words are repeated.
+To give the reader an idea of the ingenuity of this
+contrivance, it will be necessary to write down the
+concluding words of the six stanzas of a celebrated
+<i>sestina</i> by Arnaut Daniel in the order in which they
+occur. The number six—both as regards the
+stanzas of the poem and the lines of each stanza—is
+the orthodox one, and has given the name to the
+poem. A short <i>tornada</i> or <i>envoi</i>, however, is added,
+and in this the six rhyme-words of the previous
+stanza are once more repeated.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span></p>
+
+<table>
+  <tr>
+   <th>I. <span class="smcap">Stanza.</span></th>
+   <th>II. <span class="smcap">Stanza.</span></th>
+   <th>III. <span class="smcap">Stanza.</span></th>
+   <th>IV. <span class="smcap">Stanza.</span></th>
+   <th>V. <span class="smcap">Stanza.</span></th>
+   <th>VI. <span class="smcap">Stanza.</span></th>
+   <th><span class="smcap">Tornada.</span></th>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>intra</td>
+    <td>cambra</td>
+    <td>arma</td>
+    <td>oncle</td>
+    <td>verga</td>
+    <td>ongla</td>
+    <td>ongla—oncle</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>ongla</td>
+    <td>intra</td>
+    <td>cambra</td>
+    <td>arma</td>
+    <td>oncle</td>
+    <td>verga</td>
+    <td>verga—arma</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>arma</td>
+    <td>oncle</td>
+    <td>verga</td>
+    <td>ongla</td>
+    <td>intra</td>
+    <td>cambra</td>
+    <td class="nw">cambra—intra</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>verga</td>
+    <td>ongla</td>
+    <td>intra</td>
+    <td>cambra</td>
+    <td>arma</td>
+    <td>oncle</td>
+    <td></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>oncle</td>
+    <td>verga</td>
+    <td>ongla</td>
+    <td>intra</td>
+    <td>cambra</td>
+    <td>arma</td>
+    <td></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>cambra</td>
+    <td>arma</td>
+    <td>oncle</td>
+    <td>verga</td>
+    <td>ongla</td>
+    <td>intra</td>
+    <td></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="noindent">It will be observed that the second stanza repeats
+the rhyme-words of the first in this order, 6, 1, 5, 2,
+4, 3, and exactly the same relation will be found to
+obtain between each stanza of the poem and its
+predecessor. Whether there was some hidden
+significance in this sequence it is impossible to tell.
+But one is inclined to suspect that it must have been
+some such attraction which induced the great Dante
+to imitate Arnaut Daniel’s device with perfect
+accuracy. Or was it the pseudo-scientific regularity
+of the scheme, so fascinating to the mediæval mind,
+which attracted him? Anyhow, the fact is undeniable
+that Dante’s poem in question, although
+infinitely superior, by its poetic beauty, to anything
+that Arnaut Daniel ever wrote, is, as regards its
+metrical scheme, an exact copy of the troubadour’s
+<i>sestina</i>. Only in two minor points has Dante dared
+to deviate from his model, in points, too, which do not
+materially interfere with the position of the rhyme-words.
+These are, the length of the opening lines
+of each stanza, which in Provençal are by one foot
+shorter than the other verses, while in Italian they
+are of equal size; and the arrangement of the rhyme-words
+of the <i>tornada</i>. But Dante’s licence in these
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>details makes his strict adherence to the essential
+idea of the form all the more significant.</p>
+
+<p>It is interesting to note that the preference for
+the <i>sestina</i> has not been confined to mediæval poets
+or Romance languages. Mr. Swinburne, to mention
+but one instance, has essayed the form with excellent
+results, both in French and English. But the model
+he has followed is not derived from the Provençal
+original, nor yet from the Italian copy, but from a
+modified French version of the scheme. This modification
+consists chiefly in the use of the rhyme within
+the single stanzas themselves, which is wholly at
+variance with the original meaning of the form. Banville
+suggests that the stanza in this altered condition
+has been imitated from Petrarch. But he is quite mistaken.
+Petrarch, although he ostentatiously avoided
+reading Dante’s works, has in this instance exactly
+followed Dante’s example. Besides, he was too well
+acquainted with the musical significance of the
+stanza in question, not to know that all the lines must
+be <i>rims escars</i>, or, according to Dante’s terminology,
+<i>claves</i>, that is, unmatched by rhymes in their own
+stanza. For a fuller account of these details I must
+again refer the reader to the technical portion of this
+book.</p>
+
+<p>In connection with the <i>sestina</i> and its history in
+the <i>lingua di sì</i>, it may be mentioned that another
+important form of Dante’s, and generally of Italian,
+poetry, the sonnet, seems to have been of indigenous,
+not at least of Provençal, growth. The structure of
+a stanza of fourteen lines containing the well-known
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>number and arrangement of rhymes, is in perfect accordance
+with the metrical principles practised by the
+troubadours, but the only specimen of the sonnet in
+the <i>langue d’oc</i> was written by an Italian poet, Dante
+da Maiano. It is by no means a master-piece, and remarkable
+chiefly for the fact that all the rhymes are of
+the male or monosyllabic order, an arrangement not
+unfrequent in Provençal, but unprecedented in Italian;
+the latter circumstance being perhaps the reason why
+an Italian poet, writing in Provençal, adopted it.
+Against the Provençal origin of the sonnet would
+also seem to speak the fact, that the word is used
+without any technical restriction, merely as equivalent
+for a song:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Un sonat fatz malvatz e bo,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E re non say de qal razo.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">‘I make a sonnet evil or good, what about I
+don’t know myself,’ says Guiraut de Bornelh, wishing
+to illustrate the wayward mood of a distracted
+lover. Of the poem of sixteen lines he thought no
+more than did Burns when he described Tam
+O’Shanter as ‘crooning o’er some auld Scots
+sonnet.’</p>
+
+<p>The exact antipodes of the <i>sestina</i> is the
+<i>descort</i>, Anglicè discord, or dissonance. In the
+former everything is fixed by rule—position of
+rhymes, number and length of lines and stanzas.
+In the latter absolute liberty prevails regarding all
+these points, or rather it is the ambition of the poet to
+create the most bewildering divergence. But sometimes
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>even the most glaring contrasts of metre are
+found insufficient, and an additional discordance of
+idiom is resorted to. Rambaut de Vaqueiras has employed
+no less than five different languages or dialects
+to complain of the cruelty of his lady. For, like the
+harsh rhymes of Arnaut Daniel, all these dissonant
+contrivances were attributed to the feeling of unrequited
+love, and Guiraut de Salinhac, in a very
+pretty little poem, distinctly says, ‘I should not
+compose a Discord if I met with accord and accordance
+at the hands of her I love.’ The inventor of
+this curious device is said to have been one Guerin
+d’Apelier, a poet not otherwise known to us. His
+claim to immortality may appear somewhat slender
+under such circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>Akin to the elaborate confusion of the <i>descort</i>
+and about on a par with it as regards artistic merit,
+is the sudden lapse from poetry into prose, for which
+Rambaut of Orange is more especially responsible.
+Of Rambaut and his disastrous love-affair with
+Beatrice de Die, the poetess, we shall hear more
+hereafter. As a poet he belongs to, and is indeed
+amongst the earliest representatives of, the artificial
+school which culminates in Arnaut Daniel. Rambaut
+is by no means without skill, and according to
+his own statement, ‘no poet s work from the time
+Adam ate the apple was worth a turnip compared
+with his.’ But his devices frequently take the form
+of mere eccentricities, and he never induces us, perhaps
+never intends us, to forget the amateurish
+quality of his work. The mixture of poetry and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>prose alluded to in the above remarks well illustrates
+the lawless tendency of the noble poet.</p>
+
+<p>The explanatory nature of these prose interludes
+induces Raynouard to class Rambaut’s poem
+with the ‘pièces avec commentaire’ (‘Choix,’ vol.
+ii. p. 248). To add a kind of commentary to
+poetic work was a not uncommon custom in the
+middle ages. Dante’s ‘Vita Nuova’ is a prominent
+case in point. In Provence, where a whole school
+of poets took pride in writing as incomprehensibly
+as might be, some such assistance to the weaker
+brethren became all the more indispensable. In
+most cases no doubt the joglar supplied the want
+by adding, after the recital of a poem, such explanatory
+notes as might seem most adapted to the intellectual
+level of his audience. Of Guillem (not
+Peter, as Raynouard calls him) de la Tor, the joglar,
+and friend of Sordello, we are told in the manuscripts
+that ‘he knew a great many canzos and was
+clever and sang well. He also was a poet; but
+when he wanted to recite his canzos he made his
+commentary longer than the poem itself.’ From
+the expression used by the biographer, <i>sermo de la
+razo</i>, we are led to conclude that Guillem’s long-winded
+explanations were couched in prose. This,
+however, was not always the case. We know of
+troubadours who good-naturedly took the trouble
+to elucidate the darknesses of brother bards by means
+of poetic glosses. Guiraut Riquier, the scholar and
+poet, here again shines by his example. The nature
+of these commentaries is well illustrated by a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>stanza of one of his poems which the reader will
+find translated in Raynouard’s ‘Choix’ (ii. 252).
+Guiraut de Calanson, in one of his poems, speaking
+of the palace of love, says that four steps, or degrees,
+lead up to it. Guiraut Riquier explains that these
+steps are ‘honour,’ ‘discretion,’ ‘gentle service,’
+and ‘good sufferance,’ much to the edification, no
+doubt, of mediæval readers, and especially of Count
+Henri de Rodez, who, under his hand and seal,
+testifies to Guiraut’s explanation being trustworthy
+and to the point. The five portals of the palace
+and the mode of opening each individually, also find
+a circumstantial explanation at Guiraut’s hands.</p>
+
+<p>Of the <i>breu-doble</i> (double-short), again, Guiraut
+Riquier is the inventor, and, as far as I am aware,
+the sole representative. In the poem of the kind
+which we possess from his pen he complains of the
+cruelty of his lady, to which he, in imitation of other
+troubadours, ascribes his adoption of this new mode
+of utterance. ‘As she will not accept my canzos at
+their worth,’ he says, ‘I write this breu-doble.’
+There is nothing very remarkable about this form,
+which, for that reason perhaps, has met with
+little approbation amongst the elaborate rhymsters
+of the later epoch. The name ‘breu-doble’ has
+been a puzzle to modern scholars. Raynouard is
+inclined to derive it from the shortness of the poem,
+which, however, would by no means account for the
+‘doble.’ To me it seems more likely that allusion
+is made in a slip-shod way to the last verse of
+each stanza, which, although not exactly half the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>length of, is at least considerably shorter than, the
+remainder of the lines, from which it also differs by
+its rhyme.</p>
+
+<p>Of greater importance than the <i>breu-doble</i> is
+the <i>retroensa</i>, also known chiefly through Guiraut
+Riquier’s agency. The only striking feature of this
+form is the refrain which, against the usage of Provençal
+poetry, consists of more than one line. An exceedingly
+pretty poem, called in the MS. ‘The First
+Retroensa of Guiraut Riquier made in the year 1276,’
+is devoted to the praise of the Catalans, renowned
+in the middle ages as models of knightly courtesy.
+‘As my star has decreed,’ the poet says, ‘that good
+should not come to me from my lady, as nothing I
+can do will please her, as I am too weak to tear
+myself from her, it is time that I should be grounded
+in the ways of true love; and of these I can learn
+enough in gay Catalonia amongst the brave Catalans
+and their sweet ladies.’ On these he proceeds to
+shower every imaginable compliment through a
+number of stanzas all bearing the harmonious
+burden:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Entrels Catalas valens</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E las domnas avinens.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Like the <i>descort</i> and many other metrical creations
+of the troubadours, the <i>retroensa</i> was known to the
+poets of northern France. The name at least occurs
+in the literature of the langue <i>d’oïl</i>; but it must be
+confessed that, for instance, the religious song in
+praise of the Virgin, expressly called by the poet
+a <i>retrovange novelle</i>, has neither in substance nor
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>form anything in common with Guiraut Riquier’s
+poem. Even the refrain has disappeared. There
+may perhaps have been some musical reason to account
+for the adoption of the name. But on that point
+we are, alas! completely in the dark. It is unnecessary
+to enter into the numerous and for the greater
+part arbitrary distinctions in which the subtle minds
+of grammarians and metrical scholars were wont to
+delight. Most of the divisions thus created, such
+as the <i>escondigz</i> (justification), the <i>comjatz</i> (literally
+leave-taking, i.e. the song in which the allegiance
+to a cruel lady is renounced), or the <i>torneys</i> (tournament
+song), and many others never seem to have
+attained distinct formal development, and the remaining
+specimens are very few in number.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE TENSO.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>My division hitherto has been made chiefly with
+regard to form. Such poetic creations as the <i>pastoreta</i>
+or the <i>balada</i> are, it is true, to some extent
+recognisable by the subject they treat. At the same
+time their most important characteristic remains the
+formal development to which this subject has given
+rise. This is different with the <i>tenso</i>, the song of
+dispute or contention. The fact of its frequently
+being written or supposed to be written by several
+persons implies the form of the dialogue. But as
+regards the structure of the line and the stanza,
+there is no generic mark to distinguish the <i>tenso</i>
+from the <i>canzo</i>, the <i>sirventes</i>, or any other class of
+artistic poetry. But in spite of this the <i>tenso</i> is of
+infinitely greater importance for the knowledge of
+Provençal life and literature than the artificial trifles
+we have just been dealing with. Its very existence
+is significant. Nothing could prove the enormous
+popularity of verse and rhyme in Provence more conclusively
+than the fact that the discussion of the most
+varied topics of life and manners instinctively assumed
+the form of poetry. Only in this way could the writers
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>secure readers, the reciting joglars an audience.
+Moreover, the mind may picture to itself a circle of
+noble ladies and gallant cavaliers listening to the
+poets arduously discussing subtle points of love and
+courtesy. For there is no reason to doubt that
+many of these songs of contention owe their origin
+to actual <i>viva voce</i> debate.</p>
+
+<p>‘The <i>tenso</i>,’ the <i>Leys d’amors</i> begins its long-winded
+definition, ‘is a combat and debate, in which
+each maintains and reasons some word or fact,’ and
+beyond this somewhat vague piece of information
+there is little to be got from the old grammarians.
+They supply us with plenty of technical names, with
+a neat definition to each of them; but how much
+of this theory is drawn from the inner consciousness
+of the learned men, how much from the living
+practice of the troubadours, is a difficult question to
+decide. The safest way for us will be, in this and in
+previous instances, to rely chiefly on the remaining
+specimens from the best period. For further particulars
+the curious reader is referred to Raynouard’s
+work (‘Choix,’ vol. ii. 197), where he may learn, for
+instance, that when a <i>tenso</i> treated of love, which,
+by the way, most <i>tensos</i> did, it was for some not
+very perceptible reason, called <i>partimen</i>, while a song
+of combat, in which more than two disputants took
+part, received the appropriate name of <i>torneyamen</i>,
+i.e. tournament,—turn and turn about, as we should
+say. Another name of the <i>tenso</i>, <i>jocx partitz</i>, of
+which the French term <i>jeu parti</i> is a literal translation,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>seems to have been less commonly used in
+Provence.</p>
+
+<p>The principle of ‘turn and turn about’ has at
+the same time supplied the form of the <i>tenso</i>. It
+was but fair that to the various combatants the same
+advantages should be granted, and hence the number
+of stanzas allotted to each is exactly the same.
+Even the right of a last appeal in the shape of a
+<i>tornada</i> is free to all. Some advantage might
+accrue to the first speaker from the choice of rhyme
+and metre, which had to be repeated exactly by his
+antagonist or antagonists. The reproduction of one
+of Arnaut Daniel’s hard-rhymed stanzas might have
+been a sore task to some of the more popular
+troubadours. But this slight privilege was more
+than counterbalanced by a duty. For, as a rule, the
+<i>tenso</i> begins with a challenge of one poet to another
+to choose one side of an argument, the first spokesman
+undertaking to defend the opposite view, whichever
+it may turn out to be. Impartiality could not
+well go further.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> In case of two antagonists only,
+the rhymes are frequently changed after a couple of
+stanzas, that is after one argument and counter-argument,
+but the continuation of the same rhymes
+throughout the poem is by no means of rare occurrence.</p>
+
+<p>There is no reason to doubt that in most cases
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>the <i>tensos</i> we find in the manuscripts are records of
+actual discussions sustained by different poets, either
+with the pen or by word of mouth. In many cases,
+however, the antagonists are as undoubtedly fictitious
+personages brought upon the scene for the
+purpose of displaying the author’s versatility of style
+and reasoning. Peirol, for instance, in a very pretty
+<i>tenso</i>, introduces Love himself as his antagonist.
+The god tries to shake the poet’s resolution to join
+the crusaders. ‘The Turks and Arabs,’ he pleads,
+‘will never leave the Tower of David for all your
+invasions. I give you good and gentle counsel:
+Love and sing.’ But the poet remains firm. He
+cannot break his sacred promise. At the same time
+there is a ring of latent melancholy in his words when
+he admits that ‘many men must part, and leave
+their true loves in tears, who, if King Saladin did
+not exist, might have stayed at home joyfully.’</p>
+
+<p>At other times the troubadours enter into discussion
+with antagonists who, although not absolutely
+symbolical or fabulous, yet distinctly bear the
+mark of a fictitious origin. Such a character, for
+instance, is the Genoese lady with whom Rambaut
+de Vaqueiras—one of the chief representatives of
+the <i>tenso</i>—holds amorous converse. The amorousness
+is, however, wholly one-sided, for the lady,
+the wife of an honest merchant, rejects the troubadour’s
+offers with utter contempt and with an energy
+of diction more creditable to her virtue than to her
+politeness. The vigour of her language is further
+increased by the homely dialect of her city in which
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>she is made to speak, and which contrasts strikingly
+with the euphonious phrases of the courtly poet.
+But her virtue is proof against the most alluring
+charms of the <i>langue d’oc</i>. Adding insult to injury,
+she at last exclaims: ‘Mountebank, I don’t value
+your Provençal a Genoese farthing; I don’t understand
+you any more than I should a German or a
+native of Sardinia or Barbary.’ All this, it need
+hardly be added, is nothing but a clever skit of the
+troubadour’s own devising.</p>
+
+<p>To the same category also belongs the poem in
+which Peire Duran relates, at some length, the mutual
+grievances of a husband and wife on a matter
+intimately connected with domestic happiness.
+Another poem of the same class is remarkable by
+a deviation from the usual form. For instead of an
+entire stanza being allotted to each person, the
+speech here changes after every two lines, and at the
+end of the stanza after one line. The dialogue in
+this manner becomes decidedly more lively, but the
+abruptness of these incessant changes seems to have
+deterred other troubadours from adopting Albert’s
+innovation. Strictly speaking, the poem in question
+hardly comes under the definition of <i>tenso</i> as established
+by the <i>Leys d’amors</i>; for instead of a discussion
+we have here nothing but assurances of mutual
+love and good will.</p>
+
+<p>Very different from this is the second and larger
+class of <i>tensos</i>, in which two real troubadours
+discuss some subject of every-day life and love.
+The variety of topics makes this part of the literature
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>an especially valuable source for the study of
+Provençal customs and morals. Sometimes an abstract
+problem is started, such as the respective
+advantages of wealth and wisdom, very seriously
+discussed by two minor troubadours. ‘I would
+sooner possess wisdom,’ says the virtuous Guillem,
+‘which must remain with me, than wealth, which in
+my opinion is of little avail to those who possess it.
+For one can easily fall from high to low estate, but
+science does not fall, because she is seated firmly.
+He who possesses wisdom is rich in his shirt.’ But
+his antagonist, nothing daunted, upholds the advantages
+of the independence and freedom from care
+derived from the possession of riches. ‘Even
+Aristotle,’ he replies, ‘the foremost among the wise,
+accepted presents, and so did Virgil, he who lies
+buried near the strand at Naples. I prefer giving to
+asking.’ The heavy artillery of learning having thus
+been brought into action, the troubadours continue
+for some time to pelt each other with classical and
+Biblical names and facts, without, however, producing
+the slightest impression on the hostile positions.
+Finally, both appeal to the arbitration of a mutual
+friend, as is their wont in such cases.</p>
+
+<p>Infinitely more interesting, although less edifying,
+is a <i>tenso</i> in which two celebrated troubadours,
+Bernart de Ventadorn and Peirol, express their
+opinions as to the mutual relations of personal feeling
+and artistic creation. Here we have no longer
+to deal with a logical fencing-match, but with the
+utterance of personal experience. Such a maxim
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>as ‘Little is worth the song that does not come
+from the heart,’ expressed by Peirol, reflects the
+highest credit on the psychological and poetic insight
+of that troubadour. On the other hand, it
+is amusing to watch the attitude of a light-hearted
+poet and lover, treating his muse as he treats his
+mistress, and winding up with something very like a
+boast of secret favours—which Bernart de Ventadorn
+assumes, and which is strangely at variance
+with the gentle sentimental character of his life and
+work. Believers in the migration of fables will be
+pleased to find here a slightly altered version of the
+old story of ‘fox and grapes,’ and the poem as a
+whole may be regarded as an admirable specimen of
+the elegant grace of Provençal thought and versification.
+For these reasons it may follow here as
+transcribed by Professor Bartsch:—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center">BERNARTZ DE VENTADORN E’ N PEIROLS.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Peirol, cum avetz tant estat</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que non fezetz vers ni chanso?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Respondetz mi per cal razo,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">S’o laissetz per mal o per be,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per ir’ o per joi o per que?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que saber en voill la vertat.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Bernart, chantars nom ven a grat</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ni gaires nom platz nim sab bo;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas car voletz nostra tenso</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">N’ai era mon talan forsat.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pauc val chans que del cor non ve;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E pos jois d’amor laissa me,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Eu ai chant e deport laissat.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Peirol mout i faitz gran foudat</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">S’o laissatz per tal ocaizo;</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">S’eu agues avut cor fello,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mortz fora un an a passat,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’enquer non posc trobar merce:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ges per tant de chant nom recre</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Car doas perdas no m’an at.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Bernart, ben ai mon cor mudat,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que totz es autres c’anc non fo:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Non chantarai mais en perdo;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas de vos voill chantetz jasse</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De cellei qu’en grat nous o te,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E que perdatz vostr’ amistat.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Peirol maint bon mot n’ai trobat</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De leis, c’anc us no m’en tenc pro;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E s’il serva cor de leo</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nom a ges tot la mon serrat;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’en sai tal una, per ma fe,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’am mais, s’un baisar mi cove</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que de leis sil m’agues donat.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Bernart, bes es acostumat,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qui mais non pot, c’aissi perdo;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que la volps al sirier dis o:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quan l’ac de totas partz cercat,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Las sireisas vic loing de se,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E dis que non valion re:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Atressi m’avetz vos gabat.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Peirol, sireisas sont o be</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas mal aja eu si ja cre</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que la volps non aja tastat.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Bernart, nom entramet de re</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas pesam de ma bona fe</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Car non i ai ren gazaignat.’</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p class="center">TENSO BETWEEN BERNART DE VENTADORN AND SIR PEIROL.</p>
+
+<p>‘Peirol, how is it that for such a long time you have been
+without making verse or canso? Tell me what is the reason that
+you have ceased singing. Is it for evil or good, for sorrow or for
+joy, or for what? for I will know the truth of it.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Bernart, singing does not come pleasant to me, and I have
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>lost all taste and liking for it. But as you insist upon having a
+tenso with me, I have forced my inclination. Little worth is the
+song that does not come from the heart, and as love has left
+me, I have left song and dalliance.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Peirol, you commit great folly, if you leave these off for such
+a reason; if I had harboured wrath in my heart, I should have
+been dead a year ago, for I also can find no love nor mercy.
+But for all that I do not abandon singing, for there is no need of
+my losing two things.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Bernart, my heart is changed, and wholly different from what
+it was: I shall no longer sing in vain. But I wish you may sing
+for ever of her who gives you no thanks, and waste your friendship.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Peirol, many a good word have I said of her, although none
+has ever been of any benefit to me. If she wants to keep her
+lion’s heart, she cannot lock me out from all the world; and I
+know one of whom I would prefer the grant of a kiss to the free
+gift of one by her.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Bernart, it is a common thing that he who cannot win should
+make light of the loss; just as the fox spoke to the cherry-tree.
+For after she had tried everything she still saw the cherries a long
+way off, and then she said that they were worth nothing; and that
+is exactly how you talk.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Peirol, the cherries are all very well, but evil befal me if I
+believe that the fox never had a taste of them.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Bernart, that is not my affair, but I regret my good faith; for
+I have gained nothing by it.’</p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>It is now necessary to mention one of the most
+celebrated and most characteristic <i>tensos</i> in Provençal
+literature—a kind of battle-royal in which each of
+the three contending poets tries to outshine the
+others by brilliancy of wit and subtlety of argument.
+The subject, it need hardly be added, is love. But
+thereby hangs a tale which it will be best to relate
+in the words of the old manuscripts. ‘Savaric de
+Mauleon,’ says the biographer of that well-known
+troubadour, ‘went to Benaujatz to see the Viscountess
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>Lady Guillelma, and he turned his mind
+towards her. And he took with him Sir Elias
+Rudel, lord of Bergerac, and Jaufre Rudel of Blaia.
+All three wooed her love, and each of them had
+been her cavalier aforetime; but none knew it of
+the other. All three were seated with her, one on
+one side, the other on the other, and the third in
+front of her. Each of them gazed at her lovingly,
+and she, who was the boldest lady ever seen, began
+to look at Sir Jaufre Rudel lovingly, for he was
+sitting in front, and she took the hand of Sir Elias
+Rudel de Bergerac and pressed it very amorously,
+and she put her foot on that of Sir Savaric with a
+smile and a sigh. None knew of the favour the
+others had received, till they had left the castle,
+when Sir Jaufre Rudel told Sir Savaric how the
+lady had looked at him, and Sir Elias related that
+about the hand. And Savaric, when he heard that
+each of them had found such favour, became very
+sad; but he said nothing of what had happened to
+himself, but he called Gaucelm Faidit and Uc de la
+Bacalaria, and asked them in a stanza who had
+received the highest favour and love at her hands.’
+This stanza is the opening one of the <i>tenso</i> in question.
+It runs thus:—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Gaucelm Faidit, and good Sir Hugh,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Three amorous questions I will ask:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Choose ye what side seems good to you,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The third to hold must be my task:—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">One lady’s charms three knights inspire;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">She, sore beset by their desire,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Would fain each lover’s wish abet,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">When all the three with her are met.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">At one she looks with loving eye:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The other’s hand takes tenderly;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Gladdens the third with footstep sly.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">To tell me now I ask of ye,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Who was most favoured of the three.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Fortunately the two troubadours prefer the ogle
+and the shake by the hand respectively, and permit
+poor Savaric at least to defend his own cause, which
+he does with more spirit than might be expected
+under the circumstances. Into the arguments of
+the amorous poets it would lead us too far to enter.
+Suffice it to say that each firmly stands to his
+opinion, and that the cause is ultimately submitted
+to the arbitration of three ladies. The decision of
+these fair and no doubt highly competent judges the
+manuscripts have unfortunately not preserved.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the reader would care to know a little
+more of the curious love-affair between Savaric and
+the Lady Guillelma, and as a second incident of it
+also became the origin of a <i>tenso</i>, it may find a
+place here. Savaric, we are told, had been faithfully
+attached to the lady for years, but she paid him
+back with false promises, and never would grant
+him a favour. Many a time he came to her, at her
+demand, from Poitou to Gascony, by land and by
+sea, only to find himself disappointed again on his
+arrival. But he, the manuscript adds, was so enamoured
+that he never discovered her falsehood.
+His friends, however, did, and thought of means to
+release him from such thraldom. For that purpose
+they introduced him to a beautiful and noble lady of
+Gascony, who was but too willing to accept the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>service of so celebrated a troubadour, and appointed
+a day for a rendezvous. News of this affair
+was brought to Guillelma, and jealousy now effected
+what true love had attempted in vain. No sooner
+had she ascertained the time of the appointment, than
+she sent a message to Savaric, summoning him to
+her presence for the very same day, and promising
+him at last the fulfilment of his wishes. The messenger
+was Uc de San Cyr the troubadour, and
+biographer of Savaric, to whose friendship he was
+introduced on this occasion. He relates how he
+came to the court of Savaric, who, by the way, was
+a rich and powerful baron, and delivered his message.
+One of the guests of Savaric was the provost
+of Limoges, and to him the perplexed poet submitted
+the case, proposing to discuss the claims of
+the two ladies in a <i>tenso</i>. This <i>tenso</i> is in existence.
+The provost is decidedly in favour of the
+new love. He points out to Savaric that Guillelma’s
+favour is the result of jealousy, while the kindness
+of the other lady would be ill rewarded by the poet’s
+disappointing her. But the warmth with which
+poor Savaric pleads for his old attachment, and
+even speaks with some contempt of a love too
+easily granted, shows but too plainly that the cure
+of his infatuation was anything but perfect. In this
+case also the decision of the question is referred to
+three ladies, but again there is no record of their
+verdict. Of another <i>tenso</i> still more intimately connected
+with a real and most melancholy love-affair
+we shall have to speak further on.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span></p>
+
+<p>There was still another use to which the <i>tenso</i>
+was occasionally put. When two troubadours
+owed each other a grudge, instead of fighting it
+out with the sword, they frequently challenged each
+other to a song of combat. Like most polemical
+poems in the <i>langue d’oc</i> these personal <i>tensos</i>, for
+so they may conveniently be called, are full of the
+grossest slander. The wonder is that, with all this
+spite and rage, the poet always preserves sufficient
+equanimity to adhere to the strictest rules of the art,
+and even to reproduce the exact metre and rhyme
+chosen by his adversary as the medium for his abuse.
+Uc de St. Cyr, of whom we have just heard,
+appears amongst the chief representatives of this
+branch of literature, in a manner more creditable to
+his eloquence than to his personal character. He
+was the younger son of an impoverished family, and
+depended for his maintenance on the liberality of
+his protectors. His lasting friendship with Savaric
+de Mauleon has been already mentioned, but unfortunately,
+in other cases, relations of a similar kind
+seem to have ended in unkindness and open enmity.
+How far the responsibility may have lain with the
+poet, it is impossible to say, but the fact of his
+appearing twice as the declared antagonist of a
+former benefactor throws grave doubts on his gratitude.
+The first instance alluded to is a quarrel
+with the Viscount of Turenne, in whose service the
+poet seems to have been for some time.</p>
+
+<p>‘Viscount,’ he exclaims, ‘how can I endure the
+hardships you impose upon me? Night and day
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>you make me ride from one place to another without
+rest or sleep. Truly, in the company of Martin
+d’Algai,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> I could not be worse off; even my food
+appears scanty.’</p>
+
+<p>‘You know, Uc de St. Cyr,’ is the Viscount’s
+answer, ‘if you do not want to tell a lie, that I did
+not send for you from Quercy to show you my
+lands; on the contrary, I was much annoyed when
+I saw you coming. May God punish me if I do
+not wish, with all my heart, that you had gone to
+Spain instead!’</p>
+
+<p>In another <i>tenso</i>, of the same kind, Uc’s position
+is still more precarious from a moral point of view—at
+least if we believe the charge implied in his
+antagonist’s answer. From this it would appear that
+the poet was capable of taunting with poverty a
+man to whose bounty he owed his own wealth.</p>
+
+<p>‘Count,’ he says, ‘you need not be afraid or
+anxious on my account. I have not come to ask or
+demand anything from you; for I have all I want.
+But I perceive that money is a scarce article with
+you; therefore I have not the heart to ask you anything;
+on the contrary, it would be a great mercy if
+I made you a present.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Uc de St. Cyr,’ Count Rodez replies, ‘I am
+sorry for having dismissed wealthy you, who came
+to me poor, naked, and miserable. You have cost
+me more than two bowmen or horsemen; truly, if
+I had offered you a horse you would not have refused
+it.’</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span></p>
+
+<p>In a second <i>tenso</i> by the same poets, grievous
+bodily harm is threatened on one and boldly defied
+on the other side.</p>
+
+<p>A little more smoothly, although by no means
+amicably, do matters proceed between Rambaut de
+Vaqueiras and Count Albert di Malaspina, an unruly
+Italian nobleman. The cause of their quarrel is a
+certain lady of Tortona, who, after having flirted with
+the troubadour, jilted him for the count. The
+latter, adding insult to injury, taunts Rambaut with
+his loss in the opening stanza. The troubadour
+retorts with a charge of highway-robbery, which the
+nobleman frankly admits, explaining, however, that
+‘many a time, I can assure you, I have taken goods
+from a wish to make presents, and not in order to
+enrich myself or heap up treasures.’ In the further
+course of the poem, the nobleman ridicules the
+poverty of the poet and his ambition in having
+aspired to knighthood, to which neither his courage
+nor his position entitled him. The troubadour, in
+return, accuses Albert of every crime under the sun,
+including perjury and treachery in love and politics.
+As to cowardice he says: ‘If I am not exactly an
+Oliver in the use of arms, it appears to me that you
+are no Roland either.’ In this manner the quarrel
+continues for some time, without much apparent
+superiority on either side, a fact which redounds
+greatly to the credit of the Italian count. For
+Rambaut was an experienced poet and a renowned
+champion in the literary warfare of those days.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE SIRVENTES.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The formal principle on which the division in the
+earlier chapters has been made must henceforth be
+abandoned entirely. The two great classes of
+poetry to which we now must turn, and which comprise
+by far the greater portion of Provençal literature,
+the <i>sirventes</i> and the <i>canzo</i>, have no metrical
+scheme inherent in either of them as an essential
+part of their kind. The same infinite variety of
+rhyme and metre and stanza is found in the one as
+well as in the other. They can be separated, therefore,
+according to the subject-matter alone; and on
+this ground a division is easy enough, and satisfactory,
+at least as far as one of the two branches is
+concerned. The <i>canzo</i>, it may briefly be said, is a
+lyrical poem which treats of love, and a <i>sirventes</i>
+one which does not. To the further definition of
+the latter somewhat negative term we must now
+devote our attention for a little while. A few
+general remarks on the character of the poetry of
+the troubadours, distinguishing it from all other
+mediæval schools, may aptly precede this, the most
+important section of the present work.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span></p>
+
+<p>Of the enormous importance of poetry in the
+literary, the social, the political, and the religious
+life of mediæval Provence, of the variety of functions
+which it assumed, and the energy and success
+with which it did justice to each of them, the
+modern reader can hardly form an idea. A passage
+with which the troubadour Raimon Vidal
+opens his learned treatise on metrical art, called
+‘Razos de Trobar,’ will throw some light on the
+intense and wide-spread love of song characterising
+this outburst of long pent-up feeling. ‘All
+Christendom,’ he says, ‘Jews and Saracens, the
+emperor, kings, dukes, counts and viscounts, commanders,
+vassals, and other knights, citizens and
+peasants, tall and little, daily give their minds to
+singing and verse-making, by either singing themselves
+or listening to others. No place is so deserted,
+or out of the way, that, as long as men
+inhabit it, songs are not sung either by single persons
+or by many together; even the shepherds in
+the mountains know of no greater joy than song.
+All good and evil things in the world are made
+known by the troubadours, and no evil talk, that
+has once been put into rhyme and verse by a troubadour,
+fails to be repeated every day.’</p>
+
+<p>Let us now inquire into the nature of a poetry
+which exercised so potent a sway over all classes of
+society. The appearance of the first troubadour
+coincides very nearly with the earliest impetus of
+pious indignation caused by the sorrowful tales of
+pilgrims to the Holy Sepulchre. The result was a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>universal rising of Christian nations, a common
+effort of pious revenge on the Painim, an invasion
+finally of the eastern by the western world, such as
+history has rarely witnessed. Gibbon and Chateaubriand,
+Hume and Joseph de Maistre, may look on
+the crusades in very different ways. In one thing
+they cannot but agree, viz., that the religious impulse
+of which they were the tangible result tended
+to remould and imbue with a new principle of life
+the whole of western civilisation. The only mental
+product of this profound revolution of feeling which
+concerns us here, is the idealised conception of
+chivalry in immediate connection with the enthusiastic
+movement alluded to. This idea included
+those others of honour, of prowess, of candour, of
+loyalty, which, even in modern parlance, we are
+wont to comprehend in the word chivalrous. But
+the noblest duty of the mediæval knight was his
+service and devotion to the lady of his heart, a
+feeling akin to the religious veneration of that type
+of immaculate womanhood which the wisdom of the
+Roman Church had placed on a par almost with
+the Deity itself. These feelings, common as they
+are to the mediæval poetry of all nations, were
+expressed with more than ordinary fervour by the
+knightly singers of Southern France. At the same
+time they appear here with so many national and
+individual modifications, as to impart to the study of
+Provençal literature, beyond the historical and philological
+importance of its monuments, an additional
+human interest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span></p>
+
+<p>Take, for instance, the idea of love as reflected
+in the poetry of the troubadours. It is true that
+many of their songs breathe the purest and most
+ardent spirit of romantic veneration; one chief division
+of Provençal poetry, the <i>canzo</i>, or song proper,
+is exclusively devoted to this loving worship. But
+the bold natural common sense of the French character
+always acted as a wholesome antidote to the
+tendency of purely spiritual sublimation. We have
+already observed the essentially realistic view which
+Count William took of the <i>grande passion</i>, and we
+shall hear before long that the weaknesses of their
+fair idols were a favourite butt of the satiric iconoclasm
+of more than one of the troubadours.</p>
+
+<p>This leaven of scepticism is observable even
+amongst the effusions of religious enthusiasm. I
+am not alluding to the active part taken by many of
+the troubadours in the struggle of Count Raimond
+of Toulouse, the protector of the Albigeois, against
+the ravaging hordes of Simon de Montfort, the
+champion of Papal supremacy. This part was
+rather of a national than of a religious kind;&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a>
+for it must be remembered that the crusade against
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>the Provençal heretics implied at the same time an
+onslaught of Northern centralisation on Southern
+independence, the success of which finally resulted
+in the abrupt and total decline of Provençal
+literature. What I was referring to is a curious
+and most charming poem by Marcabrun, in which
+that celebrated troubadour seems to oppose the
+excessive passion of the age for crusading expeditions.
+This was a somewhat ticklish subject, and
+apt to bring a peaceful poet into unpleasant collision
+with hierarchical powers. To cautious considerations
+of this kind we probably owe one of the
+sweetest conceptions of Provençal poetry; one of
+the rare instances, moreover, in which a description
+of beautiful scenery has been successfully attempted.
+For, as a rule, the troubadours show little <i>rapport</i>
+with outward nature, and their occasional allusions
+to flowers and blue skies are generally of a conventional
+character.</p>
+
+<p>Marcabrun introduces us into the full splendour
+of southern spring; the trees are strewn with the
+young year’s blossoms, and resonant with the songs
+of birds. By the brook in the orchard we see a
+lonely maiden, the beautiful daughter of the châtelain.
+Little she heeds the bloom of the spring, or
+the joyous note of the songsters. Her tears mingle
+with the brook, and bitterly she complains to ‘Jesus,
+Lord of the world, for great grief has come to me
+through thee. The best men have gone to distant
+lands at thy behest, and with them my true love,
+bravest among the brave.’ The poet here steps in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>to interrupt the lady’s lament with gentle remonstrance.
+‘Your tears,’ he suggests, ‘will injure your
+face and complexion; moreover He, who has
+adorned the trees with blossoms, may turn your
+grief into joy.’ But the lady turns a deaf ear to his
+comfortings. ‘Sir,’ she replies, ‘I willingly believe
+that God in the next world may vouchsafe me his
+grace; but in this I have lost my true love.’&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> Supposing
+the tendency of the poem to be such as I
+have surmised it to be, it must be owned that
+Marcabrun has carried out his purpose in the most
+ingenious manner. Pious souls might be referred to
+the religious commonplaces, introduced for safety
+sake, while more intelligent listeners could not fail
+to perceive the poet’s real meaning in the naïve
+pleadings of the desolate girl. An analogous mode
+of treatment of the identical subject occurs, by the
+way, in a poem by the excellent North-French
+trouvère Rutebœuf. He also describes a discussion
+between an assailant and a staunch defender of the
+crusades. To keep up appearances, the wicked
+sceptic had ultimately to confess himself convinced,
+but the reader easily perceives that the greater force
+of argument is, and is meant to be, with the vanquished.</p>
+
+<p>From various statements in the above remarks,
+the reader will have seen that the popular idea of a
+troubadour as a singer of love, and of nothing but
+love, is as incorrect and one-sided as popular ideas
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>frequently are. There is, indeed, no important
+topic of political, social, and literary history of the
+time, which does not find an echo in the poetry of
+these gay singers. The form of art in which these
+and kindred questions are treated is collectively
+called the <i>sirventes</i>,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> and the study of this branch
+of Provençal literature is of engrossing interest, both
+by the variety of contemporary topics touched upon,
+and by the display of brilliant wit and trenchant
+personal satire, with which many of these songs
+abound; the latter feature being in strong contrast
+with the charming but somewhat monotonous sweetness
+of the <i>canzo</i>, or love-song. The <i>sirventes</i> of
+the twelfth and thirteenth centuries has been compared
+with the newspaper press of the nineteenth;
+and it may indeed seem doubtful to which of these
+two organs of public opinion the greater influence
+on the contemporary mind ought to be attributed,
+leaving, of course, the international importance of
+modern journalism out of the question. The rapid
+circulation of the censuring <i>sirventes</i> amongst those
+concerned was amply provided for by vagrant
+joglars, whose lively recitations gave additional
+zest to satirical points; and the boldness and fierce
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>castigation of public or private enemies indulged
+in by the troubadours throw all similar attempts of
+modern writers into the shade. Cobbett and the
+early Quarterly Reviewers would appear mild in
+such juxtaposition. The eagerness with which
+princes and great nobles tried to ward off, or return
+with equal force, the attacks of poets infinitely their
+inferiors in rank and power, proves the dangerous
+nature of the weapon.</p>
+
+<p>According to its subject-matter the <i>sirventes</i>
+may be divided into four important groups: the
+personal, the social-and-political, the moral, and the
+religious <i>sirventes</i>; the last-named term being applicable
+chiefly to the poems relating to the Albigeois
+crusade. Theological and more especially dogmatic
+subjects gave little concern to the troubadours,
+although they had a keen eye for the weaknesses of
+the clergy both secular and monastic. All these
+classes of polemic literature will be treated at length
+in the course of this work. To complete the outline
+of the subject it is necessary only to refer briefly to
+two minor branches of the <i>sirventes</i>. They are the
+<i>planh</i> or complaint, and the crusader’s song, the
+former belonging more especially to the personal,
+the latter to the religious, class of poems.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>planh</i> is a poem written on the death of a
+mistress, a friend, or a protector. It no doubt was
+amongst the duties of courtly poets to deplore the
+loss of the latter in suitable terms, and by far the
+greater number of complaints remaining to us belong
+to the species of official poetry. But in spite
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>of this there is the true ring of sorrow in most of
+these songs, a fact which shows the frequent existence
+of genuinely cordial relations between the poets
+and their noble patrons. ‘Like one,’ says Folquet
+of Marseilles, ‘who is so sad that he has lost the
+sense of sorrow, I feel no pain or sadness; all is
+buried in forgetfulness. For my loss is so overpowering
+that my heart cannot conceive it, nor can
+any man understand its greatness.’ The object of
+this pathetic and no doubt sincere sorrow is not,
+as might be expected, a beloved friend of equal
+station or a mistress, but Barral, the mighty viscount
+of Marseilles, at whose court Folquet had been staying
+for a long time, and to whose wife, Adalasia, he
+was passionately attached.</p>
+
+<p>Quite as genuine and historically more important
+is the song in which Gaucelm Faidit deplores the
+premature death of England’s heroic King Richard.
+‘It is hard on me,’ he says, ‘that the greatest loss and
+the greatest pain I ever had, and which I shall deplore
+for aye and ever, that this loss I must announce and
+proclaim in a song. The great and glorious Richard,
+the king of the English, is dead. Ah, God! what
+grief, what a loss! How strange the word sounds,
+and how sad it is to hear! He must have an obdurate
+heart who can bear it.’ The poet then proceeds
+to sing the praises of his lost protector in enthusiastic
+terms. ‘The king is dead—not for a thousand
+years has there been a man so brave, so
+kind, so bold, so liberal. For Alexander, the king
+who conquered Darius, did not, I believe, show such
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>largess, nor are Charles and Arthur equal to his
+worth!’ All this may seem exaggerated and hyperbolical
+on the ground of historic criticism and
+moral principle; but Gaucelm Faidit did not see in
+Richard the rebellious son of former, and the tyrannic
+ruler of later days. To him he was the
+centre of gaiety and splendour, the fount of wealth
+and comfort, and, there is little doubt, a beloved
+friend withal.</p>
+
+<p>Of another Complaint devoted by Bertran de
+Born to the praise of Richard’s ill-fated brother
+Henry we shall hear on a later occasion. It marks
+the climax of power and beauty reached by this
+section of poetic art.</p>
+
+<p>Of the close connection between the poetry of
+the troubadours and the impulse which sent thousands
+of knights and varlets of all nations to the
+distant East, general mention has already been
+made. The more immediate result of this affinity
+of spirit is the song of the crusade, a poem that is
+designed to inspire men with valour and sacred ambition
+in the service of the Lord. It is a characteristic
+fact that the first troubadour of whom we
+have historic knowledge has left us a remarkable
+song of this order.</p>
+
+<p>Guillem of Poitiers, the reader will remember,
+led anything but an exemplary life. But towards
+the end of it he repented, and resolved to atone for
+his evil ways by a pilgrimage to the Holy Land at the
+head of a large army. So important an event in
+his life and thought the poet could not let pass in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>silence. He wrote a song in commemoration of it,
+which is a document of deepest interest both as regards
+its psychological and its historic import. It betrays
+a heart loth to leave the world’s joy and yet urged
+on to a holy purpose by the sense of a deep necessity
+of regeneration. ‘I go into exile,’ he says,
+‘and leave behind me my son surrounded by warfare
+and fear and danger; for his neighbours are malevolent
+men.’ He conjures his cousin and his overlord
+to take care of the unprotected boy, who without
+such help would be lost. He next bids a sad
+adieu to knightly splendour and to the joys of love,
+and in token of sincere repentance he humbly asks
+the forgiveness of all whom he may have offended.
+The tone of the song is exceedingly sad, and full of
+a latent presentiment of death. On the other hand
+we miss the holy enthusiasm of the early crusaders.
+There is no appeal to the faithful, no proud determination
+to liberate the Redeemer’s tomb by deeds
+of valour, such as abound in similar poems by other
+troubadours. It has indeed been doubted whether
+the song referred to the crusade at all, and not
+rather to some shorter pilgrimage or temporary retirement
+from the world. But for a minor event
+of that kind the fear of danger for his son and
+country appears too grave, and it seems on the
+other hand but natural that a man of Guillem’s
+temperament and habits should speak of a separation
+from the haunts of his pleasure and the scenes of
+his glory as a dreary banishment. In his feeling this
+grief and disappointment would naturally be uppermost,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>but all the more worthy of emulation must
+have been the example of a resolve which in spite
+of all this remained unshaken. From this point of
+view Count Guillem’s poem holds a prominent place
+amongst the songs of the crusade.</p>
+
+<p>In most cases, however, these songs take the form
+of an appeal or admonition addressed to the people,
+and, more frequently still, to individual princes and
+nobles. These are exhorted to abandon their
+worldly interests and discords, and join hands in the
+sacred endeavour. The allusions to persons and
+contemporary events incidentally introduced make
+some of these poems exceedingly valuable material
+for the historian. Others again are interesting owing
+to the genuine elevation of the heart that speaks
+from every line and inspires the work with true
+poetic passion. Three songs by Pons de Capduelh,
+a noble poet of Puy Sainte Marie, deserve mention.
+They all refer to the crusade against Saladin, and
+must have been written about the year 1188. As
+regards elevation of language they are unsurpassed
+in Provençal literature. The second especially is a
+master-piece of simple and yet impressive diction.
+Unfortunately its length forbids the quotation of the
+original together with an English version. The
+latter alone, on the other hand, would convey too
+imperfect an idea of the tone and diction of the
+poem. As a middle course I have subjoined a rendering
+which occurs in the French edition of Dietz’s
+‘Poesie der Troubadours.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Qu’il soit désormais notre guide et notre protecteur,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>celui qui guida les trois rois à Bethléem.
+Sa miséricorde nous indique une voie par laquelle
+les plus grands pécheurs, qui la suivent avec zèle et
+franchise, arriveront à leur salut. Insensé, insensé
+l’homme qui, par un vil attachement à ses terres et à
+ses richesses, négligera de prendre la croix, puisque
+par sa faute et par sa lâcheté il perd à la fois son
+honneur et son Dieu.</p>
+
+<p>‘Voyez quelle est la démence de celui qui ne
+s’arme point. Jésus, le Dieu de vérité, a dit à ses
+apôtres qu’il fallait le suivre, et que pour le suivre on
+devait renoncer à tous ses biens, à toutes ses affections
+terrestres; le moment est venu d’accomplir
+son saint commandement. Mourir outre mer pour
+son nom sacré est préférable à vivre en ces lieux
+avec gloire; oui, la vie est ici pire que la mort.
+Qu’est-ce qu’une vie honteuse? Mais mourir en
+affrontant ces glorieux dangers, c’est triompher de la
+mort même et s’assurer une éternelle félicité.</p>
+
+<p>‘Humiliez-vous avec ardeur devant la croix, et
+par ses mérites vous obtiendrez le pardon de vos
+péchés; c’est par la croix que notre Seigneur a
+racheté vos fautes et vos crimes—lorsque sa sainte
+pitié fit grâce au bon larron, lorsque sa justice
+s’appesantit sur le méchant, et qu’il accueillit même
+le repentir de Longin. Par la croix il sauva ceux
+qui étaient dans la voie de la perdition; enfin il
+souffrit la mort et ne la souffrit que pour notre salut.
+Malheureux donc quiconque ne s’acquitte pas envers
+la générosité d’un Dieu.</p>
+
+<p>‘A quoi servent les conquêtes de l’ambition?
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>En vain vous soumettrez tous les royaumes qui
+sont de ce côté de la mer, si vous êtes infidèles et
+ingrats à votre Dieu. Alexandre avait soumis
+toute la terre. Qu’emporta-t-il en mourant? Le seul
+linceul mortuaire. Oh! quelle folie de voir le bien
+et de prendre le mal, et de renoncer pour des objets
+vains et périssables à un bonheur qui ne peut manquer
+ni jour ni nuit! Tel est l’effet de la convoitise
+humaine; elle aveugle les mortels, elle les égare,
+et ils ne reconnaissent pas leurs erreurs.</p>
+
+<p>‘Qu’il ne se flatte pas d’être compté parmi les
+preux, tout baron qui n’arborera pas la croix et qui
+ne marchera pas aussitôt à la délivrance du saint tombeau!
+Aujourd’hui les armes, les combats, l’honneur,
+la chevalerie, tout ce que le monde a de beau et de séduisant,
+nous peuvent procurer la gloire et le bonheur
+du céleste séjour. Ah! que désireraient de plus les
+rois et les comtes, si, par leurs hauts faits, ils pouvaient
+se racheter des flammes dévorantes où les
+réprouvés seront éternellement tourmentés?</p>
+
+<p>‘Sans doute il est excusable celui que la vieillesse
+et les infirmités retiennent sur nos bords; mais
+alors il doit prodiguer ses richesses à ceux qui partent;
+c’est bien fait d’envoyer quand on ne peut aller,
+pourvu que l’on ne demeure pas par lâcheté ou indifférence.
+Que répondront au jour du jugement
+ceux qui seront restés ici malgré leur devoir, quand
+Dieu leur dira: “Faux et lâches chrétiens, c’est pour
+vous que je fus cruellement battu de verges; c’est
+pour vous que je souffris la mort”? Ah! le plus juste
+alors tressaillira lui-même d’épouvante.’</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span></p>
+
+<p>We must now for a moment return to the <i>sirventes</i>
+generally, and note, for the sake of completeness,
+one or two more of its separate branches. In
+some of the biographies we meet with the use of a
+curious term, <i>sirventes-joglaresc</i>, which at first sight
+would lead one to expect a poem more especially
+designed for recitation by a joglar. But such a distinction
+cannot be substantiated by facts. We
+know that not only all <i>sirventeses</i>, but all <i>canzos</i> as
+well, were to a great extent dependent for their
+promulgation on the professional singers and reciters.
+Moreover, the manuscripts seem to indicate
+quite a different meaning. They generally
+add by way of explanation that the <i>sirventes</i> so
+denominated dealt out both praise and vituperation,
+the former of course to the worthy, the latter to the
+vicious. But why and when such a meaning came
+to be connected with such a term is one of the
+unsolved riddles of literature.</p>
+
+<p>Little more than a whim is the <i>canzo-sirventes</i>,
+a mixture of the love-song and the non-love-song,
+generally beginning with a satirical discussion of
+personal or public affairs and winding up with the
+praise of a lady. No transition is made, the abruptness
+of the change being evidently considered an
+additional charm. No wonder that Peire Vidal,
+one of the most eccentric troubadours, favoured
+the mongrel type. Of it and of him, more anon.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE CANZO.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>With the <i>canzo</i> we have at last reached the climax and
+innermost essence of the poetry of the troubadours.
+I have in the above called the idea of the troubadour
+as exclusively a singer of love a one-sided one.
+So indeed it is, but at the same time the lingering of
+this feature and this feature alone in the memory of
+ages distinctly proves its prevailing importance in
+the picture which the popular mind conceived and
+treasured up. And the <i>vox populi</i> in literature,
+as in other matters, is generally found to be after
+all the voice of good sense and unsophisticated
+truth.</p>
+
+<p>All true poetry must be the offspring of its time;
+it must show as in a mirror the best contemporary
+thoughts and ideas. Now there is no doubt that
+the purest and most poetic motive of early mediæval
+life was the <i>cultus</i> of the new-found ideal of womanhood.
+To this worship, therefore, the troubadour
+devoted his noblest endeavour, and the result is a
+literature in some respects unique in the history of
+all nations.</p>
+
+<p>On first becoming acquainted with the amatory
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>verses of Provençal poets, one is apt to give way
+to a feeling of disappointment. Everything is
+different from what one’s vague idea of the subject
+had led him to expect. There is here no wild storm
+of passion, no untrammelled effusion of sentiment
+On the contrary, the stream of emotion, and sometimes
+not a very powerful stream, seems to run in a
+regular channel—a channel, to continue the simile,
+with the marble sides and facings of a rigid form, and
+the narrowness of which admits of little individual
+bubbling. The last-mentioned feature, viz., the want
+of individual peculiarities, is especially noticeable
+in the poets of the <i>langue d’oc</i>. There are of course
+differences, as there are, and must be, in all other
+schools and coteries of literary workers. Bernart
+de Ventadorn is an infinitely more impassioned and
+more loveable singer than the affected Rambaut of
+Orange; and the Monk of Montaudon, when he
+deigns to write a love-song, cannot wholly disguise
+his sardonic vein, nor does he ever attain to the lyrical
+sweetness of Guillem de Cabestanh. But such distinctions
+do not meet the eye of the casual observer
+with the same force as is the case with the poets of
+other nationalities. One of the reasons is the perfection
+of formal development which universally prevails.
+In modern France or England it is easy to know
+one poet from another, and attribute to each his
+place in the republic of song by the quality of his
+verse <i>quâ</i> verse. There are, in short, those who can
+and those who cannot write poetry. But with the
+troubadours it was otherwise: they all knew their
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>business equally well; there were no bunglers
+amongst them.</p>
+
+<p>We here once again touch upon that pride and
+bane of Provençal poetry—form. That much freshness
+of expression, much genuine fervour of inspiration,
+has been sacrificed to this moloch, is not a
+matter of doubt. The sameness of type observable
+in a whole galaxy of gifted and no doubt variously
+gifted poets cannot be explained from any other
+cause. For not only did the observance of certain
+external niceties absorb a great part of the poet’s
+energy, but the habit of such observance gradually
+encroached even on his cast of thought. Certain
+feelings and ideas gradually grew into established
+formulas. The absence of a true sympathy with
+nature in the works of the troubadours is a case in
+point. Originally such a feeling must have existed;
+the very common occurrence at the beginning of a
+love-song of some remarks on the beauties of spring,
+the song of birds, and the like, tends to prove it.
+But unfortunately the similarity of these preludes
+and the narrow range of objects to which they
+refer are a proof equally strong of the detrimental
+force of the ‘set speech’ above alluded to. For
+one Gaucelm Faidit, who feels genuine delight in the
+‘<i>rossinholet salvatge</i>,’ the ‘wild nightingale,’ there are
+twenty troubadours who speak of the sweet-toned
+songster with perfect indifference and merely as a
+matter of custom. Even the main and moving subject
+of the <i>canzo</i>, the lady, does not always escape
+the same fate. She also frequently becomes a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>barren symbol to be described according to a certain
+code of beauty and to be addressed in certain well-turned
+phrases.</p>
+
+<p>Another striking defect in Provençal poetry may to
+a great extent be derived from the same source. This
+is the want of continuity in most of the <i>canzos</i>. Few of
+these show a necessary organic growth. In most cases
+stanzas might be added or taken away without detracting
+from or increasing the general merit of the
+poem. The reason is the wonderful elaborateness
+and symmetry of the single stanzas, which make
+them appear in the light of independent and compact
+units, the stringing together of which may delight
+the hearer for a time, but can never produce
+the impression of an organic whole. I could cite
+modern instances in which the same cause has had
+exactly the same effect.</p>
+
+<p>But such deficiencies, apparent as they are in a
+greater or less degree in every troubadour, ought
+not to blind us to the high merits of Provençal
+poetry, its refinement, its tenderness of feeling, its
+unrivalled perfection of form. Our admiration of
+these qualities increases when we think of the soil
+in which this remarkable growth took place. The
+troubadours were the first harbingers of reviving
+literary culture after the storms which wrecked the
+Western Empire. They had no models to fall back
+upon; for the poets of antiquity were more or less
+above their ken, and the simple creations of the
+popular mind beneath their attention. They had
+even to create their language from a mixture of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>provincial <i>patois</i>. If ever poetry has sprung from
+the spontaneous impulse of man, it is in this instance.
+And, what is more, it was at a time when
+everywhere else intellectual darkness and barrenness
+covered the land. At the time when Guillem of
+Poitiers wrote his masterpieces of lyrical refinement,
+the amalgamation of the native with the foreign
+idiom had only just begun in England; in Northern
+France the stage of the primitive epic was hardly
+reached, and a century was to pass before the seed
+sown by the troubadours was to bring forth fruit
+in Germany; Italy yielding to the same influence at
+a still later period. But the Provençal love-song
+had reached its autumn before these subsequent
+developments entered into existence. For a long
+time it stood alone, an exotic plant of unknown
+origin, but of rich and peculiar growth, in the wilderness
+of the early middle ages.</p>
+
+<p>Of the metrical structure of the love-song I shall
+say little in this place. The varieties and niceties
+of its rhymes and stanzas the reader will find fully
+discussed in the technical chapters. It may be
+mentioned here that some difference seems to have
+existed between two kinds of the love-song, the <i>vers</i>
+and the <i>canzo</i>; but what the exact nature of the
+difference was it is impossible to say. The troubadours
+themselves had not a very clear notion of
+it. The <i>Leys d’amors</i> is even more than usually
+rambling and vague in its definition, and all the
+characteristics it mentions of the <i>vers</i> belong in
+equal measure to the <i>canzo</i>. Aimeric de Pegulhan,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>one of the later troubadours, candidly confesses that
+to him the distinction between the terms has lost its
+significance. ‘Frequently,’ he says, ‘I am asked at
+court why I do not write a <i>vers</i>. Therefore I leave
+it to those who care, to decide whether this song be
+a <i>vers</i> or a <i>canzo</i>; and to those who inquire I
+answer that I do not find any difference between
+<i>vers</i> and <i>canzo</i> beyond the name.’ It further appears
+from his song, that, according to rule or prejudice,
+the <i>canzo</i> generally had feminine rhymes and short
+lively musical accompaniments, while the more
+primitive <i>vers</i> affected monosyllabic endings and
+long-drawn melodies. But he justly infers that this
+rule is not observed by the troubadours to any
+prevailing extent, and this fact deprives the theoretical
+subtleties of ancient and modern grammarians
+of their substantial basis.</p>
+
+<p>And here my remarks on the <i>canzo</i> and on the
+general aspects of Provençal literature must end.
+Of the incompleteness of the sketch in more than
+one respect I am fully conscious. But I hope that
+the reader may be able to form some adequate view
+of the intellectual and moral conditions of which the
+poetry of the troubadours is the embodiment. To
+blur this outline with further detail would be contrary
+to the purpose of this book, which, I repeat it, is not
+a scientific treatise aiming at exhaustiveness, but
+rather a first attempt to attract the English reader
+towards a subject which deserves so much and has
+had so little of his attention. The safest, perhaps
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>the only, method of gaining this end is the biographical.
+In the biographies of some of the principal
+troubadours I therefore have embodied what further
+information of the life and work of these poets
+I desired to give on the present occasion. Guillem
+de Cabestanh will be the representative of the
+love-song proper. Peire Vidal combines the satiric
+and the lyrical gifts. Bertran de Born represents the
+warlike or political <i>sirventes</i>; the Monk of Montaudon
+is the master of personal and literary satire, while
+Peire Cardinal’s pessimism and severe morality
+loom in cloudy distance above the gay throng.
+The crusade against the Albigeois heretics, with its
+baneful consequences for Provençal literature, is
+treated in continuous chapters, and a separate niche
+of fame is gallantly assigned to the lady troubadours.
+Other questions connected with the subject are incidentally
+treated.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="PART_II"><i>PART II.</i><br>
+<span class="smaller">BIOGRAPHICAL</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br>
+<span class="smaller">GUILLEM DE CABESTANH.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Petrarch, in the fourth chapter of his ‘Trionfo
+d’Amore,’ in speaking of the love-poets of various
+nations, mentions the name of ‘William, who, by his
+song, shortened the flower of his days.’</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent20">Quel Guglielmo,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Che per cantar ha’l fior dei suoi dì scemo!</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">This William is Guillem de Cabestanh the troubadour,
+and it is his story that I propose to tell
+the reader, following as closely as possible the quaint
+old biography contained in a Provençal manuscript
+of the Laurentian Library in Florence.</p>
+
+<p>‘Sir Raimon of Rossilho,’ the old manuscript
+begins, ‘was a mighty baron, as you are well aware,
+and had for his wife the Lady Margarida, the most
+beautiful lady, as you know, of that time, and the
+most prized for all that is praiseworthy, and noble,
+and courteous. It so happened that Guillem de
+Cabestanh, the son of a poor knight of Castle
+Cabestanh, came to the court of Sir Raimon de
+Rossilho, offering to remain with him as his servant
+(<i>vaslez de sa cort</i>). Sir Raimon, who found him to be
+of fair and good countenance, bade him welcome,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>and Guillem remained with him, and so gentle was
+his demeanour, that young and old loved him well.
+And so much did he advance in favour that Sir
+Raimon wished him to be page to Lady Margarida
+his wife; and so it was done.</p>
+
+<p>‘But as it frequently befalls with love, it now
+befell that Love was bent on besieging the Lady
+Margarida with his siege, and he kindled her thoughts
+with fire. So much was she pleased with Guillem’s
+demeanour, and his speech, and his countenance, that
+one day she could not withhold herself from saying,
+“Tell me, Guillem, if a lady were to show you semblance
+of love, would you dare to love her?” Guillem,
+who understood her meaning, answered frankly,
+“Certainly, lady, if I knew that the semblance were
+true.” “By St. John,” replied the lady, “a good and
+noble answer; but now I will test thee, if thou canst
+know and distinguish truth from falsehood.” When
+Guillem heard these words, he replied, “May it be
+as it pleases you.”’</p>
+
+<p>The biographer goes on to describe how the
+thoughts thus enjoined upon Guillem by the lady
+rouse his soul from amorous reflection to desire;
+‘and henceforth he became a servant to Love, and
+began to invent stanzas graceful and gay, and tunes
+and canzos, and his songs found favour with all, but
+most with her for whom he sang.’ Thus, once again,
+the flame of poetry was awakened by the fire of
+passion. ‘But Love,’ the manuscript continues, ‘who
+rewards the labours of his servants when it pleases
+him, now thought of showing himself grateful. He
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>assails the thoughts of the lady with love and desire;
+night and day she cannot leave off thinking of the
+poet’s valour and beauty.’</p>
+
+<p>‘One day the lady took Guillem aside, and spoke
+to him this wise: “Guillem, tell me, hast thou yet
+found out of my semblance if it is true or false?”&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a>
+Guillem answered, “Lady, so God help me, from
+the hour I entered your service, no thought has
+entered my mind but that you are the best lady
+ever born, and the most truthful in word and
+appearance; this I believe, and shall believe all my
+life.”’</p>
+
+<p>Thus the fateful knot of passion is tied between
+these two; and fate is rapid in its approach. ‘For
+soon,’ the story continues, ‘the tell-tales, whom God
+hates, began to talk of their love, and to guess by
+Guillem’s songs that he was of one mind with Lady
+Margarida. These went on talking high and low,
+till at last it came to the ear of Sir Raimon. He
+was ill pleased and hot with rage through having lost
+the friend he loved so well, and more because of the
+shame of his spouse.’</p>
+
+<p>We expect to see the great baron crushing his
+faithless retainer in the first storm of indignation.
+But such is not his character. He is resolved to
+smite, but not till the guilty are convicted by their
+own words. With great discretion he refrains from
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>questioning his wife, or from taking any further steps
+till he has seen Guillem without witnesses. One
+day when the poet is gone to hunt with the sparrow-hawk,
+Raimon follows him, secretly armed, but
+unaccompanied. He meets him in a lonely place,
+and the scene which passes between them is exceedingly
+characteristic of the men and of the time
+in which they lived. Guillem, on seeing the baron
+approach, at once recognises the danger of his situation.
+But he is too much of a courtier to show
+any embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>At first their conversation runs on indifferent
+matters, courteous inquiries and answers as to
+Guillem’s sport and the like. But presently Raimon’s
+self-control begins to desert him. ‘Let us
+leave off this talk now,’ he begins abruptly, ‘and
+answer me truthfully, by the faith you owe me, all
+that I am going to ask you.’</p>
+
+<p>After some natural hesitation, Guillem submits to
+this comprehensive demand.</p>
+
+<p>‘Tell me, then,’ asks Raimon, solemnly, ‘as you
+love God and your faith, have you a lady for whom
+you sing, and to whom you are bound in love?’</p>
+
+<p>‘And how could I sing,’ William answers, ‘if Love
+did not bind me? Know, noble sir, that he has me
+wholly in his power.’</p>
+
+<p>Raimon answered, ‘I willingly believe that without
+love you could not sing so well; but now I must
+know who is your lady?’</p>
+
+<p>But to this Guillem demurs. Hitherto he has
+answered the questions of his master, as in duty
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>bound; but here a higher duty intervenes, that of
+discretion in the service of love. In his excuse he
+quotes some lines of his brother poet Bernard de
+Ventadorn, to the effect that it is ‘a foolish and childish
+thing to reveal your love to a friend who can be
+of no service to you.’</p>
+
+<p>Raimon accepts the plea, but he meets the move
+with one of equal skill.</p>
+
+<p>‘Quite true,’ he says; ‘but I pledge my word
+that I will be of service to you, as far as lies in my
+power.’</p>
+
+<p>Guillem, thus brought to bay, sees only one way
+to save himself from immediate destruction.</p>
+
+<p>‘Know then,’ he exclaims, ‘that I love the sister
+of the Lady Margarida your wife, and I believe that
+she returns my passion; now you know all, and I
+pray you to assist me, or at least not to injure me.’</p>
+
+<p>To this Raimon assents very readily, and to
+prove his zealous friendship, he proposes an immediate
+visit to the lady herself, whose husband’s castle
+(for she also, as a matter of course, is married)
+happens to be in the immediate neighbourhood.
+The feelings of Guillem, as the two ride along, may
+be imagined.</p>
+
+<p>Before we follow them to the castle, let us for
+a moment look back on the scene we have just
+witnessed. Time: the latter half of the twelfth
+century; place: a lonely wood in the South of
+France; actors: two men moved against each other
+by jealousy, fear, revenge, the consciousness of
+wrong inflicted and received—the strongest emotions,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>in short, of which the human heart is capable. Yet
+note the calmness and refined courtesy of their
+manner, the neatness of repartee in a conversation
+where life and honour are at stake. Guillem, it must
+be remembered, is at the mercy of his antagonist.
+Instead of meeting him man to man, Raimon might
+have thrown his vassal into a dungeon, or wrung his
+secret from him on the rack. No one would have
+dared to interfere with the mighty baron, or to
+breathe suspicion on his wife’s honour. I fear,
+indeed, that an ordinary retainer would not have
+met with such considerate treatment at Raimon’s
+hands. But Guillem was a poet of reputation, who
+could not be dealt with in a summary manner.
+Hence the terms of equality which Raimon grants
+him as a matter of course; hence even the offer of
+assistance in his love affairs. For troubadours were
+privileged persons. Every one knew that the ladies
+worshipped by them, under various <i>senhals</i>, or
+pseudonyms, were frequently the wives of the greatest
+nobles of the land. Raimon himself is quite
+willing to acknowledge this poetic licence, as long as
+his own wife is not concerned. It, at any rate,
+speaks well for the genuine quality of the Provençal
+love-song, to see how both Guillem and his patron
+treat its origin from anything but real passion as a
+total impossibility. But whatever the reader may
+think of the morality of the principles alluded to, he
+must admit that they imply a refinement of manner
+and sentiment, somewhat at variance with the
+popular notion of the semi-barbaric state of early
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>mediæval culture. But still stranger events are in
+store for us.</p>
+
+<p>On their arrival at Castle Liet, Raimon and the
+poet are hospitably received by the noble Lord
+Robert de Tarascon and his wife, the Lady Agnes,
+sister of Lady Margarida. Raimon, whose friendly
+offers to Guillem the reader no doubt fully appreciates,
+takes an early opportunity of cross-questioning his
+sister-in-law on the delicate subject of her lover, without,
+however, mentioning a name. But the lady is
+equal to the occasion. She has seen by Guillem’s
+expression, that some mischief must be brewing, and,
+knowing of her sister’s attachment, she at once sides
+against the jealous husband. She admits having a
+lover, and, when asked as to his identity, names
+Guillem without a moment of hesitation, and much
+to the relief of Raimon. Her husband, when
+told of the intrigue, fully approves the lady’s
+conduct, and both combine, in various ways, to
+further convince Raimon of a guilty intimacy between
+Guillem and the lady of Tarascon. So well do they
+succeed, that on his return home Raimon goes at
+once to tell his wife of his discovery; much to the
+dismay of that lady, as the reader need not be told.
+Guillem is summoned before his indignant mistress,
+and denies his guilt; his innocence being confirmed
+by the statement of the lady of Tarascon. Margarida
+is satisfied, but nevertheless bids Guillem
+declare in a song that to none but her is his love
+devoted. In answer to this summons Guillem writes
+the celebrated canzo, ‘Li dous cossire qu’em don’
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>amors soven’ (The sweet longing that love often
+gives to me); one of the most beautiful and most
+impassioned lyrics ever penned, and, alas! his last.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a>
+For Raimon, when he hears the song, at once fathoms
+its meaning. His fury now is boundless, but once
+more he curbs it, to poison the sting of his revenge.
+He again meets Guillem in a lonely place, slays him,
+severs the head from the body, tears out the heart,
+and with these dreadful trophies secretly returns to
+the castle. The heart he has roasted,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> and at dinner
+asks his wife to partake of it. After she has eaten
+he discloses the terrible secret and simultaneously
+produces the gory head of her lover, asking her how
+she liked the flavour of the meat. The lady’s
+answer is noble and of tragic simplicity. ‘It was so
+good and savoury,’ she says, ‘that never other meat
+or drink shall take from my mouth the sweetness
+which the heart of Guillem has left there.’ The
+exasperated husband then rushes at her with his
+drawn sword, and she, flying from him, throws herself
+from a balcony, and dies.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the marriage law is vindicated, and M.
+Alexandre Dumas’ sentence of <i>tue-la</i> carried out in a
+manner with which even that severe moralist could
+not but be satisfied. But Guillem’s contemporaries
+had not yet attained to this pitch of virtue. The news
+of the deed spread rapidly, and was received everywhere
+with grief and indignation; ‘and all the friends
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>of Guillem and the lady, and all the courteous
+knights of the neighbourhood, and all those who
+were lovers, united to make war against Raimon.’
+King Alfonso, of Aragon, himself invaded Raimon’s
+dominions, took from him his castles and lands, and
+kept him prisoner till death. All his possessions
+were divided amongst the relations of Guillem and of
+the lady—a somewhat unusual exercise of feudal
+jurisdiction, it would seem. The same king had the
+two lovers buried in one tomb, and erected a monument
+over them, just outside the door of the Church
+of Perpignan. ‘And there was a time,’ the biographer
+adds, ‘when all the knights of Rossilho,
+and of Serdonha, of Confolen, Riuples, Peiralaide, and
+Narbones, kept the day of their death every year;
+and all the fond lovers and all the fond lady-loves
+prayed for their souls.’</p>
+
+<p>This is the story as rendered in the manuscript
+of the Laurentiana; and a beautiful story it is, told
+with exquisite skill, and with an artistic grouping of
+the psychological and pathetic elements for which
+many modern novelists might envy the obscure
+Provençal scribe. Boccaccio’s treatment of the
+same incidents, with changed names, in the thirty-ninth
+<i>novella</i> of the ‘Decameron,’ is greatly inferior
+to the present version. But this very finish of detail
+excites suspicions as to the historic truth of the
+extraordinary events so plausibly narrated. Further
+research into the matter confirms this suspicion. I
+have traced no less than seven different versions of
+Guillem’s life in the Provençal language preserved
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>amongst the MS. collections of the libraries of Rome,
+Florence, and Paris. All these purport to be
+authentic biographies of the poet, and all agree in
+the main incidents of the story, differing, however, in
+details, and even in the names of the localities and
+persons concerned. The lady, for instance, is in
+some versions called Sermonda or Sorismonda,
+instead of Margarida. Other discrepancies and
+arbitrary additions tend to show that invention has
+been busy to embellish the tragic fate of a celebrated
+poet; and it has not been an easy task to divest the
+kernel of historic truth from later fictitious accumulations.
+I cannot enter here into tedious details, and
+must ask the reader to accept in good faith the results
+of what I may, without presumption, call a careful
+and patient investigation.</p>
+
+<p>The historic identity of Guillem de Cabestanh,
+a celebrated poet of the fourteenth century, is sufficiently
+proved, and there is no intrinsic or external
+reason to doubt that he was enamoured of a married
+lady, and killed by her jealous husband. It is also
+by no means unlikely that the discovery was brought
+about by an unguarded expression in one of the poet’s
+songs, although this circumstance is not mentioned
+in the oldest and simplest version. The chronologically
+second version, on the contrary, lays great
+stress on this interesting fact, naming the fatal song—none
+other than the beautiful and popular canzo, ‘Li
+dous cossire,’ already referred to. Here, then, we
+discover the clue to the numerous romantic additions
+of the later versions, which could be made with the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>greater impunity, as the real circumstances of the story
+began to fade from the memory of men. For most of
+these additions are evidently invented with a view to
+connecting this particular song with the tragic fate of
+the poet—an idea by no means wanting in poetic
+beauty, although not borne out by the dry facts of
+history. The ingenious way in which this connection
+is attempted is particularly shown in one of the
+manuscripts where the actual passage of the song
+from which Raimon is said to have derived his knowledge
+is quoted. The words run:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tot qan faz per temensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Devez en bona fei,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Prendre neis qan nous vei.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In English, ‘All I am compelled to do by fear, you
+must accept in good faith, even if I do not see you.’
+At first sight the suggestion seems plausible.
+The song, as we know, was written to account for
+Guillem’s apparent faithlessness, and to the jealous
+suspicion of the husband the allusion might seem plain
+enough. But it must be borne in mind that Raimon
+was not supposed to know to whom Guillem’s songs
+were addressed. After he had once found out that
+the poet spoke of his wife and to his wife in such a
+manner as is done in the <i>canzo</i> in question, the
+further discovery of any particularly suggestive passage
+was quite unnecessary. The idea of connecting
+a song treating of the ordinary incidents of a
+love-affair with the death of the poet is evidently an
+after-thought, although by no means an inappropriate
+one. The author of the version followed by me in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>the above shows the highest degree of inventive
+boldness by adding entirely new incidents (<i>e.g.</i>, the
+visit to Castle Liet), and rendering <i>verbatim</i> long
+conversations, of which no cognisance could possibly
+have been obtained.</p>
+
+<p>Regarding the most striking incident, that of the
+lover’s heart being eaten by the lady, it is true that
+all the versions contain it, but other circumstances
+tend to throw grave doubts on its historic reality.
+For the same fact is told with some modifications of
+the Châtelain de Coucy, a celebrated poet of Northern
+France, no less historical than Guillem himself,
+and nearly his contemporary. The independent
+recurrence in the course of a few years of the same
+extraordinary fact is intrinsically much more unlikely
+than the supposition that the story of the eaten heart
+was, in some form or other, popular at the time, and
+therefore connected with the life of one of their
+celebrated poets by both northern and southern
+Frenchmen. Students of the ‘History of Fiction’ are
+aware that the local and individual application of a
+popular story to a popular hero is a most common
+process, and readers of Dunlop’s excellent work of
+that name may remember that the incident of the
+eaten heart is by no means confined to the age or
+country of Guillem de Cabestanh. I should indeed
+not feel surprised if one of our comparative mythologists
+were to prove that the vulture gnawing the
+head or liver of the fettered Prometheus is at the
+bottom of it all.</p>
+
+<p>But whatever may be the historical value of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>story related in the above, it throws a striking and
+abundant light on the manners and feelings of mediæval
+Provence. Here we see the idea of the
+unlimited power of love carried to its extreme consequences.
+Margarida, a noble lady, adorned, as is
+expressly stated, with all virtues and accomplishments,
+does not hesitate at inviting the courtship of
+her inferior in rank in the most unmistakable
+manner. But the narrator, and evidently his public
+with him, think that everything is sufficiently accounted
+for by an allusion to the unconquerable
+impulse of love.</p>
+
+<p>And in the service of this love all means of
+defence, fair or foul, are thought permissible.
+Guillem betrays his kind master and benefactor, and
+afterwards, in order to save himself, calmly exposes
+the honour of a third person by an audacious falsehood.
+Raimon himself is quite willing to tolerate, or
+even to further, the poet’s intrigue with his wife’s
+sister; and the manner in which the lord and lady of
+Tarascon pay him back in his own coin displays
+the equally loose principles of those distinguished
+persons. The immediate discovery of the whole
+state of affairs on the part of the lady, moreover,
+betrays an acuteness of vision explainable only from
+personal experience of similar predicaments. When
+at last the long-abused husband discovers the
+intrigue, and takes cruel revenge, nobody seems to
+consider that he has been sinned against no less
+than sinning, and all true knights and lovers, the
+King of Aragon amongst them, hasten to punish the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>vile murderer, while the lovers are revered as
+saints and martyrs. Much as we may condemn the
+brutality of the husband’s revenge, or wish to excuse
+the fatal effects of irresistible passion, justice compels
+us to consider that the breach of the marriage vow
+was in this case aggravated by that of confidence,
+friendship, and fealty. But justice to a husband, as we
+know, was a thing unheard of in the code of Provençal
+gallantry—the very name was odious, and all but
+synonymous with criminal, or at least dupe. I do not,
+indeed, recollect a single instance amongst the
+numerous love-stories told in connection with the
+troubadours in which the object of passion was not a
+married lady; a strange point of affinity with the
+modern French novel to which I call the attention of
+those interested in national psychology. The final
+wedding-bells of English novels would be vainly
+listened for in Provençal fiction.</p>
+
+<p>If this frivolous conception of sacred ties repels
+our æsthetical and moral feelings, we cannot, on the
+other hand, refuse our sympathy to a passion so
+pure and so intense as that reflected in the <i>canzos</i>
+of Guillem de Cabestanh. Only seven of his poems
+have been preserved to us, but these rank amongst
+the highest achievements of Provençal literature. In
+the whole range of international song I know of no
+sweeter lyric than Guillem’s ‘Lo jorn qu’eus vi
+domna premieramen,’ or that other <i>canzo</i>, which
+legend has connected with his death. The latter is
+also remarkable for its display of highest technical
+finish, while the remainder of Guillem’s songs are
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>comparatively simple in structure, and contain few of
+those marvellous <i>tours de force</i> of rhyme and metre
+which most troubadours delight in.</p>
+
+<p>Such artificialities of manner would, indeed, be
+ill adapted to the extreme simplicity of his theme,
+which is nothing but the deepest passion for one
+beloved object. There is in his poems no fickleness,
+no variation of mood, and if his literary remains
+were voluminous, the uniformity of his passion would
+pall upon us. As it is, this very monotony adds
+to the intensity of our impression. Guillem is a
+patient lover, a male type of the nut-brown maid.
+Everything he will suffer for his lady and from her;
+nay, he derives pleasure from his sufferings, as they
+have been inflicted upon him in the service of love,
+in <i>her</i> service. At first sight he has become her
+bondsman, she has bewitched him with a smile, taken
+his sense and his thought with a word of her mouth.
+Sometimes he fancies that he must have loved her
+before seeing her, and delights in the delusion of
+having been destined by God to serve her. For her,
+therefore, he will live, and his songs shall tell the
+world of her worth and of his passion.</p>
+
+<p>This is the essence of Guillem’s songs. One
+of them only need be quoted here. It shows him
+in the attitude of a devoted lover. He had no other.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center">CANZO.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Lo jorn, qeus vi domna, premieramen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qant a vos plac qeus mi laissez vezer,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Parti mon cor tot d’autre pensamen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E foron ferm en vos tut mei voler;</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Q’aissim pausez, domna el cor l’enveja;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ab un douz ris et ab un simpl’esgar,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mi e qant es mi fezez oblidar.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qel granz beutaz el solaz d’avinen</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Eil cortes dit eil amoros plazer</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qem saubez far, m’embleron si mon sen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’anc pois hora domna nol poc aver;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A vos l’autrei, cui mos fis cors merceja;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per enantir vostre prez et onrar</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A vos mi ren, q’om miels non pot amar.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">E car vos am domna, tan finamen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qe d’autr’amar nom don’ amors poder;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas aizem da q’ab autras cortei gen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Don cug de mi la greu dolor mover;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pois quant cossir de vos cui jois sopleja,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tot’ autr’amor oblit e desampar,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ab vos remanh cui tenc al cor plus car.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">E membre vos, sius plaz, del bon coven</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qe mi fezez al departir saber,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Don aic mon cor adonc guai e jauzen</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pel bon respeit en qem mandez tener;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mout n’aic gran joi, s’era lo mals sim greja;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Et aurai lo, qan vos plaira encar,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Bona domna, q’eu sui en l’esperar.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">E ges mals trags no men fai espaven,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sol q’eu en cuit en ma vida aver</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De vos domna qalaqom jauzimen;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Anz li mal trag mi son joi e plazer</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sol per aiso, car sai q’amors autreja,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qe fis amans deu granz torz perdonar</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E gen soffrir mals trags per gazanhs far.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Aissi er ja domna l’ora q’eu veja,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qe per merce mi volhaz tan onrar,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qe sol amic me denhez appellar.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center"><i>Translation.</i></div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">The day when first I saw you, lady sweet,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">When first your beauty deigned on me to shine,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I laid my heart’s devotion at your feet;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">No other wish, no other thought were mine.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">For in my soul you wakened soft desire;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">In your sweet smile and in your eyes I found</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">More than myself and all the world around.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Your tender speech, so amorous, so kind,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The solace of your words, your beauty’s spell</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Once and for ever have my heart entwined,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">No longer in my bosom it will dwell.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Your worth to cherish it shall never tire.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oh! then, your gentle grace let me implore;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">My all I gave you, I can give no more.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">So wholly, lady, is my heart your own</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">That love will not allow another’s love.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oft when to gentle ladies I have flown,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Somewhat the burden of my pain to move,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The thought of you, the fountain of my bliss,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Has aye dispelled all other vain desires;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">To you with tenfold love my heart retires.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Do not forget, I pray, the hopeful word</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">You granted me when last I saw your face;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">My heart leaped up with pleasure when I heard</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The joyful message vouchsafed by your grace.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">In present grief my comfort still is this:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">That when your heart to mercy is inclined</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">My ardent wish may yet fulfilment find.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pride and unkindness have for me no sting,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">As long as I may hope that in this life</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">One day from you may kindest message bring.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Grief turns to joy and pleasure springs from strife;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">For well I know that Love has willed it so</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">That lovers should forgive the deadliest sin,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">By deepest sorrow highest bliss to win.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">The hour will come, O lady, well I know,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">When from your yielding mercy I may claim</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The one word ‘friend.’ I ask no other name.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Several biographical facts may be gleaned from
+this song. First of all we meet with an allusion to
+the poet’s intercourse with other ‘gentle ladies,’
+which shows a striking likeness to the lines previously
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>quoted from Guillem’s most celebrated <i>canzo</i>. Margarida,
+it might be inferred, was not altogether free
+from a feeling of jealousy towards not one but several
+ladies, and both passages are evidently written by
+Guillem with a view to appeasing this ill-founded
+suspicion; a circumstance which throws still graver
+doubt on the fanciful connection of the first-mentioned
+lines with the incident at Castle Liet. Whether the
+temporary banishment alluded to in the present
+<i>canzo</i> has anything to do with these lovers’ quarrels
+remains undecided. But the poet’s complaints of
+cruelty tend to prove that the lady did not yield
+with the astonishing readiness implied by the biographer.
+Guillem, it appears, had to undergo a
+severe probation before the fatal gift of love was
+vouchsafed to him, and at the stage marked by the
+<i>canzo</i> the name of ‘friend’ is the highest boon to
+which he ventures to aspire. Well for him if that
+stage had never been passed.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.<br>
+<span class="smaller">PEIRE VIDAL.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Peire Vidal is one of the most versatile and many-sided
+amongst the troubadours. His character is
+a psychological riddle. High gifts and wildest
+eccentricities are strangely mixed up in it. But
+the riddle cannot be read from a purely individual
+point of view. Peire Vidal is also a type. His
+adventures and poems show as in a kaleidoscope
+the romantic and often exaggerated and whimsical
+ideas which animated his age and country.</p>
+
+<p>‘Peire Vidal’—the old biography begins—‘was
+born in Toulouse, the son of a furrier; he sang
+better than any other poet in the world, and was one
+of the most foolish men who ever lived, for he
+believed everything to be just as it pleased him
+and as he would have it.’ That he grew to his
+greatness out of the meanest circumstances was a lot
+which he shared with some of the most famous of
+his brethren, such as Marcabrun and Folquet of Marseilles,
+and it accounts to a certain extent for many of
+his follies and illusions. The time of his birth it is
+impossible to state accurately; it appears, however,
+from several remarks in his poems, that it must have
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>been somewhere about the middle of the twelfth
+century. In his youth he seems to have been very
+poor; thus in one of his earlier <i>canzos</i> he addresses
+a lady in the following simple and frank words: ‘I
+have no castle with walls, and my land is not worth
+a pair of gloves, but there never was nor will be a
+more faithful lover than I am.’ When his genius had
+made him the favourite and companion of kings and
+nobles, he did not lack wealth. In his songs we
+never find a request for assistance from his protectors,
+such as often occurs in the stanzas of other
+troubadours, and he was even in a position to keep
+many servants and followers. He soon tired of a
+quiet life, and left home to find fortune and renown.
+First he went to Spain, where he was kindly received
+at the court of Alfonso II., King of Aragon, one of the
+most liberal protectors of the troubadours; but his
+restlessness could not endure a long sojourn in the
+same place. He went to Italy, and for many years
+was travelling about between that country, Spain,
+and the South of France, always well received by
+nobles and princes, and always in love with beautiful
+women. It would be impossible to give the names
+of the different objects of his admiration. The
+general character of these futile attachments was that
+the poet believed himself quite irresistible, and supposed
+no interval to exist between his seeing and
+conquering. ‘Often,’ he says, ‘I receive messages
+with golden rings and black and white ribbons.
+Hundreds of ladies would fain keep me with them if
+they could.’ In another <i>canzo</i> he boasts that all
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>husbands are afraid of him more than of fire and
+sword. In point of fact, however, the ladies he
+admired did not by any means justify these illusions,
+and his old biographer goes so far as to say that they
+all deceived him ‘totas l’engannavan.’ The best
+proof of the harmlessness of the poet’s love affairs
+seems to be that the husbands concerned were more
+amused than offended by his homage to their wives.
+One of them, however, took the matter less easily.
+When Peire Vidal boasted in his usual way of having
+received many favours from his wife, he took his
+revenge by imprisoning the poet and piercing his
+tongue through. This anecdote of the old manuscript
+is confirmed by different allusions to the fact
+in the poems of other troubadours. The Monk of
+Montaudon, who mercilessly ridicules Peire Vidal’s
+follies, says that he ‘stands in need of a silver tongue.’</p>
+
+<p>The first strong and genuine attachment the poet
+seems to have formed was for the Viscountess
+Azalais, of the family of Roca Martina, wife of
+Barrai de Baux, Viscount of Marseilles. She was
+praised for her beauty and kindness by many of the
+greatest troubadours, and it was for her that Folquet
+of Marseilles, the amorous poet and afterwards
+ascetic bishop, sang his tenderest <i>canzos</i>. Peire
+Vidal in his poems always calls her Vierna, one of
+the nicknames by which the troubadours (in the
+same way as the antique poets their Lesbias and
+Lalages) addressed for discretion’s sake the fair
+objects of their admiration. Peire Vidal’s love in
+this case, unlike his former transient passions, was
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>of long duration. Even the severest treatment, and
+a long banishment from the lady’s presence, could
+not extinguish his affection. Far from her he was
+unhappy, and sent her his songs as messengers of
+love and devotion. At first she was well pleased
+with the homage of the celebrated poet who spread
+the renown of her beauty over all the country.
+Moreover, Barral her husband was on very friendly
+terms with Peire, and sometimes even had to compose
+the little differences which soon arose between
+the eccentric troubadour and his beloved one.
+The poet complained bitterly of her cruelty and
+ingratitude towards him who had always been faithful
+to her, but this grief of unanswered love was
+favourable to his poetic genius. To this period
+belong his most beautiful <i>canzos</i>, full of touching
+pathos and marked by great artistic perfection. ‘I
+was rich and happy,’ he says in one of these songs,
+‘until my lady turned my joy to grief, for she
+behaves to me like a cruel and pitiless warrior.
+And she is wrong in doing so, for I never gave her
+occasion to complain of me, and have always been
+her most faithful admirer. But this very faithfulness
+she will never forgive me. I am like a bird which
+follows the hunter’s pipe, although it be to its certain
+death. So I expose my heart willingly to the
+thousands of arrows which she throws at me with
+her beautiful eyes.’ But presently he is afraid to
+offend her even by these modest complaints. In
+the <i>tornada</i>, he says, ‘O lady Vierna, I will not
+complain of you, but I think I deserve a little more
+recompense for all my waiting and hoping.’ Notwithstanding
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>all these entreaties the lady had no
+pity for her unhappy lover. The slight favours she
+granted him were overbalanced by outbreaks of bad
+temper, and worst of all she began to find something
+ridiculous in the rather eccentric proofs of
+Peire’s unchanged devotion. At last an inconsiderate
+outbreak of his passion resulted in his being
+for a long time banished from her presence. One
+day, early in the morning, Count Barral had risen,
+and Azalais remained alone in her room. Of this
+occasion the enamoured troubadour availed himself
+to go there in secret. He knelt down before her
+couch and kissed the lips of his slumbering love. At
+first she believed him to be her husband, and smiled
+kindly, but when she fully awoke and saw it was
+the ‘fool’ Peire Vidal who had taken this liberty, she
+grew furious, and began to weep and to raise a great
+clamour. Her attendants rushed into the room, and
+the importunate intruder had a narrow escape of
+being severely punished on the spot. The lady
+immediately sent for her husband, and begged him
+to avenge Peire’s impertinence; but Count Barral,
+in accordance with the opinion of his time, did not consider
+the offence an unpardonable one, and reproved
+the lady for having made so much of a fool’s oddities.
+He did not, however, succeed in softening her
+wrath; she made the story known all over the
+country, and uttered such terrible threats that the
+poet began to fear for his safety, and preferred to
+wait abroad for a change in his favour. He went
+to Genoa, and soon afterwards, according to some
+manuscripts, followed King Richard on his crusade
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>to the Holy Land. Though this latter assertion is,
+for chronological reasons, not very probable, yet
+Peire’s voyage to Palestine cannot be doubted.
+Here he composed the little song of love and homesickness
+which I have attempted to translate, following
+the original closely, but the tender grace and
+melodious charm of which it would be impossible
+to reproduce in our Northern idiom:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center">CANZO.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ab l’alen tir vas me l’aire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’eu sen venir de Proensa;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tot quant es de lai m’agensa,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Si que, quan n’aug ben retraire,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Eu m’o escout en rizen;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">En deman per un mot cen:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tan m’es bel quan n’aug ben dire.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’om no sap tan dous repaire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Cum de Rozer tro qu’a Vensa,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Si cum clau mars e Durensa,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ni on tan fis jois s’esclaire.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per qu’entre la franca gen</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ai laissat mon cor jauzen</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ab leis que fals iratz rire.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’om no pot lo jorn maltraire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’aja de leis sovinensa,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’en leis nais jois e comensa.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E qui qu’en sia lauzaire,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De ben qu’en diga noi men,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quel melher es ses conten</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">El genser qu’el mon se mire.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">E s’eu sai ren dir ni faire,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ilh n’ajal grat, que sciensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">M’a donat e conoissensa,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per qu’eu sui gais e chantaire.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E tot quan fauc d’avinen</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ai del seu bel cors plazen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Neis quan de bon cor consire.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center"><i>Translation.</i></div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">With my breath I drink the air</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">That Provence my country sends me,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">For a message ever lends me</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Joy, from her most dear and fair.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">When they praise her I rejoice,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ask for more with eager voice,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Listen, listen night and morrow.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">For no country ’neath the sun</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Beats mine from Rozer to Vensa,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">From the sea to the Durensa:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nowhere equal joy is won.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">With my friends, when I did part,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And with her I left my heart</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Who dispelled my deepest sorrow.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nothing harms me all the day</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">While her sweet eyes stand before me,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And her lips that rapture bore me.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">If I praise her, no one may</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Call my rapturous word a lie,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">For the whole world can descry</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nothing wrought in sweeter fashion.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">All the good I do or say</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Only to her grace is owing,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">For she made me wise and knowing,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">For she made me true and gay.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">If in glory I abound,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">To her praise it must redound</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Who inspires my song with passion.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>By such repeated proofs of the poet’s unchangeable
+love the heart of Azalais, was at last touched.
+Besides, fool as he was, Peire was undoubtedly one
+of the most renowned troubadours, and the proudest
+beauty could not be indifferent to the celebration of
+her charms in <i>canzos</i> as popular as they were exquisite.
+Barral importuned his wife till she promised
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>the poet forgiveness of all past offences, and immediately
+sent the happy message to Peire. Some of
+the manuscripts say that Azalais wrote him a letter
+in which she promised him all he had been wishing
+for so long. Peire Vidal returned to France, and
+Barral on hearing of his arrival rode out to meet him,
+and guided him to Marseilles. Azalais received him
+gracefully, and granted him the kiss he had once
+taken. All was forgiven and forgotten, and the
+troubadour commemorated the happy reconciliation
+by a song radiant with joy and hope. This state of
+pure happiness, however, was not destined to be of
+long duration. The lady seems to have been
+disinclined to fulfil her promises; the complaints in
+Peire’s <i>canzos</i> of her cruelty and falseness begin
+anew, and at last he very likely grew tired of his
+unrewarded pains. Certain it is that he did not stay
+very long at Marseilles, for he does not make the
+slightest mention of Barral’s death, which happened
+soon after, in 1192. This silence would have been
+impossible if he had been living at the time at his
+old friend and protector’s court.</p>
+
+<p>While he was yet the professed admirer of Azalais,
+the poet had admired more or less fervently several
+other ladies, from one of whom he now seems to
+have sought consolation. This was Loba de
+Peinautier, who lived in Carcassonne. Her name
+Loba (she-wolf) became the motive of one of Peire
+Vidal’s most fantastic exploits; he gave himself the
+designation of a wolf, and adopted the animal as a
+badge. Once he put on a wolf’s skin, and called
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>upon the shepherds to hunt him with their dogs.
+They readily accepted the offer, and treated him so
+badly that he was brought more dead than alive to
+the house of his beloved. Here, in addition to his
+wounds, he had to suffer the pitiless jests of the lady;
+who was not at all pleased by this kind of admiration.
+But in this case also the husband was more merciful,
+and regarded the aberrations of the great troubadour
+with indulgence. He took the greatest possible
+care of him, and had him tended by the best physicians.
+It would be difficult to believe a consummate
+poet had really been guilty of such absurdities, if he
+did not bear witness against himself. ‘I do not
+mind,’ he says in one of his poems, ‘if they call me
+a wolf, and if the peasants hunt me as such I do not
+consider it a disgrace.’ The foolishness of the man,
+however, did not impair the genius of the poet,
+and some of his <i>canzos</i> addressed to Loba are
+amongst the finest productions of Provençal literature.
+Whilst he was engaged in these and other
+love affairs the poet was also married, which of
+course did not interfere with his attachments of this
+kind more than the same circumstance did with
+Dante’s spiritual love for Beatrice Portinari. I
+mention the circumstance only because it throws fresh
+light on Peire’s wonderful capacity for illusion. On
+his voyage to the Holy Land, he became acquainted
+in Cyprus with a Greek lady, whom he married and
+brought home with him. Soon afterwards he was
+made to believe that his wife was the niece of the
+Greek emperor, and had as such a claim to the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>imperial crown. This idea was exactly to his taste,
+and he adapted himself to it without any difficulty.
+He had on a previous occasion, if we are to believe the
+satirical Monk of Montaudon, conferred knighthood
+on himself; now he assumed with equal facility the
+arms of the Emperor of Greece. He began collecting
+money, wherever he could find it, for an expedition
+to realise his claims. Meanwhile, he called himself
+and his wife by the title of ‘Imperial Majesty,’ and
+duly provided himself with a throne. It is needless
+to say that his schemes came to nothing; the only
+consequence was to expose him to greater ridicule
+than before. His brethren in poetry were not slow
+to avail themselves of this opportunity of lowering
+a renowned troubadour in general estimation,
+and to do him as much harm as they could. One
+bitter and contemptuous <i>sirventes</i> will give an
+example of the amiable feelings with which rivals in
+art regarded each other. Its author is the Italian
+Marquis Lanza, and it runs thus: ‘We have an
+emperor without sense or reason or consciousness;
+a worse drunkard never sat on a throne; no greater
+coward wore shield and lance, no greater scoundrel
+made verses and <i>canzos</i>. I wish a sword would split
+his head, and an iron dart go right through his body;
+his eyes ought to be torn out of his head with hooks.
+Then we will give him some wine, and put on his
+head an old scarlet hat, and for a lance he may have
+an old stick. So he may safely wander from here to
+France.’ Peire Vidal answered this friendly address
+with equal warmth. ‘Marquis Lanza,’ he says,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>‘poverty and ignorance have spoilt your manners.
+You are like a blind beggar in the street, who has
+lost all shame or decency.’</p>
+
+<p>It would hardly have been expected that, with
+all this trouble about his loves and his empire, the poet
+could have had time left to take part in the real
+political and religious struggles of his age. But his
+versatile genius was as much interested in public
+affairs as in his own private concerns. As one of
+the first poets of his time he was in continual intercourse
+with princes and nobles, and in consequence
+had ample means of knowing the politics of his protectors,
+and frequent occasion to use his poetical
+gift on their behalf. Among his most constant
+friends was King Alfonso II. of Aragon, at whose
+court the chief poets of the time gathered, and
+found shelter from poverty and contempt. The
+King himself practised the art of poetry; and we
+possess a <i>canzo</i> by him which, if not of the first
+excellence, shows at least that he did not shrink
+from competing for the prize in the ‘Gaia Sciensa.’
+According to his liberality so was the praise awarded
+to him in the songs of the most renowned troubadours.
+Bertran de Born, indeed, accuses him of
+treason and cowardice, but the passionate character
+of that poet made him unscrupulous in his attacks
+on political and personal enemies. Peter II.,
+Alfonso’s son, inherited his father’s disposition towards
+the troubadours, and it was a great loss to them
+when he fell in the battle of Muret (1213) against
+the Crusaders. Peire Vidal was among the greatest
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>favourites of both father and son. Alfonso once had
+suits of armour of the same kind made for himself
+and the poet, a striking mark of friendship in so
+great a prince. The poet showed his thankfulness
+by the only return he had to offer, his songs.
+Several of his <i>canzos</i> are dedicated to Alfonso, whose
+side he took in all the Kings wars and feuds. The
+very first <i>sirventes</i> we have of Peire’s refers to the
+war between Alfonso and Count Raimon of Toulouse,
+and, notwithstanding the poet having been born in
+that city, it is an ardent war-song in favour of the
+intruder. The author, however, could not on this
+occasion withstand his natural inclination towards
+self-praise, and by his immoderate boasting lessened
+the effect of his song. ‘If I only had a good horse,’
+he says, ‘I should trample on all my enemies, for
+even as it is, when they hear my name, they are
+afraid of me more than the quail of the sparrow-hawk,
+because I am so strong and wild and ferocious;
+when I have put on my double white armour, and girt
+my sword round my loins, the ground trembles under
+me where I step, and there is no enemy of mine so
+bold as will not get out of my way as quickly as he
+can.’ He goes on in this strain through several
+stanzas, and promises at last that if the King
+returns to attack Toulouse, he, Peire Vidal, will
+enter the city alone with the routed enemy and
+conquer it. The story of Coriolanus may possibly
+have been in his mind, but there are not many
+traces of his acquaintance with ancient Roman
+history. As a reward for his prowess he looks
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>forward to obtaining the much-desired knighthood,
+for in the tornada of the same <i>sirventes</i> he promises
+Lady Vierna that soon she shall love in him a noble
+cavalier. This hope, however, was not fulfilled; he
+was obliged to be content with the knighthood
+which he had conferred on himself, and which of
+course other people did not recognise. Nevertheless,
+he remained invariably attached to Alfonso till
+the King’s death. This loss he felt very deeply, and
+the words in which he gives utterance to his grief
+show that his friendship was genuine. ‘In great
+affliction,’ he sings, ‘must live he who loses his good
+master, as I have lost the best whom death ever
+killed. Certainly, I should not live if suicide were
+not a sin.’ This song is dedicated to Peter II. of
+Aragon, the son of Alfonso, who is called ‘corn
+of a good ear.’ It was sent to him from the court
+of King Aimeric of Hungary, his brother-in-law,
+to which Peire had retired after the death of his
+protector, and where he appears to have seen something
+more of the Germans, whom he had always
+thoroughly disliked. In the same <i>sirventes</i> he
+apostrophises them in the following words: ‘Germans,
+you mean, bad, and false people, nobody who
+ever served you has had any pleasure of it.’ On a
+former occasion he had expressed his feelings on the
+same subject even more energetically. ‘The Germans,’
+he says in another <i>sirventes</i>, ‘are coarse and
+vulgar, and if one of them tries to be courteous he
+becomes quite intolerable; their language is like the
+barking of dogs. Therefore, I should not care to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>be Duke of Friesland, where I should always have
+to listen to the barking of these tiresome people.’
+These terms applied to the language of Wolfram
+von Eschenbach and Walter von der Vogelweide
+must of course be taken <i>cum grano salis</i>, and are
+certainly more characteristic of the critic than of
+those criticised by him.</p>
+
+<p>In the Crusades, Peire Vidal took the deepest
+interest. We have already seen that he himself
+went to Palestine, but he worked for the cause by
+his songs more usefully than by his actual presence.
+I cannot refrain from quoting a few stanzas of one
+of his <i>sirventeses</i> in the original <i>langue d’oc</i>, which
+may serve as an example of the poet’s energy in
+admonishing and reproaching those who were idle in
+the service of God:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Baros Jesus qu’en crotz fo mes,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per salvar crestiana gen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nos manda totz comunalmen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’anem cobrar lo saint paes,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">On venc per nostr’amor morir.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E si nol volem obezir,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Lai on feniran tuit li plag,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">N’auzirem maint esquiu retrag.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Reis aunitz val meins que pages,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quan viu a lei de recrezen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E plorals bes qu’autre despen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E pert so quel pair’ a conques.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Aitals reis fari’ad aucir,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Et en lag loc a sebelir,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quis defen a lei de contrag,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E no pren ni dona gamag.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The ‘infamous King’ thus denounced is Philip
+Augustus of France, whom the troubadours hated and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>despised almost as unanimously as they extolled
+Alfonso of Aragon.</p>
+
+<p>This poem, apart from its political allusions, is
+remarkable as a specimen of Peire Vidal’s peculiar
+manner of mixing the two different forms of <i>canzo</i>
+and <i>sirventes</i> together (compare p. 141). Immediately
+after the passage about the French King just quoted
+the poet broaches his favourite theme of love, and
+explains how the unseasonable passion of mature
+ladies is sure to destroy the whole courteous world.
+This sudden change occurs in a similar manner in
+another <i>sirventes</i> where, after having reproached the
+same Philip Augustus as a coward and miser, the
+poet continues with great <i>naïveté</i>, ‘But now I must
+turn my song to my lady, whom I love more than
+my own eyes or teeth.’</p>
+
+<p>Peire Vidal’s faults and errors were in great
+measure the result of the exaggerated sentiments of
+the time, and do not detract from his high poetical
+genius. The best of his contemporaries estimated
+him correctly, and forgave the great poet the extravagance
+of his character. ‘The greatest fool,’
+says Bartolomeo Zorgi, another celebrated poet of
+the time, ‘is he who calls Peire Vidal a fool; for without
+sense it would be impossible to make poems like
+his.’</p>
+
+<p>The exact date of Peire’s death we cannot tell.
+Most likely it took place about 1210.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">BERTRAN DE BORN.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Bertran de Born is a perfect type of the warlike
+baron of the middle ages, continually fighting with
+his neighbours or with his own vassals, and treating
+the villeins and clowns on his estate with a brutal
+contempt all the more unpardonable in his case as
+he openly and deliberately advocates such oppression
+in his songs. But his warlike ambition was
+not confined to the squabbles of petty feudal lords.
+With sword and song he fought in the great political
+struggles of the time, and the important part he
+played in the incessant wars of Henry II. of England
+with the King of France and with his own
+rebellious sons ought to secure Bertran a place in
+any comprehensive history of our Angevin kings.</p>
+
+<p>As to the exact date of Bertran’s birth the
+manuscripts contain no information. By inference
+we find it must have been about the middle of the
+twelfth century. The old biographers call him
+Viscount of Autafort, a castle and borough of about
+a thousand inhabitants in the diocese of Perigord.
+His manhood fell in a stormy time of external and
+internal warfare.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span></p>
+
+<p>The marriage of Henry of Anjou, afterwards
+Henry II. of England, with the divorced faithless wife
+of the French King was an abundant source of evil to
+the young adventurer. It is true that the possessions
+of Aquitain accruing to him from the marriage for the
+moment added to his power, but in the long run his
+large dominions in the west and south-west of France
+tended to divert his attention from the true focus of
+his strength—England. The tedious quarrels in
+which his continental possessions involved him with
+his feudal overlord, the King of France, greatly
+increased the troubles of his eventful reign. But far
+more disastrous were the domestic consequences of
+this ill-assorted union. History and popular myth
+have combined to depict Eleanor as the prototype of
+a ruthless termagant. Whatever may have been
+the provocations of her truant husband—provocations
+which, by the way, her own conduct hardly justified
+her in resenting too harshly—the charge remains
+against her that by her instigation her sons were
+first incited to rebel against their father. With
+much trouble and danger to himself Henry had in
+1170 induced his English bishops to assist at a prospective
+coronation of his eldest son and namesake.
+Two years later the ceremony was repeated, young
+Henry’s wife, the daughter of King Louis VII. of
+France, being included, who for reasons unknown had
+been absent on the former occasion.</p>
+
+<p>The return which Henry received for this highest
+mark of confidence was the claim on the part of his
+son to be put in immediate possession either of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>Normandy or of England. The refusal of this
+outrageous demand became the cause of animosities
+between father and son. Eleanor fanned the flames
+of discord, and it seems to have been by her advice
+mainly that young Henry at last broke into open
+rebellion. He fled from his father’s court at
+Limoges and took refuge with the King of France
+at St. Denis, where three days afterwards he was
+joined by his two brothers Richard and Geoffrey.
+The war which ensued was carried on by both sides
+with atrocious brutality, not even relieved by bold
+exploits of arms. The name of the hirelings enlisted
+by the King of England—Brabançons, from Braband,
+the country of many of their number—has become
+a bye-word in history, and the utter want of filial
+piety, or indeed of any higher motive, on the part of
+the young princes is at once revolting and astonishing.
+More than once during his repeated wars with
+his sons the King’s life was attempted, and on one
+occasion when he was going to a parley with young
+Henry he was received by a shower of arrows and
+slightly wounded. Sons who thus disregarded the
+demands of natural affection could not be expected
+to be more scrupulous where their country was concerned.
+Patriotism, more especially English patriotism,
+never was the strong side of the Plantagenets.
+In consequence the young princes did not hesitate
+for a moment to barter away some of the fairest
+portions of England for promises of assistance from
+the King of Scotland and the Earl of Flanders, and
+it was only by Henry’s energy and good fortune that
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>these disgraceful bargains were frustrated. The
+war dragged on till 1174, and ended with a semblance
+of reconciliation; Richard being the last to
+submit to his father.</p>
+
+<p>It was necessary to dwell to this extent on these
+circumstances in order to gain a background for our
+centre-figure the Troubadour. There is no direct
+evidence that Bertran de Born took a prominent
+part in the first rebellion of the English princes,
+neither do any of his warlike songs seem to refer to
+it. But even in case his youth or other circumstances
+prevented him from being an actor in the events
+just described, he was sure to be an eager spectator.
+Soon afterwards we see him in the thick of the fight.
+He seems to have been on terms of intimacy with
+the three elder sons of Henry, as is proved by the
+familiar nicknames by which he addresses them.
+Young Henry he used to call ‘Marinier’ (seaman),
+an interesting fact which shows that a sailor-prince
+in the Royal family is not altogether a modern
+invention. Geoffrey, by marriage Duke of Brittany,
+was ‘Rassa,’ a name without any distinct meaning
+to us; and Richard ‘Oc e no,’ that is ‘Yes and no,’
+which might pass for an indication of straightforward
+and plain dealing, or, indeed, of the reverse, according
+to the terms on which prince and poet happened
+to be.</p>
+
+<p>Bertran’s attachment to Prince Henry, the
+‘Young King,’ as he and the old chroniclers frequently
+call him, was of the utmost importance for
+the poet’s life. It is, indeed, the redeeming feature
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>of his character. From the first he seems to have
+espoused the young Prince’s cause, and no turn of
+fortune could ever make him waver in his fealty.
+It is sad to think that the influence thus acquired
+was used in further inflaming a nature already hot
+with pride and ambition. Bertran’s biographers lay
+particular stress on this point. ‘Whenever he
+chose’—the old manuscript says—‘he was master of
+the King of England and of his son; but he wished
+that the father should always be at war with the son,
+and the brothers with one another; and he also
+desired that there should be incessant feud between
+the Kings of France and England, and whenever
+there was peace or truce between them he was at
+great pains and trouble to undo the peace by means
+of his <i>sirventeses</i>, and to prove to each of them how
+they were dishonoured by such a peace; and he
+derived much good and also much evil from the
+mischief he made amongst them.’ In another place
+we are told that King Henry hated Bertran because
+the poet was ‘the friend and counsellor of the young
+King, his (Henry’s) son, who had made war against
+him; and he believed Sir Bertran bore the whole
+guilt of it.’ Not without reason does Dante place
+the troubadour in the ninth pit of hell, where, with
+Mahomet Ali, Mosca dei Lamberti, and other disturbers
+of Church and State, he is made to do
+penance for his disastrous counsels. Dante describes
+him carrying his own head severed from his
+body in his hand. ‘Know then,’ says the spectre
+addressing the poet, ‘that I am Bertran de Born, he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>who gave evil encouragement to the young King,
+causing father and son to wage war against each
+other. Because I parted men thus joined together I
+now carry my own head severed from its principle of
+life, my body.’&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">BERTRAN AND RICHARD COUNT OF POITOU.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>How this great influence over the young King was
+acquired the old manuscripts do not tell us. The
+first time we hear of Bertran in history is in connection
+with the quarrels between Richard, at that time
+Count of Poitou, and his unruly barons in the south
+of France. Amongst these Bertran de Born took a
+prominent position. His worldly possessions were
+of comparatively small importance, but his fame as a
+poet, his personal valour, his indomitable fierceness
+and love of war made up for this want, and qualified
+him for the part of ringleader and prime intellectual
+mover of the rebellious party. A cause of quarrel
+between such an overlord as Richard and such a
+vassal as Bertran may easily be imagined; but
+beyond these public grounds of mutual animosity
+there seems to have been some personal grudge
+between them. The manuscripts speak of a lady in
+whose heart the troubadour supplanted his princely
+rival, and in addition to this fact—perhaps in consequence
+of it—we hear of Richard’s hostile interference
+in his adversary’s private concerns.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span></p>
+
+<p>Bertran de Born had a brother, Constantine by
+name, with whom he shared the possession of Castle
+Autafort. He is described by the manuscripts as
+‘a good knight, but not a man to trouble himself
+much about valour or honour.’ A man of this kind
+stood little chance of holding his own against our
+troubadour, and internal evidence strongly points
+towards the latter as the aggressor in the endless
+quarrels between the two brothers. This, however,
+Bertran’s biographer does not acknowledge. He
+goes on to say that Constantine ‘hated Bertran at
+all seasons, and wished well to those who wished
+ill to Bertran, and he took from him the Castle of
+Autafort, which belonged to them both in common.
+But Sir Bertran soon recovered it, and drove his
+brother from all his possessions.’ At this juncture
+Richard interfered in favour of Constantine. Together
+with Aimar, Viscount of Limoges, and other
+powerful barons, he invaded Bertran’s domains,
+which soon became the scene of atrocities such as
+are the usual concomitants of civil feud. Castle
+Autafort itself was threatened, but its master remained
+undaunted. In a powerful <i>sirventes</i> he
+hurls defiance at his enemies. A war-song more
+recklessly bold, more graphically real, has seldom
+been heard.</p>
+
+<p>Let the reader judge. ‘All day long,’ Bertran
+says, ‘I fight, and am at work, to make a thrust at
+them and defend myself, for they are laying waste
+my land and burning my crops; they pull up my
+trees by the root and mix my corn with the straw.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>Cowards and brave men are my enemies. I
+constantly disunite and sow hatred amongst the
+barons, and then remould and join them together
+again, and try to give them brave hearts and
+strong; but I am a fool for my trouble, for they are
+made of base metal.’</p>
+
+<p>In these last sentences the poet discloses the
+secret of his power. It was the irresistible sway of
+his eloquence over men’s minds, his ‘don terrible de
+la familiarité,’ as the elder Mirabeau puts it, which
+enabled Bertran to play on men’s minds as on the
+strings of a lute, and to make them form and vary
+their purpose according to his impulse. In this
+very <i>sirventes</i> we gain an idea of the manner in
+which he lashes the hesitating barons into resistance
+against the common oppressor. Talairand is accused
+of indolence—‘he does not trot nor gallop,
+motionless he lies in his cot, neither lance nor arrow
+does he move. He lives like a Lombard pedlar,
+and when others depart for the war he stretches
+himself and yawns.’ Another baron, whose name,
+William of Gordon, strikes the English ear with
+familiar note, is warned against Richard’s persuasive
+statecraft. ‘I love you well,’ Bertran says, ‘but
+my enemies want to make a fool and a dupe of you,
+and the time seems long to them before they see
+you in their ranks.’ The <i>sirventes</i> winds up with a
+climax of fierce invective against Richard himself.
+‘To Perigeux close to the wall, so that I can throw
+my battle-axe over it, I will come well armed, and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>riding on my horse Bayard; and if I find the
+glutton of Poitou he shall know the cut of my sword.
+A mixture of brain and splinters of iron he shall
+wear on his brow.’</p>
+
+<p>Bertran’s assertions of his dangerous influence
+over men’s minds were not the idle boastings of
+poetic vanity. A terrible conspiracy was formed
+against Richard, and the greatest nobles of the
+country, the Viscounts of Ventadorn, of Camborn,
+of Segur, and of Limoges, the Count of Perigord,
+William of Gordon, the Lord of Montfort, besides
+many important cities, are mentioned amongst the
+rebels. A meeting took place, and we may imagine
+the picturesque scene when ‘in the old monastery of
+San Marsal they swore on a missal’ to stand by
+each other and never to enter into separate treaties
+with Richard. The special causes of this rebellion
+are not known to us. We may surmise, and indeed
+know in a general way, that the hand of their lion-hearted
+lord weighed heavily on the provinces of
+Southern France. But the veil which covers this
+portion of Henry II.’s reign has never yet been
+fully lifted, and till that is done we must be satisfied
+with such hints as may be gleaned from scattered
+bits of information in ancient writers. Our Provençal
+manuscript offers a clue not without interest
+to the historical student. It speaks of certain
+<i>rendas de caretas</i>, rates of carts or wagons, most
+likely a toll which Richard had unlawfully appropriated,
+and which in reality belonged to the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>‘Young King,’ that is to Prince Henry, to whom
+it had been given by his father.</p>
+
+<p>This latter circumstance connects our story with
+less obscure portions of history. It is well known
+that in 1182 King Henry demanded of his sons
+Richard and Geoffrey to do homage to their elder
+brother for the possessions respectively held by
+them, a demand indignantly refused by Richard.
+Hence the invasion of Aquitain by young Henry,
+and hence perhaps also the latter’s intimacy with
+our poet, who, as the intellectual mover of the
+rebellion against Richard, was an ally by no means
+to be despised. Thus the war between the brothers
+went on raging for a time, Bertran fighting in the
+foremost ranks, and at the same time fanning the
+flame with his songs. We still possess <i>sirventeses</i> in
+which he addresses the chief barons by name, reminding
+them of their grievances, praising the brave
+and castigating the waverers with his satire. Such
+were the means of diplomatic pressure in those days.
+But primitive though such measures of admonition
+may appear, they were none the less efficacious with
+those concerned. Papiol, Bertran’s faithful minstrel,
+went about the country boldly reciting his master’s
+taunts in the lordly hall of the baron or at the gate of
+the castle, where the throng of the vassals would
+listen to his song. Taking into account the excitability
+of the southern nature further inflamed
+by the struggles of the time, together with the
+general interest of the subject and the consummate
+art of treatment and delivery, one can form some
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>idea of the dangerous influence of the troubadours,
+too dangerous and too generally acknowledged to be
+despised by the mightiest princes of the time.</p>
+
+<p>Bertran de Born is evidently quite conscious of
+the force of his songs, and the use he makes of his
+power betrays great sagacity of political purpose.
+But with him the love of war for war’s sake is so
+great that sometimes every deeper design seems to
+vanish before this ruling passion. His character is
+a psychological problem in this respect. A man
+who, after a life of wildest storm and stress, passed
+in continual strife with domestic and political foes,
+dies in peace and in the quiet possession of his
+usurped dominion, must have been endowed in a
+more than usual degree with calmness and deliberation.
+But there is no trace of this in his songs.
+They breathe one and all the recklessness and
+animal buoyancy of a savage chieftain who regards
+fighting as the only enjoyment and true vocation of
+a man. One of his warlike <i>sirventeses</i> ends with the
+naïve exclamation by way of <i>tornada</i> or <i>envoi</i>,
+‘Would that the great barons could always be
+inflamed against each other!’ In another he gives
+vent to his insatiate pugnacity with most unqualified
+openness. ‘There is peace everywhere,’ he says,
+‘but I still retain a rag (<i>pans</i>) of warfare; a sore in
+his eye (<i>pustella en son huelh</i>) to him who tries to
+part me from it, although I may have begun the
+quarrel! Peace gives me no pleasure, war is my
+delight. This is my law, other I have none. I don’t
+regard Monday or Tuesday, or week, or month, or
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>year: April or March would not hinder me in
+doing damage to those who wrong me. Three of
+them would not get the value of an old leather strap
+from me.’&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></p>
+
+<p>Things in Aquitain began in the meantime to
+take a more peaceful turn than our warlike singer
+could wish or expect. King Henry appeared on
+the scene as peacemaker between his sons, and by
+his command young Henry had to declare himself
+satisfied with a money compensation for his claims
+of overlordship. This compliance drew on him the
+momentary indignation of the troubadour, who calls
+him ‘a king of cowards;’ and adds that ‘not by
+lying asleep will he become master of Cumberland,
+or King of England, or conqueror of Ireland.’
+The defection of their leader proved fatal to the
+league of the barons, who separately tried to make
+their peace with Richard and quietly submitted to
+his punishing wrath. Not so Bertran de Born.
+His first impulse was to give utterance to his contempt
+for the nobles who by their want of courage
+and union destroyed their last chance of safety. ‘I
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>will sing a <i>sirventes</i>,’ Bertran exclaims, ‘of the
+cowardly barons, and after that not waste another
+word upon them. More than a thousand spurs
+have I broken in them, and never could I make
+them trot or gallop. Now they allow themselves to
+be robbed without saying a word. God’s curse
+upon them!’ His next thought must have been to
+find a new head and centre for such remnants of the
+rebellious forces as still remained unsubdued. In
+this endeavour he was more successful than might
+have been expected under the circumstances.
+Geoffrey, Henry’s younger brother, who had been
+commissioned by the King to facilitate the reconciliation
+between Richard and his barons, suddenly
+declared himself in favour of the latter, and began to
+invade Poitou with all the forces at his disposal.
+We have no direct evidence of Bertran’s active
+participation in this affair. But we know of his
+intimacy with Geoffrey, whom, after the desertion
+of the cause by young Henry, he hails as a worthy
+pretender to the crowns of England and Normandy.
+We are therefore justified in conjecturing that the
+bold troubadour’s advice may have had much weight
+with a prince of Geoffrey’s ambition.</p>
+
+<p>But here the matter was not to end. In this emergency
+young Henry offered his services to his father,
+promising to advise or if necessary to enforce a
+reconciliation between his brothers. But no sooner
+had he arrived at the seat of war than he also joined
+the league of the barons. Richard in his extreme
+need implored the aid of his father, who immediately
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>entered into alliance with Alfonso of Aragon for
+the purpose of subduing his rebellious sons. The
+princes sought the support of the Count of Toulouse
+and other powerful nobles of the south of France.
+War on a large scale became inevitable, and this
+prospect was greeted by Bertran with an exuberance
+of joy. He revels beforehand in the brilliant and
+terrible scenes of a field of battle. ‘As soon as we
+arrive,’ he exclaims, ‘the tournament shall begin.
+The Catalans and the Aragonese will fall to the
+ground fast and thick. The pommels of their
+saddles will be of no use to them, for our friends
+strike long blows. And the splinters will fly up to
+heaven, and silk and samite will be torn to shreds,
+and tents and huts destroyed.’</p>
+
+<p>But once more Bertran’s high hopes of victory
+were to be cut short by the hand of fate. King
+Henry was laying siege to Limoges, and his two
+rebellious sons were preparing a large expedition
+for the rescue of the threatened city, when suddenly
+young Henry was taken ill with a violent fever and
+died shortly afterwards. On his death-bed he implored
+his father’s pardon and asked for a last interview,
+but the King, although deeply moved, was
+persuaded by his counsellors to refuse this favour.
+It is said that he feared a snare, and after his former
+experiences this suspicion was but too easily accounted
+for. He, however, sent a ring in token of
+forgiveness, which his son pressed to his dying lips.
+This death was a blow to both contending parties.
+In spite of their dissensions, King Henry had deeply
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>loved his son, who, according to the unanimous
+testimony of his contemporaries, was a high-spirited
+youth of undaunted courage and noblest aspirations.
+Bertran’s grief also was true, and, for the moment at
+least, unselfish. His unwavering friendship for
+young Henry is the one redeeming feature in the
+reckless warrior’s character, and this feeling, which
+death itself had not destroyed, now inspired him
+with a song of noblest pathos. It is a dirge as sad
+and as true as ever friend has sung for friend. I
+have attempted the following literal translation of
+three stanzas, in which the metrical peculiarities of
+the original are strictly adhered to. These peculiarities,
+which frequently serve the troubadours for the
+display of their consummate skill, are here made
+the vehicle of genuine emotion, and give truth and
+colour to the poem. Note particularly the repetition
+of the same words at the end of the first, fifth, and
+eighth lines of each stanza, which strikes the note
+of unrelieved sadness with the monotony of a death-knell:—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center">PLANH.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Si tuit li dol el plor el marrimen</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E las dolors el dan el caitivier</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que hom agues en est segle dolen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Fosson ensems, sembleran tuit leugier</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Contra la mort del jove rei engles,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Don reman pretz e jovens doloiros,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">El mons escurs e tenhs e tenebros,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sems de tot joi, pies de tristor e d’ira.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Estenta mort, plena de marrimen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vanar te pods quel melhor cavalier</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">As tolt al mon qu’anc fos de nulha gen;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quar non es res qu’a pretz aja mestier,</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Que tot no fos el jove rei engles:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E fora meils, s’a deu plagues razos,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que visques el que mant autr’ enojos</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’anc no feron als pros mas dol et ira.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">D’aquest segle flac, plen de marrimen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">S’amors s’en vai, son joi tenh mensongier,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que ren noi a que non torn en cozen;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Totz jorns veiretz que val mens oi que ier:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Cascus se mir el jove rei engles</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’era del mon lo plus valens dels pros.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ar es anatz sos gens cors amoros,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Dont es dolors e desconortz et ira.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center"><i>Translation.</i></div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center">COMPLAINT.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">If all the pain, the grief, the bitter tears,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The sorrow, the remorse, the scornful slight,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Of which man in this life the burden bears</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Were thrown a-heap, their balance would be light</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Against the death of our young English King.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Valour and youth stand wailing at his loss;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The world is waste, and dark, and dolorous,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Void of all joy, full of regret and sorrow.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">All-present death, cruel and full of tears,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Now mayst thou boast that of the noblest knight</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Whose deeds were ever sung to human ears,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Thou hast deprived the world. No fame so bright</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">That it could darken our young English King.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">’Twere better, if it pleased our Lord, to give</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Life back to him, than that the traitors live</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Who to good men cause but regret and sorrow.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">The world is base and dark and full of tears.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Its love has fled, its pleasure passed away;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A falsehood is its truth. Each day appears,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But to regret its better yesterday.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Look up, ye all, to our young English King,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The best among the brave and valorous!</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Now is his gentle heart afar from us,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And we are left to our regret and sorrow.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span></p>
+
+<p>With the death of young Henry the rebellion
+was practically at an end. Again the barons tried
+to make peace with Richard and the King; again
+they submitted to the most humiliating terms of
+submission; but again also Bertran de Born’s
+courage remained undaunted, although against him,
+as the evil counsellor of young Henry, the wrath of
+the King was hottest. Soon the army of the allies
+arrived before Castle Autafort, and little hope of
+rescue remained. Still Bertran held out, and
+ultimately succumbed only to the treachery of a
+friend.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.<br>
+<span class="smaller">SIEGE OF AUTAFORT—BERTRAN’S DEATH.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The manuscripts tell a curious story with regard
+to this treachery. The reader will remember that
+at the beginning of the war Henry had entered into
+a league with the King of Aragon. This king was
+Alfonso II., well known as one of the most liberal
+protectors of the troubadours, who in return lavished
+their praise upon him. Bertran de Born was on
+terms of intimacy with him, and the manuscript
+tells us that ‘he was very glad that King Alfonso
+was amongst the besieging army, for he was his
+most especial friend.’ It appears that Castle Autafort
+was better provided with meat and drink than
+the camp, for King Alfonso, on the ground of their
+intimacy, asked Bertran for a supply of bread, wine,
+and meat. This the troubadour generously granted,
+but in return asked another favour, which was
+nothing less than that the King of Aragon should
+use his authority to remove the besieging engines
+from a certain side of the castle where the wall was
+rotten and would give way easily. Such a demand
+implied the fullest confidence in him to whom it
+was made, and this confidence unfortunately turned
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>out to be misplaced. The King of Aragon immediately
+betrayed the secret to Henry; the assault
+was directed against the weak point of the defences,
+and the castle fell.</p>
+
+<p>Such is the story as told by Bertran’s biographer,
+and, if true, it fully accounts for the troubadour’s
+implacable hatred evinced by many poetic onslaughts
+on the private and political character of Alfonso.
+But we ought to hesitate in condemning on such
+doubtful evidence the conduct of a king who by
+the all but unanimous testimony of contemporary
+writers was a model of knightly virtues and wholly
+incapable of the base treachery here laid to his
+charge.</p>
+
+<p>However this may have been, Bertran’s castle
+was taken, and he a prisoner in the hands of
+his bitterest enemies. But even in this extremity
+Bertran’s genius did not forsake him, and it is on
+this occasion chiefly that we catch a glimpse of that
+undauntable strength of character which, combined
+with a keen insight into the secret springs of human
+impulse, explains his extraordinary sway over men’s
+minds. I follow closely the graphic account of
+the Provençal manuscript:—‘After the castle was
+taken Sir Bertran, with all his people, was brought
+to the tent of King Henry. And the King received
+him very ill, and said to him,</p>
+
+<p>‘“Bertran, Bertran! you have boasted that never
+half of your sense would be needful to you at any
+time, but know that now you stand in need of the
+whole of it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span></p>
+
+<p>‘“Sir,” replied Bertran, “it is true that I have
+said so, and I have spoken the truth.”</p>
+
+<p>‘And the King said, “Then now, it seems, you
+have lost your wits altogether.”</p>
+
+<p>‘“Sir,” said Bertran, “it is true that I have lost
+all my wits.”</p>
+
+<p>‘“And how is that?” replied the King.</p>
+
+<p>‘“Sir,” said Bertran, “the day that the valiant
+young Henry your son died I lost sense and cunning
+and consciousness.”</p>
+
+<p>‘And the King, when he heard Bertran’s words,
+wept for his son, and great grief rose to his heart
+and to his eyes, and he could not constrain himself,
+and fainted away from pain. And when he recovered
+himself he called out to Bertran, and said,
+weeping,</p>
+
+<p>‘“Sir Bertran! Sir Bertran! you are right and
+wise in saying that you lost your sense for the sake
+of my son, for he loved you better than any other
+man in the world; and for the love of him I release
+your person, your lands, and your castle, and I will
+receive you to my grace and favour, and I give you
+five hundred marks of silver for the damage you
+have suffered at my hands.”</p>
+
+<p>‘And Bertran fell at his feet, tendering him
+service and gratitude.’</p>
+
+<p>We may feel inclined to look upon the substantial
+data of the closing sentences with some amount
+of scepticism; but the consummate skill with which
+Bertran at first excites the curiosity of the King, the
+way in which he finally acts upon his feelings, all
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>the more powerfully as his own grief is true and
+powerful—all this is much beyond the invention of a
+simple-minded Provençal scribe. These traits are
+too intrinsically real for mere fiction; they are inherent
+in the nature of a strong man and a great
+poet. It is also an undeniable fact that soon after
+the events described, Bertran was again in possession
+of his castle, and that the remonstrances of his unfortunate
+brother Constantine were treated with
+scorn by both Richard and King Henry.</p>
+
+<p>To the former Bertran now seems to have
+attached himself, and during the incessant feuds in
+which the lion-hearted monarch subsequently was
+involved with the King of France and his own
+unruly vassals the troubadour seems to have remained
+faithful to him, barring always such inclinations
+towards whoever might be the aggressive party,
+which Bertran’s unbounded love of fighting made
+excusable. We possess a <i>sirventes</i> dated many
+years later in which the poet rejoices at Richard’s
+release from the German prison, ‘because now again
+we shall see walls destroyed and towers overthrown
+and our enemies in chains.’</p>
+
+<p>But I must not detain the reader with further
+stories of feuds and battles, of which most likely he
+has had already more than his fill. It remains to
+add a few words with regard to another side of
+Bertran’s life and poetry, his love affairs. These, it
+must be hoped, will form a somewhat more harmonious
+conclusion to an account of a wild, reckless
+career.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span></p>
+
+<p>Bertran’s love-songs are not the emanations of a
+pure guileless heart, such as the <i>canzos</i> of Guillem
+de Cabestanh or Folquet of Marseilles. Upon the
+whole one is glad to find that they are not and do
+not pretend to be such; for a lover’s unselfish
+devotion could be nothing but pretension in a man
+of his character. Bertran was, and appears even in
+his <i>canzos</i>, a man of the world, to whom his love
+affairs are of secondary importance. Yet these
+<i>canzos</i> are not without passion, and not seldom have
+a peculiar charm of simple grace, all the more delightful
+because of its contrast with the warlike
+harshness of his ordinary strains. What, for instance,
+can be more sweet and graceful than the following
+stanza, which occurs at the beginning of one of
+Bertran’s <i>sirventeses</i>?—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">When the young blossoms of the spring appear</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And paint the bushes pink and white and green,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then in the sweetness of the nascent year</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I clothe my song; at all times such has been</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The wont of birds; and as a bird am I</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Who love the fairest lady tenderly:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I dare to love her longing for love’s fruit,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But never dare to speak; my heart is mute.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>After such an opening the reader expects a love-song
+of tenderest pathos. But no. After another
+stanza, Bertran suddenly changes his mind. Perhaps
+the lady whom he silently adored did not understand
+or appreciate his passion. ‘As without a
+lady’—he now exclaims—‘one cannot make a love-song,
+I am going to sing a fresh and novel <i>sirventes</i>.’
+And forthwith he begins his ordinary strain
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>of invective against a whole catalogue of hostile
+barons.</p>
+
+<p>Of the objects of Bertran’s passion—for we know
+of two, and there may have been others of whom we
+do not know—the old manuscripts give us a prolix
+account. We first hear of a Lady Maenz or
+Matilda of Montignac, wife of Count Talairand (for
+as a matter of course she was married), and sister to
+two other ladies celebrated by the troubadours for
+their beauty and courteous demeanour. The Lady
+Maenz was wooed by many noble knights and
+barons; and even three scions of royalty, the Princes
+Richard and Geoffrey of England and King Alfonso
+of Aragon, are mentioned amongst her suitors. But
+Bertran’s valour and fame as a poet gained the
+victory in her heart over power and riches. Such
+at least is the account of the old biography, founded,
+it seems, on a somewhat vague statement in one of
+Bertran’s own poems, to the effect that his lady
+‘refused Poitou, and Tolosa, and Bretagne and
+Saragosa, but has given her love to the valorous
+poor knight’—meaning of course himself.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately the course of true love did not
+run smooth for long; the blast of jealousy troubled
+its waters. Bertran had written a few songs in
+praise of another lady, the wife of his friend the
+Viscount of Camborn. Pure gallantry, he alleged,
+was the motive, but the Lady Maenz refused to
+view the matter in this innocent light, and angrily
+discarded her lover. Bertran was in despair; he
+knew, the manuscript says, ‘that he could never
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>regain her, or find another lady so beautiful, so
+good, so gentle, and so learned.’ In this dilemma
+Bertran had recourse to the following pretty conceit
+of gallantry. Whether he had heard the story
+of the Athenian artist who, from the combined
+charms of the most beautiful women, moulded the
+type of the Goddess of Love, seems doubtful;
+but the coincidence of ideas between the troubadour
+and the antique sculptor is striking. For Bertran
+de Born, the biographer tells us, went to the most
+beautiful ladies of the country asking from each the
+loan of her greatest charm (metaphorically it must
+be understood), and from these he reconstructed the
+ideal type of his lost love. The poem in which this
+is done is a model of grace and gallantry, flattering
+alike to the divers ladies whose beauties are commemorated,
+and to the one who in her being concentrates
+and surpasses the charms of all others.</p>
+
+<p>But her heart was unmoved, and, in a fit of
+amorous despair we must suppose, the troubadour
+now offered his services as knight and poet to
+another lady, complaining at the same time bitterly
+of the cruelty of his former love. His offer was not
+accepted, neither was it disdainfully rejected. It
+would have been a breach of courtesy and good
+faith to deprive a lady of her lover, and much as the
+Lady Tibors (this was the name of Bertran’s new
+flame) may have been desirous of the praise of one
+of the greatest troubadours of the time, she resisted
+the temptations of vanity. Her answer to Bertran
+is a model of good sense; at the same time it
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>smacks a little of that technical pedantry with which
+the ladies of Provence were wont to treat difficult
+cases of love. ‘Either,’ said the Lady Tibors,
+‘your quarrel is of a slight and temporary kind—and
+in that case I will try to effect your peace with your
+lady; or else you have been guilty of a serious
+offence towards her—and, if so, neither I nor any
+good lady ought to accept your services. But in
+case I find on inquiry that your lady has left you
+from fickleness and caprice, I shall be honoured by
+your love.’ The first of these surmises fortunately
+turned out to be true. By the interference of Lady
+Tibors the lovers’ quarrel was settled, and in commemoration
+of the event Bertran was ordered to
+write a song in which he declares his immutable
+love for Lady Maenz, paying at the same time a
+grateful and graceful tribute to the kind peacemaker.</p>
+
+<p>This is all we hear of the beautiful Lady Maenz.
+But Bertran appears presently as the passionate
+admirer of another lady, of much more exalted rank.
+It must have been soon after his reconciliation with
+Count Richard that the troubadour met in his camp
+the Count’s sister Mathilda, the wife of the celebrated
+Duke Henry of Brunswick. The inflammable
+heart of the poet caught fire at her beauty,
+and his enthusiastic praise seems to have been
+received with much condescension. It tends to
+prove Bertran’s importance that it was by Richard’s
+express desire that his sister showed kindness to the
+troubadour, who, the manuscript adds, ‘was a renowned
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>man and valorous, and might be of great
+use to the Count.’ In the praise of Mathilda Bertran
+wrote several beautiful <i>canzos</i>, one of which is
+particularly remarkable for an allusion in the first
+line to so prosaic a subject as dinner—the poem
+having been composed, it is said, one Sunday when
+that meal failed to be forthcoming at the ill-provided
+camp.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to these amorous entanglements
+Bertran was also married, although neither he nor
+his biographer deigns to mention so unimportant
+a personage as his wife. We know, however, that
+his children at Bertran’s death came to a compromise
+with their uncle Constantine as to the possession of
+Castle Autafort and its dependencies. One of his
+sons inherited with his father’s name some of his
+father’s poetic talent and, it appears, all his fierce
+passions. By this younger Bertran de Born, who
+has sometimes been mistaken for the great poet, we
+possess a <i>sirventes</i> against King John worthy of the
+paternal example. The luckless king is mercilessly
+assaulted. The loss of his continental possessions
+is attributed to cowardice and irresolution, and the
+king’s immoderate love of the chase does not escape
+notice. The barons also come in for their share of
+vituperation. In fact everything is done <i>more patrio</i>.
+Bertran died at an advanced age, having entered a
+monastery not long before his death.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the not inappropriate close of a life
+passed in the wildest turmoil of political strife. As
+a type of the warlike mediæval baron, reckless and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>ruthless, Bertran stands unsurpassed in history or
+literature. But we have seen that the refining and
+softening influences of friendship, of love, of knightly
+courtesy, were not wholly absent from his career.</p>
+
+<p>Another consideration suggests itself. Would it
+not be worth while for the authorities of the Record
+Office to secure a competent hand to glean from the
+biography of this and other troubadours the many
+important and hitherto totally neglected facts bearing
+on the continental policy of the Plantagenets?</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE MONK OF MONTAUDON.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Of the life of the Monk of Montaudon the old
+manuscripts tell us little. We are ignorant even of
+his name, and only know that he was descended
+from a noble family residing at Castle Vic in
+Auvergne. Being a younger son he was, as the biography
+naïvely puts it, ‘made a monk of,’ and entered
+the Abbey of Orlac (Aurillac), in the vicinity of his
+father’s castle; some time afterwards he became
+Prior of Montaudon. Soon, however, it became
+apparent that the cowl had not made the monk; he
+began to compose gay stanzas and satiric <i>sirventeses</i>
+on the events of the day. The knights and barons
+of the adjacent castles were pleased with the poet’s
+gay, genial ways. They asked him to feasts and
+tournaments, and rewarded his songs with rich gifts,
+conscientiously remitted by him to the treasury of
+his cloister; a circumstance which goes far to explain
+the leniency with which his superiors looked on his
+infringements of the monastic rules. At last the
+monk asked permission of the Abbot of Orlac to
+regulate his way of living according to the commands
+of King Alfonso of Aragon, known to us as the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>revenger of Guillem de Cabestanh’s death, and a
+great protector and friend of troubadours in general.
+The granting of this comprehensive prayer tends to
+prove at once the lucrativeness of the monk’s poetic
+endeavours, and the considerate tolerance of the
+worthy prelate. For no sooner was the permission
+given than Alfonso bade the monk eat meat, compose
+gay songs, and court the favour of a lady. ‘Et el
+si fes,’ ‘and so he did,’ the manuscript adds significantly.</p>
+
+<p>There were held at that time certain gay assemblies
+at Puy Sainte Marie, where the noble ladies
+and gentlemen of many miles round met for a season
+to enjoy courteous pastimes. The knights measured
+their strength in the lists, the troubadours sang their
+sweetest <i>canzos</i> for prizes, made more valuable by
+the beautiful hands which distributed them. At this
+gay court the Monk of Montaudon was now created
+master of the revels, and in this capacity had to
+hold the celebrated sparrow-hawk, a time-honoured
+ceremony, performed by him with portly dignity, we
+may imagine. At the beginning of each of these
+annual feasts the ‘Master of the Court of Puy’ stood
+in the midst of the noble guests, took a sparrow-hawk
+on his fist, and calmly waited till one of the
+great barons relieved him of his burden. The acceptance
+of the bird involved the obligation of
+bearing the not inconsiderable expenses of the whole
+feast, and was therefore the exclusive privilege of
+the richest and most liberal nobles. Perhaps it was
+owing to this pretty but frequently ruinous custom
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>that the Court of Puy itself came to an untimely end.
+After its expiration the Monk of Montaudon went
+to Spain, where his abbot conferred upon him the
+dignity of Prior of Villafranca, in acknowledgment,
+most likely, of his exemplary life. This monastery,
+also, the monk enriched with the gifts of his literary
+patrons. He lived to an advanced age, and died
+much esteemed and loved by his brethren. He
+flourished about the end of the twelfth century.</p>
+
+<p>From this short sketch of the monk’s life some
+anticipatory notion of his poetry may be formed.
+There is in his works a spirit of freshness and
+animal vigour which ought somewhat to atone for a
+considerable admixture of grossness in thought and
+expression. Whatever the poet’s faults may be,
+hypocrisy is not amongst them; and, to leave no
+doubt whatever as to his tastes, he has dedicated
+three entire songs of moderate size to the enumeration
+of all the things in the world which excite his
+just displeasure. A fourth and supplementary poem
+describes the more agreeable aspects of life by way
+of contrast. This <i>catalogue raisonné</i> of lights and
+shadows is exceedingly curious, and outspoken
+beyond the imagination and endurance of polite
+minds and ears.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst the most detestable things, the monk
+ranks quarrelsome and arrogant people, a halting
+horse, a young knight without a rent in his shield,
+a monk with a long beard, a proud though poor
+lady, and finally, an over-affectionate husband.
+This last point is again highly characteristic of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>Provençal conception of marriage already referred
+to. Our poet also abhors a small piece of meat in a
+large dish; and that a little wine with a great
+quantity of water is not to his taste, we would
+willingly believe without the testimony of St. Martin,
+solemnly invoked. His culinary principles being
+thus established, the monk proceeds to take us into
+his confidence with regard to the tender secrets of
+his heart. We conclude, from his confessions, that
+he has met with some ill-treatment at the hands of
+those members of the fair sex who, although of
+maturer beauty, have not yet abandoned their
+claims to admiration. Only personal experience
+can account for the poet’s bitter resentment. Three
+times he returns to the point, growing more venomous
+with every new attack. In one instance he
+goes so far as to use the ungallant expression,
+‘Vielha caserna’—old barracks.</p>
+
+<p>In this manner he goes on grumbling and complaining
+of contrary winds when he wants to start on
+a voyage, of badly-lined fur caps, false friends, bad
+fiddlers, and other miscellaneous evils of this wicked
+world. A whole litany of saints is called to witness
+frequently on such precarious points, as to remind
+one of the Italian brigand, who prays to his
+Madonna previously to cutting purses or throats, as
+the case may be.</p>
+
+<p>But the monk is not an entire pessimist. His
+praise is as eloquent as his vituperation. He likes
+gaiety and carousals, courteous knights and noble
+ladies. A powerful man, he wishes to be friendly
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>to his friends, hostile to his foes. The same un-Christian
+sentiment is repeated still more emphatically
+in the further course of the poem.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">The hated foeman’s death I cherish,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The more, if by my hand he perish.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Milder impulses, however, are not wanting. In
+two charming, melodious stanzas the poet depicts
+the delights of a summer’s day passed with his love
+by the side of the murmuring brook, while the air is
+sweet with the fragrance of blossoms and the song
+of the nightingale. Truth compels me to confess,
+that in close juxtaposition to this charming idyl, the
+very material wish is expressed of having a ‘<i>grans
+salmos ad hora nona</i>’—that is, a large salmon for
+supper.</p>
+
+<p>The Monk of Montaudon, as the reader will
+perceive, was little given to sentimentality, and the
+love-songs which he wrote, in compliance with the
+custom of the time, show accordingly more cleverness
+than true feeling. They are, however, full of
+happy turns of expression, and particularly abound
+with well-chosen similes—a proof that the poet was
+by no means wanting in imagination. Nevertheless,
+it must be confessed that satire was his true field of
+action, and we are not surprised at seeing a man of
+his keen sense of ridicule turn this weapon against
+those objects of superlative romantic adoration—women.
+The weaknesses of the fair sex are indeed
+the theme of two remarkable <i>sirventeses</i> by our
+troubadour, which we now must consider a little
+more closely. They deserve attention, both by the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>original boldness of their satire and by the quaint
+disguise in which this main purpose is clad. The
+form adopted by the monk is that of a vision,
+familiar to the reader from those two great monuments
+of mediæval literature, the ‘Divina Commedia’
+and ‘Piers the Ploughman.’ Heaven itself, indeed,
+is the scene of the troubadour’s poem, but a
+heaven how different from the celestial abode to
+which the inspired Italian singer was welcomed by
+Beatrice!</p>
+
+<p>The Monk of Montaudon introduces us into the
+midst of a legal action, the cause of which is, I am
+almost ashamed to say, that immemorial privilege of
+the fair sex to counteract the ravages of time by the
+rosy bloom of artificial colour. The scene of the
+action, as has been seen before, is heaven; the
+Judge, the Deity itself; the monks act as accusers;
+the ladies are defendants. The painted cheeks of
+the latter are alleged to outshine the votive pictures
+in the monasteries. Painting, and the mixing of
+colours, the monks assert to be their own inventions,
+to the use of which the ladies have no claim or title.
+This monstrous allegation the ladies, of course,
+deny indignantly. Colouring, they say, is their
+natural birthright, and has been practised by them
+long before either monks or votive pictures were
+thought of.</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture a compromise is proposed by
+the bench, to the effect that ladies on the right side
+of twenty-five shall be allowed to retain the bloom
+of youth by what means they please for a further
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>term of twenty years. But the vicious monks refuse
+to grant more than ten years; and it is only by the
+intercession of those accomplished diplomats, SS.
+Peter and Lawrence, that a medium time of fifteen
+years is at last agreed upon by the contending
+parties. Forty years, then, is the limit up to which,
+to judge from this decision, a Provençal lady might,
+without incurring ridicule, play youthful parts in
+life’s comedy. ‘But,’ the monk adds, ‘I see that
+the ladies have broken their promise, which is unfair
+and wicked; few only have been faithful to their
+vow.’ He further enters upon a detailed enumeration
+of the various ingredients of paint which, by the way,
+seems to throw some new light on that interesting
+question in the history of mediæval art, the composition
+of colours previous to the introduction of the
+oil-medium. ‘The old monks,’ we hear, ‘are deprived
+of their beans, the only thing which they can eat;
+and they are therefore left without any food. The
+price of saffron also, which ought to be used for the
+sauces of <i>ragoûts</i>, has been driven up by the ladies
+to such a degree, that people over the sea begin to
+complain, as pilgrims tell us. Let the ladies take
+the cross, and go themselves to Palestine, to fetch
+the saffron of which they stand in such need.’</p>
+
+<p>In the second poem the ladies have been charged
+with the breach of the former treaty, and it seems
+that the monk has been summoned to heaven for a
+preparatory consultation. The Supreme Judge is
+indignant at such audacity. ‘Monk,’ he says, ‘I
+hear the ladies have broken their promise; go down,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>for the love of me, to tell them that if they again
+use colour, I shall take dire revenge.’ But the poet
+has evidently been under gentle pressure since the
+last trial. He now takes the part of the ladies in
+the warmest terms. ‘Gently, gently, my lord!’ he
+interposes; ‘you must have patience with the ladies,
+for it is their nature to sweetly adorn their countenance.’
+To this opinion he adheres with obstinacy.
+In vain it is alleged against him that the ladies, by
+trying to perpetuate their youth, infringe the unalterable
+laws of Nature. The monk is not to be
+shaken. There is only one alternative, he thinks—either
+to grant unfading beauty to the ladies, or else
+to deprive the whole human race of the art of
+painting.</p>
+
+<p>This is, in brief outline, the argument of two of
+the quaintest productions mediæval literature can
+show. The bold cynicism with which the delicate
+secrets of the dressing-room are revealed justly
+surprises us in a troubadour of noble family and
+liberal education; but much more are we astonished
+at the familiarity with which the Deity itself is
+mixed up with these worldly matters. It is true
+that, in the old Mysteries and Miracle-plays, tolerated
+and even countenanced by the Church, sacred topics
+are treated with a naïve simplicity strange to modern
+religious feeling. But the experienced eye can
+almost always discern the under-current of sacred
+awe at the bottom of the wildest outburst of popular
+imagination. Even the ‘Wanton Wife of Bath,’
+whose tongue is a match for all the saints in heaven,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>‘trembles at his sight,’ when the Saviour himself
+appears in his glory. This sacred tremor is entirely
+unknown to the Monk of Montaudon, who, moreover,
+as an artistic poet addressing a refined audience,
+is without the excuse of popular rudeness and
+ignorance. Yet I think we should be unjust in
+ascribing to him any conscious intention of blasphemy,
+or even irreverence. Supposing even he
+had been a sceptic, he was at the same time too
+much attached to life and its pleasures to parade his
+heresies at the risk of his neck. The only way of
+solving the psychological puzzle is to follow the
+ancient example of the monk’s superiors, and to
+make ample allowance for the reckless buoyancy of
+a poet’s fancy, difficult to check at a certain point
+when once let loose. To give an idea of the ease
+with which he moves in the celestial regions, I will
+quote the opening stanza of another poem, the tone
+of which reminds one somewhat of the ‘Prelude in
+Heaven’ of Goethe’s ‘Faust.’ It seems to have
+been written at a time when, after a prolonged stay
+at his monastery, the author was fain to set out on
+another expedition.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Up to heaven I found my way</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Lately: you may trust my word,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Welcome sweet bade me the Lord,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">He whose all-command obey</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Land and sea, and hill and dell.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Monk, why do you seek my throne?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tell me how fares Montaudon,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Where thy pious brethren dwell?</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The drift of the poem is easily discernible.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>Some of his monastic brethren had evidently
+remarked upon the poet’s worldly ways; and to
+silence these, the very highest authority is now
+brought to bear on the subject. This is the reassuring
+answer the monk receives to his pretended
+conscientious scruples: ‘I like you to laugh and
+sing, for the world grows merrier, and Montaudon
+gains through it.’ By such an argument, coming
+from such a quarter, the sourest of ascetics was
+reduced to acquiescence.</p>
+
+<p>A troubadour who, as we have seen, wholly
+disregarded the rules of courteous gallantry could
+not be expected to use much consideration where
+his own sex and his rivals in art were concerned.
+Accordingly, we find that one of the most venomous
+literary satires of that libel-loving age owes its
+existence to our author. It ought, however, to be
+mentioned, in justice to him, that another troubadour
+had set the example of wholesale abuse.
+The Monk of Montaudon’s <i>sirventes</i> is, indeed,
+avowedly founded on a similar production by Peire
+of Alvernhe, in which that distinguished poet gives
+vent to his affectionate feelings towards no less than
+twelve contemporary troubadours, some of them celebrated
+poets, others entirely unknown to us, but
+evidently men of considerable reputation at the
+time. One of his victims, the sweet singer of love,
+Bernart of Ventadorn, has been mentioned before.
+Of another no less renowned troubadour, Guiraut de
+Bornelh, it is said that ‘he resembles a dry blanket
+in the sun, with his thin, miserable voice, which
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>sounds like that of an old woman crying out water
+in the street. If he saw himself in a mirror [meaning,
+“as others see him”], he would not think himself
+worth a roseberry.’ In this manner Peire of Alvernhe
+goes on through twelve stanzas, battering down
+reputations in order to erect on their ruins the
+column of his own glory. ‘Peire of Alvernhe,’ he
+winds up, ‘has a fine voice, and can sing high and
+low, filling the air with sweetest sound. His would
+be the highest praise, but for the obscurity of his
+words, which hardly any one can understand.’ The
+candid reader who would see in this last qualification
+a remnant of modesty would be vastly mistaken;
+for a dark, involved style was considered by connoisseurs
+as the sign of highest genius, and it was
+chiefly to his <i>motz oscurs</i> (dark words) and <i>rims
+cars</i> (rare rhymes) that Arnaut Daniel owed that
+place of honour awarded to him in Petrarch’s beautiful
+lines—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Fra tutti il primo Arnaldo Daniello</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Gran maestro d’amor; ch’ alla sua terra</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ancor fa onor col suo dir nuovo e bello.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>It is satisfactory to notice that in Peire of
+Alvernhe’s case exceeding pride has met with due
+castigation. For in some of the manuscripts the
+opening lines of the self-laudatory stanza have been
+travestied by a witty copyist into a very differing
+meaning. ‘Peire of Alvernhe,’ this altered version
+reads, ‘sings like a frog in a pond, although he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>praises himself above all the world.’ The remainder
+of the stanza, however, has been left unaltered, for
+Peire’s high literary position was an undeniable fact.
+The manuscripts call him ‘the best troubadour in
+the world till Guiraut de Bornelh (his “dry blanket”)
+came,’ and Nostradamus relates that Peire found
+such favour with the ladies as to enjoy the privilege
+of kissing the fairest amongst his audience after
+each <i>canzo</i> he had sung.</p>
+
+<p>Such is the model the Monk of Montaudon has
+chosen, and it must be owned that the disciple is
+worthy of the master. The monk’s acquaintance with
+the most intimate details of his rivals’ biographies
+would do credit to a modern interviewer. ‘As
+Peire of Alvernhe,’ he begins, ‘has sung about the
+troubadours of past days, I am going to do the same
+for those that have come since, and I hope they
+won’t be angry with me for exposing their evil
+doings.’ And then he sallies forth on his crusade
+of abuse, devoting with laudible equality the space
+of six verses to each victim, ‘a character dead at
+every stanza,’ as Sir Peter Teazle would say. The
+reader will be glad to hear that no mercy is shown
+to Peire of Alvernhe. ‘He wears his coat these
+thirty years,’ we are told. ‘He is as lean as firewood,
+and his singing is getting worse and worse. Since
+he has joined company with a lewd woman at
+Clermont, he has not made a single good song.’
+‘Arnaut Daniel (Petrarch’s “great master of love”)
+has never in his life written anything tolerable, but
+only composed stuff which nobody can understand.’
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>Folquet of Marseilles, whose conversion from a gay
+troubadour to a religious zealot has been briefly
+mentioned before, is reminded that his father was a
+pedlar. ‘He swore a foolish oath when he said he
+would write no more songs, and it has been said that
+he consciously perjured himself.’</p>
+
+<p>But the most piercing darts of his quiver the
+monk reserves for a troubadour whose immeasurable
+vanity, almost bordering on madness, was indeed a
+tempting mark for the satirist. I am speaking of
+Peire Vidal, of whose life and works and follies the
+reader has had a full account. Only a few leading
+points need here be recapitulated.</p>
+
+<p>He was the son of a furrier, but had forgotten
+and made others forget his low origin. He believed
+himself to be an irresistible breaker of hearts, and
+had to pay dearly for his vain boasting of favours
+never granted. For a jealous husband, whose wife
+the Peire counted amongst his victims, had the poet’s
+tongue pierced, which, however, did not prevent the
+incorrigible braggart from continuing to call himself
+the dread of husbands, ‘who fear me worse than
+fire or pointed iron, God be thanked.’ At one time
+he took part in a crusade, and married a Greek lady
+at Cyprus, with whom he returned home. For
+some reason or other he imagined his wife to be the
+niece of the Greek Emperor, and, as her husband,
+claimed a right to the imperial throne. In the
+meantime he adopted the style and title of an
+Emperor, and even thought of equipping a fleet to
+enforce his right to the throne. His follies naturally
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>excited universal merriment, and we need not
+wonder at finding the Monk amongst the foremost of
+the scoffers. ‘Peire Vidal,’ he exclaims, ‘is one of
+the very last of poets. He has not got all his limbs,
+and a tongue of silver would be desirable for him.
+Once he was a miserable furrier, but since he has
+dubbed himself a knight he has lost his last remnant
+of wits.’</p>
+
+<p>In this strain the monk continues through fifteen
+stanzas, scattering abuse broadcast, and if his wit
+sometimes seems to desert him, it must, at least, be
+owned that his spite is genuine and unflagging.
+But in his case also the manuscripts contain an
+additional stanza of retributive justice, most likely
+by a later copyist. ‘With the sixteenth stanza,’ it
+says, ‘the false Monk of Montaudon will be satisfied,
+he who quarrels and fights with every one. He
+has deserted God for a flitch of bacon, and for his
+ever attempting to write <i>canzos</i> and verses he ought
+to be hung up in the wind.’</p>
+
+<p>Such was literary criticism amongst the troubadours—a
+not very edifying spectacle, upon which,
+the reader perhaps may think, too many words have
+been wasted already. So we will drop the curtain
+on the Monk of Montaudon, not without a good-natured
+smile at his weaknesses, nor without wonderment
+at an age which burnt and quartered thousands
+of virtuous Albigeois, and tolerated, or even approved
+of, such doings and such utterances in a
+monk.</p>
+
+<p>But, before leaving the subject finally, I must
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>warn the reader not to judge the general tone of the
+Provençal <i>sirventes</i> by the few examples of personal
+satire here specified. The troubadours grow, as
+Schiller says, with their greater purpose. In reproving
+the moral evils of their time, the decay of
+piety, the avarice of the great, the outrages of clerical
+pride, they frequently attain to an almost Dantesque
+power of conception and imagery. I know of few
+grander ideas in poetry than Marcabrun’s picture of
+the enormous tree, whose branches mingle with the
+clouds, whose roots spread down to mid-earth. To
+it are tied innumerable multitudes of all classes,
+from king to beggar. For the tree is the eternal
+evil of the world, and avarice and covetousness are
+the bonds which fetter mankind.</p>
+
+<p>But such objective depth of idea must not be
+expected from the Monk of Montaudon. He is a
+broadly humorous figure, and although characteristic
+in many ways of his time and country, he must not
+blind us to the serious currents of thought moving
+the age in which he lived, and the literature of which
+he represents one feature. We must look at him as
+one of those burlesque types by which the terrible
+seriousness of man’s life and thoughts is fortunately
+relieved at intervals—a product of nature’s creative
+humour in one of her most whimsical moods.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE REFORMATION OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The great struggle for religious liberty, which
+began with Huss and Wycliffe, culminated in the
+age of Luther, Calvin, and Cranmer, and continues to
+pervade modern thought and feeling, is apt to blind
+us to earlier movements in the same direction.
+The sixteenth century is so inseparably linked with
+our ideas of the Reformation, that to connect the
+word with a previous epoch seems almost like a
+paradox. But the intellectual night of the middle
+ages was not quite as dark as modern Protestant
+pride is apt to fancy, neither did nations and individuals
+bow without resistance to the yoke of Rome.
+The thirteenth century especially may be justly
+described as an epoch of religious revolution.
+Heresy raised its multifarious heads in all countries
+of Europe, from the Danubian principalities to the
+English shores of the Atlantic. Everywhere the
+vices of the clergy were laid bare with merciless
+satire, in many places the cry for liberty of thought
+and doctrine was raised, and the translation of the
+Bible into the language of the people is frequently
+found amongst the demands of heterodox theologians.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>And whatever the dissensions amongst the various
+sects might be, they were united in their hatred and
+opposition to the Church of Rome.</p>
+
+<p>This alarming circumstance was fully realised by
+the man to whose energy the resistance and final
+victory of Papal supremacy were in a great measure
+due, Pope Innocent III. Speaking of the various
+classes of heretics, he says: ‘Species quidem
+habentes diversas, sed caudas ad invicem colligatas....
+Magisterium Ecclesiae Romanae refugiunt.’
+As to the extraordinary knowledge of the Bible
+amongst some of the sects, another unimpeachable
+witness may be cited,—Reinerius, a Catholic convert
+and violent assailant of the Waldenses, who
+professes to have known a common peasant able to
+recite the whole of the book of Job, and several
+others who knew the New Testament by heart. It
+was not without reason, the reader will perceive,
+that about this time the Church became more and
+more anxious to wrench such a dangerous source of
+dissent and argumentation from the hands of the
+common people. Hence the notion, frequently
+insisted upon in ecclesiastical writings of the period,
+of the Bible being a book of unfathomable depth, all
+but incomprehensible to the greatest scholars, and
+useless, if not dangerous, to the vulgar.</p>
+
+<p>No country in those days offered a more favourable
+soil to the growth of heresy than the south of
+France. Its wealth, its practical independence from
+the central power of the French kings, and the
+natural spirit of its inhabitants, had fostered a degree
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>of local freedom all but unequalled in other parts
+of feudal Europe. Particularly the citizens of
+the large towns showed a remarkable spirit of
+pride and political ambition. As early as the
+thirteenth century, we hear of a legally constituted
+‘<i>tiers état</i>,’ consisting of delegates of the towns, at
+the provincial assemblies of the county of Toulouse.
+A population of this kind was not likely to bow in
+silent awe to a priesthood, the vices and weaknesses
+of which were notorious, and formed a favourite
+butt for the satire of the troubadours. The step from
+antagonism to the representatives of the Roman
+Church to the rejection of its doctrine was easy,
+and hence we are not surprised to see the south of
+France described as the brood-nest of foulest heresy;
+nay, even the Provençal language, or <i>langue d’oc</i>,
+was harsh and repulsive to orthodox ears, and, as
+was mentioned before, Pope Innocent IV., in a bull
+dated 1245, forbade its use to the students.</p>
+
+<p>The chief sect existing in the county of Toulouse
+and its dependencies derived its name from the
+town or diocese of Albi. But it must be remembered
+that Albigenses, or, in its French form,
+Albigeois, is a collective name used by the Catholics
+almost synonymously with heretics, and without
+regard to the most important doctrinal and moral
+variations. The Vaudois or Waldenses, for instance,
+although frequently mixed up with the Albigenses,
+seem to have had little in common with them beyond
+their opposition to Roman supremacy.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> My task
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>being a purely literary consideration of the subject,
+I must deal with the Albigeois doctrine in the briefest
+fashion. Our knowledge of that doctrine is, moreover,
+anything but satisfactory or complete, being
+mainly derived from the statements of Catholic
+controversialists, the confessions of heretics preserved
+amongst the documents of the Inquisition, and the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>decrees of councils and provincial synods. The
+fanaticism of mediæval monks seems to have
+been fatal to the utterances of their adversaries.
+We do not indeed possess a single authentic document
+from an Albigeois source, and the celebrated
+embodiment of the Vaudois creed, called ‘The
+Noble Lesson.’ which Raynouard dated from the
+eleventh century, is now generally acknowledged to
+belong to a much later period, when the sect was
+cooped up in its Alpine recesses, and had lost its
+real importance and vitality. It seems at any rate
+doubtful whether this curious document contains the
+pure doctrine of the original ‘Poor Men of Lyons.’</p>
+
+<p>From such sources as those indicated above, it
+may be concluded with tolerable certainty that the
+Albigenses were part of that great new-Manichean
+heresy, which, taking its rise amongst the Slav
+populations of the Balkan peninsula, gradually spread
+over almost every part of Western Europe, leaving
+traces of its name and aspirations in more than one
+modern language. The self-laudatory term of
+Cathari (from the Greek word καθαρός, pure) assumed
+by some of the heretics, was converted by the
+Germans into the generic term of ‘Ketzer,’ or
+heretic; and the Italian word ‘bugiardo,’ liar, is a
+lasting testimony of the repute in which Bulgarian
+veracity, deservedly or undeservedly, was held; not
+to mention other still more opprobrious epithets
+derived from the same root.</p>
+
+<p>In common with other new-Manichean sects, the
+Albigenses seem to have rejected a Trinity, and to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>have placed in its stead a dualism of creative principles:
+one good, the other evil; one representing
+the invisible and spiritual, the other the physical and
+tangible. More obnoxious perhaps than this merely
+speculative attempt at the solution of an old
+metaphysical problem must have been, in the eyes
+of Romish priests, those doctrines which more
+immediately clashed with Papal dogmas and rites.
+To these belong the abolishment of mass and sacraments,
+and of the veneration of the saints. The
+idea of transubstantiation the Albigenses treated
+with scorn, and, moreover, they founded this and
+other heterodox opinions on the exclusive authority
+of the Bible, or rather of the New Testament, for
+against the Hebrew books they had a strange prejudice.
+The spiritual tinge of their doctrine made
+them adverse to marriage or any form of sexual
+intercourse, from which indeed the initiated abstained
+totally. From a similar point of view we have to
+explain another of their moral precepts, viz., vegetarianism,
+founded not on the nature-worship of
+Buddhism, or on Shelley s humanitarian enthusiasm,
+but on the abhorrence of the flesh and everything
+procreated by the flesh. For the same reason the
+prohibition did not extend to fish.</p>
+
+<p>It is less apparent on what grounds they insisted
+upon another demand of modern philanthropists, the
+abolition of capital punishment. And it is not
+unlikely that our admiration of this almost unique
+instance of humanity in those cruel times would be
+considerably diminished by our knowledge of its
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>motive. Most probably some absurd theological
+crotchet was at the bottom of it. For in that
+respect mediæval heretics were by no means in
+advance of their Catholic contemporaries. One of
+the questions, for instance, hotly discussed by Pope
+Innocent III. and the heretics, was, whether the
+number of nails used at the Crucifixion was three or
+four. The heretics inclined to the lower figure, and
+were soundly rated for that reason by a learned
+controversialist, who denounces their doctrine as
+unworthy of Catholics and Christians.</p>
+
+<p>The charges of all manner of vices raised against
+the Albigeois by monkish chroniclers ought naturally
+to be received with great caution. Sometimes even
+these bear unwilling testimony to the general purity
+of their manners. It is said that on one occasion
+Folquet, the fanatical Bishop of Toulouse, asked
+a knight recently converted to Catholicism, why
+he and his friends did not drive the heretics from
+the country. ‘It is impossible,’ was the answer;
+‘we have grown up amongst them, our friends
+and relations are of them, and we know that they
+lead honest lives.’ It is, however, by no means
+improbable that the exaggerated asceticism of
+their moral code frequently led to secret vice and
+hypocrisy.</p>
+
+<p>The anecdote just related may at the same time
+give the reader an idea of the power and extension
+of the Provençal heresy, about the beginning of the
+thirteenth century, the period which chiefly concerns
+us here. It proves, and we know from other sources,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>that the sect was by no means limited to the lower
+orders. We hear, for instance, of a great teacher of
+the Albigeois, by name Guillabert de Castres, who
+had many followers amongst the highest nobility of
+Southern France. At one of his religious meetings,
+in 1204, he received amongst his flock five high-born
+ladies, one of them the sister of Count Raimon
+Roger of Foix, one of the most powerful lords of
+the country, of whom we shall hear again. The
+ladies, the old account runs, surrendered themselves
+to God and the Gospel. They consented to abstain
+from flesh, eggs, and cheese; the use of oil and fish,
+on the other hand, was conceded to them. They also
+promised never to take an oath nor to speak an
+untruth. Vows of perfect chastity, and of adherence
+to their creed at the risk of their lives, were further
+conditions of their reception amongst the faithful. The
+Count of Foix, and many knights and citizens, are said
+to have witnessed this conversion, and there is little
+doubt that the former himself followed, or perhaps
+had preceded, his sister’s example. But the same is
+not by any means certain of Raimon VI., Count of
+Toulouse, the champion of the national and religious
+freedom of Southern France. There is little evidence
+with regard to him of even an inclination
+towards the doctrinal views of the heretics, and he
+died a faithful son of the Catholic Church, although
+she refused him her comfortings in his last hours,
+and a grave after death. But it is just this orthodoxy
+of his dogmatical opinions which makes his
+position in the struggle so interesting. He is an
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>almost unique instance in the middle ages of a strict
+adherent, nay a martyr, to religious toleration.</p>
+
+<p>Raimon VI. was not, like his friend the Count of
+Foix, a fighting baron in the ordinary sense. His
+personal courage on the battle-field was unimpeachable,
+but he did not love the fight for the fight’s sake.
+When the spreading of the heresy in his territories,
+fostered by his leniency, first began to alarm the
+watchfulness of Rome, he did everything in his
+power to avoid the thunders of the Church. Many
+were the penances and humiliations and promises of
+amendment to which he submitted without much
+personal reluctance, it would seem. But all attempts
+at a final reconciliation were frustrated by his one
+unalterable resolve, not to give over his subjects to
+the tender mercies of the Inquisition. Their safety
+and freedom were to him dearer than his lands and
+castles, more sacred even than the vows extracted
+from him under compulsion. Much fault may be
+found with Raimon’s general conduct in these transactions;
+even in his noble principle of toleration he
+may have been influenced by the ties of relationship
+and other personal motives. But the fact remains,
+that at a time when heretics were treated worse than
+robbers and murderers, a great prince struggled and
+fought, at the risk of his life and property, for the
+religious freedom of his subjects, whose belief he did
+<i>not</i> share.</p>
+
+<p>Raimon’s great antagonist—intellectually, and
+perhaps morally, infinitely his superior—was Pope
+Innocent III. He is one of those characters in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>history which leave their impress on periods of
+which they at the same time represent the highest
+development in one direction or another. Without
+him the Church of Rome might have succumbed to
+the aggressions of temporal and spiritual enemies,
+but neither would he have been possible except as
+the representative of a great spiritual power, full of
+latent vitality, and with a strong hold on the minds
+of the people. The one great idea of his life was
+the consolidation and enlargement of the Church,
+with regard to its dogma, its discipline, and its political
+power. To this aim he devoted the energy of his
+mind and the great stores of his acquired knowledge;
+to it he sacrificed his personal interests, perhaps his
+conscience. For, even accepting his own standard
+of duty, it is difficult to justify at least the one act
+of his reign which concerns us most immediately.
+This is, the diverting of the enthusiasm which found
+its tangible result in the Crusades, from the Turk,
+the common enemy of Christianity, to a comparatively
+harmless sect in his more immediate neighbourhood.
+I am alluding to the celebrated crusade
+preached by him against the Provençal heretics,
+fatal alike to the political freedom and to the independent
+literature of Southern France.</p>
+
+<p>When Innocent, in 1198, at the early age of
+thirty-seven, ascended the chair of St. Peter, one of
+his first desires was to impart new life to the hitherto
+somewhat sluggish action against the Albigenses.
+The bishops of the threatened dioceses were admonished
+to take immediate and energetic measures,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>and a number of Papal legates were successively
+despatched to stem the current of heresy by preaching,
+personal persuasion, and, if need be, severe
+repression. Amongst the priests most devoted to
+the cause of Rome, and most fanatical in their
+orthodox zeal, two names stand out prominently—that
+of Folquet, Bishop of Toulouse, once a gay
+troubadour, now an ascetic; and that of St. Dominic,
+branded by history as the originator of the Inquisition.</p>
+
+<p>Count Raimon’s attitude in the meantime seems
+to have been one of diplomatic evasion. When
+taken to task for his notorious connivance at the
+heretical movement, he meekly confessed his guilt,
+and promised the immediate expulsion of the culprits
+from his dominions. But no result followed;
+not even after the severest punishment of the
+Church, the Interdict, had been twice inflicted on
+him and his subjects. The instrument of the Papal
+wrath on the second occasion was Pierre de Castelnau,
+the legate; and his death at the hands of two
+unknown assassins, with which Count Raimon was
+charged, is the tragic close of the first scene of the
+Albigeois drama.</p>
+
+<p>This event gave new zest to the extreme
+measure resolved upon by the Pope shortly before—the
+preaching of a crusade against the heretics and
+their protector. The political wisdom of such a
+measure is at once apparent, and fully accounts
+for its ultimate success. The fertile valleys and
+wealthy cities of Provence offered a tempting bait to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>pious plunderers, who at the same time avoided a
+wearisome and dangerous journey to the far East
+without losing any of the spiritual privileges connected
+with the more onerous task. Moreover, the
+Papal mandate was chiefly addressed to the ruler and
+the nobles of the French kingdom, who for a long
+time had looked with a covetous eye on the broad
+acres and rich vineyards of their southern neighbours.</p>
+
+<p>The year 1209 marks the opening of the first
+crusade. The legates of the Pope guided the sacred
+army. Amongst the worldly leaders, the name of
+Simon de Montfort, father of the celebrated Earl of
+Leicester, is the most prominent. The incidents of
+this war, which lasted over twenty years, and laid
+waste the most flourishing provinces of France, are
+matter of history. Suffice it here to allude briefly to
+the revolting cruelties of the crusaders, and to such
+memorable events as the sieges of Lavaur and
+Beziers, and the decisive battle of Muret, at which
+Peter II. of Aragon, the brother-in-law and ally of
+Count Raimon, perished with the flower of his
+chivalry. It was at the sack of Beziers that that
+man of God, Arnaud, Abbot of Citeaux, when
+asked by the soldiers how to distinguish Catholics
+and heretics, spoke the pious words: ‘Kill them all;
+the Lord will know his own!’</p>
+
+<p>In the end, the Church remained triumphant.
+Raimon died with a broken heart and a broken
+fortune. His valour in the field of battle had been
+in vain; even his most humiliating attempts at
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span>reconciliation with the Roman See had come to
+naught, owing, in great part, to the personal hatred
+of the legates and local clergy, who, out-heroding
+Herod, frustrated the milder intentions of the Pope.
+It ought to be added, in alleviation of the guilt of the
+priests, that religious intolerance was supported in this
+case by worldly ambition and covetousness. The crusade
+soon took the form of a political war between the
+North and the South of France; it was a struggle of
+provincial autonomy against centralisation. This
+issue also was gained by the invaders. As early as
+1215, the lands of the Count of Toulouse were by
+the Pope given to his champion, Simon de Montfort,
+who, it is true, never enjoyed their quiet possession,
+and died in the defence of his ill-gotten title. By
+his eldest son, Amaury, these claims were ceded to
+the King of France, who in the meantime had taken
+a prominent part in the crusade. In the final peace
+concluded with the crown of France at Paris, in 1229,
+Count Raimon VII., son of Raimon VI., barely succeeded
+in retaining possession of the scanty remains
+of his heritage during his own lifetime. His daughter
+and heiress was married to the brother of the King
+of France. This marriage sealed the doom of
+southern independence; its customs, its traditions,
+and its literature were rapidly merged in the overpowering
+influence of northern centralisation. The
+<i>langue d’oc</i> descended to the level of a local patois.</p>
+
+<p>It is sad to relate that the last recorded action of
+Raimon VII. was his personal attendance at the conviction
+and burning alive of eighty heretics. With
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>the Treaty of Paris, the last hope of the Albigeois
+movement had vanished, and its remnants were
+gradually hunted down by the bloodhounds of the
+Inquisition, now an established institution in beautiful
+Provence.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE EPIC OF THE CRUSADE.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>On the tombstone of Count Raimon VI. the following
+two lines, in Provençal, were engraved:—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Non y a homes sus terra, per gran senhor que fos,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quem gites de ma terra, si la glieza non fos;</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">that is—‘No man on earth, how great a lord he
+may be, can drive me from my land but for the
+Church.’ These lines are taken from a narrative of
+the crusade against the Albigenses, in the <i>langue
+d’oc</i>—a work equally interesting as a contemporary
+source of history, and as a literary document. In
+the latter respect alone it concerns us here, and the
+reader is asked to consider the preceding historic
+remarks mainly as a necessary elucidation of the following
+extracts. A few dates as to the genesis and
+character of the poem itself may perhaps be welcome.</p>
+
+<p>The ‘Song of the Crusade against the Albigeois’
+is evidently written by an eye-witness of many of
+the events described, and was, no doubt, at its first
+appearance, what we should call a most successful
+book. Its popularity is proved by the quotation
+already alluded to, as also by the fact that at an early
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>date an abridgment of its contents in prose, for more
+popular use, was found necessary. In spite of this,
+only one manuscript&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> of the poem has reached our
+time. It was edited amongst the ‘Documents
+inédits sur l’histoire de France,’ by the well-known
+scholar, M. Fauriel, in 1837. The author of the
+poem is by no means reticent as to his identity or
+merits. ‘In the name of the Father, the Son, and
+the Holy Ghost,’ he opens his poem, after the manner
+of his time, ‘here begins the song which Master
+W(illiam) made; a clerk who was brought up at
+Tudela, in Navarra. He is wise and valorous, as
+the story says, and he was much cherished by clerks
+and laymen. Counts and viscounts loved him, and
+trusted his advice, owing to the destruction which he
+knew and foresaw by means of geomancy, which he
+had studied long. And he knew that the country
+would be burnt and laid waste, because of the foolish
+belief it had adopted.’</p>
+
+<p>But in spite of this emphatic declaration, M.
+Fauriel saw reason to call in question not only the
+authorship, but the very existence of the wise clerk
+of Tudela. The pretension of proficiency in the
+black art boldly put forward, seemed to him a suspicious
+circumstance, and his doubt was confirmed
+by linguistic difficulties, into which we cannot enter
+here. These latter, however, have been conclusively
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>solved by more recent scholars, and William’s posthumous
+fame would be securely established, but for
+another circumstance fatal to at least part of his
+claim. Fauriel already had pointed out that after
+about the first third of the poem—at verse 2769
+later scholars have determined—a sudden change
+takes place in the author’s opinions. Hitherto he
+has been a warm defender of the crusaders; the
+French invaders are called ‘our French barons,’ and
+the author would be thankful to any one ‘who would
+hang those robbers and villains who kill the crusaders.’
+Folquet, the zealous Bishop of Toulouse,
+seems to him to have ‘no equal in kindness’
+(‘degus de bontat ab el no s’aparelha’); and Simon
+de Montfort, the great enemy of Provence, is described
+as a ‘good cavalier, liberal and brave and
+kindly, sweet-tempered and open-hearted, and of
+good understanding.’ The heretical creed the author
+calls, as has been said, a ‘fola crezensa,’ and the full
+measure of his wrath is emptied on its adherents.
+He complacently relates the cruelties committed
+against them, and objects only to the indiscriminate
+slaughter of innocent and guilty.</p>
+
+<p>But all this is changed in the second portion of
+the poem. The French have now become ‘homicides’
+and ‘men of the sword;’ sometimes even the
+uncomplimentary epithet of ‘taverners,’ or pothouse-keepers,
+is applied to them. Folquet is summarily
+alluded to as the ‘avesque felon,’ or ‘wicked
+bishop;’ and the Pope himself is reproached with
+his cruelty to Raimon. But the most striking contrast
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>between the two portions of the poem becomes
+apparent in the judgment of Simon de Montfort’s
+character. The author’s hatred against him in the
+second part vents itself in bitterest invective, and is
+not appeased by death itself. The description of
+the great leader’s fall in our poem is extremely
+vivid; it is painted with the colours of hatred. At
+the same time the triumph at the enemy’s fall bears
+involuntary witness to his greatness. Simon is
+besieging Toulouse, the rebellious capital of the
+dominions lately granted to him by the Pope, and the
+author describes an assault made by the crusaders,
+and valiantly repelled by the inhabitants. Montfort,
+incensed at the little progress made by his troops, is
+complaining to his brother, who has just been hit by
+an arrow. There was in the city, the author continues,
+a machine for throwing stones, worked by
+women, both girls and matrons. A stone is thrown,
+and goes ‘straight where it ought to go.’ This
+‘ought to go’ is an admirable trait of the fatalism of
+hatred. ‘It hits,’ the author continues, evidently
+gloating over the details, ‘Count Simon on his
+helmet, with such force that his eyes and brain, and
+the top of his head, and his forehead, and his jaws,
+are knocked to pieces. And the Count falls to the
+ground, dead, and bleeding, and black.’</p>
+
+<p>The terror and grief caused by this sudden
+event amongst the crusaders are then briefly alluded
+to, but the author is again in his element when he
+describes the unbounded joy of the besieged, fully
+shared by himself. The suggestions of making a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span>martyr and saint of Simon, in his epitaph, the author
+treats with the utmost scorn. ‘If by killing men,’
+he says, ‘and shedding blood, by destroying souls and
+consenting to murder, by trusting in false counsels
+and by incendiarism, by ruining the barons and
+shaming nobility, by fostering evil and crushing good,
+by the massacre of women and children, one can
+gain Jesus Christ in this world, then Simon must
+wear a crown and shine in heaven.’</p>
+
+<p>It is difficult to believe that the same hand which
+thus heaped shame on Simon’s grave should have
+penned the eulogistic lines of the first part of the
+poem, particularly if one considers that the change of
+opinion from the particular point formerly alluded to
+coincides with certain metrical and dialectical variations
+totally overlooked by Fauriel, but since pointed
+out by M. Paul Meyer. The theory of there being
+only one author, however, has by no means been
+totally abandoned. Its champions explain the revolution
+in the poet’s feeling partly from the impression
+made on him by the cruelties of the invaders, partly
+from a change in his situation during the interval
+of several years, which undoubtedly lies between the
+end of the first and the commencement of the second
+part of his work. Into the philological details of
+this interesting controversy this is not the place to
+enter. Suffice it to say that, all things considered,
+the dualistic supposition seems to be decidedly the
+more probable of the two, both on external and internal
+grounds.</p>
+
+<p>One or two specimens from the interesting poem
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>must serve the reader to judge of the poetic gift of
+William, or whoever the author or authors may have
+been. It has already been said that in his dealings
+with Count Raimon the conduct of Innocent III.
+himself was marked by greater leniency than that of
+his legates. This feature in the Pope’s character
+has suggested to our author a most curious scene,
+which he introduces into his elaborate account of the
+Council of the Lateran in 1215. Raimon of Toulouse,
+the Count of Foix, and several others of the
+threatened nobles of Provence, attended personally
+to plead their cause before the Holy Father. The
+legates and many of the local clergy of the south of
+France—the implacable Folquet, Bishop of Toulouse,
+foremost amongst them—upheld the claims of
+Simon de Montfort. A long and passionate dispute
+on the subject between the Count of Foix and the
+Bishop of Toulouse is given verbatim. The Pope
+tries to quiet them. ‘Friends, justice shall be done,’
+he exclaims. At last he retires for a few minutes to
+his orchard. But the zealous prelates will not let
+him rest. The Pope asks for a few minutes of reflection.
+He opens a book, and concludes from the
+passage that first meets his eye that the Count of
+Toulouse may yet hold his own. ‘My lords,’ he
+says to the prelates, ‘I cannot agree with you.
+How can I disinherit the Count, who is a true
+Catholic?’ But the prelates do not, it appears,
+believe in book messages. They clamour against
+the sentence, and Folquet, the most dangerous of all,
+unites his sweet persuasion with their violent remonstrance.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>The Archbishop of Auch and—awful to
+relate—three hundred cardinals follow suit. No
+wonder that the poor Pope at last grants the decree
+in Simon’s favour. ‘My lords,’ he finally exclaims,
+‘the cause is decided. The Count (Raimon) is
+a Catholic, and of loyal conduct; but let Simon hold
+the lands.’</p>
+
+<p>These speeches cannot be accepted in their literal
+meaning, any more than those found in the pages of
+Xenophon or Thucydides. The circumstance also
+of the Pope deciding clearly and confessedly against
+his own conscience is evidently the high-coloured
+statement of a partisan of the oppressed Count.
+(The scene, it must be remembered, occurs in the
+second and anti-clerical division of the poem.) But
+the incidents are related with so much freshness of
+individual characterisation that the author’s intimate
+acquaintance with the persons and events described
+cannot be doubted for a moment. At any rate it is
+a quaint picture, and not without historic significance,
+to see the great Pontiff, the breaker of thrones and
+the umpire of nations, quailing under the storm of
+fanaticism raised by himself. Moreover, the idea
+which suggested the situation to the poet is not without
+its grain of sober truth. For, as has already
+been said, it is an historic fact that Innocent III. on
+several occasions showed an unfortunately abortive
+desire to protect Raimon against the unfettered rage
+of legates and monks.</p>
+
+<p>From the council-chamber we follow our author
+to the battle-field. Here, also, he is perfectly at
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>home, and his descriptions, although naturally less
+attractive as regards psychological observation, are
+none the less vigorous and interesting. There is the
+true ring of the ‘chanson de geste,’ the genuine
+popular epic, in his lines. A few historic remarks
+must precede our quotation. The reader will remember
+the name of Peter II., the valiant king of
+Aragon, whose sister was the wife of Raimon of
+Toulouse. Although by no means favourably inclined
+towards the heretics, Peter could not calmly
+look on while his brother-in-law was despoiled of
+his heritage. His attempts at mediation between
+Raimon and Simon de Montfort were many. He
+appealed to the Pope and the King of France. At
+last, when his peaceful efforts proved in vain, he resolved
+to brave temporal and eternal perils rather
+than forsake his friend. He assembled a large army,
+and in September 1213 joined his forces with those
+of the Count of Toulouse. The immediate object
+of the allies was the siege of Muret, a small fortified
+town, not far from Toulouse, into which Simon had
+thrown himself. I now leave the word to the old
+chronicler.</p>
+
+<p>‘The good King of Aragon, on his good charger,
+is come to Muret, and has raised his banner and laid
+siege to the town with many rich vassals whom he
+has called from their fiefs. He has brought with
+him the flower of Catalonia, and many great knights
+from Aragon. They think that no one will offer
+resistance to them, or dare to attack them. He
+sends a message to the husband of his sister at
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>Toulouse to join him with his barons and his army
+and his warlike men. He (the king) is ready to restore
+their fiefs to the Count of Cominges and all his relations;
+after that he will go to Beziers, and from
+Montpelier to Rocamador he will not leave a single
+crusader in castle or tower. All shall die a miserable
+death. The brave Count, when he hears the message,
+is well pleased, and goes straight to the
+Capitol.’</p>
+
+<p>The next tirade&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> relates to the deliberations of the
+Count of Toulouse with the chief magistrates of his
+city, whom, in accordance with the freedom enjoyed
+by the burgesses of Provence, he has to consult on
+this important occasion. It further describes the
+departure of the army, and winds up with a truly
+epical prognostication of their tragic fate. ‘They
+arrive before Muret, where they were to lose all
+their own; so much beautiful armour and so many
+valiant men. Great pity it was, so help me God,
+and the whole world felt the loss.’</p>
+
+<p>‘The whole world felt the loss, believe me I
+speak truth. Paradise itself was shaken and damaged
+and all Christendom shamed and downcast. But
+listen, sirs, how the thing came to pass. Assembled
+are at Muret the good King of Aragon and the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>Count of St. Giles, with his barons, and all the
+citizens and commonalty of Toulouse. They mount
+their stone-throwing machines, and batter the walls
+of Muret on all sides. They enter the new town all
+together, and the French who are there are so hard
+pressed that they have all to seek shelter in the
+castle. At once a messenger is sent to the king.
+“Sir King of Aragon, know for true that the men of
+Toulouse have done so well that, by your leave, they
+have taken the city. They have destroyed the
+houses, and driven the French into the castle.”
+When the king hears this he is not well pleased.
+He goes to the consuls of Toulouse and admonishes
+them to leave the men of Muret in peace. “We
+should be foolish,” he says, “in taking the town, for
+I have had a letter—a sealed message—to say that
+Simon de Montfort will to-morrow enter the town,
+and when he is once enclosed in it, and when my
+cousin Nunos has arrived, we will attack the town
+on all sides, and take all the French and crusaders
+captive.”’</p>
+
+<p>The troops vacate Muret accordingly, and retire
+to their tents. They have hardly sat down to dinner
+when Simon, with a band of chosen knights, appears
+and at once enters the city. ‘The river was shining
+with their helmets and their blades as if it were made
+of crystal. Never, by St. Martial, were so many
+brave vassals seen among so small a band.’</p>
+
+<p>The night is passed by the two armies in
+preparations for the morrow’s combat. Disagreement
+reigns in the camp of the allies. In the council
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>of war the Count of Toulouse, who does not wish to
+risk a pitched battle with his army of citizens, and
+advises the fortification of the camp, is cried down
+by hot-headed fools, and no plan is finally agreed
+upon. The confusion of the leaders naturally grows
+worse confounded amongst the motley crowd of
+soldiers and ill-trained citizens. Simon de Montfort’s
+scheme, on the other hand, is devised with masterly
+skill. He desires what Count Raimon tries to avoid—a
+pitched battle in the open country. Bishop
+Folquet gives his blessing to the departing army.
+The catastrophe foreshadowed in the manner alluded
+to is told briefly, in accordance with the rapidity of
+the actual disaster.</p>
+
+<p>‘They (the French) march straight to the tents
+across the fens, their banners floating in the air.
+The whole meadow is resplendent with their gilt
+armour. When the good King of Aragon sees them
+he awaits them with a small number of followers.
+But the people of Toulouse come running by. They
+listen neither to king nor count. They never hear a
+word till the French are come, who all rush to where
+they know the king to be. He cries out, “I am the
+king,” but they hear him not, and so cruelly is he
+wounded, that his blood is shed over the land, and
+there he fell down, at full length, dead. The others
+who behold him give themselves over for lost.
+Every one flies. No one defends himself. The
+French follow at their heels and kill them all. And
+so roughly have they handled them that those who
+escape with their lives think themselves delivered
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>indeed.’ A general stampede of the men of Toulouse,
+who had remained in the camp, and many of whom
+are now drowned in the swollen waves of the
+Garonne, forms the closing scene of this wild battle
+piece. ‘All their goods,’ the poet once more complains,
+‘remained in the camp, and the loss was
+greatly felt all the world over. For many a man
+there remained lying on the ground quite dead.
+Great is the pity!’</p>
+
+<p>Such is the description of the battle of Muret by
+a contemporary, most likely an eye-witness. For
+here again the characters of the different leaders,
+their speeches, and their demeanour, are sketched
+with a boldness of individualisation which can have
+been derived from personal knowledge alone. As
+a historic source, the work under discussion is
+absolutely invaluable. English students especially
+ought to give it every attention. For the struggle
+which it describes involved questions of the utmost
+importance to the continental dependencies of the
+English crown.</p>
+
+<p>It ought to be added, that the battle of Muret
+was a fatal blow to Raimon’s cause, from which it
+never recovered. For years he continued the fight;
+but it was a struggle against fate, a hope against
+hope. A different issue of that day might have
+changed the development of France. It might
+also have given new and lasting vitality to the Reformation
+of the thirteenth century.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">FOLQUET OF MARSEILLES.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The question remains to be asked,—which side did
+the troubadours take in this struggle? Did they
+prove themselves to be men of mettle in a contest in
+which their own literary existence was at stake no
+less than the freedom of their country? Both these
+questions can, with a very few exceptions, be answered
+in their favour; as a class, they stood to the
+cause of their natural friend and protector; and it
+must be remembered that that cause at the time was
+identical with religious toleration and opposition to
+the tyranny of Rome. With the theological side of
+the contest the troubadours, however, did not
+concern themselves much; it was their duty and joy
+to lash the vices of the priests with their satire, and
+to defend their country and their beautiful language
+against French intrusion; the subtleties of dualism
+and doketism they wisely avoided. It is true that
+the great Peire Cardinal once ventured to speak on
+the mooted point of purgatory and eternal punishment;
+but we shall presently see how untheological,
+or, which is the same, how purely human, was his
+interest in the subject. It seems, indeed, doubtful
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>whether many of the troubadours espoused the
+opinions of their Albigeois countrymen. Of some
+of the fiercest antagonists of the priests we know
+the contrary, and of one troubadour only, Aimeric
+de Pegulhan, we are told parenthetically that he
+died in Italy, ‘en eretgia segon c’om ditz’—‘a
+heretic, as people say.’</p>
+
+<p>Of the few troubadours prominently mentioned on
+the side of the Pope, one, Uc de St. Cyr, lived
+chiefly in Italy; another, Perdigon, had to pay
+dearly for his apostasy. When, after the battle of
+Muret, he rejoiced in the misfortune of his benefactor,
+the noble Peter of Aragon, society seems to
+have laid its interdict on him, and he had to hide
+his shame in a convent, where he died. Of much
+greater importance than either is the celebrated
+Folquet of Marseilles, whose name, as Bishop of
+Toulouse, and as one of the most zealous persecutors
+of his heretical countrymen, has more than once been
+mentioned in these pages. The life and character
+of this man are a psychological problem of deepest
+interest; his career was varied and inconsistent in
+itself—so inconsistent that the identity of troubadour
+and bishop has been doubted. But there is no
+reason for such a doubt, historical or psychological,
+as we shall presently see.</p>
+
+<p>The birthplace of Folquet cannot be ascertained
+with absolute certainty. Most likely he
+was a native of Marseilles, where his father possessed
+a large amount of property. It had been
+acquired by mercantile pursuits, continued for a time
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>by the poet himself after his father’s death, if we may
+believe an allusion in the Monk of Montaudon’s satire.
+Folquet, however, did not follow his father’s calling
+for long. He lived amongst the gay and fashionable
+at the courts of the great nobles, where his graceful
+bearing and his poetical gift made him a welcome
+guest. One of his protectors was Barral, Viscount of
+Marseilles, and it was his wife, Azalais, who became
+the poet’s idol, and may be regarded as the final
+aim and cause of all his further thoughts and deeds;
+including his ultimate conversion, I do not hesitate
+to add. Their intercourse was not one of the conventional
+flirtations so common between troubadours
+and high-born ladies. Neither was it a mutual and
+guilty passion, such as existed between Guillem de
+Cabestanh and Margarida. The old biographer
+lays particular stress on the fact, that ‘neither by
+his prayers nor by his songs could he ever move her
+to show him favour by right of love; and for that
+reason he always complains of love in his songs.’</p>
+
+<p>These songs fully bear out the statement of the
+manuscript. Their one almost incessant theme
+is love’s disappointment. But this theme Folquet
+treats like an artist. He avoids monotony by an
+ever new array of striking similes and allegories in
+which he clothes his longing. What, for instance,
+can indicate the hesitation of a timorous though
+passionate lover better than the image of a man who
+has reached the middle of a tree, and does not ascend
+further or regain the earth, for fear of losing his
+chance or his life? Two stanzas of the poem in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>which it occurs may follow here in the original.
+They are full of sweetness, and will not offer
+serious difficulties to the reader, if he will consult the
+subjoined translation, which I have tried to make as
+literal as possible. The graceful intertwining of
+the rhymes bears witness to Folquet’s consummate
+workmanship, and deserves the attention of modern
+poets.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center">CANZOS.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">S’al cor plagues ben for’ ueimais sazos</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De far canson per joia mantener;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas tan mi fai m’aventura doler,—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quan bem cossir los bes els mals qu’ieu ai—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que tug dizon que ricx sui e bem vai.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas cel qu’o ditz non sap ges ben lo ver:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Benenansa non pot negus aver</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">D’aquela re, mas d’aquo qu’al cor plai.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per que n’a mais us paubres s’es joyos</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’us ricx ses joy, qu’es tot l’an cossiros.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">E s’ieu anc jorn fui gays ni amoros,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Er non ai joy d’amor ni non l’esper;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ni autres bes nom pot al cor plazer,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ans mi semblan tug autre joy esmai.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pero d’amor lo ver vos en dirai:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nom lais del tot ni no m’en puesc mover</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ni sus no vau, ni no puesc remaner;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Aissi cum sel qu’en mieg de l’arbr’estai,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’es tan poiatz que non pot tornar jos</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ni sus no vai, tan li par temeros.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center"><i>Translation.</i></div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">But for my heart, this would the season be</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">To sing of love and joy a joyous song;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But grievously I suffer from the wrong,—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Seeing the good and evil of my case—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Which all men do me when my fate they praise;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Who speaks suchwise is of the foolish throng,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Who know not that the joys of life belong</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">To none but who receives them with good grace.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Wherefore a joyous heart in poverty</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Is better far than wealth and misery.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Maybe I once was happy for a space,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But joy and hope of love have passed away;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">No other good can make me blithe and gay,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">For all the world I hold in dire disdain.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Of love the full truth let me now explain:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I cannot leave it, nor yet on my way</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pass back or forward, neither can I stay;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Like one who mounts a tree mid-high, and fain</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Would mount still higher, or downward move apace,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But fear and tremor bind him in his place.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>His father’s wealth, it is evident, was of little use
+to poor Folquet, and we can quite understand his
+chafing at the folly of men who would insist on
+envying his brilliant misery. For all his early
+dreams of happiness had been dispelled by the stern
+virtue of a woman.</p>
+
+<p>It seems, however, that although unwilling to
+grant him any favour, the fair Azalais was extremely
+jealous of the poet’s praise. This, at least, would
+appear from an anecdote in the manuscript. Count
+Barral had two sisters residing at his court, with
+whom Folquet lived on terms of intimate friendship.
+But his mistress did not believe in Platonic relations
+between troubadours and young ladies at
+court. Her jealousy fixed on one of her sisters-in-law,
+the lady Laura, of whom she declared Folquet
+to be enamoured. She refused to see her lover again,
+‘and would have no more of his prayers and fine
+words,’ as the biographer naïvely adds. Folquet
+was in despair; ‘he left off singing and laughing,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>for he had lost the lady whom he loved more than
+the whole world for one with whom he had no
+connection beyond courtesy.’ This assertion of the
+manuscript deserves our belief. It is quite possible,
+and indeed seems indicated by a passage in one of
+his songs, that Folquet affected a tender feeling for
+Laura in order to divert the attention of spies, but
+his real passion was all for Azalais. His songs and
+his conduct leave no doubt on the subject. It is
+an open question whether the intercession of a noble
+lady sought by Folquet obtained him the full pardon
+of his mistress. But certain it is that he remained
+invariably attached to her through good and evil
+report. For misfortune was in store for the countess.
+Barral, for some reason or other, got tired of his
+wife, obtained an invalidation of his marriage, and
+wedded another lady. Folquet’s position was
+difficult. The count was his oldest friend and protector,
+whom he loved sincerely, as is proved by the
+beautiful elegy on his death, which ensued soon
+afterwards. But no considerations of worldly prospects
+or friendship could shake his allegiance to the
+lady of his love. We possess songs dedicated to
+her subsequent to the separation, in one of which,
+written the year after Barral’s decease, the praise of
+the count is, curiously enough, addressed to his
+divorced widow. Perhaps the great peacemaker
+Death had taken the sting from her resentment, and
+the pair loved to linger over the memory of the
+departed.</p>
+
+<p>From one of Folquet’s songs it has been concluded
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>that, tired of his purposeless endeavours, he at
+last broke off his relation with Azalais. The poem is
+one of Folquet’s finest and most characteristic efforts,
+containing a violent impeachment of Love himself.
+‘Too late,’ the poet says, ‘I have discovered Love’s
+falsehood. I am like one who swears never to
+gamble again after he has lost his whole fortune.’ He
+further complains that for more than ten years Love
+has been his bad debtor, promising payment and
+never keeping the promise, and at last he solemnly
+renounces his allegiance to the faithless god. The
+protest is forcible and well expressed; but it is by
+no means proved that the poet acted upon his wise
+resolution. On several previous occasions he had expressed
+similar resolutions, but always with little or
+no effect either on himself or on his cruel lady; and
+we find, indeed, not without a smile at the incongruity
+of the poetic mind, that the identical song in question
+is dedicated to Azalais.</p>
+
+<p>At last the lady’s death relieved him from his
+thraldom, but only to deliver him over to another
+still more fateful passion. The manuscript relates
+how this event, together with the loss of some of his
+dearest friends, preyed on the poet’s mind, and how
+in a fit of melancholy he renounced the world, together
+with his wife and two sons, who are mentioned
+for the first time on this occasion. Folquet joined
+the order of Citeaux, and soon became abbot of a rich
+monastery, from which position he not long afterwards
+was raised to the still more important one of
+Bishop of Toulouse. To his new vocation he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>brought the same zeal, the same perseverance, which
+marked his wooing of Azalais. It was the same
+flood of passion turned into a different channel. So
+far there is nothing to reproach in Folquet’s conduct,
+and we even can sympathise with a man in whom all
+worldly desire dies with the one object of his passion.
+But his zeal against the heretics, carried to the pitch
+of cruel persecution, forms an unjustifiable complement
+to his asceticism. Neither can we excuse Folquet’s
+violent hatred against Raimon VI. of Toulouse,
+at whose father’s hands the troubadour had received
+much kindness. Considered in this light, the scene
+at the Council of the Lateran, where the glib-tongued
+poet is employed to compass the Count’s ruin, gains
+a new and sinister meaning. Poetry itself Folquet
+seems to have abandoned on his entering the
+monastery. We possess of him only one religious
+song, a passionate expression of remorse and of
+terror at an impending eternal punishment, which
+most likely belongs to the time of his conversion. It
+is pleasant to think that his art at least remained undefiled
+by fanaticism.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.<br>
+<span class="smaller">GUILLEM FIGUEIRA AND PEIRE CARDINAL.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Against Folquet of Marseilles scores of troubadours
+might be named, who boldly espoused the cause of
+their country and of liberty against Frenchmen and
+priests. The opposition to the encroachments of the
+latter was of course not confined to Provence. The
+weaknesses of the clergy were known equally well
+to trouvères and troubadours, to Walther von der
+Vogelweide and the German minnesingers, and to
+Chaucer, and the author of ‘Piers the Ploughman.’
+But nowhere was the conflict between clerical and
+temporal powers more bitter, nowhere were the questions
+at stake more important and more universally
+felt to be such, than in the South of France. Moreover,
+the satire of many of the troubadours received
+additional sting from personal injury. The prolonged
+siege which Guy of Cavaillon had to sustain
+in his castle was not likely to incline him favourably
+towards his oppressors, and the furious onslaught on
+the avarice of the French conquerors from the pen
+of Boniface de Castellane is evidently founded on
+bitterest and most immediate experience. Neither
+is there cause for wonder that the gentry in black
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span>gowns and white hoods, mentioned by Guillem de
+Montanhagol in his powerful <i>sirventes</i> against the
+cruelties and folly of the Inquisition, were not an altogether
+lovely sight in the eyes of that poet.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst the troubadours prominently engaged
+in the great struggle of their time, two distinct types
+may be recognised. One is the poetic freelance impatient
+of all restraint, and therefore doubly incensed
+at the oppression of both moral and religious liberties,
+the word ‘liberty,’ in his parlance, being not unfrequently
+a synonym of ‘licence.’ A man of this
+stamp was Guillem Figueira, the hater of priests.
+‘He was,’ the manuscript says, ‘of Toulouse, the son
+of a tailor, and a tailor himself. When the French
+took Toulouse, he went to live in Lombardy, and
+he knew well how to make songs and how to sing
+them; and he became a joglar among the citizens.
+He was not a man to get on with barons or gentle-folks,
+but he made himself most agreeable to loose
+women and landlords and pothouse-keepers; and
+whenever he saw a good courtier come near him
+he grew wroth and melancholy, and at once he set
+about humiliating him.’</p>
+
+<p>This by no means flattering portrait ought to be
+received with caution; maybe it was drawn by one
+of the ‘good courtiers’ who had experienced the
+poet’s cynical humour. A cynic Guillem no doubt
+was, a lover of low-life realism, defying polite society
+among his boon companions of the tavern, a genius
+akin to Rutebœuf, and Villon, and Rabelais. But
+there is nothing debased or debauched in his poetry,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>as far as we can judge by the specimens remaining
+to us, although the unreserved violence of his invective
+is remarkable even amongst the works of those
+keenest of satirists, the troubadours. One of his
+<i>sirventeses</i> is noticeable by the word ‘Rome,’ uttered
+with the emphasis of hatred at the beginning of
+every stanza. In it the Church is held responsible
+for an infinitude of political and moral crimes, and
+the climax of invective is reached in the final outburst
+of angry passion.</p>
+
+<p>‘Rome, with wily prudence thou layest thy snares,
+and many a vile morsel thou devourest in spite of
+the hungry. Thou hast the semblance of the lamb,
+thy countenance is so innocent, but in thy heart thou
+art a rabid wolf, a crowned snake engendered by a
+viper, wherefore the devil greets thee as the friend
+of his heart.’</p>
+
+<p>It is a curious fact that the Church on this occasion
+was valiantly defended by a lady, Gomonde of
+Montpelier, who pays the furious poet in his own
+coin, and threatens him with the death of the
+heretic.</p>
+
+<p>Another <i>sirventes</i> by Guillem directed against
+the vices of the clergy is marked by the same immoderate
+language, but a foundation of truth is unmistakably
+at the bottom of his extravagant structure
+of abuse. The following stanza, for instance, is
+eminently characteristic of orthodox tactics:—</p>
+
+<p>‘If you say a word against them (the priests),
+they accuse you, and you find yourself excommunicated.
+If you refuse to pay, there is no peace or
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>friendship to be hoped from them. Holy Virgin,
+Lady Mary, let me see the day when I need no
+longer go in fear of them.’</p>
+
+<p>A man of a very different stamp from the well-meaning
+but somewhat inconsiderate and irresponsible
+Guillem Figueira, was the great Peire Cardinal,
+who may represent the second and much
+higher type of the anti-clerical troubadour. A biographical
+notice of about twenty lines, signed by one
+Michael de la Tor, is all the information we possess
+of the poet’s life. According to this sketch, Peire
+Cardinal was born at Puy Notre Dame, in the province
+of Velay, or Veillac, as the old manuscript calls
+it. He was of good parentage, ‘the son of a knight
+and a lady,’ and was in his childhood destined for the
+Church. ‘And when he came to man’s estate he
+was attracted by the vanity of the world, for he found
+himself gay and handsome and young. And he
+made many beautiful poems and songs; few <i>canzos</i>,
+but many <i>sirventeses</i> fine and excellent. And in these
+<i>sirventeses</i> he gave many good reasons and examples
+for those who rightly understand them; and he
+greatly reproached the false clergy, as is shown by
+his <i>sirventeses</i>. And he went to the courts of kings
+and gentle barons with his joglar, who sang his
+<i>sirventeses</i>.’ According to the same account, Peire
+Cardinal lived up to nearly a hundred years. Another
+remarkable circumstance told of him is his knowledge
+of reading and writing—an accomplishment by no
+means common amongst troubadours—which he
+owed to his early training for the Church.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span></p>
+
+<p>Peire Cardinal is the unrivalled master of the
+<i>sirventes</i>, in its most important forms—the personal,
+the political, the moral, and the religious.
+The last two only concern us here more immediately.
+But a few remarks are necessary to indicate
+the poet’s manner and his general conception of
+the world. This conception is melancholy to a
+degree. Like most great masters of satire and
+humour, Peire Cardinal is a confirmed pessimist.
+The world appears to him as one vast conglomeration
+of selfishness and vice—a madhouse, inhabited
+by fools, whose remaining sense is just sufficient for
+them to recognise and hate a man of genius. This
+moody philosophy he has embodied in the original
+and striking treatment of a well-known story, which
+deserves our particular attention as one of the very
+few instances of narrative illustration in the poems of
+the troubadours.</p>
+
+<p>‘There was a city,’ Peire Cardinal says, ‘I
+don’t know where, in which rain fell one day of such
+a kind, that all the inhabitants who were touched
+by it lost their reason. All went mad but one, who
+happened to be asleep in his house at the time.
+This one, when he woke, rose, and, as the rain had
+ceased, went out amongst the people, who were all
+raving mad. One had his clothes on, the other was
+naked; one was spitting up to the sky, another
+threw stones, another logs of wood, another tore his
+gown.... One thought he was a king, and put on
+noble airs; another jumped over benches. Some
+threatened, others cursed; some were crying, some
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>laughing, others talking they knew not what about,
+others making grimaces. He who had kept his
+sense was much astonished, for he saw they were
+mad; and he looked up and down to see if he could
+discover any one reasonable, but in vain: there was
+none. And he was greatly surprised at them, but
+much more were they at him when they saw he
+remained reasonable. They were sure he must be
+mad, as he failed to do as they did.’</p>
+
+<p>The surprise of the fools soon is converted into
+rage. They knock him down, and trample on him;
+they push him, and pull him, and beat him; at last,
+he is glad to escape into his house, thrashed, covered
+with mud, and more dead than alive.</p>
+
+<p>‘This fable,’ the poet exclaims, ‘depicts the
+world and all who inhabit it; and our age is the city
+chokeful of madmen. The highest wisdom is to
+love and fear God, and to obey his commandments.
+But now that wisdom is lost, the rain has fallen:
+covetousness has come, and pride and viciousness,
+which have attacked all the people. And if God
+honours one amongst them, the others think him
+mad, and revile him, for God’s wisdom appears
+to them folly. But the friend of God, wherever
+he be, knows them to be the fools, for they have
+lost the wisdom of God; and they think him mad,
+because he has abandoned the wisdom of the
+world.’</p>
+
+<p>These are words of a man of genius, who has
+experienced the buffetings of adverse fortune, and
+the scorn of a world incapable or unwilling to fathom
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>his depth. Morbid words, if the reader likes, but
+forcibly uttered, and instinct with a noble disdain of
+the fashions and follies of the day. But Peire
+Cardinal’s grievances were not of a narrow, egotistic
+kind. His poems reflect the sad time in which he
+lived, and the national disaster which he witnessed
+with deepest indignation. The avarice and selfishness
+of clergy and laity, the want of patriotic feeling,
+the barbarism prevailing amongst the nobles, and
+other evils fostered by those troublous times of
+internal and external warfare, are the favourite
+subjects of the poet’s satire. It need hardly be added
+that his sympathies were all with the South against
+the North. Raimon VI. is his chosen hero, whom he
+encourages with his songs, and in whose temporary
+success he rejoices. ‘At Toulouse,’ he sings,
+‘there is Raimon the Count; may God protect him!
+As water flows from the fountain, so chivalry comes
+from him. Against the worst of men—nay, against
+the whole world—he defends himself. Frenchmen
+and priests cannot resist him. To the good he is
+humble and condescending; the wicked he destroys.’</p>
+
+<p>In his accusations of the clergy, Peire is violent
+and sweeping; almost as violent as Guillem Figueira
+himself. But his censure almost always proceeds from
+a general motive; the difference between the two is
+that between a scholar and politician and a pamphleteer.
+Peire’s language, when he speaks of the
+domineering propensities of the priests, is as bitter
+as can be imagined, but his anger is founded on
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>historic considerations of deepest import. It is
+the decay of the temporal power he deplores. ‘Formerly,
+kings and emperors, dukes, counts and
+comtors&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> and knights used to govern the world;
+but now priests have usurped its dominion with
+rapine and treachery and hypocrisy, with force and
+persuasion. They are incensed if everything is not
+conceded to them, and it must be done sooner or
+later.’ In another <i>sirventes</i>, Peire Cardinal alludes
+to the amiable habit of the priests—also mentioned
+by Guillem Figueira—of calling everyone a Vaudois
+or heretic who dares to resist their encroachments.</p>
+
+<p>One of the most forcible of Peire’s songs is
+directed against the avarice and covetousness of the
+priests, whom he compares to vultures scenting a
+dead body. In the same <i>sirventes</i> we meet with one
+of those grand reflections which raise Peire Cardinal
+from the level of the mere satirist to that of the
+great moral poet. ‘Do you know,’ he says, ‘what
+becomes of the riches of those who have unjustly
+acquired them? A mighty robber will come, who
+will leave them nothing. His name is Death; he will
+prostrate them, and entangle them in a net four yards
+in length, and they will be sent to a house of misery.’</p>
+
+<p>It remains to point out one more feature of
+Peire’s works, which distinguishes them from those
+of all his brother poets. The troubadours, it has
+been said, had a wise and beneficial horror of
+theology. There is, as far as the present writer is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span>aware, not a trace in their works of the slightest
+interest taken by any of them in the scholastic controversies
+of Catholics and heretics. The only exception
+to this rule is a <i>sirventes</i> by Peire Cardinal,
+to which short reference has previously been made.
+Peire, as has been mentioned before, had received
+a learned education; he could read and write,
+and was evidently not without considerable claims
+to scholarship, according to the standard of his
+age. He was no doubt well versed in the absurd
+and hideously realistic conceptions of hell and
+purgatory with which mediæval theologians and
+preachers loved to fill the imagination of their
+audiences. His poem reads like a gentle satire,
+from the poet’s point of view, on their barren discussions.
+The boldness of his conception and language
+is at the same time astonishing in a writer of the
+thirteenth century,</p>
+
+<p>‘I will begin a new <i>sirventes</i>,’ he says, ‘which I
+shall repeat on the day of judgment to Him who
+made and fashioned me out of nothing. If He
+reproaches me of anything, and wishes to give me
+over to damnation, I shall say: ‘Lord, have mercy on
+me, for I have struggled with the wicked world all
+my life; now save me by your grace from torment.’</p>
+
+<p>‘And His whole court shall wonder when they
+hear my plea. For I say that He is unjust towards
+His own if He delivers them to eternal punishment.
+For he who loses what he might gain cannot complain
+of his loss. Therefore He ought to be gentle
+and indulgent so as to retain the souls of sinners.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span></p>
+
+<p>‘His gate ought not to be guarded, and St.
+Peter has little honour through being the porter.
+Every soul that wishes ought to be allowed to enter
+smiling. For that court is little to my liking where
+one laughs while others cry; and however great the
+king may be we shall find fault with him if he refuses
+us entrance.</p>
+
+<p>‘I will not despair, and on you, O Lord, my
+good hope is founded. Therefore you must save my
+soul and body, and comfort me in the hour of death.
+And I will propose to you a good alternative.
+Either send me back to where I came from on the
+day of my birth, or forgive me my faults. For I
+should not have committed them if I had not been
+born.’</p>
+
+<p>And with this poem, which teaches a deep truth
+in a half-playful manner, we must take leave of
+Peire Cardinal. His character is of an elevated
+type, and his gifts would do honour to any literature.
+He is undoubtedly the foremost representative of
+moral poetry amongst the troubadours.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.<br>
+<span class="smaller">LADIES AND LADY TROUBADOURS.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>In a poetry so thoroughly imbued with one prevailing
+passion as is that of the troubadours, and in the
+civilisation of which this poetry is the utterance,
+woman naturally occupied a most important place.
+But to define this place is a matter of some difficulty.
+The poems of the troubadours themselves give us
+but scanty information in this respect. We there
+hear a great deal of the incomparable charms of
+Provençal ladies; their loving-kindness is extolled,
+or their cruelty complained of. But in few cases
+only are we enabled to realise from generalities of
+this kind an individual human being with individual
+passions or caprices. It would, indeed, be impossible
+even to decipher the numerous <i>senhals</i> or nicknames
+under which the poets were obliged to hide the real
+names of their lady-loves from the watchfulness of
+evil tongues and cruel husbands, but for the aid of
+the Provençal biographies of the old troubadours,
+which in most cases offer a welcome clue to the
+identity of these pseudonymous flames.</p>
+
+<p>It is by this means that we gain cognisance of the
+beautiful ladies of Provence—such as the three sisters,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span>Maenz of Montignac, Elise of Montfort, and Maria of
+Ventadour—praised in impassioned song by Bertran
+de Born, Gaucelm Faidit, and other troubadours;
+and of that lovely lady with an unlovely name, Loba
+(she-wolf) of Penautier, who turned the fantastic
+brain of Peire Vidal, and sent him into the wilderness
+clad in a wolf’s skin—a practical pun on the
+name of his mistress. From such hints as are
+found in these biographies and other contemporary
+sources, one may form a tangible idea of a Provençal
+lady of the twelfth or thirteenth century; of her
+position in society; and, most of all, of her decisive
+influence on the poetry of the troubadours.</p>
+
+<p>What was the type of the lady of Provence of
+whom so much has been said in verse and prose?
+Was she a demure, well-conducted person clad in
+sober colours, mending stockings and cutting bread
+and butter for the children; a model housewife, in
+fact, such as might be found in a best-possible world
+of Mrs. Lynn Linton’s devising? Or was she, on
+the other hand, a progressively minded female, despising
+the frivolities of society, and thirsting for
+medical degrees and the franchise, or whatever may
+have been the mediæval equivalents of these much-desired
+prerogatives? I fear that even Margarida
+de Rossilho, ‘the lady most praised of her time for
+all that is praiseworthy, and noble, and courteous,’
+would have fallen far short of these divergent ideals
+of our latter days. Her main purpose of existence
+was—shocking though it may sound—altogether not
+practical, but ornamental. It was her choice and her
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span>duty to wield in a society, only just emerging from
+barbarism, the softening influence to which we owe
+the phenomenon of a highly finished literature and of
+an astonishing degree of social refinement at the very
+outset of the mediæval epoch. Whether this result
+was altogether unworthy of woman’s mission in the
+history of civilisation graver judges must decide.</p>
+
+<p>There is extant, dating from about the middle of
+the thirteenth century, a curious poem in rhymed
+couplets entitled ‘L’essenhamen de la donzela que
+fe Amanieus des Escas com apela dieu d’amors;’
+<i>Anglicè</i>: ‘Instruction to a young lady, composed by
+Sir Amanieu des Escas, called God of Love.’ In
+this treatise we are supplied with a minute account
+of the accomplishments expected from a well-educated
+young lady, and of the bad habits most prejudicial to
+her character. The poet is supposed to be addressing
+a noble damsel living at the court of some great
+baron, as a sort of ‘lady-help’ to his wife; this being
+a not unusual, and undoubtedly a most efficient,
+method of polite education in Provence. The young
+lady has accosted Amanieu on a lonely walk, asking
+for his advice in matters fashionable. This the poet
+at first refuses to tender, alleging that ‘you (the
+damsel) have ten times as much sense as I, and that
+is the truth.’ But, after his modest scruples are once
+overcome, he launches forth into a flood of good
+counsel. He systematically begins with enforcing
+the good old doctrine of ‘early to rise;’ touches
+delicately on the mysteries of the early toilet, such
+as lacing, washing of arms, hands, and head, which,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span>he sententiously adds, ought to go before the first-mentioned
+process; and, after briefly referring to the
+especial care required by teeth and nails, he leaves
+the dressing-room for the church, where a quiet, undemonstrative
+attitude is recommended; the illicit
+use of eyes and tongue being mentioned amongst
+the temptations peculiarly to be avoided. Directions
+of similar minuteness assist the young lady at
+the dinner table; the cases in which it would be
+good taste, and those in which it would be the reverse,
+to invite persons to a share of the dishes
+within her reach are specified; and the rules as to
+carving, washing one’s hands before and after
+dinner, and similar matters, leave nothing to be desired.
+‘Always temper your wine with water, so
+that it cannot do you harm,’ is another maxim of undeniable
+wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner follows the time of polite conversation
+in the <i>sala</i> (drawing-room), the arbour, or on
+the battlements of the castle; and now the teachings
+of Amanieu become more and more animated, and
+are enlivened occasionally by practical illustrations
+of great interest. ‘And if at this season,’ he says,
+‘a gentleman takes you aside, and wishes to talk of
+courtship to you, do not show a strange or sullen
+behaviour, but defend yourself with pleasant and
+pretty repartees. And if his talk annoys you, and
+makes you uneasy, I advise you to ask him questions,
+for instance: “Which ladies do you think
+are more handsome, those of Gascony or England;
+and which are more courteous, and faithful, and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span>good?” And if he says those of Gascony, answer
+without hesitation: “Sir, by your leave, English
+ladies are more courteous than those of any other
+country.” But if he prefers those of England,
+tell him Gascon ladies are much better behaved;
+and thus carry on the discussion, and call your companions
+to you to decide the questions.’ I defy
+any modern professor of deportment to indicate
+a more graceful and appropriate way of giving a
+harmless turn to a conversation, or cutting short an
+awkward <i>tête-à-tête</i>.</p>
+
+<p>And the same sense of tact and social ease pervades
+the remainder of the poem, which consists
+chiefly of valuable hints how to accept and how to
+refuse an offer of marriage without giving more encouragement
+or more offence than necessary. Upon
+the whole, it must be admitted that ‘Amanieu des
+Escas, called God of Love,’ although undoubtedly a
+pedant, is the least objectionable and tedious pedant
+that ever preached ‘the graces’ from the days of
+Thomasin of Zerclaere to those of Lord Chesterfield.
+But the important point for us is the enormous
+weight attached to these rules of etiquette in the
+education of the Provençal lady. Again and again
+the advantages of <i>cortesia</i>, <i>avinensa</i>, and whatever the
+numerous other terms for a graceful, courteous behaviour
+may be, are emphasised: ‘even the enemy
+of all your friends ought to find you civil-spoken,’
+the poet exclaims in a fit of polite enthusiasm.
+However exaggerated and one-sided this point of
+view may appear to the reader, he ought to remember
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span>that in primitive societies the code of ethics
+can be enforced alone by the power of custom; the
+derivation, indeed, of our word morality from the
+Latin <i>mores</i> is by no means a mere etymological
+coincidence.</p>
+
+<p>Prepared by an education such as I have tried
+to sketch, the lady generally contracted a marriage
+at an early age, the choice of a husband being
+in most cases determined by her parents or her
+feudal overlord. In the higher classes of society—and
+these alone concern us here—her own inclination
+was taken into little account. Her position at
+the head of a great baron’s family was by no means
+an easy one. She had to soften the coarse habits
+and words of the warlike nobles; and, on the other
+hand, to curb the amorous boldness of the gay troubadours
+who thronged the courts of the great barons.
+The difficulties and temptations of such a situation
+were great, and further increased by the perfect
+liberty which, in ancient as in modern France,
+married ladies seem to have enjoyed. Indirect, but
+none the less conclusive, evidence establishes this
+point beyond doubt. We hear, for instance, of ladies
+travelling about the country without attendance;
+like the pretty wives of Sir Guari and Sir Bernart,
+whom Count William of Poitiers deceived by acting
+a deaf-and-dumb pilgrim. Even the dueña, as a
+regular institution at least, seems to have been unknown
+in Provence. There certainly were jealous
+husbands who tried to protect their wives from gallant
+intrusion by watchfulness and strict confinement.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span>The husband of the lovely Flamenca is an example
+of such fruitless care. But his fate could not invite
+imitation; and the universal horror expressed by all
+gallant knights and ladies at this fictitious and at
+some real instances of similar cruelty, sufficiently
+proves the high degree of personal freedom enjoyed
+by the ladies of Southern France.</p>
+
+<p>That this freedom was frequently abused is, unfortunately,
+no matter of doubt. France is not, and
+never has been, a prosperous climate for the growth
+of wedded happiness. The heroines of all the love-stories
+connected with the history of the troubadours
+are, indeed, with not a single exception that I am
+aware of, married ladies. This fact is certainly of
+deep significance, but its importance ought not to be
+overrated. We must remember that the troubadours
+and their biographers were by nature and profession
+inclined to magnify the force and extension of the
+great passion. Frequently they may, and in some
+cases we positively know that they did, mistake
+gracious condescension for responsive love; and to
+accept all their statements <i>au pied de la lettre</i> would
+be about as advisable as to judge the institution of
+marriage in modern France solely by the works of
+Flaubert and Ernest Feydeau. In many cases,
+however, the perfect innocence of the relations between
+the troubadour and the lady he celebrates is
+fully acknowledged by all parties. It was the privilege
+of high-born and high-minded women to protect
+and favour poetry, and to receive in return the
+troubadours’ homage. It is in this beautiful character
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span>as admirer and patroness of the literature of her
+country, that I wish first to consider the lady of
+Provence. In the choice of an individual instance
+of the relation alluded to, I have been guided by a
+feeling of historic, not to say poetic, justice.</p>
+
+<p>History and fiction have vied with each other
+in painting the picture of Eleanor, wife of Henry II.
+of England, in the darkest colours. The former
+convicts her of faithlessness to two husbands, and of
+conspiracy with her own sons against their father;
+the latter charges her with the murder of Rosamond
+Clifford. Any redeeming feature in such a character
+ought to be welcome to the believer in human
+nature. Her connection with Bernart de Ventadorn,
+one of the sweetest and purest of troubadours,
+is such a feature. The poet came to her court in
+sorrow. The lady he loved had been torn from him,
+and it was by her own desire that he left her and
+the country where she dwelt. He now turned to
+Eleanor for comfort and sympathy, and his hope
+was not disappointed. The old Provençal biography
+of Bernart is provokingly laconic with regard to the
+subject. ‘He went to the Duchess of Normandy,’
+it says, ‘who was young and of great worth, and
+knew how to appreciate worth and honour, and he
+said much in her praise. And she admired the
+<i>canzos</i> and verses of Bernart. And she received
+him very well, and bade him welcome. And he
+stayed at her court a long time, and became
+enamoured of her, and she of him, and he composed
+many beautiful songs of her. And while he was
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span>with her King Henry of England made her his wife,
+and took her away from Normandy with him. And
+from that time Bernart remained sad and woful.’</p>
+
+<p>This statement is incorrect in more than one
+respect, and may be cited as another instance of the
+desire on the part of the ancient biographers to give
+a dramatic, and at the same time an erotic, turn to
+the stories of their heroes. The allegation of the poet’s
+prolonged courtship of the Duchess of Normandy
+having been interrupted by the lady’s marriage
+with Henry is self-contradictory, for the simple
+reason that she became Duchess of Normandy and
+took up her residence in that country in consequence
+of this identical marriage, which took place in the
+same year with her separation from Louis VII. of
+France. Moreover, all the songs known to us as
+having been addressed by the poet to Eleanor are
+written after Henry’s accession to the English throne.
+One of these songs, in which Bernart calls himself
+‘a Norman or Englishman for the king’s sake,’ was
+most likely composed in England, whither Bernart
+had followed the court of his supposed rival.</p>
+
+<p>The same songs tend also to throw grave doubts
+on another statement of the old manuscript—that
+with regard to the mutual passion between lady and
+troubadour. It is true that his devotion frequently
+adopts the language of love; but there is no evidence
+to show that this love was returned by anything
+but friendship and kindness. He never boasts of
+favours granted, as troubadours were but too prone
+to do, and the joyful expectation expressed in one
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span>of his poems is evidently and confessedly a hope
+against hope. One somewhat obscure remark of
+the poet seems to indicate that King Henry did not
+regard the matter in an altogether innocent light.
+The line reads thus in the original Provençal: ‘Per
+vos me sui del rei partiz;’ which means, ‘For your
+sake I have parted from the king,’ and seems to
+indicate some sort of disagreement between the poet
+and the lady’s husband. But, supposing even that
+Henry’s jealousy were proved by this vague hint,
+we are not for that reason obliged to adopt his
+suspicions. Internal evidence points strongly towards
+a different relation—a relation much more
+common between the ladies and poets of Provence
+than is generally believed, and which is marked by
+fervent admiration on the one side, and by helpful
+and gentle, but irreproachable, kindness on the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>Frequently, however, the case was different.
+Not all ladies were inexorable: not all troubadours
+contented with a purely ideal worship. Ardent
+wooings led to passionate attachments, and lovers’
+bliss was frequently followed by lovers’ quarrels.
+Such quarrels—or, it might be, differences of opinion
+on abstract points of love and gallantry—were, as
+we know, discussed in a poetic form: the ‘<i>tenso</i>,’ or
+‘song of contention,’ being especially reserved for
+that purpose. It was mostly on occasions of this
+kind that ladies took up the lute and mingled their
+voices with the chorus of Provençal singers. The
+names of fourteen gifted women have in this manner
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span>been transmitted to us—a very modest figure,
+seeing that the entire number of the troubadours is
+close upon four hundred. But even of these fourteen
+lady-troubadours few, if any, seem to have been
+professional or even amateur poets. The works of
+most of them are exceedingly few in number, consisting,
+in several cases, of a single song or part of a
+<i>tenso</i>. This reticence on the part of the ladies
+cannot be praised too highly; it explains to us at the
+same time their position in the literary movement of
+their time. Literature in the twelfth and thirteenth
+centuries was a lucrative and honourable calling,
+followed by many members of the poorer nobility
+and of the lower classes. Professional singers of
+this kind naturally depended on their productions
+for a livelihood. Hence the number, and hence also
+the occasional coldness and formality, of their songs.</p>
+
+<p>But this was different with women. With them
+poetry was not an employment, but an inward
+necessity. They poured forth their mirth or their
+grief, and after that relapsed into silence. Even
+Clara of Anduse, the brilliant and beautiful lady
+who conquered the obstinate indifference of Uc de
+St. Cyr, the celebrated troubadour, and who is described
+as ambitious of literary fame, does not seem
+to have sinned by over-production. Only one of
+her songs remains to us, and there is no reason to
+believe that time has been more than usually destructive
+to her works.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.<br>
+<span class="smaller">BEATRICE DE DIE.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The only lady-troubadour of whose poems we
+possess a sufficient number to allow of a fair judgment
+of her capability is the Countess Beatrice de
+Die. She may also serve to illustrate the essentially
+subjective conception of the art of poetry which
+marks the phase in literature alluded to. The unvarying
+subject of her songs is the story of her love;
+without this passion she would have remained mute.
+Her first song is the embodiment of new-awakened
+happiness; her last a dirge over hopes dead and
+lost.</p>
+
+<p>‘The Countess de Die,’ says the old manuscript,
+‘was the wife of Guillem de Poitou and a good and
+beautiful lady; she became enamoured of Rambaut
+of Orange, and wrote many fine poems of him.’
+This Rambaut was the third ruler of that name of
+the country of Aurenga or Orange, in the south of
+France, from which the Dutch line of the house of
+Nassau derived its name. The English cavaliers, by
+the way, were considerably out in their etymological
+reckoning when they derisively squeezed the
+orange.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span></p>
+
+<p>Rambaut is well known as the author of numerous
+poems, some of them rather coarse in character.
+One of his songs is metrically curious by the poet
+relapsing at the end of every stanza into a few lines
+of prose, in which admirers of Walt Whitman will
+perhaps discover rhythm. In another poem he
+gives an elaborate prescription for gaining the hearts
+and bending the minds of women, quite in the spirit
+of the coarsest scenes of the <i>Taming of the Shrew</i>.
+The apparent disagreement of the poet with his own
+rules expressed in one stanza does not much alter
+the case in his favour, neither can we consider his
+calling one of his lady-loves by the nickname ‘my
+Devil’ a sign of refinement on his part. The exaggerated
+and boldly uttered opinion of his own
+poetic power is an additional unpleasant feature of
+Rambaut’s character. His songs to Beatrice de
+Die, of which several remain, are marked by extravagant
+gallantry rather than by true feeling. It may,
+for instance, be doubted whether the lady had much
+reason to be pleased with compliments of this kind:
+‘The joy you give me is such that a thousand doleful
+people would be made merry by my joy. And on
+my joy my whole family could live with joy without
+eating.’</p>
+
+<p>The reader will notice the frequent repetition
+of the word ‘joy,’ which occurs once in every line of
+the stanza. This is an instance of the artificialities
+in which many troubadours, Rambaut of Orange
+foremost amongst the number, took pride. A
+similar metrical contrivance is found in another
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span>song by the same poet, most likely also addressed to
+the Countess de Die. It is called the ‘<i>rim dictional</i>,’
+and consists of the combination, in the rhyming
+syllables, of two words which can be derived from
+each other by either adding or deducting one or
+more syllables. Thus, for instance, the feminine
+and masculine forms of the adjective and participle;
+<i>at-ada</i>, <i>ut-uda</i> stand in the relation of ‘dictional
+rhymes.’ It is sadly significant to see that this silly
+contrivance has been adopted by Beatrice de Die in
+the song which expresses the fulness of her loving
+bliss. Perhaps it would be too bold to conjecture
+without additional evidence that, in this as in so
+many cases, the teacher had developed into the
+lover; but this sign of intellectual dependence is at
+any rate highly characteristic. To give the reader
+an idea of the sweetness of Beatrice’s metre and
+diction, I will quote one stanza of the poem alluded
+to in the original.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ab joi et ab joven m’apais</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">E jois e jovens m’apaia;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qar mos amics es lo plus gais</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">Per q’ieu sui coindet’ e gaia.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E pois ieu li sui veraia</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">Bes tanh q’el me sia verais.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qanc de lui amar nom estrais</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">Ni ai en cor quem n’estraia.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">‘With joy and youth I am content; may joy and
+youth give me contentment! For my friend is most
+joyous, therefore I am amiable and gay. And as I
+am true to him, true he must be to me. For I do
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span>not withhold my love from him, so neither can I
+think that he should withhold his from me.’</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately the serene sky of this happiness
+was soon to be overclouded. We can distinctly
+recognise the mutual position of the lovers. Count
+Rambaut, if he had at any time felt a serious passion
+for Beatrice, soon got over that weakness. In
+vain he tries to hide his apathy from the keen
+glance of the loving woman. She is appeased for
+the moment by his grandiloquent vows of eternal
+devotion; but soon her suspicion awakes again with
+renewed strength. Such are the feelings which
+have inspired the admirable <i>tenso</i> respectively ascribed
+to Rambaut and Beatrice, but most likely
+composed by both of them in alternate stanzas of
+reproach and excuse. The poet, taxed with indifference
+and fickleness, explains that the rareness
+of his visits is caused by his fear of the evil tongues
+and spies ‘who have taken my sense and breath
+away.’ But the lady is little impressed with this
+tender care for her reputation. ‘No thanks do I
+owe you,’ she says, ‘for refusing to see me when
+I send for you, because of the harm I might suffer
+through it. And if you take greater care of my welfare
+than I do myself, you must forsooth be over-loyal;
+more so than the Knights of the Hospital.’ Only
+by the most extravagant promises of amendment is
+the poet able to gain from the lady the qualified
+concession: ‘Friend, I will trust you so far, so that
+I find you true and loyal to me at all times.’</p>
+
+<p>A second song of the countess marks a further
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span>stage of this unfortunate amour. The poet now
+has dropped the mask; the lady is deserted—deserted
+for another love. The sight of her misery is
+pathetic, although, perhaps, less dignified than would
+be the silent pride of a noble-hearted woman. But
+pride is strange to the heart of poor Beatrice. Her
+desire is not to upbraid, but, if possible, to regain,
+her truant lover; and nothing she considers beneath
+her dignity that may accomplish this sole desire of
+her heart. Abject flattery of her lover and even the
+praise of her own beauty are resorted to by her with
+a naïve openness which, somehow, makes us forget
+her utter want of dignity. There is about her poem
+the true ring of simple pathos, which I have tried to
+retain as far as possible in the subjoined rendering
+of three of the stanzas:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center">CANZO.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">A chantar m’er de so qu’eu no volria</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tant me rancur de lui cui sui amia;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Car eu l’am mais que nuilla ren que sia:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vas lui nom val merces ni cortezia,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ni ma beltatz ni mos pretz ni mos sens;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">C’atressim sui enganad’ e trahia</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Com degr’esser, s’eu fos dezavinens.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Meraveill me cum vostre cors s’argoilla</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Amics vas me per qu’ai razon quem doilla.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Non es ges dreitz c’autr’amors vos mi toilla,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per nuilla ren queus diga nius acoilla.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E membre vos cals fol comensamens</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De nostr’amor; ja dompnedeus non voilla</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’en ma colpa sial departimens.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Proeza grans, qu’el vostre cors s’aizina,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E lo rics pretz qu’avetz m’en ataina.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">C’una non sai, loindana ni vezina,</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Si vol amar vas vos no si’ aclina:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas vos, amics es ben tant conoissens,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que ben devetz conoisser la plus fina;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E membre vos de nostres partimens.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="center"><i>Translation.</i></div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">It is in vain, this silence I must break;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The fault of him I love moves me to speak.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Dearer than all the world he is to me;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But he regards not love nor courtesy,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nor wisdom, nor my worth, nor all my beauty—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">He has deceived me. Such my fate should be,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">If I had failed to him in loving duty.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Oh, strange and past belief that in disdain</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Your heart, oh friend, should look upon my pain;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">That now another love should conquer you,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">For all that I may say, that I may do!</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Have you forgotten the sweet first communion</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Of our two hearts? Now sorely would I rue</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">If by my guilt were caused this last disunion.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">The noble worth, the valour you possess,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Your fame and beauty add to my distress.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">For far and near the noble ladies all,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">If love can move them, listen to your call.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But you, my friend, whose soul is keenest-sighted,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Must know who loves you, and is true withal.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And ah! remember now the troth we plighted.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The reader need hardly be told that this touching
+appeal proved in vain. We have another song
+of Beatrice, in which she deplores the final loss of
+her friend. It is remarkable that even now no word
+of anger escapes her lips. She blames herself for a
+reticence of feeling which, if she had possessed it,
+might have averted her fate. This is the first
+stanza of the plaintive ditty:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ah, sadly, sadly do I miss</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A knight of valour once mine own!</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">To all at all times be it known,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">My heart was his—was only his.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent4">Foolishly my secret keeping,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I hid my love when he was near;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But in my heart I held him dear,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent4">Day and night, awake and sleeping.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">And here we must take leave of the beautiful Beatrice
+de Die. She is not without interest from a psychological
+point of view, and represents the literary
+capabilities of her class by the intensely subjective
+character of her work, which is the immediate outgrowth
+of her feeling.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE COURTS OF LOVE.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>There is yet one other important character in which
+I should wish to introduce the lady of Provence to
+the gentle reader. It has already been pointed out
+that to her influence the refinement of manners and the
+high conception of the duties of gallantry in the early
+middle ages are mainly due. But nowhere did her
+gentle sway exercise a more irresistible power than
+in that truest domain of womanhood—love. This
+love was little restrained in Provence by the legitimate
+bounds of marriage, but it was not altogether
+lawless for that reason. There were certain rules of
+conduct instinctively felt rather than definitely formulated,
+but which, nevertheless, no lady or gallant
+cavalier could transgress with impunity. Discretion,
+for instance, was a demand most strictly enforced by
+these self-imposed laws of the loving community.
+No lady of good feeling would have accepted the
+services of a knight who had failed in this respect to
+a former mistress. Neither was it thought compatible
+with correct principles for a lady to deprive
+another lady of her lover. Inquiries into the antecedents
+of intended <i>cicisbeos</i> were of frequent occurrence,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span>and only when a troubadour could prove his ‘being
+off with the old love’ could he hope for a favourable
+reception of his vows. We indeed know of one case
+at least where a lady, although herself desirous of the
+services of a poet, effected his reconciliation with a
+rival beauty. But this loyal feeling did not extend to
+that bugbear and scapegoat of gallant society in
+Provence—the husband. No amount of verbal
+falsehood or hypocrisy was thought unjustifiable in
+the endeavour to dupe his well-founded suspicion.
+His resentment of injuries received was, on the other
+hand, punished by the general interdict of polite
+society. Such, at least, is the no doubt somewhat
+high-coloured picture drawn by Provençal poets and
+romancers.</p>
+
+<p>To the great influence of noble ladies on public
+opinion, and to the <i>esprit de corps</i> evinced by their
+recorded words and doings, we have to trace back
+the general and time-honoured idea of the ladies’
+tribunal, or ‘court of love.’ To us in England
+Chaucer’s poem of that title has sanctioned the name.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span>A prettier picture moreover can hardly be imagined
+than that drawn by many old and modern writers
+of an assembly of beautiful women sitting in judgment
+on guilty lovers, and gravely deciding knotty
+points of the amorous code. The slight tinge of
+pedantry in such a picture only adds to its mediæval
+quaintness. The only drawback is that, like so
+many other pretty and quaint pictures, it has no
+counterpart in the reality of things; not as far, at
+least, as the south of France and the times of the
+troubadours are concerned. Friederich Diez, the
+lately deceased great philologist to whom the history
+of Romance literature and languages owes so much,
+has once and for ever destroyed the fable of the
+‘courts of love’ in connection with the troubadours.
+This was done in 1825; but ever since the uprooted
+notion has gone on producing fresh and powerful
+shoots in the fertile soil of periodical and generally
+unscientific literature. It is, indeed, one of the few
+dainties of genuine or pseudo-Provençal composition
+which have been frequently and <i>ad nauseam</i> dished
+up to the general reader of this country.</p>
+
+<p>The state of the case is briefly this:—</p>
+
+<p>In 1817 the well-known French scholar, M.
+Raynouard, published his large collection of Provençal
+poems, entitled ‘Choix des Poésies originales des
+Troubadours.’ In the second volume of this work he
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span>has inserted a long and elaborate inquiry of his own
+into the subject of the ‘courts of love.’ He determines
+the period of their duration as the time from the
+middle of the twelfth to the end of the fourteenth
+century or thereabouts, and gives a somewhat minute
+description of the legal and polite customs observed
+at these extraordinary tribunals. According to him
+the members of the court were noble ladies guided
+by a written code of love, their decisions again making
+precedent. An appeal to a different tribunal
+was admissible. The parties had, as a rule, to plead
+their cause in person; at other times, however,
+written documents—affidavits, as we should say—were
+accepted, the latter frequently taking the form
+of <i>tensos</i>. To these <i>tensos</i>, therefore, we ought to
+look for some confirmation of these statements;
+and, according to Raynouard, such confirmation is
+forthcoming in more than sufficient abundance. It is,
+as we know, the custom in these songs of contention for
+the two disputants to refer their case to the arbitration
+of third parties. ‘This <i>tenso</i> will last for ever,’ says
+one troubadour, after having exhausted his arguments.
+‘Let us take our cause to the Dauphin; he
+will decide and conclude it in peace.’ But here is
+the rub. The umpires mentioned on this and many
+other occasions are always one or two, more rarely
+three, individuals, generally friends of the contending
+parties, or else well-meaning and courteous persons,
+men or women, who decide according to the rules of
+common sense, or quote the opinions of celebrated
+troubadours by way of rule and guidance. Not once
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span>is a ‘court of love’ mentioned in these <i>tensos</i>, nor
+indeed in any other poem, by a genuine troubadour,
+The expression as well as the thing was unknown to
+them. Both belong to a much later time.</p>
+
+<p>The period of spontaneous production in the
+literature of most nations is followed by that of
+classification. Byzantine scholarship and Athenian
+tragedy belong to different phases of intellectual life.
+When the poetry of the troubadours began to decay,
+grammarians and metrical scholars sprang up, and
+artificial poetry flourished at the <i>Jeux Floraux</i>. In
+the same sense it may be said that ‘courts of love’
+could not exist while love itself was alive. The
+laws of gallantry were inscribed in the hearts of
+ladies and troubadours while the brilliant, buoyant
+life of Southern France was in its acme. When
+this civilisation was crushed, when these beautiful
+times lived but in the remembrance of a few, it might
+become necessary to preserve in dead formulas and
+codes the remnants of a better past. But even in
+the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the south of
+France seems not to have been a favourable soil for
+the ‘courts of love,’ as certain amateur societies of
+gallant and literary ladies and gentlemen then began
+to be called. The chief witness on the subject,
+Andreas Capellanus, who quotes several sentences
+delivered by these <i>curiæ dominarum</i>, seems to refer
+chiefly to the north of France.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> Another Frenchman,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span>Martial d’Auvergne, an advocate in Paris,
+has introduced the technical language of the law into
+these amorous discussions; much to the edification
+of his contemporaries (he lived in the fifteenth century),
+to judge from the number of editions published
+of his work.</p>
+
+<p>The sober truth arrived at by these and many
+other considerations too long to mention may be
+summed up thus: ‘Courts of love,’ as established
+tribunals with written codes, are altogether fictitious.
+Amateur societies of that name occur in the late
+middle ages, but chiefly in the north of France. To
+the troubadours the name and essence of ‘courts of
+love’ were entirely unknown.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="PART_III"><i>PART III.</i><br>
+<span class="smaller">TECHNICAL</span></h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE ORIGIN OF RHYME.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The foundation of poetry, that is of the expression
+of human feelings in verse, is rhythm. According
+to Aristoxenus, the greatest metrical scholar of
+Greece, rhythm is the division of time into equally
+recurring shorter and longer parts; but it becomes perceptible
+only by being applied to certain movements
+performed in this time (τὸ ῥυθμιζόμενον). This object
+of rhythm is, of course, different in the different
+arts. In music, it is the notes of a melody (μέλος);
+in dance, the movements of hands and feet (σωματικὴ
+κίνησις); and in poetry, the words (λέξις). In
+ancient, and especially in Greek, poetry, rhythm
+was the first and chief principle of verse; and Greek
+poets observed this principle with the greatest consistency,
+measuring their lines exclusively according
+to the length or shortness of the syllables, without
+taking any notice of the rhetorical accent of each
+word, which depends, of course, greatly on its meaning.
+This metrical system, founded entirely on the
+beauty of sound, agrees perfectly with what we
+know of the plastic art of the Greeks, where also the
+graceful and harmonious form predominates over the
+emotional expression of the features. There is something
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span>analogous to be found in the primitive poetry of
+the Teutonic nations. The aim of their poets was to
+impress the audience by the strong and heroic sound
+of their verses; and in consequence the principle of
+their metrical system was purely rhythmical. In
+<i>Beowulf</i>, as well as in the <i>Hildebrandliet</i>, or the
+<i>Wessobrunner Gebet</i>, each line contains a certain
+number of long and highly-accented (<i>hochbetont</i>)
+syllables, which are further emphasised by alliteration.
+The rhetorical importance of these syllables
+does not in the least influence their metrical value.</p>
+
+<p>Latin poetry was not at first equally strict. The
+earlier Roman poets always tried to make the
+rhetorical and the metrical accent coincide. This
+was the more easy for them, as their rules of
+quantity were not yet clearly defined. Only the
+later Roman poets, and among them especially
+Horace, who were under the influence of Greek
+literature, introduced the accurate rules of Hellenic
+prosody into their own language, and at the
+same time made the metrical accent quite independent
+of the rhetorical. A remarkable sign of the
+difference between the Roman and Greek metrical
+systems is the way in which the two nations used
+the most important terms of rhythmical art, arsis
+and thesis. Aristoxenus, founding his metrical
+system entirely on the rhythms of dance and music,
+called arsis the weak part of the metre, because there
+the dancer raised his foot (αἴρω), and thesis the
+strong part, when the dancer trod the ground
+(τίθημι)—exactly contrary to the modern use of
+these words made familiar by Bentley. The best
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span>Roman metrical scholars, such as Atilius Fortunatianus
+and Terentianus Maurus, on the other
+hand, led by the rhetorical accent of their language,
+called arsis the first, and thesis the second, part
+of the metre, whether weak or strong, following,
+however, in this the metrical ἐγχειρίδιον of an unknown
+late-Greek author.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> The only exception
+is Martianus Capella, the author of ‘De Nuptiis
+Philologiæ et Mercurii,’ a work considered, during
+the middle ages, as a standard authority for all
+the branches of human knowledge. In his translation
+of Aristides Quintilianus, he adopted from him
+the use of arsis and thesis, although it was in direct
+contradiction to his own definition: ‘Arsis est
+elevatio, thesis depositio vocis ac remissio.’ The
+introduction of Greek prosody into the Latin
+language was simply a matter of art; and its reign
+could last only so long as the great poets of the
+classic period kept down the influence of popular
+poetry. As soon as the unlimited sway of these
+grand traditions ceased, the original tendencies of
+the Roman language began to oppose the Greek-Augustan
+orthodoxy; and this struggle, which lasted
+for many centuries, ended in the complete overthrow
+of the ancient prosody. It would lead too far to
+follow the traces of this process through its different
+phases; it is enough to say that, at the beginning of
+the middle ages, the rhetorical as against the metrical
+accent had more than reconquered its original
+rights in Latin poetry. In the grand religious songs
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span>of mediæval monkish poetry, such as ‘Dies iræ, dies
+illa’ or ‘Stabat mater dolorosa,’ the verses are
+measured entirely according to the modern principle
+of rhetorical accent. Even where the mediæval poets
+tried to keep up the appearance of ancient versification
+they could not abstain from yielding to the
+powerful influence of rising mediæval art. The
+best example of this fact is the favourite metre of
+monkish scholars, the Leonine hexameter. The
+poems written in this metre—as may be seen by the
+following two lines from the poem ‘De contemptu
+mundi,’ of the eleventh century,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Cumque laborum | cumque dolorum | sit sitabundus,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nos irritans | nos invitans | ad mala mundus—</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">utterly neglect the fundamental rules of ancient
+prosody. The same might be said, even in a higher
+degree, of Godfrid of Viterbo. He goes so far as
+to join two leonine hexameters and one pentameter
+in a stanza; for example:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Imperii sidus | plaudunt tibi mensis et idus,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Metra tibi fidus | regalia dat Gotefridus</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quæ tibi sæpe legas | ut bene regna regas.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The principle of dividing the stanza into three parts
+which is the basis of Italian and German strophes,
+can be easily recognised here; and the mediæval
+poet might have written his sham hexameters much
+more properly in this way:—</p>
+
+<table class="stanzas">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Pedes</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;Imperii sidus</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;Plaudunt tibi mensis et idus.</div>
+        </div>
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;Metra tibi fidus</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;Regalia dat Gotefridus.</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Cauda</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;Quæ tibi sæpe legas</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;Ut bene regna regas.</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span></p>
+
+<p class="noindent">One of the most striking features of this rising
+poetry is the rhyme—an element quite independent
+of the metrical principle, and founded entirely
+on the sound and rhetorical accent of the words.
+This rhyme is used no longer as an occasional
+effect, in different places of the verse, but defined by the
+strictest rules of art. It has been a favourite subject
+of investigation with literary scholars, to determine
+who first used the rhyme. Monkish mediæval poets
+and Provençal troubadours have found enthusiastic
+defenders of their claims to this great invention. It
+appears however that the question itself was a mistake.
+Nobody invented the rhyme: it has existed as long
+as poetry itself. Horace and Homer knew it as well
+as Byron and Goethe; but the rhythmical principle
+prevailed too largely in the Latin and Greek languages
+to allow the rhyme, as a rhetorical element,
+to attain that influence which it gained by a natural
+process, when verses began to be measured according
+to the modern principle of rhetorical accent.
+Wilhelm Grimm, in his monograph ‘Zur Geschichte
+des Reims,’ has collected with great care the
+numerous instances of rhyme in the classic Roman
+period. The rule is, as Grimm shows, that the chief
+cæsura in the third foot of the hexameter rhymes
+with the end of the verse; but in other places also
+the rhyming words may be found. Grimm, however,
+decidedly goes too far when he sees an intentional
+rhyme in all these cases. The Latin language, owing
+to its consonant final syllables in declensions and
+conjugations, possessed an immense quantity of rhyming
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span>material, and moreover each adjective had to
+agree with its noun, if it followed the same declension.
+It is therefore difficult to see how the poet
+could have avoided bringing into the same verse
+very often two or even more words ending in the
+same way. In a verse, for instance, like that quoted
+by Grimm from Virgil’s ‘Bucolics,’</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vare tuas cupiant et tristia condere bella,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">no Roman poet could have intended, nor a Roman
+ear have noticed, a rhyme between ‘tristia’
+and ‘bella;’ especially as the different metrical value
+of the two syllables modified the sound of the
+two <i>a</i>’s. Grimm seems not to have been able to
+free himself altogether from the propensity of biographers
+to overrate the importance of their heroes.
+However, in innumerable other cases rhyme has
+decidedly been used of set purpose by the Roman
+poets, especially where the corresponding words
+are found either in the chief cæsura and the end of
+the same verse, or at the end of two verses following
+each other. Of both cases an example may be
+cited from Horace, whose fine ear and ability to
+avail himself of beauties of rhythm and sound make
+him an important witness for the intentional use of
+rhyme.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ille gravem du<i>ro</i> terram qui vertit arat<i>ro</i>,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">affords an excellent instance of rhyme in the chief
+cæsura; while the lines</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Non satis est pulchra esse poemata, dulcia sunto</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Et quocumque volent animum auditoris agunto,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span></p>
+
+<p class="noindent">prove even the existence of a sort of feminine rhyme
+in Latin poetry. Horace also shows how the
+Roman poets used the rhyme for onomatopoetic
+purposes. In the celebrated line,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">the quick jump of the little animal could not have
+been better illustrated than by the rhyme of the
+two words immediately following each other—‘Schlagreim,’
+as the German meistersingers appropriately
+call it. Though there can be no doubt that
+the Latin poets of the classic period knew and
+occasionally used rhyme, it never was to them of
+the same vital importance that it is to modern
+poets; and in fact it never could be, so long as the
+rhythmical accent preserved its unlimited power; for
+this is decidedly unfavourable to rhyme. In all those
+cases, for instance, where the chief cæsura of the
+hexameter rhymed with the end of the same verse,
+which, as we have seen, was the usual way, the two
+corresponding syllables had different metrical accents.
+In the line already cited,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Īllĕ grăvēm dūr<i>ō</i> tērrām quī vērtĭt ărātr<i>ŏ</i>,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">the <i>o</i> of <i>duro</i> stands in the arsis, and therefore has
+quite a different sound from the <i>o</i> in <i>aratro</i>, which
+stands in the thesis. This becomes the more evident
+in those very rare cases where the rhyme in this
+position contains two syllables, or is, as we should
+say, feminine. In Horace there is only one instance
+of this; and indeed what could be the use of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span>a rhyme which, if the verse were read according
+to rhythmical principles, would be scarcely
+audible?—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Frātrēm mœ̄<i>rēntīs’</i> rāptō dē frātrĕ dŏ<i>lēn’tĭs</i>.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">But by the same fact the destructive influence of
+rhyme on the rhythmical principle becomes evident.
+The line, for instance, already quoted from Godfrey
+of Viterbo, would, if properly scanned, have sounded
+thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mētră tĭbē <i>fīdūs’</i> rēgālĭă dāt Gŏtĕf<i>rī’dŭs</i>.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">But this way of destroying the feminine rhyme by
+the rhythmical accent certainly did not tally with
+the feeling of the mediæval poet; and it may be
+assumed that he accentuated <i>fídus</i> exactly like
+Gotef<i>rídus</i>, as if it were a trochee. This at the
+same time agreed perfectly with the rhetorical accent
+of the word. Reading the whole verse according
+to the same principle, the first part of it,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Métra tíbi fídus,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">became quite trochaic in character, and the idea of
+the hexameter is utterly destroyed. This destruction
+of the rhythmical principle in mediæval Latin
+poetry was almost contemporary with the same
+phenomenon in Teutonic literature. Here also the
+dominion of purely rhythmical measurement and
+alliteration was victoriously contested by rhyme and
+rhetorical accent. At the beginning of the middle-high-German
+period, alliteration as a principle of art
+disappeared; and by the great minnesingers of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span>twelfth and thirteenth centuries it was used only
+occasionally, and without any strict rule, just as
+rhyme was by the old Roman poets. It was chiefly
+preserved in old alliterative formulæ, such as ‘Haus
+und Hof,’ or our ‘Kith and Kin.’ A beautiful example
+of this is found in the last stanza but one of the
+‘Nibelunge Nôt’:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mit leide was verendet des künges hochgezît</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">als ie diu <i>l</i>îbe <i>l</i>eide z’aller jungeste gît.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Rhythmical accent, however, existed side by side
+with rhetorical accent much longer in German than
+in any of the Romance languages; and traces of its
+influence may be found almost till the beginning of
+the modern high-German epoch.</p>
+
+<p>In the Romance languages the decline of the
+rhythmical principle was even more complete than
+in the mediæval Latin or in any of the Teutonic
+idioms. The feeling for rhythm in those languages
+was so entirely lost that they were not able even to
+preserve the rhetorical accent in sufficient strength
+to make it of any avail for metrical purposes. Although
+in most of the poems written in the Romance
+languages there is a certain resemblance to the iambic
+or trochaic fall, yet the scanning of a whole stanza
+according to these metres would in most cases prove
+impossible. In modern French, which has gone
+farthest in neglecting the rhythmical difference
+between the syllables within the same word, there
+is scarcely a single line of the most finished poets
+which could be read metrically without altering even
+that remnant of rhetorical accent which has been
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span>preserved. In the following verse, taken from
+Boileau’s sixth Satire,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Căr à peĭ<i>nē</i> lĕs cōqs cŏm<i>m</i>ēnçănt leūr rămāgĕ,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">there are two striking examples of this fact; for the
+accent of the (if anything) iambic metre in the word
+<i>peine</i> is on a syllable which in prose is scarcely pronounced
+at all, and in <i>commençant</i> the last syllable
+is at least as long as the last but one. Where
+modern French poets try to introduce something
+resembling rhythm, they generally do so less by
+means of the rhetorical accent in words of several
+syllables than by putting the more or less important
+parts of the sentence, such as article and noun or
+personal pronoun and verb, in thesis and arsis respectively.
+In the main it may fairly be said that in
+Romance poetry metre is entirely founded on counting
+the syllables of the verse, and rhythm, properly
+speaking, has disappeared, except so far as it shows
+its influence in the combination of verses of different
+lengths in a stanza.</p>
+
+<p>This leads us to another consideration, which is of
+the highest importance in studying Provençal versification.
+Rhythm showed its influence on the poetry of
+the troubadours, not only in the single verses, but also
+in the composition of several verses of different sizes
+and cadences into an organic whole—the strophe.
+The harmonious beauty and impulsive lyrical pathos
+of Pindar’s odes excite the same admiration as does
+the steady epical flow of Homer’s hexameters; and
+to the inheritance of the strophe, and its development
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span>into the stanza, mediæval poems, and especially the
+canzos of the troubadours, owe their greatest charm.
+To the relics of ancient literature already mentioned
+was added the rhyme, defined by strict rules and
+made obligatory; and this new principle contributed
+not a little to give variety and harmonious beauty
+to the mediæval stanza. In investigating Provençal
+versification, it will therefore be necessary to consider
+(1) rhythm, as shown in the manifold measures
+of verse, (2) rhyme, and (3) the mode in which by
+these two elements combined the stanza of the troubadours
+was formed.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.<br>
+<span class="smaller">RHYTHM.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>In no other language of Western Europe has the
+artistic development of poetical forms ever reached
+so high a degree of perfection as that to which it
+was raised by the troubadours. The craftsmanship
+of the poets and singers, the refinement of the
+audiences in appreciating beauties of rhyme and
+metre which the modern ear can scarcely realise,
+are the more astonishing, since the period of the
+poetry of the troubadours is comparatively a very
+early one, and since their civilisation in other
+respects shows the characteristics of the early middle
+ages. Through various favourable circumstances,
+the <i>langue d’oc</i> succeeded, first of all Romance
+idioms, in forming itself into a distinct and
+regular language, with strictly defined grammatical
+rules. The great number of final syllables of the
+same sound, which existed in the comparatively well
+preserved forms of declensions and conjugations,
+offered an immense quantity of rhymes; and this
+ease of rhyming, combined with the liveliness and
+sanguine temperament of southern Frenchmen,
+naturally gave rise to an early poetry. The primitive
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span>stages of this poetry have, as we know, disappeared;
+and we have lost in these popular songs, which
+undoubtedly existed, the most valuable material
+for the history of Provençal metrical art. The
+first troubadour, Count Guillem IX. of Poitou
+(1071-1127), appears as a finished poet, in full
+possession of all the refinements of Provençal metre,
+without any predecessor or previous document of
+lyrical poetry to account for his great accomplishments
+and experience. In fact, after him there is no
+important progress of metrical art; and, although
+several troubadours formed new stanzas and used
+difficult rhymes of their own, it may be said that, in
+the main, the first troubadour knew as much of
+the harmonious beauties of stanza and rhyme as the
+last—Guiraut Riquier, who died about two hundred
+years after the birth of Guillem.</p>
+
+<p>This great stability of the metrical rules soon led
+to a desire of fixing them by a theoretical system;
+and we know of several attempts to perform this
+difficult task. The most important and voluminous
+work of this kind must be our guide in the maze of
+Provençal subtlety; though in many cases it is more
+difficult to follow the mediæval scholar through
+his confused definitions than to abstract the rules
+from the poems themselves. The author of ‘Las
+Leys d’Amors,’ as he calls his compilation, considered,
+in accordance with the notions of his time,
+that it was a sign of highest scholarship to accumulate
+the greatest possible amount of undigested
+knowledge, without taking the trouble of grouping
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span>his heterogeneous materials. He desires to show
+his familiarity with almost all the branches of human
+knowledge. Grammar and rhetoric, prosody and dialectics,
+the trivium and quadrivium, have been objects
+of his study; and his work is undoubtedly one of the
+most valuable exponents of mediæval scholarship.
+In fact, it may be called the aggregate expression
+of the literary ideas of his time and country, the
+more so as it can scarcely be said to have been
+written by one author only. In the middle of the
+fourteenth century (1356 is the exact date of the
+work), the time of the great troubadours had long
+passed away; and their pure language was yielding
+more and more to the influences of southern patois
+and the northern <i>langue d’oïl</i>. To oppose the further
+decline of the language and poetry, several institutions
+were founded by patriotic and cultivated men,
+who, however, being scholars rather than poets,
+could not revive the spirit of the troubadours. One
+of the most renowned of these societies, which resembled
+modern academies, named the ‘Seven
+Poets of Toulouse,’ commissioned their chancellor
+for the time being, Guillaume Molinier, to write, or
+rather to compile from the works of other scholars,
+and under their own supervision, a compendium of
+the rules of poetry. The result was ‘Las Leys
+d’Amors,’ which, founded entirely on the traditions
+of the troubadours, although written after their time,
+is of the greatest importance for the metrical
+analysis of their works. M. Gatien-Arnoult, keeper
+of the manuscripts of the Académie des Jeux Floraux
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span>at Toulouse, has published an accurate edition of
+the work from the manuscript belonging to that
+Academy.</p>
+
+<p>Another mediæval work, which it will often be
+necessary to refer to, is Dante’s treatise ‘De Vulgari
+Eloquentia.’ His remarks on the measurement
+of verse and the construction of stanzas were
+originally meant to apply to poems written in his
+own language. But the affinity between the poets
+of the <i>lingua di sì</i> and those of the <i>langue d’oc</i>,
+and especially the great influence of the troubadours
+on Dante’s own metrical system,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> make it
+permissible to apply the rules laid down by the
+great Italian to the works of the Provençal poets.</p>
+
+<p>In the fifth chapter of his treatise Dante defines
+the limits of the length of a verse in this way: ‘Nullum
+adhuc invenimus carmen in syllabicando endecasyllabum
+transcendisse nec a trisyllabo descendisse.’&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a>
+By trisyllabus and endecasyllabus he means lines, or
+carmina, as he calls them, which in reality may consist
+of no more than two and ten syllables. For in
+Italian poetry feminine rhymes are so predominant
+in number that Dante does not think it necessary to
+take into consideration the small minority of masculine
+rhymes, and counts the last short syllable of the
+feminine rhyme even in those few cases where in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span>reality it does not exist. The ‘Leys d’Amors,’ according
+to its national view, follows a totally different
+principle of measuring verse. It first states the difference
+between masculine and feminine rhymes, calling
+the former accen agut, and the latter accen greu.
+Then it counts the syllables of each verse really existing,
+neglecting, however, the last short syllable if
+the verse ends with a feminine rhyme. An example
+will best show the difference of the two systems.
+Of the two following lines,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">anz li mal trag mi son joi e plazer</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">sol per aiso, car sai q’amors autreja,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">the first consists actually of ten syllables, the last of
+which has the metrical accent. This, therefore, the
+‘Leys d’Amors’ would call a ‘bordo de x. syllabas con
+accen agut.’ The second line, though actually containing
+eleven syllables, it would call a ‘bordo de x.
+syllabas con accen greu.’ Dante, on the other hand,
+would call both verses endecasyllabi, not taking any
+notice of the rime tronco in the first. The ‘Leys
+d’Amors,’ therefore, differs widely, and even more than
+might at first appear, from Dante, in saying that the
+shortest verse possible is that of four, and the longest
+possible that of twelve, syllables. For what Dante
+calls a trisyllabus may be, as we have seen, in reality
+a line of two syllables; and the ‘bordo de quatro
+syllabas’ of the ‘Leys d’Amors’ may consist actually
+of five syllables. Verses shorter than four syllables,
+according to the ‘Leys d’Amors’ are permissible only
+in the form of bordos empeutatz or biocatz. By bordos
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span>empeutatz are meant the different parts of a verse
+divided by a middle rhyme, such as</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Perdut ai—e cobrarai.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Bordos biocatz are short verses which are mixed with
+others of greater length, and form, if rhyming, a sort
+of echo; for instance:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">El contrari far vol</div>
+      <div class="verse indent6">E col.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">These limits, however, are too narrow, at least in one
+direction. In one of the poems of Guillem IX. of
+Poitiers there is a line consisting of no less than fifteen
+syllables, and therefore by far exceeding the number
+allowed by Dante or the ‘Leys d’Amors.’ This verse
+displays, notwithstanding its great length, a certain
+rhythmical beauty, which, considering the rarity of
+effects of that sort, makes it all the more remarkable.
+In the first stanza of the poem it runs thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">q’una domna s’es clamada de sos gardadors a me.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The extreme in the other direction is reached by the
+troubadour Marcabrun, who has verses of one syllable
+only, such as Ay, and Oc.</p>
+
+<p>Between these extremes, verses of all lengths may
+be found now and then in the poetry of the troubadours;
+but nevertheless a preference for certain forms
+is visible. Dante’s views on the subject, which, on the
+whole, may fairly be applied to Provençal verse, are
+contained in the following sentence: ‘Pentasyllabum
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span>[viz., carmen, <i>i.e.</i> line] et eptasyllabum et endecasyllabum
+in usu frequentiori habentur, et post hæc trisyllabum
+ante alia: quorum omnium endecasyllabum
+videtur esse superbius tam temporis occupatione
+quam capacitate sententiæ, constructionis et vocabulorum.’
+This, rendered by Provençal terms, means
+that verses of four, six, and ten syllables (con accen
+agut), and next to them those of two syllables, are
+most in use, but that the finest of all is the decasyllabic
+line. It may be useful to illustrate this rule by a
+few examples. The bordo of two syllables, as has
+been shown, is allowed only in bordos biocatz or empeutatz,
+and cannot form an independent foundation
+for a stanza. Of much greater importance is the verse
+of four syllables. The troubadours appreciated its
+graceful and easy fall, and used it with predilection.
+The beautiful poem of Guillem de Cabestanh, ‘Li
+douz cossire,’ the finest of his, perhaps of all, Provençal
+canzos, is founded on this verse. Here it occurs
+with feminine rhyme only, in connection with the
+verse of six syllables, <i>e.g.</i>:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>En sovinensa</i></div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">tenc la car’el dous ris</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>vostra valensa</i></div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">el bel cors blanc e lis.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The ‘Leys d’Amors’ quotes a poem, very likely invented
+for the occasion, where the stanza consists
+entirely of this verse. Here it occurs in both forms,
+with accen agut and accen greu. Notwithstanding a
+certain monotony, it is impossible to deny the merits
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span>of harmonious beauty and lyrical pathos to a stanza
+like the following:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que fers de lansa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">mays no m’acora;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">que mi transfora</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">lo cor el cors</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">l’enveios mors</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">e verenos</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">coma poyzos</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">dels vilas motz,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">quem fan jos votz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">per maestria.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The verse of six syllables has been used by Bernard
+de Ventadorn for the stanza of one of his best canzos,
+where it occurs alternately with accen greu and
+agut:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">De domnas m’es vejaire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">que gran falhimen fan;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">per so quar no son gaire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">amat li fin aman.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">However well suited in this case to the sentimental
+purposes of the troubadour, this verse is hardly fit to
+be used by itself in longer stanzas. There is a
+certain ‘entre deux’ about it, which deprives it of
+the graceful ease of shorter metres, without giving
+as an equivalent the grandeur of, for instance, the
+decasyllabic line. Its effect is much finer where it occurs
+combined with other verses in a stanza, as, for
+instance, in another poem of Bernard de Ventadorn,
+where it is found in connection with the verse of
+eight syllables, both showing accen greu:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tant ai mon cor plen de joja</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">tot me desnatura;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">flors blanca vermelh’e bloja</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">m sembla la freidura.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span></p>
+
+<p class="noindent">This is at the same time one of the few examples
+where the octosyllabic verse is used in lyrical Provençal
+poetry. Dante, in consequence of its rarity,
+does not even mention it. But it is nevertheless
+of great importance, being the favourite metre of
+the romance. The two most important Provençal
+romances, ‘Flamenca’ and the ‘Roman de Giaufre,’
+are written in it, as is also a novelette by Raimon
+Vidal, the author of a Provençal grammar. The
+first lines exhibit him as a ‘laudator temporis acti,’
+after the manner of the later troubadours:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">En aquel temps c’om era jais</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">e per amor fis e verais</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">cuendes e d’avinen escuelh.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The octosyllabic verse with accen agut is more often
+found in lyrics than that with accen greu. In epic
+poetry both occur promiscuously.</p>
+
+<p>Of all the different verses the most important
+both in lyrical and in epical poetry, in Italian, French,
+and Provençal, is the endecasyllabus, or verse of
+ten syllables. The variety of different forms in
+which it occurs, and of purposes for which it is used,
+make a short account of its origin and development
+almost necessary. This variety is effected by the
+manifold ways in which the cæsura, one of the few
+relics of ancient metrical art, is used. The ‘Leys
+d’Amors’ says: ‘E devetz saber que en aitals bordos
+la pauza es la pauza en la quarta syllaba; e ges no
+deu hom transmudar lo compas del bordo, so es que
+la pausa sia de <span class="allsmcap">VI.</span> syllabas el remanen de quatre,
+quar non ha bella cazensa.’ The pauza here spoken
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span>of is the cæsura, effected by a stronger accent being
+given to a certain syllable of the verse, and by a short
+rest which the voice naturally takes afterwards. This
+rest or pause may also be filled up by a short unaccentuated
+syllable which is not counted. In this
+case the pauza is feminine, or with accen greu:
+otherwise it has accen agut. As has been seen,
+the ‘Leys d’Amors’ lays down that the cæsura must
+be after the fourth syllable; and this indeed is the
+rule in lyrical poetry, from which that work takes all
+its examples. But the endecasyllabus occurs in much
+older documents in the <i>langue d’oc</i> and <i>langue d’oïl</i>,
+namely, in the old popular epic; and to this it is
+necessary to refer in order to give a full account
+of its development. The oldest poetic monument
+in the Provençal language is a fragment of what seems
+a long didactic poem, and is commonly called ‘Boethius,’
+because the parts of it which remain treat of
+an episode in the life of that author. Boethius, we
+may here recapitulate, a Coms de Roma, and one of
+the wisest and most religious men of his age, has
+been thrown into prison, on a false pretence, by his
+enemy the Pagan emperor Teirix. In his misery,
+Philosophy, the heroine of Boethius’s work ‘De Consolatione
+Philosophiæ,’ comes to comfort him. She
+appears to him under the form of a beautiful maiden,
+the daughter of a mighty king. In the hem of her
+raiment are wrought the Greek characters Π and Θ
+as symbols of ‘la vita qui enter es’ and ‘la dreita lei.’
+In the middle of this description the manuscript
+breaks off, and leaves no indication of what was to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span>follow. The time of this interesting document is, as
+Diez has shown by linguistic reasons, not later than
+about 960; and its great age adds to its value for
+metrical purposes. The metre is essentially the same
+as in all French poems of the Charlemagne cycle, viz.,
+the decasyllabic; and it is used in very nearly the
+same way. In both languages it was the rule to give
+the fourth syllable of each verse the strongest metrical
+accent, and thus to effect after this syllable the cæsura
+or ‘pauza de bordo’ which has been explained above.
+‘Boethius’ has only verses con accen agut; and therefore
+to avoid monotony most of the pauzas are with
+accen greu, so that generally each line has eleven
+syllables, <i>e.g.</i>:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nos jove <i>ó</i>mne | quandiu que nos estam</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">de gran follía | per folledat parllam.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The following lines afford examples of the masculine
+cæsura:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">E qui nos pais | que no murem de fam</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">cui tan amet | Torquator Mallios.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In a few cases, the second part of the verse contained
+one syllable less than usual, generally after a
+feminine pauza, which, as it were, covered this want,
+for instance:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">donz fo Boécis | corps ag bo e pro.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In these cases it might almost be supposed that the
+cæsura had been left out by neglect. But this supposition
+is disproved by the fact that also after a pauza con
+accen agut the second half of the verse is shortened
+in the same manner, a phenomenon which can be explained
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span>only from the effect of the interval after the
+accent on the fourth syllable. An instance of this is
+the line:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qu’el era cóms | molt onraz e rix.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Here the verse consists of only nine syllables. The
+metre in ‘Boethius’ could therefore vary from nine
+to ten or eleven syllables. This variety was even
+greater in other poems, where the feminine rhyme
+occurs together with the feminine pauza, so as to
+bring the length of the verse to twelve syllables, <i>e.g.</i>:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">En autra térra | irai penre linhatge.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The hiatus in the cæsura, as is evident from this and
+many other examples, was not considered a fault;
+and the first vowel was certainly pronounced. This
+seems to mark the transition to the more modern
+French heroic verse, the Alexandrine, which was not
+used in the old chanson de geste. In epic poetry also
+the position of the cæsura after the fourth syllable is
+almost universal. But there are some exceptions to
+this rule. In ‘Girartz de Rossilhon,’ the most important
+popular epic of the <i>langue d’oc</i>, the pauza del
+bordo occurs always after the sixth syllable, <i>e.g.</i>:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vecvòs per miei l’estorn | lo vilh Draugo</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">lo paire don Girárt | l’oncle Folco,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">or with feminine pauza and masculine ending of the
+verse:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tan vos vei entrels vóstres | queus an cobrit,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">or with both feminine:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">E fan lor cavals córre | per la varena.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The same form of the decasyllabic verse is also found
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span>in some northern French epics, as in ‘Audigier,’ a
+later parody of the old heroic chanson de geste.
+The equal flow of this verse did not make it
+adaptable for the formation of stanzas; and there
+was the less occasion for such formation in the older
+epic poetry, as the rhyme or assonance remained
+unchanged through a great number of verses. This
+explains the tirade monorime which is the characteristic
+of the popular in contrast to the artificial epic.
+To break the monotony of this metre, however,
+many of the popular joglars introduced after a certain
+number of decasyllabic verses a shorter line, a
+bordo biocatz according to the expression of the ‘Leys
+d’Amors,’ which at the same time by its rhyme formed
+a transition to the following tirade. An instance
+occurs in the first part of the chronicle of the
+Albigeois, while in the second the shorter line is
+without any rhyme—one reason more for believing
+that the two parts were not both written by the
+same author, Guillem de Tudela. Moreover, lyric
+poets used a kind of tirade monorime intermixed
+with shorter verses, such as is found in the song by
+which Richard Cœur de Lion beguiled the hours of
+his imprisonment in Germany. The first stanza of
+this song may be quoted as an example of this form:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ja nus homs pres non dira sa razon</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">adrechament, si com homs dolens non;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">mas per conort deu hom faire canson:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">pro n’ay d’amics, mas paubre son li don.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ancta lur es, se per ma rezenson</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">soi sai dos ivers pres.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The word ‘pres’ recurs at the end of each of the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span>shorter verses, and forms a sort of burden. The
+same song also exists in French, and the latter seems
+indeed to be the original version.</p>
+
+<p>It would lead us too far to follow the traces of the
+decasyllabic verse through the Italian, Spanish, and
+Portuguese languages. In Italy the position of the
+cæsura was not fixed by strict rules as in the <i>langue
+d’oc</i> and <i>langue d’oïl</i>; sometimes there are two
+accents and corresponding pauzas on the fourth and
+seventh or eighth syllables, and sometimes only one
+on the sixth. The cæsura in the decasyllabic metre
+which occurs in the canzos and sirventeses of the
+troubadours, is different from that in the tirade
+monorime of the popular epic. It has been seen
+that here in case of a pauza con accen greu the first
+part of the verse, and therefore the whole verse,
+became one syllable too long. The stricter metrical
+rules of lyric poetry did not admit of such liberties.
+Hence, if the lyrical cæsura is masculine, the chief
+accent is on the fourth syllable; if it is feminine the
+chief metrical accent goes back to the third syllable,
+and the fourth, which in epic poetry is always
+strongly accentuated, becomes weak. The masculine
+lyrical cæsura, which shows no difference from
+the epical, is found, for instance, in the beginning of
+Bertrand de Born’s sirventes:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pos als barós | enoja e lor peza</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">d’aquesta pátz | qu’an faita li dui rei;</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">while the lyrical pauza con accen greu occurs in the
+third stanza of the same poem:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Cum aquésta | ni autra c’om li grei.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span></p>
+
+<p>The epical cæsura in its feminine form is found very
+seldom in the poetry of the troubadours. Two of
+the rare instances occur in a canzo of Guillem de
+Cabestanh; and there the case is the more remarkable,
+as the epical and lyrical pauzas appear intermixed.
+The two verses are:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Don mi remémbra | douza terra el pais,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">and</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">En autra térra | irai penre lenhatge.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In both cases the epical pauza might be got rid of
+by a slight alteration, which, however, is not confirmed
+by the authority of any manuscript. In the first
+case, ‘membra’ might easily be written instead of
+‘remembra,’ by which means the epical cæsura would
+become lyrical; and in the second case the <i>a</i> of ‘terra’
+might be supplied by an apostrophe, by means of
+which the pauza would altogether disappear. In the
+last stanza of the same poem, as preserved in several
+manuscripts, is found the only example in lyrical
+poetry of the second hemistich being shortened after
+the feminine pauza, which, as has been seen above,
+occurs several times in ‘Boethius.’ The line is this:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’ieu non vólgra | qe fos ma cusina.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">But the difficulty is not serious; for this and other
+reasons, metrical and philological, prove that the
+stanza is a spurious addition of a later ignorant
+scribe. This instance shows how important a
+knowledge of metrical rules is for the critical editing
+of a Provençal author.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.<br>
+<span class="smaller">RHYME.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The immense number of rhyming words in the
+Provençal language has been already referred to.
+Of the fifty-four forms of the verb of the first conjugation,
+only nine have the accent on the root, while
+forty-five have it on one of the final syllables; hence
+all the verbs of this conjugation rhyme with each other
+in these forms. Again, all the derivative syllables
+of the adjectives and nouns, like at-ada, ut-uda, or
+atge, ansa, ensa, and many others, have the accent
+on these syllables, and offer great choice of material
+to the poet in search of rhymes. Consequently, in
+all Provençal poetry, the rhyme plays a principal part,
+and metrical scholars considered it their most important
+task to introduce the student into the minutest
+subtleties of its beauty. Dante intended to speak of
+rhyme ‘secundum se’ in one of the later parts of his
+book, which he never wrote; in the existing parts
+he speaks of it only in connection with the stanza.
+In accordance, however, with the ‘Leys d’Amors,’
+it will be necessary to consider the essence of rhyme
+in itself, before proceeding to its influence on the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span>combination of verses in a stanza, and of stanzas in
+a poem.</p>
+
+<p>The ‘Leys d’Amors’ uses the word rim or rima
+in a perfectly different sense from the modern rhyme.
+Its definition is this: ‘Rims es certz nombres de
+syllabas, ajustat a lui autre bordo per pario d’aquela
+meteysha accordansa e paritat de syllabas, o de
+diversas am bela cazensa.’ Rim exists therefore not
+only if the accordansa is the same, which constitutes
+approximately what is now called rhyme, but also
+though the ends of the two verses concerned sound
+quite differently, provided that a certain harmony
+or cazensa is effected simply by their lengths or
+accents. This must be borne in mind while we consider
+the division of rims into four classes as given by
+the ‘Leys d’Amors,’ viz., rims estramps, accordans,
+ordinals, and dictionals. The division is not very
+logical; for some of the rims enumerated have nothing
+to do with the essence of rhyme. Rim estramp
+in its exact meaning is nothing but the absence of
+rhyme or even assonance between two verses. In
+the poetry of the troubadours there is scarcely a line
+which has not its corresponding rhyme, either in
+its own or in another stanza, so that rims estramps
+are of no importance for the present purpose.
+Everything that is now called rhyme and was used
+by the troubadours is contained under the second
+head, rims accordans. This accordansa may be
+sonan, consonan, or leonisme; and the rims sonans
+and consonans must be again subdivided into bords
+(French, bâtard) and lejals. Rim sonan bord is what
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span>is now called assonance, and is very frequently
+found in Spanish poetry. The ‘Leys d’Amors’
+gives examples of it con accen agut,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Encarcerat tenetz mon cor am<i>or</i>s,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E delivrar nol pot autra mas v<i>o</i>s;</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">and con accen greu,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">La mors quieu port a mi dons es tan g<i>randa</i>,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quieu lo thezaur del realme de F<i>ranza</i>, etc.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In the poems of the troubadours this assonance was
+not permissible. Accordingly, the ‘Leys d’Amors’
+does not approve of it, though admitting that it
+was daily used in the mandelas, or popular chansons.
+‘For these,’ says the author, with all a scholar’s contempt
+for popular poetry, ‘I do not care, because I
+do not see nor can I find a known author for them.’
+Rim sonan lejal, which exists only with accen agut,
+is what is now called masculine rhyme; that is to
+say, the last syllable in the rhyming lines must
+contain the same vowel with identical consonants
+(if any) after, but different ones before, it. The examples
+of this are of course innumerable. The
+second kind of rims accordans is called consonan.
+This also is subdivided into bord and lejal. The
+rim consonan bord is always con accen greu, so that
+only the second and unaccentuated syllable agrees
+with the corresponding one in the other verse, <i>e.g.</i>:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sino de liei que del sieu foc m’abran<i>d</i>a</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quar ela sab la maniera quos tu<i>d</i>a.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The modern ear would not discern this kind of
+rhyme; and the troubadours also never used it. Perhaps
+the author of the ‘Leys d’Amors’ introduced it
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span>merely in order to give completeness to his system.
+Rim consonan lejal has always accen agut, and is
+found where the last and accentuated syllable in two
+verses is exactly the same in spelling, but different
+in meaning. Examples of this class are numerous
+in the poetry of the troubadours: the following is
+from a canzo of Serveri de Gironne:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">E costumatz tanh que sia tan gen (adj. gentilis)</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que governar se puesca tota gen (noun, gentem).</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The same rhyme is also found in mediæval and
+modern French poetry, where it is called ‘rime riche.’
+The chief characteristic of an accordansa consonan
+is the identity of vowels and consonants in the last
+syllable, but in the last syllable only. On the other
+hand, in the third division of accordansa, the
+leonisme, the last syllable but one, also must to a
+certain extent agree in the corresponding verses.
+Leonismetat is again subdivided into rims leonismes
+simples, and parfaitz. In the former the consonants
+before the vowel in the last syllable but one must
+differ: in the latter they must be identical. Rim
+leonisme simple con accen greu is what is now
+called feminine rhyme, as in</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">tot autra dona d’esser bella</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">lai on es cesta damaisella.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Con accen agut, it is again one of those cases
+where, as in the rim consonan bord, the rhyme is
+extended to an unaccentuated syllable, which in this
+case appears before the rhyming syllables. The
+‘Leys d’Amors’ gives the following example:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tan prozamens feric G<i>ă</i>st<i>ó</i>s</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De lansa massas e b<i>ă</i>st<i>ó</i>s.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The following is rim leonisme parfait con accen
+greu:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">l’autrui beautat tein es ef<i>fassa</i>.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">li viva colors de sa <i>fassa</i>;</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">con accen agut:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Al arma dona s<i>anĕ</i>t<i>á</i>t</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qui fug a tota v<i>anĕ</i>t<i>á</i>t.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The former would be called in German ‘weiblicher
+rührender Reim;’ and of the latter the same may be
+said as of the leonisme simple con accen agut. In
+this case the rhyme is extended backwards as far as
+the last syllable but two; sometimes even the last
+four or five syllables are included in the accordansa
+leonisme. The ‘Leys d’Amors’ gives an instance
+of what it calls rim mays perfait leonisme, in which
+the last five syllables are intended to rhyme in two
+different verses:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">So don le cors p<i>ren noyridura</i></div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Lo fai tornar <i>en poyridura</i>.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In case the leonismetat is effected by two separate
+words, these words of course must always differ
+in their meaning. It may also be mentioned that
+rims consonans as well as leonismes are called contrafaitz,
+if the syllables or letters forming the rhyme
+are divided by the end of a word; as, for instance:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">a celz que la vezo ni l’auzon</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">quan las donas sa beutat lauzon.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Such is the division which the ‘Leys d’Amors’
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span>gives of rhymes in general. The system shows a
+certain scholastic consistency; but the real essence
+and origin of rhyme are entirely overlooked, or even
+wrongly defined. Entirely different things are
+brought under the same head, as, for instance, assonance
+and masculine rhyme (rim sonan); while, on the
+other hand, things which decidedly belong together
+are separated. Thus the simple rhyme is called rim
+lejal sonan, while the simple feminine rhyme, which
+is obviously derived from it, is classed together with
+the rim leonisme, from which it differs essentially.
+The same is the case with the rims consonan lejal and
+leonisme parfait con accen greu. In subsequent
+chapters the work gives a complete list of the different
+artificial rhymes. They are too numerous to be discussed
+here; besides which, many of them are nothing
+but subtleties of the author, and are hardly ever used
+by the better troubadours. It is only necessary to
+consider those which are of real importance in studying
+the relics of Provençal poetry. The order also
+in which the different kinds are enumerated need not
+be followed: it is sometimes arbitrary, and sometimes
+utterly confused.</p>
+
+<p>After expounding what rhyme is, the ‘Leys
+d’Amors’ very properly proceeds to ask where rhyme
+is to be found. Every possible combination in
+this respect is brought under a new head, viz., rims
+ordinals. This expression is exceedingly ill chosen;
+for the words rims ordinals suggest some new kind
+of rhyme essentially different from rims consonans
+or sonans, while in reality they indicate only the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span>different positions which these same rhymes can
+have in verse or stanza. The author avoids giving
+a definition of rims ordinals, but begins at once to
+explain how ‘aytals ordes se fai.’</p>
+
+<p>Rhyme, it is explained, may connect the different
+parts of one and the same line with each other,
+or with the end of this line. The middle rhyme is
+called, in correspondence with the bordos empeutatz,
+rim empeutat or multiplicatiu. An example of
+the former mode occurs in one of Peire Cardinal’s
+sirventeses:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Car los—garzos—vezon en patz sezer.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In the following line both kinds are combined, the
+rhyme being the same in the middle parts of the
+verse and at the end of it:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mon port—conort—e mon cofort.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In some cases, as for instance between the cæsura
+of the decasyllabic verse and its end, the middle
+rhyme was strictly prohibited. But this middle rhyme
+is found very often between the same sections of
+different verses, as for instance in the above-mentioned
+sirventes of Peire Cardinal:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">que fan—l’efan—d’aquela gent engleza</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">qu’avan—no van—guerrejar ab Frances;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">mal an—talan—de la terr’ engolmeza</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">tiran—iran—conquistar Gastines.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In order to display his art, the poet moreover
+made each pair of rhymes in the same line a rim consonan
+lejal. This kind of rhyme was sometimes
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span>carried to such an extent that each syllable of a whole
+verse agreed with the corresponding syllable of
+another. This was called a rim serpenti. Of such
+exaggeration there is probably no instance in the good
+troubadours; the ‘Leys d’Amors’ gives the following:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Bos—dieus—clarratz&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a>—cara</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Los—mieus—gardatz—ara.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Next come the rhymes between the ends of the
+verses of one and the same stanza. The simplest
+form possible in this case was that all the verses of a
+stanza should have but one rhyme, which suggests
+the tirade monorime in the popular epic. The
+‘Leys d’Amors’ calls this rim continuat. Although
+very simple, this rhyme was used by the most
+finished troubadours, such as Marcabrun and
+Aimeric de Peguilhan. Sordello bewailed in it the
+death of his friend Blacatz; and in the last-named
+poem combined with the long verse of twelve
+syllables, it has an excellent effect owing to its dreary
+monotonous sound.</p>
+
+<p>When there are two or more rhymes in a stanza,
+their order is varied in many different ways.
+The most simple mode is what the ‘Leys d’Amors’
+calls rims encadenatz; and next to this the rims
+crozatz. Rims encadenatz are crossed rhymes, viz.,
+<i>a b: a b</i>. This position of the rhymes, continued
+through a whole stanza, is not often to be found in
+the better, or at least more artistic, troubadours.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span>Johan de Pena, one of the less celebrated, has used
+it in a stanza of charming simplicity:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Un guerrier per alegrar</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">vuelh comensar, car m’agensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">que non lo dey plus celar,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">trop l’auray tengut en pensa;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">e guerrejaray d’amor,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">endomens que ma guerrieira</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">a trobat guerrejador</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">que guerreja volontieira.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">Rims crozatz are found, to quote but one instance, in
+the two quatrains of a sonnet.</p>
+
+<p>These are the principal divisions of rhyme in its
+relations to a single stanza. But the troubadours
+employed it also to keep up a certain connection between
+several, sometimes all, the different stanzas of a
+poem; and in this respect it must now be considered.</p>
+
+<p>A change of rhyme from strophe to strophe—rims
+singulars—is rare, and, as a rule, found only
+where the stanza is very long and artificially composed.
+An example occurs in a song by Peire Cardinal,
+each stanza of which consists of no less than fifteen
+lines. Gaucelm Faidit and the Monk of Montaudon
+have used rims singulars also in shorter and
+simpler stanzas. The ‘Leys d’Amors’ gives no rule
+as to their use, but confirms indirectly what has
+been said, by giving as an example a very long
+and complicated stanza. Directly opposed to the
+rims singulars are the rims or coblas unisonans,
+where all the stanzas of a poem have the same
+rhymes in the corresponding lines. Sometimes
+poems of this kind are very long, so that the poet
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span>had to find a great number of consonant words,
+which however, in the <i>langue d’oc</i>, was not as
+difficult as it would have been in one of the Teutonic
+languages. But in spite of this some of the German
+minnesingers, such as Count Rudolf of Neuenburg
+and Friedrich von Hausen, who were under
+the influence of the troubadours, tried to compete
+with them in the richness of their rhymes and the
+variety of their stanzas. Of Friedrich von Hausen
+a song remains, which is an exact imitation, in one
+stanza even a translation, of one of Folquet de
+Marseilles’ canzos, which the German poet probably
+learned during the crusade of 1190, on which he
+accompanied the Emperor Frederick I. Sometimes
+the stanzas of a poem are grouped together in twos,
+threes, or fours, by means of equal rhymes. Such
+cases are described by the ‘Leys d’Amors’ as coblas
+doblas, triplas, &amp;c. The better to display their skill,
+the greatest artists among the troubadours liked to
+choose for their rhymes rare and unusual words,
+the meaning of which, at the same time, was not
+easy to discover. The greatest master in these ‘rims
+cars,’ and ‘motz oscurs,’ was Arnaut Daniel, whom
+Dante, very likely for that reason, calls the first of
+all troubadours. But Peire d’Alvernhe also says of
+his poems, as a proof of their high art, ‘qu’apenas
+nulhs hom las enten.’ To give an idea of this obscurity,
+which, however, did not increase by any
+means the beauty of a canzo, it will suffice to quote
+a stanza from one of Arnaut Daniel’s poems, entirely
+written in rims cars:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">En breu brizaral temps braus,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">el bizel brunel e brancs</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">qui s’entresenhon trastug,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">desobre claus rams de folha,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">car no chant’ auzels ni piula</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">m’ensenh amors, que fassa donc</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">tal chan qui n’er segons ni tertz,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">ans prims d’afrancar cor agre.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>It is worthy of notice that in the first lines the troubadour
+has used alliteration to increase the strange
+sound of his words. The lines serve at the same
+time as an example of another way of connecting
+stanzas with each other. All the different verses
+are without a rhyme in their own stanza, but find it
+in the corresponding verse of another, or of all the
+other stanzas. Rhyme of this kind is called by
+the ‘Leys d’Amors’ rim espar, while Dante uses
+the expression clavis. When the clavis runs through
+all the verses of each stanza, the case is described as
+rimas dissolutas. Arnaut Daniel seems to have
+been particularly fond of this form; for the sestina
+also, which he invented, and which Dante praised
+and imitated, is founded on the same principle.
+Other poets preferred generally to introduce only one
+clavis or, at most, two, interrupting in this way, sometimes
+with great effect, the equal flow of the rhymes.
+A modification of the rims espars is the rims capcaudatz.
+This takes place if the clavis is the last
+verse of the first stanza, and is introduced into the
+following, not in its corresponding place, but by way of
+first rhyme. Of the two stanzas, for instance, quoted
+by the ‘Leys d’Amors,’ the first ends with the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span>line, ‘Li fizel de mortal pena,’ and the first line of the
+second accordingly shows the same rhyme in ‘verges
+eratz e vergena,’ and continues the scheme exactly in
+the same way as the first stanza. The various combinations
+of stanzas by means of the rhyme are one of
+the most interesting parts of Provençal versification,
+and show a great refinement of taste in the mediæval
+poets. To convey an idea of the skill manifested in
+this way, it will be useful to give a short sketch of
+a canzo which, in this as in all other respects, may
+be considered as the standard piece of Provençal
+poetry. This is Guillem de Cabestanh’s celebrated
+song, ‘Li douz cossire,’ through which, it is said, the
+poet lost his life, while making his name immortal.
+The poem consists of six stanzas, divided by means
+of corresponding rhymes into three groups of coblas
+doblas. But these three groups are again connected
+with each other; for the third stanza resumes the last
+feminine rhyme of the second, and uses it as first
+rhyme, introducing, however, new additional rhymes.
+The fifth stanza stands in exactly the same relation
+to the fourth. The four last lines of the second
+stanza show the following rhyming words—parvensa,
+temensa; fei, vei. The first rhyme of the third
+stanza must be feminine; and therefore the penultimate
+couple of rhymes is used, with some irregularity,
+as a kind of rims capcaudatz, and the beginning
+is</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">En sovinensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">tenc la car’el dous ris,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">vostra valensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">el bel cors blanc e lis, &amp;c.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span></p>
+
+<p>The highest principle of art, variety in unity, seems
+to be here attained. In many cases this principle of
+connecting the different stanzas led to the most
+childish and trifling artificialities, as, for instance, in
+what the ‘Leys d’Amors’ calls rims retrogradatz,
+where the second stanza begins with the last rhyme
+of the first, and reproduces all the subsequent rhymes
+in reversed order.</p>
+
+<p>This becomes yet more absurd if applied, as it
+sometimes is, to a single stanza, or even a single
+verse. In this case the stanza or verse has to be
+constructed in such a way that, without altering their
+meaning, the lines or words can change their places.
+The following lines, for instance,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vengutz es lo senhor d’amon</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Salutz grans portar en lo mon,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">could equally well be read the last first; or even the
+words could change their position, in this way:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Le senhor d’amon es vengutz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">portar en lo mon grans salutz.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The ‘Leys d’Amors’ adds, that he who likes to
+‘despendre son temps’ with such trifles may even
+find words like papa, tafata, in which the different
+syllables can be changed ad libitum. The fourth
+and last class of rhymes, as given by the ‘Leys
+d’Amors,’ the rims dictionals, contains, for the greater
+part, unimportant trifles of this kind. Rim dictional
+itself means the combination of two words in the
+rhyming syllables, which can be derived from each
+other, by either taking away or adding a syllable.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span>Thus the feminine and masculine forms of the
+adjective and past participle, at-ada, ut-uda, stand
+in the relation of rims dictionals. An example of
+another kind of derivation is given in the following
+lines:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mayres de Dieu prega to filh humil,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">quem denhe dar, sil platz humilitat;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">per miels tener lo dreg sendier util</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">que menals bos al port d’utilitat.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">This is an arbitrary invention, without any intrinsic
+value for the uses of genuine poetry. But some of
+the subdivisions given show how much the decline
+of the poetry of the troubadours was the consequence
+of their relying too much on the formal side of their
+art. Some poets seem to have particularly delighted
+in introducing rims leonismes parfaitz, or, as they
+are also called, rims equivocs, which, besides being
+different as regards the meaning of the words, show
+also a slight difference in sound of the vowels. In
+the following lines, for instance,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sias tempratz e gent apres</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">En tas paraulas et apres,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">the first apres, being the participle of apprendre,
+sounds the <i>e</i> a little more open than the second apres,
+afterwards. It was considered a great proof of
+poetical finish to introduce different vowels in combination
+with the same consonants into a stanza.
+The elder Gavaudan seems to have written the
+following verses entirely for this purpose:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mos sens es cl<i>a</i>rs</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">als bos entended<i>o</i>rs;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">trop es osc<i>u</i>rs</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">a selh que no sap gaire;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">per que cuj<i>a</i>rs</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">lai on no val val<i>o</i>rs,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">non es sab<i>e</i>rs</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">ni sens a mo vejaire.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In a poem attributed by different manuscripts to
+Bernard de Ventadorn and Daude de Pradas, the
+poet has introduced all the five vowels in this way.
+This fact seems not to have been known to the
+author of the ‘Leys d’Amors:’ he would probably
+otherwise have mentioned a practice so much to
+his liking.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.<br>
+<span class="smaller">THE STANZA.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>We now come to the third division of the subject—the
+formation of the stanza. The consideration
+of metre and rhyme has shown the skill of the
+troubadours, but also the danger into which their
+marvellous finish led them, viz., to forget the real
+poetical value of their work over the beauty of
+form. This danger was not equally imminent in
+forming the stanza, seeing that its rules were too
+securely founded on the national sense of harmony,
+and too difficult to comply with, to afford an
+occasion for easy trifling. The stanza, accordingly,
+we have to consider as the highest development of
+art reached by the troubadours. It is therefore
+surprising that the ‘Leys d’Amors’ says nothing of
+any importance regarding its composition. The
+author of the work had evidently a very vague idea
+of the real essence of the stanza. The only guide,
+therefore, in our investigation must be Dante’s work,
+‘De Vulgari Eloquentia,’ in which he draws a full
+and logical account from his own deep knowledge
+and experience. But many of his expressions will
+be obscure until the musical system of the middle
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span>ages is better understood. The rules of musical
+rhythm are indeed inseparably connected with all
+forms of Provençal poetry. But the way at least
+may be partially cleared, and the words of the great
+Italian poet illustrated by examples from the works
+of the best troubadours.</p>
+
+<p>The definition which the ‘Leys d’Amors’ gives of
+a stanza, or, as it calls it, cobla, is very unsatisfactory,
+or rather is no definition at all. It is expressed in
+a long poem of the author’s own manufacturing, the
+meaning of which is simply that a cobla may consist
+at least of five, and at most of sixteen verses, not
+including the shorter lines known under the name
+of bordos biocatz. Nothing more is said on this
+important subject. Of a division of stanzas according
+to their metrical and musical composition
+the author seemingly knows nothing. Dante, on
+the other hand, begins his long and careful investigation
+by stating first that ‘omnis stantia ad quandam
+odam recipiendam armonizata est.’ The word
+‘odam’ in this connection must be understood in a
+double sense—a musical and a metrical: in the
+former it means simply melody, in the latter the
+metrical scheme of the stanza. But this oda is very
+different in different cases: ‘quia quædam [stantiæ]
+sunt sub una oda continua, usque ad ultimum progressive,
+hoc est sine iteratione modulationis cujusquam
+et sine dieresi;&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> et dieresim dicimus deductionem
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span>vergentem de una oda in aliam; hanc voltam
+vocamus cum vulgus alloquimur.’ In the cases here
+referred to, therefore, the flow of melody or verse must
+not be interrupted by a marked rest or pause, but
+must go on in an equal strain to the end of the stanza.
+This kind of stanza, Dante continues, was used
+chiefly by the great Arnaut Daniel, and especially in
+the sestina invented by that troubadour, and imitated
+by Dante himself. A stanza of one of Arnaut’s
+sestine will at once make the meaning of Dante’s
+words clear:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Lo ferm voler qu’el cor m’intra,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">nom pot ges becs escoissendre ni ongla</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">de lauzengier, sitot de maldir s’arma;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">e per no l’aus batr’ ab ram ni ab verga</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">sivals a frau, lai on non aurai oncle</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">jauzirai joi en vergier o dins cambra.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">It would be impossible to find a point where to
+divide this stanza on any principle. There are no
+groups of verses marked by rhyme, seeing that
+there is no rhyme; there is no change between accen
+agut and accen greu; there is not even a strong
+grammatical pause. Accordingly it may be concluded
+that the musical accompaniment of the words was
+not interrupted by any striking harmonious modulation
+such as would have made a rest necessary.
+Exactly the same may be said of Dante’s own sestina,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Al poco giorno, ed al gran cerchio d’ombra,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">which is constructed on the same principle. In
+many other cases also where there are rhymes a
+division of the stanza according to Dante’s system is
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span>utterly impossible, because the different parts allow
+of no forming into groups by the recurrence of the
+same order of rhymes. For instance, the following
+stanza of Jaufre Rudel must have been sung to a
+continued oda without any interruption:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quan lo rius de la fontana</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">s’esclarzis, si cum far sol;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">e per la flors aiglentina</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">el rossignoletz el ram</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">volf e refraing et aplana</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">son dous chantar et afina,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">dreitz es queu lo meu refranha.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Stanzas, however, ‘sub una oda continua,’ are
+not the rule. ‘Quædam vero sunt,’ Dante continues,
+‘dieresim patientes, et dieresis esse non
+potest, secundum quod eam appellamus, nisi reiteratio
+unius odæ fiat vel ante dieresim vel post vel utrimque.’
+The criterion, therefore, of the possibility of
+a dieresis or volta is, first of all, that in the poem
+there should be certain groups defined musically
+by the repetition of the same melody, and
+metrically by the recurrence of the same rhymes
+and of verses of the same length. The volta can,
+as has been seen, be either before or after such
+a group, or between two different groups if both
+parts of a stanza are divided in this way. Dante
+gives the terms for all these combinations in the
+following words: ‘Si ante dieresim repetitio fiat,
+stantiam dicimus habere pedes, et duos habere
+decet, licet quandoque tres fiant, rarissime tamen.
+Si repetitio fiat post dieresim, tunc dicimus stantiam
+habere versus; si ante non fiat repetitio, stantiam
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span>dicimus habere frontem; si post non fiat, dicimus
+habere syrma sive caudam.’ These few words contain
+in a nutshell the whole theory of Italian, and,
+with some slight changes, also of Provençal, stanzas.
+It remains to enter into the special cases referred to
+by this rule. The first alternative Dante mentions
+is that of a division effected by the repetition of
+certain melodic and rhythmic phrases in the first
+part of a stanza. After these groups, which in this
+case are called pedes, a rest or volta becomes
+necessary; and after this a new melody begins,
+which lasts to the end of the stanza, and is called
+a cauda.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> The following is one of the very numerous
+examples of a stanza consisting of two pedes and
+a cauda:</p>
+
+<table class="stanzas">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Pedes 1.</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;Ai deus, ar sembles ironda,</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;que voles per l’aire,</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;qu’eu vengues de noit prionda</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;lai al seu repaire!</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">2.</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;bona domna jauzionda</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;mortz es vostr’ amaire,</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;paor ai quel cors mi fonda,</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;s’aissom dura gaire.</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Cauda</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;domna, vas vostr’ amor</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;jonh mas mas et ador</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;bel cors ab fresca color,</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;gran mal me fatz traire.</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="noindent">In this case the cauda is as long as one pes, consisting,
+as it does, of four verses. Very seldom, says
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[345]</span>Dante, are there more than two pedes to a cauda.
+This, however, applies only to the Italian literature
+of his time. In Provençal poetry there are many
+instances of three pedes in a stanza; and the favourite
+form of the Italian poets of the cinquecento, the
+ottava rima, must also be defined as a stanza consisting
+of three pedes and a cauda. The most
+important form of lyrical Italian poetry, the sonnet,
+consists of pedes and cauda. The two quatrains
+show the required repetitio unius odæ, and the two
+terzine form the cauda. If the repetition of a
+melodic and metrical phrase takes place after the
+volta, and only there, the two groups in the second
+part of the stanza are called versus, while the first
+undivided part assumes the name of frons. The
+number of versus scarcely ever exceeds two. This
+form is also very common in Provençal poetry.
+In the following stanza of Guillem IX. of Poitiers,
+the first three lines form the frons, and the last four
+are divided into two versus of two lines each:</p>
+
+<table class="stanzas">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Frons</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;Eu conosc ben cel qui bem di</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;e cel quim vol mal atressi,</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;e conosc ben celui quem ri,</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Versus 1.</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;e sil pro s’azautan de mi,</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;conosc assaz;</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Versus 2.</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;qu’atressi dei voler lor fi</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;e lor solaz.</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="noindent">These two principles of division in a stanza, viz.,
+pedes and cauda, or frons and versus, Dante seems to
+consider as the most important. In both cases the
+stanza is actually divided into three parts; and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span>this, indeed, was the fundamental principle of the
+Italian lyrical stanza, which in this respect, in conformity
+with the middle-high-German strophe, differs
+from the <i>langue d’oc</i>. Into old Italian poetry this
+tripartite division was perhaps introduced from the
+leonine hexameter, which, as has been stated before,
+sometimes took a similar form. In the Teutonic
+languages it seems much older; and indeed it is to
+be found in the old Icelandic ljôđahâttr, where the
+first two lines are of equal length and belong to one
+another, while the third one, longer than each, stands
+by itself. In the German popular epic this principle
+is not visible; but it appears again unmistakeably
+in the mediæval ‘minneliet.’ The usual form in
+the latter is pedes and cauda, which here are called
+Stollen and Abgesang. It is impossible here to
+consider the interesting phenomena arising from the
+conflict of this principle with the Provençal bias in
+those cases where the German minnesinger tried to
+imitate the stanzas of the troubadours. The prevalent
+principle in Provençal poetry seems to have been
+the division of a stanza into two corresponding
+parts; and, accordingly, to the above-mentioned
+combinations two more of great importance must be
+added. The first of these, which Dante also is
+acquainted with, is the division of a stanza into
+pedes and versus. In this case the stanza is divided
+into four parts; but each pair of these is so closely
+connected that the Provençal principle of a division
+into two halves is fully borne out—the more so, as
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span>there were evidently only two different melodies, each
+of them being repeated. The instances are again
+very numerous. In the following stanza of Peire
+d’Alvernhe’s, the pedes and versus consist of two
+lines each:</p>
+
+<table class="stanzas">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Pes 1.</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;Rossinhol, en son repaire</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;m’iras ma domna vezer,</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Pes 2.</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;e digas lil meu afaire</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;et ill diguat del seu ver,</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Versus 1.</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;quem man sai—com lestai;</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;mas de mill sovenha,</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Versus 2.</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;qui ges lai—per nuill plai</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;ab ri not retenha.</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="noindent">The fourth and last combination occurs when the
+stanza consists of a frons and a cauda, that is to say,
+when the two parts are undivided in themselves, but
+when a new melodic and metrical period begins after a
+certain number of verses. This form shows the Provençal
+principle of a division into two parts more
+clearly than any of the others; but Dante, from
+his point of view, is also right in not approving of it,
+or rather in not acknowledging it as a division at all,
+seeing that there is no ‘repetitio unius odæ.’ One
+out of many examples of this phenomenon is a stanza
+of Bertrand de Born’s, where the frons and cauda
+consist of three lines each:</p>
+
+<table class="stanzas">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Frons</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;Autr’ escondig vos farai plus sobrier</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;e no mi posc orar plus d’encombrier:</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;seu anc failli vas vos neis del pensar,</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">Cauda</td>
+    <td>
+      <div class="poetry">
+        <div class="stanza">
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;quant serem sol en chambr’o dins vergier,</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;faillam poder deves mon compaignier,</div>
+          <div class="verse indent0">{&nbsp;de tal guiza que nom posc’ ajudar.</div>
+        </div>
+      </div>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[348]</span></p>
+
+<p class="noindent">The end of the first and the beginning of the
+second musical and metrical phrase, as marked by
+the diesis or volta, was generally further strengthened
+by the conclusion of the grammatical sentence.
+In most of the numerous stanzas already quoted, the
+volta contains either a full stop or a semicolon, or at
+least a comma. The sentence is seldom carried on
+through the volta, though even the best troubadours
+were not always careful in applying this rule.</p>
+
+<p>By these various methods, the stanza was strictly
+divided into different parts. But, on the other
+hand, the feeling of the troubadours for unity and
+harmony was too keen not to make it desirable to
+bridge over somehow the gap made by the volta,
+and to preserve the connection between the two
+sides. This was done by means of the rhyme,
+which, as has been seen, was used for a similar
+purpose between the different stanzas of a poem.
+This process is called by Dante concatenatio; and
+this concatenatio might be effected in two different
+ways. The first and simpler mode consists in the
+cauda or versus adopting one or several rhymes of the
+frons or pedes. This is the course usually followed;
+and almost all the stanzas above quoted may serve
+as examples. So in Bertrand de Born’s poem the
+cauda repeats both the rhymes of the frons. In
+Guillem IX.’s stanza the versus take up the only
+rhyme of the frons, adding a new one of their own.
+This concatenatio, however, was not considered
+absolutely necessary; and Peire d’Alvernhe, for
+instance, one of the most finished troubadours, introduces
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[349]</span>into the versus of his stanza rhymes entirely
+different from those found in the pedes. Another
+kind of concatenatio is effected by adding, either
+before or after the volta, a line which contains
+the rhyme of the other part of the stanza. How
+the troubadours contrived not to disturb the flow of
+their melody by this new and seemingly inharmonious
+element it is difficult to say. Perhaps it was
+sung to a sort of recitative or arioso of its own,
+which served as a prelude to the new melody of the
+second part. The meaning of this will be clearly
+shown by the following stanza by Raimbaut de
+Vaqueiras:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Era pot hom conoisser e proar</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que de bos faitz ren deus bon gazardo,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">qu’al pro Marques n’a fait esmend’e do,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">quel fai son pretz sobrels melhors pojar;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">si quel crozat de Frans e de Campanha</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">l’an quist a deu per lo melhor de totz,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">e per cobrar lo sepulcr’e la crotz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">on fon Ihesus, qu’el vol en sa companha</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">l’onrat marques, et al deus dat poder</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">de bos vassalhs e de terr’e d’aver</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">e de ric cor per melhs far so quel tanha.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">This stanza consists of a frons and two versus of three
+lines each. The first four lines are a whole in themselves;
+and after them the frons ought to be concluded
+by the volta, as is indicated by the punctuation
+after ‘pojar.’ But the poet adds a fifth line, in
+order to introduce a rhyme from the versus, and in
+this way effects the concatenatio he needs. There
+was yet another way of connecting the two parts
+of the stanza which might in a certain sense also
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[350]</span>be called concatenatio, but which was seemingly
+unknown to Dante. The following stanza of Cercalmont’s,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Senhors e dompnas gerpira</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">s’a lei plagues queu li servis,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">e quem diria m’en partis,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">fariam morir des era,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">qu’en autra non ai mon esper</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">noit ni jorn ni matin ni ser,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">ni d’als mos cors no consira,</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">consists evidently of a frons and a cauda, of three
+lines each. The fourth verse does not belong to
+either, and its rhyme is not to be found in the same
+stanza; therefore it is to be called a clavis. But
+nevertheless it is of use for the purpose of connecting
+the frons with the cauda; for, by considering it
+as a kind of centre, and going from it to the beginning
+and to the end of the stanza, the reader will see
+that the two parts exactly agree as regards the length
+of the verses, and even their feminine rhyme.</p>
+
+<p>In the eleventh chapter of his ‘De Vulgari
+Eloquentia’ Dante speaks of the relations between
+the parts of a stanza so far as the number and length
+of the lines are concerned. He enumerates and
+explains no less than nine different cases. For the
+present purpose, however, these are scarcely of any
+importance; for the rules given by him cannot be
+traced to the poems of the troubadours. In this
+respect the Provençal poets seem to have exercised
+great liberty, being protected against choosing bad
+proportions by their refined sense of harmony.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[351]</span></p>
+
+<p>It still remains to mention a form of Provençal
+poetry, of which the essence cannot be explained
+nor the rules defined without the aid of Dante’s
+statements. This is the tornada, a kind of postlude or
+envoi to the stanza, in which the poem is dedicated to
+the lady-love or the protector of the troubadour, who
+is generally introduced under a senhal or pseudonym
+to keep the real name secret. Peire Vidal always
+calls the beautiful Azalais ‘Vierna,’ while the senhal
+‘Bels Castiatz’ designates his noble protector Sir
+Aimeric de Monrial. The ‘Leys d’Amors’ says
+that, as a rule, there ought to be two tornadas, the
+first of them containing the senhal. This, however,
+is not confirmed by the majority of Provençal poems,
+which contain many examples of a single tornada. In
+another respect also the ‘Leys d’Amors’ is very inaccurate.
+It says that the tornada must be identical
+in form with the latter half of the stanza, if this
+consists of an even number of lines, adding or leaving
+out one line where the number of the verses cannot
+be divided by two. But this applies only to those
+stanzas where no division is to be found. Where
+there is a diesis the rule is quite different, and can
+be learned only from Dante, who speaks of the
+tornada in the ‘Convito,’ where he derives the word
+from tornar, owing to a part of the oda returning
+in it. Accordingly the rule in the divided stanza is
+that the first tornada repeats the metrical form and
+rhyme of that part of the stanza—cauda or versus—which
+stands after the volta. Where there is a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[352]</span>second tornada it generally agrees with the first,
+being, however, always the shorter of the two. All
+this, of course, the author of the ‘Leys d’Amors’
+could not know, because he was ignorant of the
+metrical and musical formation of the stanza; but it
+is of the highest importance for the study of Provençal
+versification, and shows again the great value of
+Dante’s work in that respect. The above-stated rule
+is confirmed by so many examples from the canzos of
+the troubadours that it is scarcely necessary to bring
+new evidence for it. It will be more useful to mention
+some of the more important exceptions, which in
+this, as in other cases, ‘firmant regulam.’ If the
+last stanza of a poem ends with two versus, the
+tornada sometimes repeats only one of them. Sometimes
+also part of the cauda remains unrepeated.
+In other cases the tornada repeats exactly the metre
+of the cauda, but differs slightly from its rhymes.
+In a sirventes of Marti de Mons, which was written
+in the fifteenth century (1436), and by which the
+poet gained the ‘englantina’ in the competition
+of the Academy of Toulouse, the cauda of the last
+stanza consists of the following four verses:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">doranavant no cal plus dart ny lansa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">depus que dieus s’es mes de nostra part;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">qu’a tout l’erguelh al verenos leupart</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">que ta lonc temptz nos ha donat dampnatge.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">The first of these lines serves as concatenatio; and
+for that reason its rhyme agrees with the first part
+of the poem. In the tornada this reason of course
+did not exist; and therefore the poet very skilfully
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[353]</span>rhymes the first line with the last line of the tornada
+instead of making it like the first verse of the cauda.
+The tornada, therefore, is this:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Confort d’amors, fons he cap de paratge</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">vostre car filh faytz que prim ho de tart</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">nos velha dar totz ensemps bona part</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">de paradis, le sobrier heretatge.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">In many cases also there is no tornada at all, or it
+may be said to consist of the last stanza of the poem,
+if in this the senhal and dedication are introduced.</p>
+
+<p>The principles insisted upon in the foregoing remarks
+may perhaps best be illustrated by an accurate
+metrical analysis of the subjoined canzo of Bernard
+de Ventadorn. For the purpose in question this
+poem has the double advantage of presenting a
+great complication of metrical rules, and of showing at
+the same time how the troubadours succeeded in
+combining such a complicated structure with the
+beauty of genuine poetry.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>a.</i> Be m’an perdut lai enves Ventadorn</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">tuit mei amic, pos ma domna nom ama,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">et es be dreitz que jamais lai no torn,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">qu’ades estai vas mi salvatg’ e grama.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">veus per quem fai semblan irat e morn,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">quar en s’amor mi deleit em sojorn,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">ni de ren al nos rancura nis clama.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>b.</i> Aissi col peis qui s’eslaiss’ el cadorn</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">e no sap re tro que s’es pres en l’ama,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">m’eslaissei eu vas trop amar un jorn;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">qu’anc no saup mot tro fui en mei la flama</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">que m’art plus fort que no fai focs de forn;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">e ges per so nom posc partir un dorn,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">aissim te pres s’amors que m’aliama.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[354]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>c.</i> Nom meravilh si s’amors mi te pres,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">que genser cors no cre qu’el mon se mire;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">bels es e blancs e frescs e gais e les,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">e totz aitals cum eu volh e dezire;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">no posc dir mal de leis, que non i es;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">qu’el n’agra dig de joi, seu l’i saubes,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">mas no l’i sai: per so m’en lais de dire.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>d.</i> Totz temps volrai sa honor e sos bes</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">elh serai hom et amics e servire,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">e l’amarai, be li plass’o belh pes,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">qu’om no pot cor destrenher ses aucire.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">no sai domna, volgues o non volgues,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">sim volia, qu’amar no la pogues;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">mas totas res pot hom en mal escrire.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>e.</i> A las autras sui aissi escasutz:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">laquals si vol mi pot vas si atraire,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">per tal coven que nom sia vendutz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">l’onors nil bes que m’a en cor a faire;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">qu’enojos es prejars, pos es perdutz:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">per mius o dic, que mals m’en es vengutz,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">qu’enganat m’a la bela de mal aire.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>f.</i> En Proensa tramet mans e salutz,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">e mais de bes qu’om no lor sap retraire,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">e fatz esfortz, miraclas e vertutz,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">car eu lor man de so don non ai gaire;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">qu’eu non ai joi mas tan com m’en adutz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">mos Bels Vezers en Faituratz sos drutz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">en Alvergnatz lo senher de Belcaire.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>g.</i> Mos Bels Vezers per vos fai deus vertutz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">tals c’om nous ve que no si’ ereubutz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">dels bels plazers que sabetz dir e faire.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>This poem consists of six stanzas and a tornada.
+The length of each stanza is seven verses, that of
+the tornada three. In each stanza there is, according
+to Dante’s expression, a diesis or volta, for there
+is the required reiteratio unius odæ. This reiteratio
+takes place before the volta, while after the volta
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[355]</span>no division is possible. The stanza therefore
+must be divided into two pedes of two lines each
+and a cauda of three lines. According to rule, the
+metrical division is marked by a strong grammatical
+break (at least a semicolon), the only exception
+being stanza <i>b</i>, where a punctuation in the volta
+is not possible. The tornada repeats as usual the
+form and rhymes of the cauda; and in it the poem
+is dedicated to the poet’s lady-love, who is addressed
+by a senhal. Bel Vezer was in this case Agnes
+de Montluçon, wife of the troubadour’s lord and
+protector, who raised him from the state of a common
+servant and gave him the first lessons ‘del gay
+saber.’ The verse of the stanza is decasyllabic;
+it occurs with masculine and feminine rhyme. The
+stanza may be formulated metrically by using capital
+letters for the decasyllabic line, and adding to them
+the sign ~ for the accen greu; the volta may be
+marked by a semicolon, and the division of the
+pedes from each other by a colon:</p>
+
+<p class="center">A B~: A B~; A A B~.</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">Hence it appears that in each stanza there are only
+two different rhymes, the cauda repeating those of
+the pedes, which is the simplest form of concatenatio.
+Moreover, each couple of stanzas have the same
+rhyme, or are coblas doblas; the poet in consequence
+had to find, three different times, eight masculine and
+six feminine rhyming words, which, though not a very
+difficult task in the <i>langue d’oc</i>, required a certain
+amount of skill. In the last group of stanzas this
+number was increased by the tornada to ten and seven
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">[356]</span>respectively. Nevertheless there are only two cases
+of the same words with the same meaning occurring in
+the rhymes, or of motz tornatz en rim as the ‘Leys
+d’Amors’ calls them. Both these cases, <i>f</i> 3 = <i>g</i> 1
+and <i>e</i> 4 = <i>g</i> 3, occur in the tornada, where they were
+not as strictly forbidden as in other positions. On
+the other hand there are many examples of ‘rime
+riche’ in its masculine as well as feminine form.
+The former or rims consonans lejals are <i>a</i> 1 = <i>b</i> 1
+= <i>b</i> 6, <i>c</i> 6 = <i>d</i> 1, <i>d</i> 5 = <i>d</i> 6, <i>e</i> 3 = <i>e</i> 5 = <i>f</i> 5.
+The latter or rims leonismes parfaitz are <i>e</i> 2 = <i>f</i> 2.
+But in all these cases it is very doubtful whether
+these rhymes were intentional, since they exhibit no
+system or order. A remarkable sense of the effects
+of sound is shown in the alliterative use of the letter
+<i>f</i> in <i>b</i> 4 and 5, by means of which the pains of the
+unhappy lover are onomatopoetically expressed.</p>
+
+<p>In the verse of ten syllables the cæsura is always
+of importance: it therefore remains to take note
+of it. The cæsura, where it appears feminine, has
+been divided into the epical and the lyrical, the
+difference being that in the epical pauza del bordo
+the accent always remains on the fourth syllable,
+after which another unaccentuated syllable is added
+to the first hemistich, while in lyrical poetry the
+accent itself is removed from the fourth to the third
+syllable. In the present poem the pauza con accen
+agut is by far the more common; where it occurs
+with accen greu it always takes the lyrical form.
+These cases are <i>d</i> 5 and 6, <i>e</i> 1, and <i>f</i> 1.</p>
+
+<p>It may be worth while to notice that once, <i>d</i> 5,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[357]</span>the word domna is placed in the lyrical pauza. The
+troubadours, in addressing their lady-loves, seem to
+have liked this particular position of the word, by
+means of which it received a certain emphasis. In
+many canzos of different troubadours there are
+instances of this device; in one of Guillem de
+Cabestanh’s songs it occurs twice, or, according
+to a Parisian manuscript in which the poem is also
+preserved, even three times.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[358]</span></p>
+
+<h3 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.<br>
+<span class="smaller">SOME INTERLINEAR VERSIONS.</span></h3>
+
+</div>
+
+<h4>I.<br>
+<i>CANZO BY GUILLEM DE CABESTANH.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="interlinear">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Li</li>
+            <li class="english">The</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">douz</li>
+            <li class="english">sweet</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cossire</li>
+            <li class="english">thoughts</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Qem</li>
+            <li class="english">Which to me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">don</li>
+            <li class="english">gives</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">amors</li>
+            <li class="english">love</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">soven,</li>
+            <li class="english">often,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Domnam</li>
+            <li class="english">Lady, me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fan</li>
+            <li class="english">make</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dire</li>
+            <li class="english">say</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">De</li>
+            <li class="english">Of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">maint</li>
+            <li class="english">many a</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vers</li>
+            <li class="english">poem</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">plazen;</li>
+            <li class="english">pleasant;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Pessan</li>
+            <li class="english">Thinking</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">remire</li>
+            <li class="english">I gaze (on)</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Vostre</li>
+            <li class="english">Your</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cors</li>
+            <li class="english">body</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">car</li>
+            <li class="english">dear</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">gen,</li>
+            <li class="english">comely,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Cui</li>
+            <li class="english">Which</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">eu</li>
+            <li class="english">I</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dezire</li>
+            <li class="english">desire</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Mas</li>
+            <li class="english">More</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">qe</li>
+            <li class="english">than</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">non</li>
+            <li class="english">(not)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">faz</li>
+            <li class="english">I make</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">parven;</li>
+            <li class="english">appearance;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">E</li>
+            <li class="english">And</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sitot</li>
+            <li class="english">although</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">me</li>
+            <li class="english">myself</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">deslei</li>
+            <li class="english">I make (appear) disloyal</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Per</li>
+            <li class="english">For</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos,</li>
+            <li class="english">you(r sake),</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ges</li>
+            <li class="english">scarcely</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">nous</li>
+            <li class="english">(not) you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">abnei,</li>
+            <li class="english">I deny;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[359]</span>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’ades</li>
+            <li class="english">For soon</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vas</li>
+            <li class="english">towards</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">soplei</li>
+            <li class="english">I pray</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">De</li>
+            <li class="english">With</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">francha</li>
+            <li class="english">genuine</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">benvolensa.</li>
+            <li class="english">love.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Domna,</li>
+            <li class="english">Lady,</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">on</li>
+            <li class="english">where (in whom)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">beutaz</li>
+            <li class="english">beauty</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">gensa,</li>
+            <li class="english">is an ornament,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Maintas</li>
+            <li class="english">Many</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vez</li>
+            <li class="english">times</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">oblit</li>
+            <li class="english">I forget</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mei</li>
+            <li class="english">myself</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’eu</li>
+            <li class="english">That I</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">lau</li>
+            <li class="english">may praise</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mercei.</li>
+            <li class="english">implore mercy.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Toz</li>
+            <li class="english">All</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">temps</li>
+            <li class="english">times</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’azire</li>
+            <li class="english">me may hate</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">L’amors</li>
+            <li class="english">The Love</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">qeus</li>
+            <li class="english">which you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">(from) me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">defen,</li>
+            <li class="english">withholds</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">S’eu</li>
+            <li class="english">If I</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">jal</li>
+            <li class="english">ever</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cor</li>
+            <li class="english">the heart</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vire</li>
+            <li class="english">turn</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Ad</li>
+            <li class="english">To</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">autr’</li>
+            <li class="english">another</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">entendemen;</li>
+            <li class="english">(loving) understanding;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Tolt</li>
+            <li class="english">Taken away</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’</li>
+            <li class="english">(from) me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">avez</li>
+            <li class="english">you have</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">rire</li>
+            <li class="english">laughter</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">E</li>
+            <li class="english">And</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">donat</li>
+            <li class="english">given</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">pessamen.</li>
+            <li class="english">thought.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Plus</li>
+            <li class="english">More</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">greu</li>
+            <li class="english">severe</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">martire</li>
+            <li class="english">martyrdom</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Nuls</li>
+            <li class="english">No</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">homs</li>
+            <li class="english">man</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">de</li>
+            <li class="english">of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">me</li>
+            <li class="english">me (than I)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">no sen;</li>
+            <li class="english">not feels;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Qar</li>
+            <li class="english">For</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">que</li>
+            <li class="english">whom</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">plus</li>
+            <li class="english">more</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">envei</li>
+            <li class="english">I desire</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">De</li>
+            <li class="english">Of (than a)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">re</li>
+            <li class="english">thing</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">q’el</li>
+            <li class="english">which in the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mon</li>
+            <li class="english">world</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">estei,</li>
+            <li class="english">is</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[360]</span>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Desautorc</li>
+            <li class="english">I disavow</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mescrei</li>
+            <li class="english">deny</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">E</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">desam</li>
+            <li class="english">un-love</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">en</li>
+            <li class="english">in</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">parvensa;</li>
+            <li class="english">appearance;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Tot</li>
+            <li class="english">All</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">qant</li>
+            <li class="english">how much</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">faz</li>
+            <li class="english">I do</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">per</li>
+            <li class="english">through</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">temensa</li>
+            <li class="english">fear</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Devez</li>
+            <li class="english">You must</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">en</li>
+            <li class="english">in</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">bona</li>
+            <li class="english">good</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fei</li>
+            <li class="english">faith</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Prendre,</li>
+            <li class="english">Take,</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">neis</li>
+            <li class="english">even</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">qan</li>
+            <li class="english">when</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">nous</li>
+            <li class="english">not you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vei.</li>
+            <li class="english">I see.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">En</li>
+            <li class="english">In</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sovinensa</li>
+            <li class="english">memory</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Tenc</li>
+            <li class="english">I hold</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">la</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">car’</li>
+            <li class="english">face</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">el</li>
+            <li class="english">and the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dous</li>
+            <li class="english">sweet</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ris,</li>
+            <li class="english">smile,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Vostra</li>
+            <li class="english">Your</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">valensa</li>
+            <li class="english">worth</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">El</li>
+            <li class="english">And the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">bel</li>
+            <li class="english">beautiful</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cors</li>
+            <li class="english">body</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">blanc</li>
+            <li class="english">white</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">lis;</li>
+            <li class="english">lithe;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Si</li>
+            <li class="english">If</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">per</li>
+            <li class="english">through</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">crezensa</li>
+            <li class="english">faith</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Estes</li>
+            <li class="english">I were</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ves</li>
+            <li class="english">towards</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">deu</li>
+            <li class="english">God</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">tan</li>
+            <li class="english">as</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fis,</li>
+            <li class="english">faithful,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Vius</li>
+            <li class="english">Alive</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ses</li>
+            <li class="english">without</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">falhensa</li>
+            <li class="english">failure</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Intrer’</li>
+            <li class="english">I should enter</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">en</li>
+            <li class="english">into</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">paradis;</li>
+            <li class="english">paradise.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’</li>
+            <li class="english">For</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">aissim</li>
+            <li class="english">so myself</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sui</li>
+            <li class="english">I am (have)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ses</li>
+            <li class="english">without</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">toz</li>
+            <li class="english">all (any)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cuz</li>
+            <li class="english">hesitation</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">De</li>
+            <li class="english">Of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cor</li>
+            <li class="english">the heart</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">a</li>
+            <li class="english">to</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">renduz</li>
+            <li class="english">given</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[361]</span>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’autra</li>
+            <li class="english">That another</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">jois</li>
+            <li class="english">joys</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">nom</li>
+            <li class="english">not to me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">aduz;</li>
+            <li class="english">gives;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’una</li>
+            <li class="english">For one</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">no</li>
+            <li class="english">not</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">porta</li>
+            <li class="english">wears</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">benda,</li>
+            <li class="english">a band</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’en</li>
+            <li class="english">That I of her</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">prezes</li>
+            <li class="english">should prize</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">per</li>
+            <li class="english">as</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">esmenda</li>
+            <li class="english">compensation</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Jaser</li>
+            <li class="english">To lie (with her)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ne</li>
+            <li class="english">nor that</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fos</li>
+            <li class="english">I were</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sos</li>
+            <li class="english">her</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">druz</li>
+            <li class="english">lover</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Per</li>
+            <li class="english">(In exchange) for</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">las</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vostras</li>
+            <li class="english">your</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">saluz.</li>
+            <li class="english">greetings.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Toz</li>
+            <li class="english">All</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">jorns</li>
+            <li class="english">the days</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’agensa</li>
+            <li class="english">me stirs</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Desirs,</li>
+            <li class="english">Desire,</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">tan</li>
+            <li class="english">so much</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’abelis</li>
+            <li class="english">me attracts</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">La</li>
+            <li class="english">The</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">captenensa</li>
+            <li class="english">bearing</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">De</li>
+            <li class="english">Of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">per</li>
+            <li class="english">for</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cui</li>
+            <li class="english">whom</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">languis;</li>
+            <li class="english">I languish;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Bem</li>
+            <li class="english">Good to me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">par</li>
+            <li class="english">it seems</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">qem</li>
+            <li class="english">that me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vensa</li>
+            <li class="english">should conquer</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Vostr’</li>
+            <li class="english">Your</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">amors,</li>
+            <li class="english">love,</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">q’ans</li>
+            <li class="english">for before</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">qeus</li>
+            <li class="english">that you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vis</li>
+            <li class="english">I saw</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Fo</li>
+            <li class="english">It was</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’</li>
+            <li class="english">to me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">entendensa,</li>
+            <li class="english">a knowledge</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Qeus</li>
+            <li class="english">That you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ames</li>
+            <li class="english">I should love</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">eus</li>
+            <li class="english">and you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">servis;</li>
+            <li class="english">I should serve;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’</li>
+            <li class="english">For</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">aissim</li>
+            <li class="english">thus myself</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sui</li>
+            <li class="english">I am (have)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">remansuz</li>
+            <li class="english">remained</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Sols</li>
+            <li class="english">Alone</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ses</li>
+            <li class="english">without</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">autres</li>
+            <li class="english">other</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ajuz</li>
+            <li class="english">helps</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[362]</span>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’</li>
+            <li class="english">But</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ab</li>
+            <li class="english">(from)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos,</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">n’</li>
+            <li class="english">therefrom</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ai</li>
+            <li class="english">I have</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">perduz</li>
+            <li class="english">lost</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Mans</li>
+            <li class="english">Many</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">bes,</li>
+            <li class="english">boons;</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">quis</li>
+            <li class="english">he who for himself</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vuelhals</li>
+            <li class="english">will (have) them</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">prenda;</li>
+            <li class="english">take (them);</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’a</li>
+            <li class="english">For to</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">plaz</li>
+            <li class="english">it pleases</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mais</li>
+            <li class="english">more</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">q’atenda</li>
+            <li class="english">that I should wait</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Ses</li>
+            <li class="english">Without</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">toz</li>
+            <li class="english">all</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">covenz</li>
+            <li class="english">covenants</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">saubuz</li>
+            <li class="english">known</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Vas</li>
+            <li class="english">(With) towards (her)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">don</li>
+            <li class="english">from whom</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’</li>
+            <li class="english">to me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">es</li>
+            <li class="english">(has) is</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">jois</li>
+            <li class="english">joy</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">creguz.</li>
+            <li class="english">grown.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Ans</li>
+            <li class="english">Before</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">qe</li>
+            <li class="english">that</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">s’encenda</li>
+            <li class="english">itself may inflame</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Inz</li>
+            <li class="english">Inside</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">el</li>
+            <li class="english">in the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cor</li>
+            <li class="english">heart</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">la</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dolors,</li>
+            <li class="english">pain,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Merces</li>
+            <li class="english">Mercy</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">desenda</li>
+            <li class="english">may descend,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Domn’</li>
+            <li class="english">Lady,</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">en</li>
+            <li class="english">into</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">et</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">amors,</li>
+            <li class="english">love,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Qe</li>
+            <li class="english">Which</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">joi</li>
+            <li class="english">joy</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">to me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">renda</li>
+            <li class="english">may give</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">En</li>
+            <li class="english">Amidst</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">lonhs</li>
+            <li class="english">long</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sospirs</li>
+            <li class="english">sighs</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">plors.</li>
+            <li class="english">tears.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Nous</li>
+            <li class="english">Not ou</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">o</li>
+            <li class="english">this</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">defenda</li>
+            <li class="english">may forbid</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Paratges</li>
+            <li class="english">Parentage</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ni</li>
+            <li class="english">nor</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ricors;</li>
+            <li class="english">wealth;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’oblidaz</li>
+            <li class="english">For forgotten</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’es</li>
+            <li class="english">(by) me is</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">toz</li>
+            <li class="english">every</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">bes,</li>
+            <li class="english">boon,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">S’ab</li>
+            <li class="english">If with</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">nom</li>
+            <li class="english">not me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">val</li>
+            <li class="english">helps</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">merces;</li>
+            <li class="english">mercy;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[363]</span>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Ai!</li>
+            <li class="english">Oh!</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">bella</li>
+            <li class="english">beautiful</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dousa</li>
+            <li class="english">sweet</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">res,</li>
+            <li class="english">thing,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Molt</li>
+            <li class="english">Much</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">feraz</li>
+            <li class="english">will you do</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">gran</li>
+            <li class="english">great</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">franqesa</li>
+            <li class="english">frankness</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">M’amessez</li>
+            <li class="english">(If) me you would love</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">o</li>
+            <li class="english">or</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">non</li>
+            <li class="english">not</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ges;</li>
+            <li class="english">(scarcely)</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’eras</li>
+            <li class="english">For now</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">no</li>
+            <li class="english">not</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sai</li>
+            <li class="english">I know</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">qe</li>
+            <li class="english">which</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">s’es.</li>
+            <li class="english">(itself) it is.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Non</li>
+            <li class="english">Not</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">trop</li>
+            <li class="english">I find</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">contenda</li>
+            <li class="english">resistance</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Contra</li>
+            <li class="english">Against</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vostras</li>
+            <li class="english">your</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">valors;</li>
+            <li class="english">worth(s);</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Merces</li>
+            <li class="english">Mercy</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">von</li>
+            <li class="english">you thereof</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">prenda</li>
+            <li class="english">may take</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Tals</li>
+            <li class="english">Such</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">q’a</li>
+            <li class="english">as to</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">si’</li>
+            <li class="english">would be</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">onors;</li>
+            <li class="english">an honour;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Ja</li>
+            <li class="english">Ever</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">nom</li>
+            <li class="english">not me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">entenda</li>
+            <li class="english">may hear</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Dieus</li>
+            <li class="english">God</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mest</li>
+            <li class="english">amongst</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sos</li>
+            <li class="english">his</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">prejadors,</li>
+            <li class="english">worshippers,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Si</li>
+            <li class="english">If</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">volh</li>
+            <li class="english">I will (take)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">la</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">renda</li>
+            <li class="english">income</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Dels</li>
+            <li class="english">Of the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">qatre</li>
+            <li class="english">four</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">reis</li>
+            <li class="english">kings</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">majors</li>
+            <li class="english">greatest</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Qe</li>
+            <li class="english">So that</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ab</li>
+            <li class="english">with</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">nom</li>
+            <li class="english">not to me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">valgues</li>
+            <li class="english">should be of use</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Dieus</li>
+            <li class="english">God</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ma</li>
+            <li class="english">my</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">bona</li>
+            <li class="english">good</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fes;</li>
+            <li class="english">faith;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Qe</li>
+            <li class="english">For</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">partir</li>
+            <li class="english">part (from you)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">nom</li>
+            <li class="english">not (me)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">posc</li>
+            <li class="english">I can</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ges</li>
+            <li class="english">scarcely</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[364]</span>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Tant</li>
+            <li class="english">So</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fort</li>
+            <li class="english">strongly</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">si</li>
+            <li class="english">itself</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">es</li>
+            <li class="english">is (has)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">empresa</li>
+            <li class="english">inflamed</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">M’</li>
+            <li class="english">My</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">amors,</li>
+            <li class="english">love,</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">si</li>
+            <li class="english">if</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fos</li>
+            <li class="english">it were</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">presa</li>
+            <li class="english">found</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">En</li>
+            <li class="english">(In)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">baisan</li>
+            <li class="english">kissing</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">nius</li>
+            <li class="english">and if you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">plagues,</li>
+            <li class="english">it pleased</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Ja</li>
+            <li class="english">Ever</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">no</li>
+            <li class="english">not</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">volgram</li>
+            <li class="english">should I wish myself</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">solves.</li>
+            <li class="english">that I severed.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Anc</li>
+            <li class="english">Ever</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">res</li>
+            <li class="english">a thing</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">q’a</li>
+            <li class="english">that (to)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">plagues</li>
+            <li class="english">pleased</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Bona</li>
+            <li class="english">Good</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">domna</li>
+            <li class="english">lady</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cortesa</li>
+            <li class="english">courteous</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Tan</li>
+            <li class="english">So much</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">no</li>
+            <li class="english">not</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’</li>
+            <li class="english">to me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">estet</li>
+            <li class="english">was</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">defesa,</li>
+            <li class="english">forbidden</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Q’eu</li>
+            <li class="english">that I</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ans</li>
+            <li class="english">sooner</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">no</li>
+            <li class="english">not</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">la</li>
+            <li class="english">it</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fezes,</li>
+            <li class="english">should do</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Qe</li>
+            <li class="english">Than</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">d’als</li>
+            <li class="english">of another thing</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">(myself)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sovengues.</li>
+            <li class="english">I should think.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h4>II.<br>
+<i>IDYLL BY MARCABRUN.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="interlinear">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">A</li>
+            <li class="english">At</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">la</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fontana</li>
+            <li class="english">fountain</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">del</li>
+            <li class="english">of the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vergier,</li>
+            <li class="english">orchard</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">On</li>
+            <li class="english">Where</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">l’</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">erb’</li>
+            <li class="english">grass</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">es</li>
+            <li class="english">is</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vertz</li>
+            <li class="english">green</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">jostal</li>
+            <li class="english">near the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">gravier,</li>
+            <li class="english">gravel</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">A</li>
+            <li class="english">In</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">l’</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ombra</li>
+            <li class="english">shade</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">d’</li>
+            <li class="english">of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">un</li>
+            <li class="english">a</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fust</li>
+            <li class="english">tree</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">domesgier,</li>
+            <li class="english">indigenous</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">En</li>
+            <li class="english">In</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">aizement</li>
+            <li class="english">the beauty</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">de</li>
+            <li class="english">of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">blancas</li>
+            <li class="english">white</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">flors</li>
+            <li class="english">flowers</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[365]</span>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">E</li>
+            <li class="english">And</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">de</li>
+            <li class="english">of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">novel</li>
+            <li class="english">new</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">chant</li>
+            <li class="english">song</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">costumier,</li>
+            <li class="english">familiar</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Trobei</li>
+            <li class="english">I found</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sola</li>
+            <li class="english">alone</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ses</li>
+            <li class="english">without</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">companhier</li>
+            <li class="english">companion</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Cela</li>
+            <li class="english">Her</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">que</li>
+            <li class="english">who</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">no</li>
+            <li class="english">not</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">volc</li>
+            <li class="english">relished</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mon</li>
+            <li class="english">my</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">solatz.</li>
+            <li class="english">conversation.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">So</li>
+            <li class="english">This</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fon</li>
+            <li class="english">was</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">donzel’</li>
+            <li class="english">a girl</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ab</li>
+            <li class="english">with</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">son</li>
+            <li class="english">her</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cor</li>
+            <li class="english">body</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">bel,</li>
+            <li class="english">beautiful</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Filha</li>
+            <li class="english">The daughter</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">d’un</li>
+            <li class="english">of one</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">senhor</li>
+            <li class="english">lord</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">de</li>
+            <li class="english">of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">castel;</li>
+            <li class="english">a castle;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">E</li>
+            <li class="english">And</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">quant</li>
+            <li class="english">when</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">eu</li>
+            <li class="english">I</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cugei</li>
+            <li class="english">thought</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">que</li>
+            <li class="english">that</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">l’</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">auzel</li>
+            <li class="english">birds</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Li</li>
+            <li class="english">Her</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fesson</li>
+            <li class="english">made (gave)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">joi</li>
+            <li class="english">joy</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">la</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">verdors,</li>
+            <li class="english">greenery</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">E</li>
+            <li class="english">And</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">pel</li>
+            <li class="english">(because of) the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dous</li>
+            <li class="english">sweet</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">termini</li>
+            <li class="english">season</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">novel,</li>
+            <li class="english">new</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">E</li>
+            <li class="english">And</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">que</li>
+            <li class="english">that</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">entendes</li>
+            <li class="english">she would listen (to)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mon</li>
+            <li class="english">my</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">favel,</li>
+            <li class="english">address,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Tost</li>
+            <li class="english">Soon</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">li</li>
+            <li class="english">(the)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fon</li>
+            <li class="english">were</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sos</li>
+            <li class="english">her</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">afors</li>
+            <li class="english">manners</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">camjatz.</li>
+            <li class="english">changed.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Dels</li>
+            <li class="english">From her</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">olhs</li>
+            <li class="english">eyes</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ploret</li>
+            <li class="english">she cried</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">josta</li>
+            <li class="english">by</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">la</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fon</li>
+            <li class="english">fountain</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">E</li>
+            <li class="english">And</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">del</li>
+            <li class="english">from the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cor</li>
+            <li class="english">heart</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sospiret</li>
+            <li class="english">she sighed</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">preon.</li>
+            <li class="english">deeply.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">‘Jhesus,’</li>
+            <li class="english">‘Jesus,’</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dis</li>
+            <li class="english">said</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ela,</li>
+            <li class="english">she,</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">‘reis</li>
+            <li class="english">‘king</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">del</li>
+            <li class="english">of the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mon,</li>
+            <li class="english">world,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Per</li>
+            <li class="english">Through</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">creis</li>
+            <li class="english">grows</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ma</li>
+            <li class="english">my</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">grans</li>
+            <li class="english">great</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dolors,</li>
+            <li class="english">grief</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Quar</li>
+            <li class="english">For</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vostra</li>
+            <li class="english">your</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">anta</li>
+            <li class="english">disgrace</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cofon,</li>
+            <li class="english">injures,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[366]</span>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Quar</li>
+            <li class="english">For</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">li</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">melhor</li>
+            <li class="english">best</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">de</li>
+            <li class="english">of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">tot</li>
+            <li class="english">all</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">est</li>
+            <li class="english">this</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mon</li>
+            <li class="english">world</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Vos</li>
+            <li class="english">You</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">van</li>
+            <li class="english">go</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">servir,</li>
+            <li class="english">to serve,</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mas</li>
+            <li class="english">but</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">a</li>
+            <li class="english">to</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">platz.</li>
+            <li class="english">it pleases.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Ab</li>
+            <li class="english">With</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">s’en</li>
+            <li class="english">(himself) away)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vai</li>
+            <li class="english">goes</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">lo</li>
+            <li class="english">(the)	</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">meus</li>
+            <li class="english">my</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">amics,</li>
+            <li class="english">friend</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Lo</li>
+            <li class="english">The</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">bels</li>
+            <li class="english">beautiful</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">el</li>
+            <li class="english">and the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">gens</li>
+            <li class="english">gentle</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">el</li>
+            <li class="english">and the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">pros</li>
+            <li class="english">brave</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">el</li>
+            <li class="english">and the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">rics,</li>
+            <li class="english">worthy</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Sai</li>
+            <li class="english">Here</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’en</li>
+            <li class="english">to me therefrom</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">reman</li>
+            <li class="english">remains</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">lo</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">grans</li>
+            <li class="english">great</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">destrics,</li>
+            <li class="english">grief</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Lo</li>
+            <li class="english">The</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">deziriers</li>
+            <li class="english">longing</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">soven</li>
+            <li class="english">often</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">el</li>
+            <li class="english">and the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">plors.</li>
+            <li class="english">tear.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Ai!</li>
+            <li class="english">Alas!</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mala</li>
+            <li class="english">evil</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fos</li>
+            <li class="english">be (befal)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">reis</li>
+            <li class="english">king</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Lozoics</li>
+            <li class="english">Louis.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Que</li>
+            <li class="english">Who</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fai</li>
+            <li class="english">makes</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">los</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mans</li>
+            <li class="english">commands</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">los</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">prezics</li>
+            <li class="english">preachings,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Per</li>
+            <li class="english">Through</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">quel</li>
+            <li class="english">which</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dols</li>
+            <li class="english">the pain</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’es</li>
+            <li class="english">to me is</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">el</li>
+            <li class="english">into the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cor</li>
+            <li class="english">heart</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">intratz.’</li>
+            <li class="english">entered.’</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Quant</li>
+            <li class="english">When</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">eu</li>
+            <li class="english">I</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">l’auzi</li>
+            <li class="english">her heard</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">desconortar,</li>
+            <li class="english">lament</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Ves</li>
+            <li class="english">To</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">leis</li>
+            <li class="english">her</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vengui</li>
+            <li class="english">I came</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">jostal</li>
+            <li class="english">near the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">riu</li>
+            <li class="english">brook</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">clar.</li>
+            <li class="english">clear.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">‘Bela,’</li>
+            <li class="english">‘Beautiful one,’</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fi</li>
+            <li class="english">said</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">m’eu,</li>
+            <li class="english">(myself) I,</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">‘per</li>
+            <li class="english">‘by</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">trop</li>
+            <li class="english">too much</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">plorar</li>
+            <li class="english">crying</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Afola</li>
+            <li class="english">Degenerates</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cara</li>
+            <li class="english">face</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">e</li>
+            <li class="english">and</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">colors:</li>
+            <li class="english">colour:</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">E</li>
+            <li class="english">And</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">no</li>
+            <li class="english">not</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">vos</li>
+            <li class="english">you</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">qual</li>
+            <li class="english">it beseems</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dezesperar,</li>
+            <li class="english">to despair,</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Que</li>
+            <li class="english">For</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cel</li>
+            <li class="english">he</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">que</li>
+            <li class="english">who</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">fai</li>
+            <li class="english">makes</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">lo</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">bosc</li>
+            <li class="english">bush</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">folhar</li>
+            <li class="english">bring forth leaves</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[367]</span>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Vos</li>
+            <li class="english">You</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">pot</li>
+            <li class="english">can</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">donar</li>
+            <li class="english">give</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">de</li>
+            <li class="english">of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">joi</li>
+            <li class="english">joys</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">assatz.’</li>
+            <li class="english">enough.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">‘Senher,’</li>
+            <li class="english">‘Sir,’</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">dis</li>
+            <li class="english">said</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">ela,</li>
+            <li class="english">she,</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">‘ben</li>
+            <li class="english">‘well</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">o</li>
+            <li class="english">this</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">cre,</li>
+            <li class="english">I believe</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Que</li>
+            <li class="english">That</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Deus</li>
+            <li class="english">God</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">aja</li>
+            <li class="english">may have</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">de</li>
+            <li class="english">of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">merce</li>
+            <li class="english">mercy</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">En</li>
+            <li class="english">In</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">l’</li>
+            <li class="english">the</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">autre</li>
+            <li class="english">other</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">segle</li>
+            <li class="english">world</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">per</li>
+            <li class="english">for</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">jasse,</li>
+            <li class="english">ever</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Quon</li>
+            <li class="english">As</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">assatz</li>
+            <li class="english">enough</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">d’</li>
+            <li class="english">of</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">autres</li>
+            <li class="english">other</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">peccadors;</li>
+            <li class="english">sinners;</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Mas</li>
+            <li class="english">But</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">sai</li>
+            <li class="english">here</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">tol</li>
+            <li class="english">he takes</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">aquela</li>
+            <li class="english">that</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">re</li>
+            <li class="english">thing</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Don</li>
+            <li class="english">Of which</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">jois</li>
+            <li class="english">joy</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">crec;</li>
+            <li class="english">grew;</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mas</li>
+            <li class="english">but</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">pauc</li>
+            <li class="english">little</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">te</li>
+            <li class="english">he holds worth</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+    <div class="verse-pair">
+      <ol class="sentence">
+        <li>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">Que</li>
+            <li class="english">As</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">trop</li>
+            <li class="english">too (far)</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">s’es</li>
+            <li class="english">(himself) he is</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">de</li>
+            <li class="english">from</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">mi</li>
+            <li class="english">me</li>
+          </ol>
+          <ol class="phrase">
+            <li class="provencal">alonhatz.</li>
+            <li class="english">gone.</li>
+          </ol>
+        </li>
+      </ol>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<!-- In this comment, the poems are included as printed, in case
+someone will find it more useful to have them laid out this way.
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Li douz cossire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">The sweet thoughts</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qem don amors soven,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Which to me gives love often,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Domnam fan dire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Lady, me make say</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De vos maint vers plazen;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Of you many a poem pleasant;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pessan remire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Thinking I gaze (on)</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vostre cors car e gen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Your body dear and comely,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Cui eu dezire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Which I desire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas qe non faz parven;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">More than (not) I make appearance;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E sitot me deslei</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">And although myself I make (appear) disloyal</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per vos, ges nous abnei,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For you(r sake), scarcely (not) you I deny;</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[359]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Q’ades vas vos soplei</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For soon towards you I pray</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De francha benvolensa.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">With genuine love.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Domna, on beutaz gensa,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Lady, where (in whom) beauty is an ornament,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Maintas vez oblit mei</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Many times I forget myself</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’eu lau vos e mercei.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">That I may praise you and implore mercy.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Toz temps m’azire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">All times me may hate</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">L’amors qeus mi defen,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">The Love which you (from) me withholds</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">S’eu jal cor vire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">If I ever the heart turn</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ad autr’ entendemen;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">To another (loving) understanding;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tolt m’ avez rire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Taken away (from) me you have laughter</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E donat pessamen.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">And given thought.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Plus greu martire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">More severe martyrdom</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nuls homs de me no sen;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">No man of me (than I) not feels;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qar vos qe plus envei</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For you whom more I desire</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De re q’el mon estei,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Of (than a) thing which in the world is</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[360]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Desautorc e mescrei</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">I disavow and deny</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E desam en parvensa;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">And un-love in appearance;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tot qant faz per temensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">All how much I do through fear</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Devez en bona fei</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">You must in good faith</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Prendre, neis qan nous vei.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Take, even when not you I see.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">En sovinensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">In memory</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tenc la car’ el dous ris,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">I hold the face and the sweet smile,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vostra valensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Your worth</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">El bel cors blanc e lis;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">And the beautiful body white and lithe;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Si per crezensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">If through faith</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Estes ves deu tan fis,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">I were towards God as faithful,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vius ses falhensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Alive without failure</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Intrer’ en paradis;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">I should enter into paradise.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’ aissim sui ses toz cuz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For so myself I am (have) without all (any) hesitation</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De cor a vos renduz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Of the heart to you given</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[361]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Q’autra jois nom aduz;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">That another joys not to me gives;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’una no porta benda,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For one not wears a band</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’en prezes per esmenda</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">That I of her should prize as compensation</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Jaser ne fos sos druz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">To lie (with her) nor that I were her lover</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per las vostras saluz.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">(In exchange) for the your greetings.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Toz jorns m’agensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">All the days me stirs</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Desirs, tan m’abelis</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Desire, so much me attracts</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">La captenensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">The bearing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">De vos per cui languis;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Of you for whom I languish;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Bem par qem vensa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Good to me it seems that me should conquer</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vostr’ amors, q’ans qeus vis</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Your love, for before that you I saw</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Fo m’ entendensa,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">It was to me a knowledge</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qeus ames eus servis;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">That you I should love and you I should serve;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’ aissim sui remansuz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For thus myself I am (have) remained</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sols ses autres ajuz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Alone without other helps</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[362]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Q’ ab vos, e n’ ai perduz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">But (from) you and therefrom I have lost</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mans bes, quis vuelhals prenda;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Many boons; he who for himself will (have) them take (them);</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’a mi plaz mais q’atenda</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For to me it pleases more that I should wait</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ses toz covenz saubuz</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Without all covenants known</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vas don m’ es jois creguz.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">(With) towards (her) from whom to me (has) is joy grown.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ans qe s’encenda</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Before that itself may inflame</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Inz el cor la dolors,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Inside in the heart the pain,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Merces desenda</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Mercy may descend,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Domn’ en vos et amors,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Lady, into you and love,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qe joi mi renda</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Which joy to me may give</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">En lonhs sospirs e plors.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Amidst long sighs and tears.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Nous o defenda</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Not you this may forbid</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Paratges ni ricors;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Parentage nor wealth;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’oblidaz m’es toz bes,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For forgotten (by) me is every boon,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">S’ab vos nom val merces;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">If with you not me helps mercy;</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[363]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Ai! bella dousa res,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Oh! beautiful sweet thing,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Molt feraz gran franqesa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Much will you do great frankness</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">M’amessez o non ges;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">(If) me you would love or not (scarcely)</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’eras no sai qe s’es.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For now not I know which (itself) it is.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Non trop contenda</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Not I find resistance</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Contra vostras valors;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Against your worth(s);</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Merces von prenda</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Mercy you thereof may take</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tals q’a vos si’ onors;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Such as to you would be an honour;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ja nom entenda</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Ever not me may hear</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Dieus mest sos prejadors,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">God amongst his worshippers,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Si volh la renda</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">If I will (take) the income</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Dels qatre reis majors</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Of the four kings greatest</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qe ab vos nom valgues</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">So that with you not to me should be of use</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Dieus e ma bona fes;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">God and my good faith;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qe partir nom posc ges</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For part (from you) not (me) I can scarcely</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[364]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Tant fort si es empresa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">So strongly itself is (has) inflamed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">M’ amors, e si fos presa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">My love, and if it were found</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">En baisan nius plagues,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">(In) kissing and if you it pleased</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ja no volgram solves.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Ever not should I wish myself that I severed.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Anc res q’a vos plagues</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Ever a thing that (to) you pleased</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Bona domna cortesa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Good lady courteous</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tan no m’ estet defesa,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">So much not to me was forbidden</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’ eu ans no la fezes,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">That I sooner not it should do</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Qe d’als mi sovengues.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Than of another thing (myself) I should think.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<h4>II.<br>
+<i>IDYLL BY MARCABRUN.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">A la fontana del vergier,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">At the fountain of the orchard</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">On l’ erb’ es vertz jostal gravier,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Where the grass is green near the gravel</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A l’ ombra d’ un fust domesgier,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">In the shade of a tree indigenous</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">En aizement de blancas flors</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">In the beauty of white flowers</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[365]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">E de novel chant costumier,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">And of new song familiar</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Trobei sola ses companhier</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">I found alone without companion</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Cela que no volc mon solatz.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Her who not relished my conversation.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">So fon donzel’ ab son cor bel,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">This was a girl with her body beautiful</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Filha d’un senhor de castel;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">The daughter of one lord of a castle;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E quant eu cugei que l’ auzel</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">And when I thought that the birds</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Li fesson joi e la verdors,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Her made (gave) joy and the greenery</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E pel dous termini novel,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">And (because of) the sweet season new</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E que entendes mon favel,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">And that she would listen (to) my address</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tost li fon sos afors camjatz.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Soon (the) were her manners changed.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Dels olhs ploret josta la fon</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">From her eyes she cried by the fountain</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E del cor sospiret preon.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">And from the heart she sighed deeply.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Jhesus,’ dis ela, ‘reis del mon,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">‘Jesus,’ said she, ‘king of the world,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per vos mi creis ma grans dolors,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Through you me grows my great grief</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quar vostra anta mi cofon,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For your disgrace me injures,</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[366]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Quar li melhor de tot est mon</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For the best of all this world</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vos van servir, mas a vos platz.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">You go to serve, but to you it pleases.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ab vos s’en vai lo meus amics,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">With you (himself) away goes (the) my friend</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Lo bels el gens el pros el rics,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">The beautiful and the gentle and the brave and the worthy</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sai m’en reman lo grans destrics,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Here to me therefrom remains the great grief</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Lo deziriers soven el plors.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">The longing often and the tear.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ai! mala fos reis Lozoics</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Alas! evil be (befal) king Louis.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que fai los mans e los prezics</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Who makes the commands and the preachings,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per quel dols m’es el cor intratz.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Through which the pain to me is into the heart entered.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quant eu l’auzi desconortar,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">When I her heard lament</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ves leis vengui jostal riu clar.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">To her I came near the brook clear.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Bela,’ fi m’eu, ‘per trop plorar</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">‘Beautiful one,’ said (myself) I, ‘by too much crying</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Afola cara e colors:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Degenerates face and colour:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E no vos qual dezesperar,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">And not you it beseems to despair,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que cel que fai lo bosc folhar</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">For he who makes the bush bring forth leaves</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[367]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">Vos pot donar de joi assatz.’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">You can give of joys enough.’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Senher,’ dis ela, ‘ben o cre,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">‘Sir,’ said she, ‘well this I believe</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que Deus aja de mi merce</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">That God may have of me mercy</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">En l’ autre segle per jasse,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">In the other world for ever</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quon assatz d’ autres peccadors;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">As enough of other sinners;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Mas sai mi tol aquela re</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">But here me he takes that thing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Don jois mi crec; mas pauc mi te</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">Of which joy me grew; but little me he holds worth</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Que trop s’es de mi alonhatz.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0 interlinear">As too (far) (himself) he is from me gone.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+-->
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES</h2>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Even the oldest Provençal poem of importance known to
+us, a popular version of the story of Boethius, belonging, according
+to Raynouard, to the tenth century, shows in most essential
+points the same grammatical structure as the language of the
+Troubadours, barring such irregularities and archaisms as are fully
+accounted for by the age and origin of the work.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> The religious poems of the Vaudois, especially the celebrated
+‘Noble Lesson,’ a medley of moral and dogmatic precepts, do not
+concern us, they being both by language and tendency entirely removed
+from the sphere of artistic literature.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> A curious collection of all imaginable law cases, called
+‘Albres de Batalhas,’ or ‘Tree of Contention,’ and written most
+likely originally in French, may be mentioned as throwing a
+curious though faint light on a recent controversy. One of the
+fictitious actions is between a Frenchman and a licentiate of
+London who has come to Paris to take his degree in the celebrated
+university of that city, a case of frequent occurrence, although
+‘as every one knows the Kings of France and England are
+always at war with each other.’ In answer to some argument of
+the Englishman his antagonist exclaims in his boisterous way:
+‘We Frenchmen don’t care about your laws or the <i>emperor</i> who
+made them.’ What better precedent could the advocates of
+Queen Victoria’s new title demand than this testimony of an
+enemy, who curiously enough speaks of his own monarch as the
+king?</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> In one passage, it is true, he uses the words, ‘que ay escrichas
+questas razos,’ ‘I who have written these things,’ but that may
+be a shorter way for saying ‘dictated,’ which the expression in
+the text evidently indicates.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> In the second-mentioned poem the instruction takes the
+whimsical form of a reproof to a joglar for <i>not</i> knowing the various
+subjects mentioned in the text. ‘I will tell you the truth without
+a lie,’ the ingenuous poet opens his diatribe; ‘you are a bad fiddler
+and worse singer from beginning to end.’</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> Pulci says that Angelo Poliziano called his attention to
+Arnaut’s work, in acknowledgment evidently of what he considered
+a remarkable antiquarian achievement.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> ‘Galahalt’ was the go-between of the Queen and her lover.
+The word became nationalised in Italian as equivalent to ‘Pandar.’</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> This kind of personal apprenticeship to a renowned troubadour,
+be it here parenthetically stated, was, in the good times, the
+common way of acquiring the complicated and difficult art of
+poetry. Other poets taught themselves with the assistance of the
+great models preserved in writing, or transmitted by word of
+mouth and sound of voice or fiddle. Jaufre Rudel says prettily,
+that meadows and orchards, trees and flowers, and the cries and
+songs of wild birds have been his teachers. The ‘Academies,’
+<i>i.e.</i> teaching and examining bodies, were, like the schools of the
+German master singers, creations of a late epoch.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> M. Damase Arbaud some time ago published a charming
+collection of popular ditties (‘Chants Populaires de Provence,’
+Aix, 1862), containing amongst other pieces some beautiful
+Christmas songs or <i>noëls</i> evidently of great antiquity, although
+still sung in Provence. Some of these poems, the editor believes,
+date back from the times of the Troubadours. But the oral
+tradition to which they owe their preservation has unfortunately
+changed their linguistic character beyond recognition.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> The <i>senhal</i> or pseudonym of his lady-love.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> Songs of dispute or contention.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> ‘The other day by the roadside I heard a shepherd sing a
+song, which said: “False traitors have killed me.” And when he
+saw me approach, he jumped to his feet to do me honour and
+said, ‘God be with you, sir; for now I have found a friend, leal
+and discreet and without falsehood to whom I may complain
+of love.’</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> A curious exception to this rule occurs in a <i>balada</i> published
+by Professor Bartsch from a Paris manuscript. It is evidently
+written in imitation of a popular model, and differs <i>in toto</i> from
+the spirit and diction of the poetry of the Troubadours, with which
+it has nothing in common but the language. Here we have a
+refrain of purely musical significance at the end of some of the
+lines, and also the exclamation of the dancers referred to in the
+text. Here also, curiously enough, the words take a narrative turn,
+thus seeming to foreshadow the gradual transition of the term
+ballad from its old to its modern meaning. A stanza may follow
+here:—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">A l’entrada del tems clar, eya,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per joya recomençar, eya,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E per jelos irritar, eya,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vol la regina mostrar</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Q’el’est est si amoroza.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Alavi’, alavia, jelos,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Laissaz nos, laissaz nos</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ballar entre nos, entre nos.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>(‘At the beginning of the bright season, eya, in order to begin
+again joy, eya, and to irritate the jealous, eya, the queen resolves
+to show how amorous she is. Away, away, ye jealous, let us, let
+us, dance by ourselves, by ourselves’).</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> An article in the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i> (July 1877), called a
+‘Plea for certain Exotic Forms of Verse,’ may be consulted
+with advantage, as regards the adoption of these French metres
+by some modern English poets. For modern French poetry,
+that charming volume ‘Petit Traité de Poésie,’ by Théodore de
+Banville, is the chief source. Of the mediæval development of
+his own language and the <i>langue d’oc</i> M. de Banville unfortunately
+says little or nothing. Villon seems the earliest author
+known to him. Rutebœuf he ignores.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> According to the <i>Leys d’amors</i>, this choice of one of two
+arguments proposed by one troubadour to another, is the characteristic
+feature of the <i>partimen</i> in distinction from the <i>tenso</i>
+generally.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> A notorious freebooter of the time.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> Attacks on the morals of the clergy are frequent in Provençal
+literature; but of poems containing heretical opinions in matters
+of dogma I know only one, by Peire Cardinal. It is a passionate
+plea against the eternity of punishment, and might have been
+quoted with advantage in a recent ecclesiastical trial. It is,
+however, by no means unlikely that other poems of heterodox
+import may have been accidentally or wilfully destroyed in the
+course of ages. The fact that a bull of Pope Innocent IV., dated
+1245, prohibits to students the use of Provençal, as a language
+of heretics, tends to confirm this surmise.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> This poem may be found in Bartsch’s ‘Chrestomathie Provençale,’
+2nd edition, p. 55.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> The exact meaning of the word <i>sirventes</i> is not easy to
+define. It is evidently derived from the Latin verb <i>servire</i>, and
+may therefore loosely be rendered as the ‘song of a serving-man
+in praise or in the interest of his master.’ The <i>Leys d’amors</i> calls
+the <i>sirventes</i> ‘a song which contains censure and vituperation,
+and castigates wicked and malignant people.’ This tolerably
+meets the case. The use of the word by later grammarians for
+a song in praise of the Virgin is a manifest corruption of its
+original meaning.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> The characteristic change between plural and singular in the
+lady’s address to Guillem adds greatly to the impressiveness of
+the original. Here, for instance, she says, ‘Eram digaz (Tell <i>you</i>
+me), t’es tu anquera (hast <i>thou</i> found out),’ etc.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> See the interlinear version of it; Index, ii.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> Another biographer adds with ghastly accuracy, ‘<i>a pebrada</i>,’
+with pepper—‘devilled,’ as we should say.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> Some readers may care to know the whole passage referring
+to our troubadour, one of the most weird and impressive of the
+‘Inferno.’ It occurs in the 28th Canto towards the close, and runs
+thus:—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ma io rimasi a riguardar lo stuolo,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E vidi cosa ch’io avrei paura</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Senza più pruova di contarla solo;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Se non che conscienzia m’assicura,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">La buona compagnia che l’uom francheggia</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sotto l’usbergo del sentirsi pura.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Io vidi certo ed ancor par ch’io ’l veggia,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Un busto senza capo andar, si come</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Andavan gli altri della trista greggia.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E ‘l capo tronco tenea per le chiome</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Pesol con mano, a guisa di lanterna:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E quei mirava noi, e dicea: O me!</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Di sè faceva a sè stesso lucerna;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ed eran due in uno ed uno in due:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Com’ esser puo, Quei sa che sì governa.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Quando diritto appiè del ponte fue</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Levò ‘l braccio alto con tutta la testa</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Per appressarne le parole sue,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Che furo: Or vedi la pena molesta</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Tu che, spirando vai veggendo i morti:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Vedi s’alcuna è grave come questa.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E perchè tu di me novella porti,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sappi ch’io son Bertram dal Bornio, quelli</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Che al rè giovane diedi i mai conforti;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Io feci ’l padre e ‘l figlio in sè ribelli:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Achitofel non fè più d’Absalone</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">E di David, coi malvagi pungelli.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Perch’io partii così giunte persone,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Partito porto il mio cerebro lasso!</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Dal suo principio chè ’n questo troncone;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Così s’osserva in me lo contrappasso.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">But I remained to look upon the troop,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And saw a thing which I should be in fear,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Without more proof of telling, I alone,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But that my conscience reassureth me,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The good companion which emboldens man</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Under the hauberk of its feeling pure.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I certes saw, and seems I see it still,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A trunk without a head proceeding, so</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">As went the others of the sorry flock.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And by the hair he held his truncate head</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">In guise of lantern, pendulous in hand:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And that gazed on us, and it said, ‘Oh me!’</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">He of himself made light unto himself,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And they were two in one, and one in two:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">How it can be He knows who governs thus.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">When he was right against the bridge’s foot,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">He raised, with all the head, his arm on high</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">So to approach to us the words thereof,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Which were: ‘See now the troublous penalty</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Thou who go’st breathing, looking at the dead,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">See whether any is so great as this.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And, for that thou mayst carry of me news,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I, know thou, am Bertran de Born, the man</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Who gave the young king ill encouragements.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I mutually made rebels son and sire:</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ahithophel made Absalom no more</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">And David with his wicked goadings on.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Because I parted persons thus conjoined,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">My brain, alas! I carry parted from</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Its principle which is in this my trunk.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">So retribution is in me observed.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse right"><span class="smcap">W. M. Rossetti’s</span> <i>translation</i>.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> I must warn the reader not to mistake the above lines for
+an attempt at rendering a somewhat similar war-song generally
+ascribed to Bertran de Born, and translated into English as one
+of his poems. It is the magnificent <i>sirventes</i> beginning ‘Bem
+platz lo gais temps de pascor’ (Well I love the gay time of spring),
+and so much is it in the spirit of our troubadour that even one
+of the old manuscripts has his name affixed to it. Unfortunately,
+however, the evidence of numerous other and better manuscripts
+is against this plausible surmise, and by their authority the poem
+must be ascribed to William de St. Gregory, a troubadour comparatively
+little known.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> ‘First among all, Arnaut Daniel, the great master of love,
+who still does honour to his country by his new and beautiful
+parlance.’</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> Owing to the noble protection granted to the remnants of
+the old Waldenses in the valleys of the Cottonian Alps by Cromwell,
+and continued by subsequent English governments, till the
+full emancipation of the sect by King Charles Albert in 1848,
+their history and doctrines have excited a great deal of interest
+in this country. A rich and valuable literature on the subject
+exists in our language, disfigured only by the desire, on the part
+of theologians, to absolutely identify the original doctrine of the
+Vaudois with that of the Protestant reformers. This kind of
+retrospective propagandism may have been useful in the days of
+the Commonwealth to raise Puritan sympathy for oppressed fellow
+Protestants, but surely is out of place in our critical times. The
+works by Blair, Faber, Gilly, Allix, and others are well known.
+The reader’s attention is called to an interesting volume by Dr.
+Todd, containing a description of the Waldensian manuscripts in
+the library of Trinity College, Dublin, also reprints of articles by
+the late Hon. Algernon Herbert, Dr. Gilly, and other authors, on
+the Waldenses and their representative poem, the ‘Noble Lesson.’
+Here also will be found a curious account of the re-discovery of
+certain interesting MSS., brought over to England by Morland,
+Cromwell’s envoy to the Duke of Savoy, and deposited by him in
+the library of Cambridge University. They were long supposed to
+have disappeared, but were ultimately found by Mr. H. Bradshaw,
+the accomplished scholar, in 1862, on the identical shelf where
+Morland had deposited them. The possibility of this strange
+neglect Mr. Bradshaw explains from the fact that ‘the history of
+the MSS. was lost sight of, and they had come to be regarded as
+miscellaneous pieces, <i>apparently in Spanish</i>.’ The italicised suggestion
+reveals a beautiful development of modern philology
+at Cambridge. Does that state of things continue at the
+present day? What reason is there to believe the contrary, or
+what chance of improvement?</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> The great value of this MS., which is on parchment, and in
+perfect condition, is proved by a curious endorsement on the last
+page, dated 1336, to the effect that one Jordan Capella obtained
+on it a loan of fifteen ‘<i>livres tournois</i>,’ by no means an inconsiderable
+sum in those days.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> The poem is written in tirades, or paragraphs of varying
+lengths, bound together by the same rhyme. At the end of each
+tirade there is a short line which, in the second portion of the
+poem, is, as a rule, literally repeated in the first line of the following
+tirade, while in the first part it only anticipates its rhyme.
+This difference is the chief metrical evidence against the one-author
+theory.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> The degree of nobility between the Viscount and the simple
+Baron.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> Grave doubts have recently been thrown on the authenticity
+of this poem. Into these I cannot enter here. But it seems strange
+that the bearing of the reality or fictitiousness of the ‘courts of
+love’ on the mooted point should have been entirely overlooked.
+Chaucer’s visit to France (1359) coincides with the time when
+amateur judges and juries deciding questions of gallantry were all
+the rage, and these might very well have suggested to him the symbolical
+machinery of the poem. But of course the intrinsic probability
+of Chaucer having written <i>a</i> poem on the ‘Court of Love’
+does not amount to much compared with the philological arguments
+of Mr. Skeat (see ‘Athenæum,’ November 4, 1876). At the same
+time it seems surprising that neither he nor Mr. Furnivall is apparently
+acquainted with the historical controversy on the point, in
+spite of Diez’s admirable work, and of the paper I wrote on the
+subject in a monthly periodical. If this is true of scholars, what
+can be expected of the general reader? At this rate the ‘courts
+of love’ may protract their spurious existence for another
+century or so—in England at least.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> The reader interested in these matters may find some
+account of Andreas’ book in the pretty little edition of Chaucer
+for which Mr. Robert Bell is responsible (vol. iv. pp. 116 <i>et passim</i>).
+All the absurd stories of the Chaplain the ingenuous editor accepts
+as gospel truth. Queen Eleanor, Richard Cœur de Lion, and
+other worthies are named as the presidents of these amorous
+parliaments, of which the world knew nothing till hundreds of
+years after their deaths. Several of the <i>arrêts d’amour</i> are quoted,
+and the power of the court is said to have extended even to the
+assessing of pecuniary damages and the inflicting of corporal
+punishment. This <i>naïveté</i> is the more touching on Mr. Bell’s
+part, as, unlike Mr. Furnivall and Mr. Skeat, he is acquainted with
+Diez’s pamphlet. But his faith is proof against the most trenchant
+criticism.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> Westphal, <i>Fragmente und Lehrsätze der griechischen Rhythmiker</i>,
+pp. 14, 101.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> <i>Sat.</i> 1. i. 28.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> <i>Ars Poet.</i> 99.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> <i>Ars Poet.</i> 139.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> <i>Epist.</i> 1. xiv. 7.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> The stanza of the Sestina, as we know, both Dante and
+Petrarch took from Arnaut Daniel, whom the latter calls—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘Fra tutti il primo Arnaldo Daniello</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Gran maestro d’amor.’</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> <i>Opere Minori</i>, ed. Fraticelli, ii. 212.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> In this, as in all other cases, the expression of the ‘Leys
+d’Amors’ has been used in measuring verses, which, besides being
+more appropriate for the <i>langue d’oc</i>, seems also the more logical.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a> Clarratz is evidently a mistake; very likely it should be
+read clartatz = clarté.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> Dieresis probably, where it occurs in this treatise, is always
+a misreading for diesis, which is the proper term for what Dante
+means.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> <i>Canzoniere</i>, ed. Giuliani, p. 227.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> The meaning of the word coda in modern music is not
+exactly the same as the one here given by Dante, but might well
+be derived from it.</p></div>
+
+</div>
+
+<p class="titlepage">LONDON: PRINTED BY<br>
+SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br>
+AND PARLIAMENT STREET</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter titlepage illowp100" style="max-width: 43.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/cover-deco.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77644 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #77644
+(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77644)
author	www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org>	2026-01-07 17:11:46 -0800
committer	www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org>	2026-01-07 17:11:46 -0800
commit	1ac2bd21c71fc0abccc20f3fd1a3a7d013a354ca (patch)
tree	fadef757a8025075e2e46ec71493080a39bd85da