was devised to lighten the boredom; and this very singing became itself in due time, in the manner of all things, an ennui. There has been so much written about the poetry of the best Provençal period, to wit the end of the 12th century, that I shall say nothing of it here, but shall confine the latter part of this essay to a mention of three efforts, or three sorts of effort which were employed to keep poetry alive after the crusade of 1208. Any study of European poetry is unsound if it does not commence with a study of that art in Provence. The art of quantitative verse had been lost. This loss was due more to ignorance than to actual changes of language, from Latin, that is, into the younger tongues. It is open to doubt whether the Æolic singing was ever comprehended fully even in Rome. When men began to write on tablets and ceased singing to the barbitos, a loss of some sort was unavoidable. Propertius may be cited as an exception, but Propertius writes only one metre. In any case the classic culture of the Renaissance was grafted on to medieval culture, a process which is excellently illustrated by Andrea Divus Iustinopolitanus' translation of the Odyssey into Latin. It is true that each century after the Renaissance has tried in its own way to come nearer the classic, but, if we are to understand that part of our civilisation which is the art of verse, we must begin at the root, and that root is medieval. The poetic art of Provence paved the way for the poetic art of Tuscany; and to this Dante bears sufficient witness in his treatise De Vulgari Eloquio.' The heritage of art is one thing to the public and quite another to the succeeding artists. The artist's inheritance from other artists can be little more than certain enthusiasms, which usually spoil his first work, and a definite knowledge of the modes of expression which goes to perfecting his more mature performance. All this is a matter of technique. After the compositions of Vidal and of Rudel and of Ventadour, of Bornelh and Bertrans de Born and Arnaut Daniel, there seemed little chance of doing distinctive work in the 'canzon de l'amour courtois.' There was no way, or at least there was no man in Provence capable of finding a new way of saying in seven closely rhymed strophes that a certain girl, matron or widow was like a certain set of things, and that the troubadour's virtues were like another set, and that all this was very sorrowful or otherwise, and that there was but one obvious remedy. Richard of Brebezieu had done his best for tired ears; he had made similes of beasts and of the stars which got him a passing favour. He had compared himself to the fallen elephant and to the self-piercing pelican, and no one could go any further. Novelty is reasonably rare even in modes of decadence and revival. The three devices tried for poetic restoration in the early 13th century were the three usual devices. Certain men turned to talking art and aesthetics and attempted to dress up the folk-song. Certain men tried to make verse more engaging by stuffing it with an intellectual and argumentative content. Certain men turned to social satire. Roughly, we may divide the interesting work of the later Provençal period into these three divisions. As all of these men had progeny in Tuscany, they are, from the historical point of view, worth a few moments' attention. The first school is best represented in the work of Giraut Riquier of Narbonne. His most notable feat was the revival of the Pastorela. The Pastorela is a poem in which a knight tells of having met with a shepherdess or some woman of that class, and of what fortune and conversation befell him. The form had been used long before by Marcabrun, and is familiar to us in such poems as Guido Cavalcanti's 'In un boschetto trovai pastorella,' or in Swinburne's 'An Interlude.' Guido, who did all things well, whenever the fancy took him, has raised this form to a surpassing excellence in his poem 'Era in pensier d'Amor, quand' io trovai.' Riquier is most amusing in his account of the inn-mistress at Sant Pos de Tomeiras, but even there he is less amusing than was Marcabrun when he sang of the shepherdess in 'L'autrier iost' una sebissa.' Riquier has, however, his place in the apostolic succession; and there is no reason why Cavalcanti and Riquier should not have met while the former was on his journey to Campostella, although Riquier may as easily have been in Spain at the time. At any rate the Florentine noble would have heard the pastorelas of Giraut; and this may have set him to his ballate, which seems to date from the time of his meeting with Mandetta in Toulouse. Or it may have done nothing of the kind. The only settled fact is that Riquier was then the bestknown living troubadour and near the end of his course. The second, and to us the dullest of the schools, set to explaining the nature of love and its affects. The normal modern will probably slake all his curiosity for this sort of work in reading one such poem as the King of Navarre's 'De Fine amour vient science e beautez.' 'Ingenium nobis ipsa puella facit,' as Propertius put it, or anglice: 'Knowledge and beauty from true love are wrought, These three are one to whoso hath true thought,' etc. There might be less strain if one sang it. This peculiar variety of flame was carried to the altars of Bologna, whence Guinicello sang: 'Al cor gentil ripara sempre amore, Come l'augello in selva alla verdura.' And Cavalcanti wrote: 'A lady asks me, wherefore I wish to speak of an accident which is often cruel.' Upon this poem there are nineteen great and learned commentaries. And Dante, following in his elders' footsteps, has burdened us with a 'Convito.' The third school is the school of satire, and is the only one which gives us a contact with the normal life of the time. There had been Provençal satire before Piere Cardinal; but the sirventes of Sordello and de Born were directed for the most part against persons, while the Canon of Clermont drives rather against conditions. In so far as Dante is critic of morals, Cardinal must be held as his forerunner. Miquel writes of him as follows: 'Peire Cardinal was of Veillac of the city Pui Ma Donna, and he was of honourable lineage, son of a knight and a lady. And when he was little his father put him for canon in the canonica major of Pui; and he learnt letters, and he knew well how to read and to sing; and when he was come to man's estate he had high knowledge of the vanity of this world, for he felt himself gay and fair and young. And he made many fair arguments and fair songs. And he made cansos, but he made only a few of these, and sirventes; and he did best in the said sirventes where he set forth many fine arguments and fair examples for those who understand them; for much he rebuked the folly of this world and much he reproved the false clerks, as his sirventes show. And he went through the courts of kings and of noble barons and took with him his joglar who sang the sirventes. And much was he honoured and welcomed by my lord the good king of Aragon and by honourable barons. And I, master Miquel de la Tour, escruian (scribe), do ye to wit that N. Peire Cardinal when he passed from this life was nearly a hundred. And I, the aforesaid Miquel, have written these sirventes in the city of Nemze (Nimes) and here are written some of his sirventes.' If the Vicontesse de Pena reminds us of certain ladies with whom we have met, these sirventes of Cardinal may well remind us that thoughtful men have in every age found almost the same set of things or at least the same sort of things to protest against; if it be not a corrupt press or some monopoly, it is always some sort of equivalent, some conspiracy of ignorance and interest. And thus he says, 'Li clerc si fan pastor.' The clerks pretend to be shepherds, but they are wolfish at heart. If he can find a straight man, it is truly matter for song; and so we hear him say of the Duke of Narbonne, who was, apparently, making a fight for honest administration: 'Coms raymon duc de Narbona Marques de proensa Vostra valors es tan bona Que tot lo mon gensa, Quar de la mar de bayona En tro a valenca Agra gent falsae fellona Lai ab vil temensa, Mas vos tenetz vil lor Q'n frances bevedor * Here lies the difficulty of all this sort of scholarship! Is this 'qua' orque'? The change of the letter will shift us into irony. † 'Now is come from France what one did not ask for '--he is addressing the man who is standing against the North 'Count Raymon, Duke of Narbonne, Your valour is sound enough To make up for the cowardice of All the rest of the gentry. Cardinal is not content to spend himself in mere abuse, like the little tailor Figeira, who rhymes Christ's 'mortal pena' with 'Car voletz totzjors portar la borsa plena,' which is one way of saying 'Judas!' to the priests. He, Cardinal, sees that the technique of honesty is not always utterly simple. 'Li postilh, legat elh cardinal Fa cordon tug, y an fag establir Que qui nos pot de traisson esdir,' which may mean, 'The pope and the legate and the cardinal have twisted such a cord that they have brought things to such a pass that no one can escape committing treachery.' As for the rich: 'Li ric home an pietat tan gran Del autre gen quon ac caym da bel E mais mentir que tozas de bordelh.' Of the clergy, 'A tantas vey baylia,' 'So much the more do I see clerks coming into power that all the world will be theirs, whoever objects. For they'll have it with taking or with giving' (i.e. by granting land, belonging to one man, to someone else who will pay allegiance for it, as in the case of De Montfort), 'or with pardon or with hypocrisy; or by assault or by drinking and eating; or by prayers or by praising the worse; or with God or with devilry.' We find him putting the age-long query about profit in the following. 66 [Or, reading "l'aur," scorn the gold."] So that the drunken French Alarm you no more Than a partridge frightens a hawk.' 6 The rich men have such pity For other folk-about as much as Cain had for Abel. For they would like to leave less than the wolves do, |