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 ...