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.’