IV

The Troubadours and Trouvères (so called from trobar or trouver—to find) were, in sharp contrast to the vagrant professional musicians, noble knights, who practised the graceful arts as gifted amateurs, primarily in the impassioned praise of woman and for the sole prize of her favor, with such zeal and superior intelligence that they soon outstripped in skill their meaner colleagues, who now became their servants. France was, it will be recalled, at this time, linguistically divided into two sections. The langue d’Oc was spoken in the south and the langue d’Oïl in the north. In the south, in Provence and Languedoc, the so-called Troubadour movement had its inception. ‘That glorious land, endowed with all the charms of sunny skies, which surpassed all other European provinces in culture, prosperity, and spiritual contentment, was the cradle of this chivalry, with which are associated supreme sensual enjoyment, a passion for splendor, and the worship of women, thus uniting all the conditions of poetic art.’[76] Chivalry spread rapidly beyond the limits of these provinces, however, and across the Pyrenees, where lay the three Christian kingdoms of Castille-León, Navarre, and Aragón. Counts, dukes, and kings extended their patronage to this knightly poet-band and vied with each in attaching to their courts a brilliant assemblage of singers. The counts of Provence especially, Raimon Berengar III and his successors, the counts of Toulouse, Anjou, and Poitou, the kings of Aragón, Castille, and León, the margraves of Montferrat and Este, the French royal court where Eleonore of Poitou was queen, and the court of England under Henry II, the second husband of Queen Eleonore, provided rallying centres. Even the sovereigns themselves were ambitious for the favor of the Muses. The earliest Troubadour of prominence was Guillaume, count of Poitiers (1087-1127). Contemporary with him was Robert, duke of Normandy, the son of William the Conqueror, who, after returning from the Crusade (1106), was till his death a prisoner of his brother Henry I of England in the Castle of Cardiff, where he is said to have attained the rank of a Welsh bard.

This remarkable and sudden flowering of lyric poetry among the knighthood of the eleventh century, continuing for two centuries and more the record of which stands brightly emblazoned upon the shield of musical history, has never been satisfactorily explained. Riemann thinks that the education of the young nobility in the monasteries certainly had a refining influence. The familiarity with old Breton and British literature, the legend of King Arthur’s Round Table, the old Celtic narrative poems and romances, especially the legend of Tristan and Yseult, which were known through old French adaptations, likewise had an influence.

By their own testimony, however, the Provençal poets found their immediate suggestions in folk song itself, as interpreted by the jongleurs. The latter’s entire repertoire of classic and mediæval chronicles was adopted by the Troubadours, whose own experiences in the Crusades later caused them to substitute recent chivalric deeds for antique subjects. The forms of the jongleurs’ art we find again in the Troubadour creations, but refined in style, governed by definite laws of poetry, more exalted in sentiment, so that, without sacrifice of spontaneity, they have gained distinction and variety and have become conscious works of art. As we are concerned here only with their musical significance, which, indeed, has been generally ignored by literary historians and underestimated by musicians, we shall have little to say about these forms; for, great as is the variety of their content, we fail to find parallel distinctions in their musical settings. It should not be overlooked, however, that certain poetic devices and ingenuities gave rise to more advanced musical forms, i. e., the repetition of a phrase on two rhyming verses at the beginning of a song, followed by a variant, which is the elementary form of the Lied.

The so-called vers gives a starting point for Troubadour lyrics. This was the name given to a strictly normal composition in a measure of eight syllables, with probably an amplification of the more sporadic, uneven verse forms of the jongleurs. The chanson is a more sophisticated form, consisting of alternating verses of different lengths. Girant de Borneil (1175-1220) is known as its first exponent. Then we find again the familiar narrative form in the guise of chansons de geste—epics recounting deeds of valor—the sirventes, employed in a lover’s address to his mistress as well as in satire (which is an early prototype of the famous terza rima later adopted by Dante and Petrarch), and the tenson, a controversial song in which the same subject is treated by rival poets, real and fictitious, in alternating verses. The Breton narrative or lai, of melancholy character, as represented in the ‘Tristan’ legend, was also adopted by the Troubadours; other lyrics are variously designated as canson, canzona, soula (a merry song), romance (more characteristic of the Trouvères), alba (aubade), a morning song, serena (serenade), an evening song, and pastourelle, the favorite form already mentioned, which is the richest in popular elements—dance rhythms, refrains, etc.

The pastourelle is characterized by extreme simplicity of theme. Its characters are shepherds and shepherdesses, and it usually begins in the narrative form, the narrator fixing the time of his adventure—the early morn—and the scene, invariably a field, where he meets a shepherdess ‘in the shade of a bush,’ or ‘at the edge of a spring.’ The amorous dialogue which follows has a happy conclusion if the lover be a shepherd, an unhappy one if he be a knight. The sentiments expressed in the Troubadour pastoral are, of course, rather those of knight and lady in the disguise of shepherds than those of real shepherds. Robin and Marion, the usual hero and heroine of pastoral songs, are the central personalities of a whole cycle, the origin of which is exceedingly ancient, far behind the day of Adam de la Halle, who is perhaps the most famous composer of pastorals. Most of the mediæval pastorals preserved to us belong to this cycle. The famous Robin m’aime is still sung, we are told, by the peasants of northern France. It runs as follows:

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Robins m’ai-me,—Robins m’a;
Robins m’ a— de-man-dé-e si m’a - ra.

The pastoral song survived the Middle Ages and was a favorite down to the Revolution, long before which it had, however, found its way into the aristocracy and polite society of cities and so lost the little natural flavor which still clung to it in the days of the Troubadours. Robin and Marion made way for Tircis and Aminta, Phyllis and Lycidas, beribboned and bespangled counterfeits of the original article. To illustrate how hackneyed this type of song and the plays later made out of them had become in the time of Molière, we may quote Monsieur Jourdain: ‘Why all these shepherds? I see nothing else.’ To which the dancing-master replies peremptorily: ‘When characters speak in music it is necessary, for the sake of realism, to make them shepherds. Song was ever affected by shepherds; it is hardly natural that princes and princesses should vent their passions in musical dialogue!’

Among Troubadour dance forms there should also be mentioned the carol or rondet de carol, retroensa, estampida, and the espringerie (jumping dance). Particularly notable is the Estampida of Rambaut de Vacqueiras (1180-1270), a Troubadour at the court of Montferrat, the lover of the beautiful princess Beatrice. The story connected with it aptly illustrates the influence of the jongleurs. When one day a band of these, native of France, came to the court, they awakened general merriment with a new Estampida played on their viols. Only Rambaut could not be roused from his melancholy, and Beatrice asked him therefore to sing a song himself, and so regain a happier mood. Whereupon he composed the charming dance song Kalenda maya in the manner of the jongleurs’ estampida:

Estampida by Rambaut de Vacqueiras.

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Kal-len-da ma-ya
Ni fuelhs de fa-ya
Ni chans d’auzell ni flors de glaia
Non es quem pla-ya
Pros dom-na gua-ya
Tro qu’un ys-nelh mes-sat-gier a-ya
Del vos-tre bel cors quem re-tra-ya
Pla-zer no-yelh qu’ Amors m’a-tra-ya
E ja-ya
Em-tra-ya
Vas vos don-na ve- ra-ya
E cha-ya
De pla-ya
L’ge-los ans quem n’e-stra-ya.

(5 Stanzas)

It should be noted here that in the transcriptions of Troubadour songs—and most of the small manuscript treasure preserved to us still wants unfolding—there has until recently prevailed the error to interpret them as measured music. Measured music came into use, we have seen, with Franco of Cologne, about A. D. 1200, but, nevertheless, many writers did not adopt it for centuries thereafter. The Troubadours persistently followed the metre of the verse instead of fitting their melodies into a set rhythmic scheme (and most naturally so, when we consider that they were primarily poets); hence the square notes in which they note their melodies are really nothing but neumes on a staff. This use has given rise to the error common to most historians, who, in forcing the beautiful, spontaneous tunes into a straitjacket of modern measurement, deprived them of their rhythmic and melodic grace in a manner which did violence to the verses as well. In considering their musical quality we must call attention to the fact that, while devoid of the rich beauties of modern harmony, these songs, availing themselves both of the antique modes and modern tonalities, are able to convey nobility of sentiment, passion, and varied shades of emotion. Breathing the ‘tender grace of a day that is dead,’ they are, in some instances, still able to charm in our noisy age, and the influence which they have had upon the course of the art can hardly be over-appreciated.

It has been mentioned that the Jongleurs came largely into the service of the Troubadours. It is they who accompanied the knights in their travels from castle to castle, providing the lighter kinds of amusement, and the instrumental accompaniment, such as it was, on their viols or rottas—sometimes, indeed, singing their master’s songs, with the dissemination of which they were frequently entrusted. That they often undertook to ‘improve’ these compositions on their own account we gather from the words of Peire d’Auvergne and others, entreating jongleurs not to meddle with their verses and melodies. Sometimes, no doubt, they were more gifted than the Troubadour and provided the melody for his verses as well. In some instances, indeed, a Jongleur became a Troubadour or Trouvère, and sometimes a Troubadour became a Jongleur, as in the case of Gaucelm Faidit, who lost money at dice and was forced to earn a livelihood by his art. For that was the real distinction between the two; one sang for glory, the other for gain. As long as they did not make a trade of their art, lowly-born and bastards took equal rank with princes and nobles, in the earlier periods at least.

While at first the Troubadour disdained to accompany his own singing, he soon learned the art from the Jongleur and in many cases became his own accompanist. His favorite instruments were the viol, the rotta (a form of fiddle), and the organistrum.[77] The quality of the melodies or chords he wrested from them can hardly be conjectured, for we must not forget that of polyphony, still in its incipient stages among the learned musicians of the church, he had no knowledge—not, at least, until about the time of Adam de la Halle (1240-1287), who forms the bridge, as it were, from the Trouvères to the scientific musicians of the Netherland school.

We must now briefly enumerate a few of the illustrious Provençal Troubadours. There were about four hundred poets of fame. The list is headed by Guillaume, count of Poitiers. Soon after him comes the fiery and poetic Bernard de Ventadour (1140-1195), patronized by Queen Eleanor; and Macabrun, the foundling, who wrote—between 1150 and 1195—in a most involved style and generally a satirical vein. Then comes Jaufre Rudel, prince of Blaya (1140-1170), famous for his languishing love-songs; Peire d’Auvergne (1152-1215) the ‘master of the Troubadours,’ renowned for artistic finish; Guillem de Cabestanh (1181-1196), whose poetic adulation of his lady cost him his life at the hand of her jealous husband, while the object of his affection was forced to eat his heart; Peire Vidal (1175-1215), perhaps the most celebrated of all the Troubadours; Bertrand de Born (1180-1195), famous for his war songs; Folquet de Marseilles (1180-1231), Bishop of Toulouse; Rambaut de Vaqueiras (1180-1207), the cynical and caustic ‘Monk of Montaudon’ (1180-1200); Arnault Daniel (1180-1200), a nobleman of Perigord, celebrated by Petrarch and Dante; Gaucelm Faidit (1190-1240); Savarie de Mauleon (1200-1230), who fought with Raymond of Toulouse against Simon de Montfort; Peire Cardinal (1210-1230); and Guirant Riquier (1250-1294), the last true Troubadour.

Among the women-of whom seventeen achieved great reputation—the foremost was Beatrice, countess of Die and wife of Guillaume de Poitiers.

The crushing out of the Troubadours is ascribed to the Albigensian crusade, which lasted from 1207 to 1244. The Albigenses’ home was in the very heart of the Troubadour country and the legate of Pope Innocent III, sent as inquisitor, was murdered there during his attempt to extirpate the heresy. The crusade of revenge which followed was particularly directed against Count Raymond of Toulouse, staunch patron of the Troubadours, who flocked to his standard and raised their voices in songs of war and religious controversy. Their odes, pasquinades, and sirventes were sung by their Jongleurs in market places and at fairs, while they themselves girt on their swords and fought. During a fierce war of twenty years waves of soldiers and clergy swept through the lonely vineyards and gardens, leaving only blackened ruin in their wake. The bright days of the Troubadour were ended; the society that supported him was crushed, and the blow that fell in Provence reverberated through all the land. The race was not extinct, however; its representatives found a welcome at the courts of Castille, of Aragón, and of Sicily, where Frederick II was king. From this last centre they unquestionably exerted an important influence upon the Italian Renaissance, to which we shall recur in a later chapter. In this connection we may mention the interesting fact that the poet Dante early in the fourteenth century visited the Troubadours in their home and drew inspiration from their art.

The Trouvères’ ascendancy dates from about 1137, when Eleonore of Aquitaine became queen of France. At her court the knights who spoke the langue d’Oïl came in contact with those of the south, and from them received their poetic impulse. Besides this linguistic difference, the only other distinction is the somewhat more earnest character of Trouvère songs. Among their illustrious representatives we must name, first, King Richard I (1169-1199) of England (Cœur-de-Lion) and his ménéstrel Blondel de Nesle. Then there are Marie de France, at the court of Henry II of England; Thibaut IV, count of Champagne, afterward king of Navarre (1208-1253); Raoul de Coucy (end of the twelfth century); Perrin d’Angecourt; Audefroi le Bastard; Guyot de Dijon; Jehan de Bretal; and Adam de la Halle (or de la Hâle)[78] surnamed le bossu d’Arras (the hunchback of Arras), whose works are preserved to us and are published by Coussemaker in modern notation.[79] That he was a genuinely inspired poet and composer is eloquently attested by his chansons, rondeaux, and motets, in which he also displays a complete mastery of the musical science of his day. The most important of his works is the pastoral comedy, Le geu de Robin et de Marion, which he arranged at the command of the king of Naples, about the year 1285. Very little of the music was his own, most of it was taken from the stock of popular song. As a wanderer over Europe, a man of free, wild life who yet had undergone strict musical training in the monasteries of northern France, he is interesting as showing the contrast of theoretical and of actual music and the first efforts to combine the one with the other.

It is difficult, if not impossible, to say just how much the Troubadours and the Trouvères influenced the development of music. The Troubadours found a footing in Sicily and southern Italy and influenced the growth of the so-called Ars Nova, which will be treated in the next chapter. Melodies of the Trouvères were adopted by the Netherland composers as the foundations of their masses. These are definite points at which secular and religious music certainly touched. If, beyond this, the relations between them are vague and hard to trace, the movements of which the Troubadours and the Trouvères are manifestations are none the less of vital significance in the history of music. Through them the undercurrent of real free music, which we may be sure never ceased to flow even when the crushing weight of scholasticism was heaviest, welled to the surface. They represent spontaneous joy and human delight in ages fettered with theology and logic. They represent the real source of music. Those who would believe that the great Italian Renaissance was not primarily a return to classicism but an all-powerful and general awakening of man to the beauty and delight of earth will find in the music of the Troubadours and Trouvères this natural delight expressed. If, as it happened, music was the last to rise up in the freedom of the Renaissance, it was because music got no help in her need of expression from a study of the music of the ancients; music had to build slowly her own means, unaided by precedent and past accomplishment, fed and encouraged only by the natural love of man’s heart to sing, a love which is here attested in the dark ages and to which she finally turned.