II
With the approach of the millennial year we find the beginnings of that institution which was to enframe all the life of the later middle ages—Chivalry. The first military games and tourneys appear in the reign of Charles the Bald, in the ninth century. From that time on, life became more pretentious, more individual, more refined. The chivalric ideal was professedly Christian. It preached what the Pagan could never have understood—reverence for womanhood and respect for the weak. Knights gained the church’s special sanction when they devoted themselves to righting wrongs and rescuing women in distress. The tender poetry which in early mediæval times became attached to the figure of the Madonna, was now extended to all women—at least to all women of social standing. Because a woman had been chosen as the Mother of God all women were regarded as holy in her likeness. With this changed attitude toward the weaker sex there came a multitude of delicate shades of sentiment and an exaggerated devotion that would have seemed childish to the ancient Greeks. It was common for the Troubadours to profess the most ecstatic love for some woman of high rank, who was hardly expected to do more than smile in return. Love, in its more fanciful aspects, became the mania of the age.
It is not surprising, then, that the nobles of the time took up love, one might almost say, as an avocation. They had nothing to do, much of the time, but cultivate the fine arts. They caught the trick of making verses and melodies. It was natural that love should be the chief theme of their songs. And in Provence, the southeastern part of modern France, there arose toward the end of the eleventh century, the cult or institutions of the Troubadours. The Troubadours were primarily nobles, cultivating the arts as a pastime. But many men of lower rank also took up the fashion, winning their way through the beauty of their song. All that we regard as most typical of French art was in their music and verses—delicacy of wit and fancy, beauty of form, purity of diction. They represented the utmost refinement to which their age attained.
They did not, like the jongleurs, accept money for their singing, though they were proud to receive gifts from lords and ladies whom they praised. But they often retained the jongleurs in their service. They seem to have had ambitions of spreading their reputations as composers and, as it was unbecoming their rank to sing in the market-places, they hired jongleurs, as personal servants, to do it for them. Thus the wandering minstrel of the ninth century, while losing something of his artistic preëminence, gained no little in social dignity. Some gained high reputation. We recall the story of Blondel, minstrel to Richard the Lionhearted, who, when his liege lord was a prisoner in Germany on his return from the Holy Land, sought him far and wide and made himself known by his singing outside the castle, later bringing help and liberty to his king.
In the north of France flourished the Trouvères, similar to the Troubadours of the south. They were less delicate in touch, less polished, but far more serious, frequently composing, in their own fashion, works of science and history, theology and philosophy. Among the Troubadours and Trouvères were Count Guillaume of Poitiers, Count Thibaut of Champagne, King of Navarre, and Adam de la Halle. The last named was not of noble blood, but gained high standing as singer to the Count of Artois. In Spain, as well as in France, the institution of courtly song took root and the noble singers were known as Trobadores. In Italy the singer was known as Trovatore, though the Provençal song did not gain much vogue in the land which was being stirred by the awakening of the Renaissance. The Trouvères, through the Norman court of London, influenced the native minstrelsy of England, thus spreading over half of Europe the fame of the Provençal song.
The variety of artistic forms cultivated by the Troubadours and Trouvères was great. Of them we can distinguish the dramatic works, the romances, the stories or fabliaux, and the lyric works proper. All of these, excepting, perhaps, the dramatic works, were at least in part sung to the accompaniment of a musical instrument. The romances sometimes approximated the length of epics, extending to 20,000 lines or more. Of the romances there is one charming and widely known example in ‘Aucassin and Nicolette,’ a long story of love and adventure, frequently interrupted with a lovely song. It is probable that these romances were recited in a somewhat formal manner through the more narrative parts, perhaps chanted in the emotional sections, leading up by means of a more and more musical delivery to the lyrics, which undoubtedly had their set melodies. The fabliaux were short and witty stories, usually satirical when not actually indecent. The lyrical poems were divided by their singers into many classes, the distinctions being largely nominal or fanciful. We can recall the canzonets, or love-songs, including the serenade (the ‘evening song’) and the aubade (‘morning song’). The pastourelle, or conventionalized song of shepherd life, became the Pastoral of the Golden Age of France, one of the most typical art-forms of the pre-Revolutionary period. There were further the sirvantes, written to praise some beneficent prince; the roundelays, with a set refrain after each verse or stanza; and the dance songs, intended to be sung actually during dancing. Then there were the tenzone, contentious songs, usually in dialog, often set debates on some nice point of love. Sometimes the tenzone were little masterpieces of satire. One, composed by a monk, has been preserved to us. It represents a debate or trial, in which the monks accuse the women of having stolen the art of painting invented for ecclesiastical purposes and having applied it to their cheeks. The women reply that the monks are no worse off because their sex is able to cover the wrinkles under their eyes. Finally St. Peter and St. Lawrence adjudge that the women shall be allowed from the ages of twenty to thirty-five to paint in. But, adds the poet, ‘the contract was soon broken by the women: they lay on more red and white than was ever used for a votive painting and have in consequence raised the price of saffron and other dye-stuffs.’
We should not leave the Troubadours without referring to the Cours d’amour, or Courts of Love, which were supposed to have been held, in all solemnity, during the middle ages. This institution, constituted like a court of law, heard nice questions as to conduct in love, and gave decisions for one or the other party, decreeing how the lover and his lady should act in all conceivable situations. As a matter of fact, it is extremely doubtful whether such courts were actually held, but they were at least a fanciful institution of the time and are represented in many of the songs. It has been thought by some that the courts were actually convened and that noble ladies and their courtiers came from all over Europe to submit the fruits of their experience and pass upon some such solemn question as: ‘Is it between lovers, or between husband and wife, that the greatest affection, the liveliest attachment, exist?’
At all events, the courts of love existed in the songs of the Troubadours. For instance, one complainant brings the following question, presented in the form of a song by a Troubadour:
‘A knight was in love with a lady who was already engaged, but she promised him her favor in case she should ever happen to lose the love of him who was then her lover. A short time subsequent to this the lady and her adorer were married. The knight then laid claim to the love of the young bride, who resisted the claim, maintaining that she had not lost the love of him who had become her husband.’ The judgment in this case was supposed to have been passed by Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, who was later to become the wife of Henry II of England. She refers to a previous judgment, which is regarded as having all the force of a precedent in law, and says: ‘We venture not to contradict the decree of the Countess of Champagne, who, by a solemn judgment, has pronounced that true love cannot exist between a married couple. We therefore approve that the lady in question bestow the love which she has promised.’