One can but turn with emotion and gratitude to the land where it has blossomed into some of its most beautiful forms, where the warm blood of the South took fire and impelled to the following of noble ideals with the ardour of heroes and the steadfastness of saints.
Greek, Celtic, Phœnìcian, Iberian, Ligurian, Saracen blood flows in the veins of the people; and in looking at their faces one can understand why the troubadours sang such sweet and merry songs, and why the country to this day may be called the land
"Of joy, young-heartedness, and love...."
It was the Duke of Acquitaine, himself a troubadour, who gave us those words so descriptive of Southern France, in the gay little verse,—
"A song I'll make you worthy to recall,
With ample folly and with sense but small,
Of joy, young-heartedness, and love will I compound it all."
In truth it was a wonderful time, full of colour and passion in which there was the shadow of tragedy, but seldom the grey and dust-colour of the sordid and the mean.
For women it was literally a coming-of-age. A modern author speaks about the "advent of woman in man's world," when she "became for the first time something more than a link between two generations."
Love, as a romantic sentiment, became possible between men and women, because the woman's individuality as a human being was recognised, and with it her right to give or to withhold her love. True love and true friendship, as we moderns understand them, may almost claim to take their rise in the age of chivalry.