(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.