Here the portion due to William of Lorris ends. Its main characteristics have been indicated by this sketch, except that the extreme beauty and grace of the lavish descriptions which enclose and adorn the somewhat commonplace allegory perforce escape a.n.a.lysis. It is in these descriptions, and in a certain tenderness and elegance of general thought and expression, that the charm of the poem lies, and this is very considerable. The deficiency of action, however, and the continual allegorising threaten to make it monotonous had it been much longer continued in the same strain.

It is unlikely that it was this consideration which determined Jean de Meung to adopt a different style. In his time literature was already agitated by violent social, political, and religious debates, and the treasures of cla.s.sical learning were becoming more and more commonly known. But prose had not yet become a common literary vehicle, save for history, oratory, and romance, nor had the duty of treating one thing at a time yet impressed itself strongly upon authors. Jean de Meung was satirically disposed, was accomplished in all the learning of his day, and had strong political opinions. He determined accordingly to make the poem of Lorris, which was in all probability already popular, the vehicle of his thoughts.

In doing this he takes up the story as his predecessor had left it, at the point where the lover, deprived of the support of Bel Acueil, and with the suspicions of Dangier thoroughly aroused against him, lies despairing without the walls of the delightful garden. Reason is once more introduced, and protests as before, but in a different tone and much more lengthily. She preaches the disadvantages of love in a speech nearly four hundred lines long, followed by another double the length, and then by a dialogue in which the lover takes his share. The difference of manner is felt at once. The allegory is kept up after a fashion, but instead of the graceful fantasies of William of Lorris, the staple matter is either sharp and satirical views of actual life, or else examples drawn indifferently from sacred and profane history. One speech of Reason's, a thousand lines in length, consists of a collection of instances of this kind showing the mobility of fortune. At length she leaves the lover as she found him, 'melancolieux et dolant,' but unconvinced. Amis (the friend), who has appeared for a moment previously, now reappears, and comforts him, also at great length, dwelling chiefly on the ways of women, concerning which much scandal is talked. The scene with Reason had occupied nearly two thousand lines; that with Amis extends to double that length, so that Jean de Meung had already excelled his predecessor in this respect. Profiting by the counsel he has received, the lover addresses himself to Riches, who guards the way, but fruitlessly. The G.o.d of love, however, takes pity on him (slightly ridiculing him for having listened to Reason), and summons all his folk to attack the tower and free Bel Acueil. Among these Faux Semblant presents himself, and, after some parley, is received. This new personification of hypocrisy gives occasion to some of the author's most satirical touches as he describes his principles and practice. After this, Faux Semblant and his companion, Contrainte Astenance (forced or feigned abstinence), set to work in favour of the lover, and soon win their way into the tower. There they find an old woman who acts as Bel Acueil's keeper. She takes a message from them to Bel Acueil, and then engages in a singular conversation with her prisoner, wherein the somewhat loose morality of the discourses of Amis is still further enforced by historical examples, and by paraphrases of not a few pa.s.sages from Ovid. She afterward admits the lover, who thus, at nearly the sixteen-thousandth line from the beginning, recovers through the help of False Seeming the 'gracious reception' which is to lead him to the rose. The castle, however, is not taken, and Dangier, with the rest of his allegorical company, makes a stout resistance to 'Les Barons de L'Ost'--the lords of Love's army. The G.o.d sends to invoke the aid of his mother, and this introduces a new personage. Nature herself, and her confidant, Genius, are brought on the scene, and nearly five thousand verses serve to convey all manner of thoughts and sc.r.a.ps of learning, mostly devoted to the support, as before, of questionably moral doctrines. In these five thousand lines almost all the current ideas of the middle ages on philosophy and natural science are more or less explicitly contained. Finally, Venus arrives and, with her burning brand, drives out Dangier and his crew, though even at this crisis of the action the writer cannot refrain from telling the story of Pygmalion and the Image at length. The way being clear, the lover proceeds unmolested to gather the longed-for rose.

[Sidenote: Popularity of the Roman de la Rose.]

It is impossible to exaggerate, and not easy to describe, the popularity which this poem enjoyed. Its attacks on womanhood and on morality generally provoked indeed not a few replies, of which the most important came long afterwards from Christine de Pisan and from Gerson. But the general taste was entirely in favour of it. Allegorical already, it was allegorised in fresh senses, even a religious meaning being given to it.

The numerous ma.n.u.scripts which remain of it attest its popularity before the days of printing. It was frequently printed by the earliest typographers of France, and even in the sixteenth century it received a fresh lease of life at the hands of Marot, who re-edited it. Abroad it was praised by Petrarch and translated by Chaucer[88]; and it is on the whole not too much to say that for fully two centuries it was the favourite book in the vernacular literature of Europe. Nor was it unworthy of this popularity. As has been pointed out, the grace of the part due to William of Lorris is remarkable, and the satirical vigour of the part due to Jean de Meung perhaps more remarkable still. The allegorising and the length which repel readers of to-day did not disgust generations whose favourite literary style was the allegorical, and who had abundance of leisure; but the real secret of its vogue, as of all such vogues, is that it faithfully held up the mirror to the later middle ages. In no single book can that period of history be so conveniently studied. Its inherited religion and its nascent free-thought; its thirst for knowledge and its lack of criticism; its sharp social divisions and its indistinct aspirations after liberty and equality; its traditional morality and asceticism, and its half-pagan, half-childish relish for the pleasures of sense; its romance and its coa.r.s.eness, all its weakness and all its strength, here appear.

[Sidenote: Imitations.]

The imitations of the _Roman de la Rose_ were in proportion to its popularity. Much of this imitation took place in other kinds of poetry, which will be noticed hereafter. Two poems, however, which are almost contemporary with its earliest form, and which have only recently been published, deserve mention. One, which is an obvious imitation of Guillaume de Lorris, but an imitation of considerable merit, is the _Roman de la Poire_[89], where the lover is besieged by Love in a tower.

The other, of a different cla.s.s, and free from trace of direct imitation, is the short poem called _De Venus la Deesse d'Amors_[90], written in some three hundred four-lined stanzas, each with one rhyme only. Some pa.s.sages of this latter are very beautiful.

Three extracts, two from the first part of the _Roman de la Rose_, and one from the second, will show its style:--

En iceli tens deliteus, Que tote riens d'amer s'esfroie, Sonjai une nuit que j'estoie, Ce m'iert avis en mon dormant, Qu'il estoit matin durement; De mon lit tantost me levai, Chaucai-moi et mes mains lavai.

Lors trais une aguille d'argent D'un aguiller mignot et gent, Si pris l'aguille a enfiler.

Hors de vile oi talent d'aler, Por or des oisiaus les sons Qui chantoient par ces boissons En icele saison novele; Cousant mes manches a videle, M'en alai tot seus esbatant, Et les oiseles escoutant, Qui de chanter moult s'engoissoient Par ces vergiers qui florissoient, Jolis, gais et pleins de leesce.

Vers une riviere m'adresce Que j'o pres d'ilecques bruire.

Car ne me soi aillors deduire Plus bel que sus cele riviere.

D'un tertre qui pres d'iluec iere Descendoit l'iaue grant et roide, Clere, bruiant et aussi froide Comme puiz, ou comme fontaine, Et estoit poi mendre de Saine, Mes qu'ele iere plus espandue.

Onques mes n'avoie veue Tele iaue qui si bien coroit: Moult m'abelissoit et seoit A regarder le leu plaisant.

De l'iaue clere et reluisant Mon vis rafreschi et lave.

Si vi tot covert et pave Le fons de l'iaue de gravele; La praerie grant et bele Tres au pie de l'iaue batoit.

Clere et serie et bele estoit La matinee et atempree: Lors m'en alai parmi la pree Contreval l'iaue esbanoiant, Tot le rivage costoiant.

Une ymage ot empres escrite, Qui sembloit bien estre ypocrite, _Papelardie_ ert apelee.

C'est cele qui en recelee, Quant nus ne s'en puet prendre garde, De nul mal faire ne se tarde.

El fait dehors le marmiteus, Si a le vis simple et piteus, Et semble sainte creature; Mais sous ciel n'a male aventure Qu'ele ne pense en son corage.

Moult la ressembloit bien l'ymage Qui faite fu a sa semblance, Qu'el fu de simple contenance; Et si fu chaucie et vestue Tout ainsinc c.u.m fame rendue.

En sa main un sautier tenoit, Et sachies que moult se penoit De faire a Dieu prieres faintes, Et d'appeler et sains et saintes.

El ne fu gaie ne jolive, Ains fu par semblant ententive Du tout a bonnes ovres faire; Et si avoit vestu la haire.

Et sachies que n'iere pas gra.s.se.

De jeuner sembloit estre la.s.se, S'avoit la color pale et morte.

A li et as siens ert la porte Deveee de Paradis; Car icel gent si font lor vis Amegrir, ce dit l'evangile, Por avoir loz parmi la vile, Et por un poi de gloire vaine, Qui lor toldra Dieu et son raine.

_Comment le traistre Faulx-Semblant Si va les cueurs des gens emblant, Pour ses vestemens noirs et gris, Et pour son viz pasle amaisgris._ 'Trop sai bien mes habiz changier, Prendre l'un, et l'autre estrangier.

Or sui chevaliers, or sui moines, Or sui prelas, or sui chanoines, Or sui clers, autre ore sui prestres, Or sui desciples, or sui mestres, Or chastelains, or forestiers: Briement, ge sui de tous mestiers.

Or resui princes, or sui pages, Or sai parler trestous langages; Autre ore sui viex et chenus, Or resui jones devenus.

Or sui Robers, or sui Robins, Or cordeliers, or jacobins.

Si pren por sivre ma compaigne Qui me solace et acompaigne, (C'est dame Astenance-Contrainte), Autre desguiseure mainte, Si c.u.m il li vient a plesir Por acomplir le sien desir.

Autre ore vest robe de fame; Or sui damoisele, or sui dame, Autre ore sui religieuse, Or sui rendue, or sui prieuse, Or sui nonain, or sui abesse, Or sui novice, or sui professe; Et vois par toutes regions Cerchant toutes religions. Mes de religion, sans faille, G'en pren le grain et laiz la paille; Por gens avulger i abit, Ge n'en quier, sans plus, que l'abit.

Que vous diroie? en itel guise c.u.m il me plaist ge me desguise; Moult sunt en moi mue li vers, Moult sunt li faiz aux diz divers.

Si fais cheoir dedans mes pieges Le monde par mes privileges; Ge puis confesser et a.s.soldre, (Ce ne me puet nus prelas toldre,) Toutes gens ou que ge les truisse; Ne sai prelat nul qui ce puisse, Fors l'apostole solement Qui fist cest establiss.e.m.e.nt Tout en la faveur de nostre ordre.'

FOOTNOTES:

[77] This is an account of the battle of thirty Englishmen and thirty Bretons in the Edwardian wars.

[78] There is, it appears, no authority for the Christian name of Robert which used to be given to Wace.

[79] Wace's _Brut_ is not the only one. The t.i.tle seems to have become a common name.

[80] The old edition of the _Roman de Rou_, by Pluquet, has been entirely superseded by that of Dr. Hugo Andresen. 2 vols. Heilbronn, 1877-1879.

[81] Discovered recently in the Middlehill collection, and known chiefly by an article in _Romania_ (Jan. 1882), giving an abstract and specimens.

[82] Ed. Reiffenberg. Brussels, 1835-1845.

[83] Ed. Scheler. Brussels, 1866-1868.

[84] Well edited by Koch. Heilbronn, 1879.

[85] See especially _Hysminias and Hysmine_.

[86] Ed. F. Michel. 2 vols. Paris, 1864.

[87] _Dangier_ is not exactly 'danger.' To be 'en dangier de quelqu'un'

is to be 'in somebody's power.' _Dangier_ is supposed to stand for the guardian of the beloved, father, brother, husband, etc. This at least has been the usual interpretation, and seems to me to be much the more probable. M. Gaston Paris, however, and others, see in _Dangier_ the natural coyness and resistance of the beloved object, not any external influence.

[88] Chaucer's authorship of the existing translation has been denied.

It is, however, certain that he did translate the poem.

[89] Ed. Stehlich. Halle, 1881.

[90] Ed. Forster. Berne, 1880.

CHAPTER VIII.

ROMANS D'AVENTURES.

[Sidenote: Distinguishing features of Romans d'Aventures.]

The remarkable fecundity of early French literature in narrative poetry on the great scale was not limited to the Chanson de Geste, the Arthurian Romance, and the cla.s.sical story wrought into the likeness of one or the other of these. Towards the end of the twelfth or the beginning of the thirteenth century a new cla.s.s of narrative poems arose, derived from each and all of these kinds, but marked by important differences. The new form immediately reacted on the forms which had given it birth, and produced new Chansons de Gestes, new Arthurian Romances, and new cla.s.sical stories fashioned after its own image. This is what is called the Roman d'Aventures, of which the first and main feature is open and almost avowed fict.i.tiousness, and the second the more or less complete abandonment of any attempt at cyclic arrangement or subordination to a central theme.

[Sidenote: Looser application of the term.]

[Sidenote: Cla.s.ses of Romans d'Aventures.]