CHAUCER. 219 



point is explicit,* and moreover, not a single romance of 

 chivalry has come down to us in a dialect of the pure 

 Provengal. 



The Trouveres, on the other hand, are apt to have some 

 thing nai ve and vigorous about them, something that 

 smacks of race and soil. Their very coarseness is almost 

 better than the Troubadour delicacy, because it was not an 

 affectation. The difference between the two schools is that 

 between a culture pedantically transmitted and one which 

 grows and gathers strength from natural causes. Indeed, 

 it is to the North of France and to the Trouveres that we 

 are to look for the true origins of our modern literature. I 

 do not mean in their epical poetry, though there is something 

 refreshing in the mere fact of their choosing native heroes 

 and legends as the subjects of their song. It was in their 

 Fabliaux and Lais that, dealing with the realities of the 

 life about them, they became original and delightful in spite 

 of themselves. Their Chansons de Geste are fine specimens 

 of fighting Christianity, highly inspiring for men like Peire 

 de Bergerac, who sings 



&quot; Bel m es can aug lo resso 

 Que fai 1 ausbercs ab 1 arso, 

 Li bruit e il crit e il masan 

 Que il corn e las trombas fan ; &quot; f 



but who, after reading them even the best of them, the Song 

 of Roland can remember much more than a cloud of 



* Allegat ergo pro se lingua Oil quod propter sui faciliorem et 

 delcctabiliorem vulgaritatem, quicquid redactum sive inventum est 

 ad vulgare prosaicum, suum est ; videlicet biblia cum Trojanorum, 

 Roraanorumque gestibus compilata et Arturi regis ambages pul- 

 cherrimre et quamplures alise historic ac doctriiife. That Dante by 

 prosaicum did not mean prose, but a more inartificial verse, numeros 

 lege solutos, is clear. Cf. Wolf, Ueber die Lais, pp. 92 seq. and 

 notes. It has not, I think, been remarked that Dante borrows 

 his faciliorem et delectabiliorem from the plus dilctable et comune 

 of his master Brunette Latini. 



t &quot; My ears no sweeter music know 



Than hauberk s clank with saddlebow, 

 The noise, the cries, the tumult blown 

 From trumpet and from clarion. 



