CHAPTER III
ROMANS D'AVENTURES
[Sidenote: Variety of the present groups.]
On the whole, however, the most important influence in the developmentof the novel originally--that of the _nouvelle_ or _novella_ in French,and Italian taking the second place in order of time--must be assignedto the very numerous and very delightful body of compositions (not verylong as a rule,[58] but also never exactly short) to which the name_Romans d'aventures_ has been given with a limited connotation. Theyexist in all languages; our own English Romances, though sometimesderived from the _chansons_ and the Arthurian Legend, are practicallyall of this class, and in every case but one it is true that they haveactual French originals. These _Romans d'aventures_ have a habit, notuniversal but prevailing, of "keying themselves on" to the Arthurianstory itself; but they rarely, if ever, have much to do with theprincipal parts of it. It is as if their public wanted the connection asa sort of guarantee; but a considerable proportion keep independence.They are so numerous, so various, and with rare exceptions sointeresting, that it is difficult to know which to select for elaborateanalysis and translated selection; but almost the entire _corpus_ givesus the important fact of the increased _freedom_ of fiction. Even theconnection with the Arthurian matter is, as has been said, generally ofthe loosest kind; that with the Charlemagne cycle hardly exists. TheGraal (or things connected with its legends) may appear: Gawain is afrequent hero; other, as one might call them, sociable features asregards the older stories present themselves. But as a rule the man hasgot his own story which he wants to tell; his own special hero andheroine whom he wants to present. Furthermore, the old community ofhandling, which is so noticeable in the _chansons_ more particularly,disappears almost entirely. Nothing has yet been discovered in French,though it may be any day, to serve as the origin of our _Gawain and theGreen Knight_, and some special features of this are almost certainlythe work of an Englishman. Our English _Ywain and Gawain_ is, as hasbeen said, rather better than Chrestien's original. But, as a rule, theform, which is French form in language (by no means always certainly orprobably French in nationality of author), is not only the original, butbetter; and besides, it is with it that we are busied here, though innot a few cases English readers can obtain an idea, fairly sufficient,of these originals from the English versions. As these, however, withthe exception of one or two remarkable individuals or even groups, wereseldom written by men of genius, it is best to go to the sources to seethe power and the variety of fictitious handling which have beenmentioned.
[Sidenote: Different views held of it.]
The richness, indeed, of these _Romans d'aventures_ is surprising, andthey very seldom display the flatness and triviality which mar by nomeans all but too many of their English imitations. Some of the faultswhich are part cause of these others they indeed have--the apparentlyirrational catalogues of birds and beasts, stuffs and vegetables; thelong moralisings; the religious passages sometimes (as it may seem tomere moderns) interposed in very odd contexts; the endless descriptionsof battles and single combats; the absence of striking characterisationand varied incident. Their interest is a peculiar interest, yet one canhardly call the taste for it "an acquired taste," because the verylarge majority of healthy and intelligent children delight in thesestories under whatever form they are presented to them, and at least aconsiderable number of grown-up persons never lose the enjoyment. Thedisapproval which rested on "romances of chivalry" for a long time wasadmittedly ignorant and absurd; and the reasons why this disapproval, atleast in its somewhat milder form of neglect, has never been whollyremoved, are not very difficult to discover. It is to be feared that_Don Quixote_, great as it is, has done not a little mischief, and byvirtue of its greatness is likely to do not a little more, though the_Amadis_ group, which it specially satirises, has faults not found inthe older tales. The texts, though in most cases easily enoughaccessible now, are not what may be called obviously and yetunobtrusively so. They are to a very large extent issued by learnedsocieties: and the public, not too unreasonably, is rather suspicious,and not at all avid, of the products of learned societies. They areaccompanied by introductions and notes and glossaries--things thepublic (again not wholly to be blamed) regards without cordiality.Latterly they have been used for educational purposes, and anythingused for educational purposes acquires an evil--or at least anunappetising--reputation. In some cases they have been messed andmeddled in _usum vulgi_. But their worst enemy recently has been, it maybe feared, the irreconcilable opposition of their spirit to what iscalled the modern spirit--though this latter sometimes takes them up andplays with them in a fashion of maudlin mysticism.
[Sidenote: _Partenopeus of Blois_ selected for analysis andtranslation.]
To treat them at large here as Ellis treated some of the Englishimitations would be impossible in point of scale and dangerous as acompetition; for Ellis, though a little too prone to Voltairianise or atleast Hamiltonise things sometimes too good for that kind of treatment,was a very clever man indeed. For somewhat full abstract and translationwe may take one of the most famous, but perhaps not one of the mostgenerally and thoroughly known, _Partenopeus_ (or -_pex_[59]) _ofBlois_, which, though it exists in English, and though the French wasvery probably written by an Englishman, is not now one of the mostwidely read and is in parts very charming. That it is one of theromances on which, from the fact of the resemblance of its centralincident to the story of Cupid and Psyche, the good defenders of the badtheory of the classical origin of romance generally have based one oftheir few plausible arguments, need not occupy us. For the question isnot whether Denis Pyramus or any one else (modernity would not bemodernity if his claims were not challenged) told it, but _how_ he toldit. Still less need we treat the other question before indicated. Hereis one of the central stories of the world--one of those which Eve toldto her children in virtue of the knowledge communicated by the apple,one with which the sons of God courted the daughters of men, or, atlatest, one of those which were yarned in the Ark. It is the story ofthe unwise lover--in this case the man, not as in Psyche's thewoman--who will not be content to enjoy an unseen, but by every othersense enjoyable and adorable love, even though (in this case) the singledeprivation is expressly to be terminated. We have it, of course, in allsorts of forms, languages, and differing conditions. But we are onlyconcerned with it here as with a gracious example of that kind ofromance which, though not exactly a "fairy tale" in the Western sense,is pretty obviously influenced by the Eastern fairy tale itself, andstill more obviously influences the modern kind in which "thesupernatural" is definitely prominent.
It was perhaps excusable in the good M. Robert, who wrote theIntroduction to Crapelet's edition of this poem eighty years ago, to"protest too much" in favour of the author whom he was now presentingpractically for the first time--to a changed audience; but it wasunnecessary and a little unfortunate. Except in one point or group ofpoints, it is vain to try to put _Partenopeus_ above _Cupid andPsyche_: but it can perfectly well stand by itself in its own place, andthat no low one. Except in _Floire et Blanchefleur_ and of course in_Aucassin et Nicolette_, the peculiar grace and delicacy of romance arenowhere so well shown; and _Partenopeus_, besides the advantage oflength, has that of personages interesting, besides the absolute heroand heroine. The Count of Blois himself is, no doubt, despite hisbeauty, and his bravery, and his good nature, rather of a feeble folk.Psyche has the excuse of her sex, besides the evil counsel of hersisters, for her curiosity. But Partenopeus has not the former; nor hashe even that weaker but still not quite invalid one which lost Agib, theson of Cassib, his many-Houried Paradise on Earth. He is supposed to bea Frenchman--the somewhat excessive fashion in which Frenchmen makeobedience to the second clause[60] of the Fifth Commandment atone forsome neglect of other parts of the decalogue is well known, or at leasttraditionally believed. But most certainly a man is not justified inobeying his mother to the extent of disobeying--and that in theshabbiest of ways--his lady and mistress, who is, in fact, according t
omediaeval ideas, virtually, if not virtuously, his wife. But Meliorherself, the heroine, is an absolutely delightful person from her firstappearance (or rather _non_-appearance) as a sweet dream come true, toher last in the more orthodox and public spousals. The grace of herDian-like surrender of herself to her love; the constancy with which sheholds to the betrothal theory of the time; the unselfishness with whichshe not only permits but actually advises the lover, whom she would sofain, but cannot yet, make her acknowledged husband, to leave her; herfrank forgiveness of his only-just-in-time repented and prevented, butintended, infidelity; her sorrow at and after the separation enforced byhis breach of pact; her interviews with her sister, naturally chequeredby conflicting feelings of love and pride and the rest--are allcharming. But she is not the only charming figure.
The "second heroine," a sister or cousin who plays a sort of superiorconfidante's part, is by no means uncommon in Romance. Alexandrine, forinstance, who plays this in _William of Palerne_, is a very nice girl.But Urraque or Urraca,[61] the sister of Melior--whether full andlegitimate, or "half" illegitimate, versions differ--is much moreelaborately dealt with, and is, in fact, the chief _character_ of thepiece, and a character rather unusually strong for Romance. She playsthe part of reconciler after Partenopeus' fatal folly has estranged himfrom her sister, and plays it at great length, but with much less tediumthan might be expected. But the author is an "incurable feminist," assome one else was once described with a mixture of pity and admiration:and he is not contented with two heroines. There is a third, Persewis,maid of honour to Urraque, and also a fervent admirer of theincomparable Partenopeus, on whose actual beauty great stress islaid, and who in romance, other than his own, is quoted as a modernparagon thereof, worthy to rank with ancient patterns, sacred andprofane. Persewis, however, is very young--a "flapper" or a"[bread-and-]buttercup," as successive generations have irreverentlycalled the immature but agreeable creature. The poet lays much emphasison this youth. She did not "kiss and embrace," he says, just because shewas too young, and not because of any foolish prudery or propriety,things which he does not hesitate to pronounce appropriate only to uglygirls. His own attitude to "the fair" is unflinchingly put in one of themost notable and best known passages of the poem (l. 7095 _sq._):
When God made all creation, and devised their forms for his creatures, He distributed beauties and good qualities to each in proportion as He loved it. He loved ladies above all things, and therefore made for them the best qualities and beauties. Of mere earth made He everything [else] under Heaven: but the hearts of ladies He made of honey, and gave to them more courtesy than to any other living creature. And as God loves them, therefore I love them: hunger and thirst are nothing to me as regards them: and I cry "Quits" to Him for His Paradise if the bright faces of ladies enter not therein.
It will be observed, of course, how like this is to the most famouspassage of _Aucassin et Nicolette_. It is less dreamily beautiful, butthere is a certain spirit and downrightness about it which is agreeable;nor do I know anywhere a more forcible statement of the doctrine, oftenheld by no bad people, that beauty is a personal testimonial of theDivinity--a scarcely parabolic command to love and admire itspossessors.[62]
If, however, our poet has something of that Romantic morality to whichAscham--in a conjoined fit[63] of pedantry, prudery, andProtestantism--gave such an ugly name, he may excuse it to lessstrait-laced judges by other traits. Even the "retainer" of an editorought not to have induced M. Robert to say that Melior's originalsurrender was "against her will," though she certainly did make aprotest of a kind.[64] But the enchanted and enchanting Empress'sconstancy is inviolable. Even after she has been obliged to banish herfoolish lover, or rather after he has banished himself, she avowsherself his only. She will die, she says, before she takes another lord;and for this reason objects for some time to the proposed tourney forher hand, in which the already proven invincibility of the Count ofBlois makes him almost a certain victor, because it involves aconditional consent to admit another mate. To her scrupulousness, a kindof blunt common-sense, tempering the amiability of Urraca, is a pleasantset-off, and the freshness of Persewis completes the effect.
Moreover, there are little bits of almost Chaucerian vividness andterseness here and there, contrasting oddly with the _chevilles_--thestock phrases and epithets--elsewhere. When the tourney actually comesoff and Partenopeus is supposed to be prisoner of a felon knight afaroff, the two sisters and Persewis take their places at the entrance ofthe tower crossing the bridge at Melior's capital, "Chef d'Oire."[65]Melior is labelled only "whom all the world loves and prizes," butUrraca and her damsel "have their faces pale and discoloured--for theyhave lost much of their beauty--so sorely have they wept Partenopeus."On the contrary, when, at the close of the first day's tourney, theusual "unknown knights" (in this case the Count of Blois himself and hisfriend Gaudins) ride off triumphant, they "go joyfully to their hostelwith lifted lances, helmets on head, hauberks on back, and shields heldproudly as if to begin jousting."
Bel i vinrent et bel s'en vont,
says King Corsols, one of the judges of the tourney, but not in theleast aware of their identity. This may occur elsewhere, but it is by nomeans one of the commonplaces of Romance, and a well hit-off picture ismotived by a sharply cut phrase.[66]
It is this sudden enlivening of the commonplaces of Romance with vividpicture and phrase which puts _Partenopeus_ high among its fellows. Thestory is very simple, and the variation and multiplication of episodicadventure unusually scanty; while the too common genealogical preface israther exceptionally superfluous. That the Count of Blois is the nephewof Clovis can interest--outside of a peculiar class of antiquariancommentator--no mortal; and the identification of "Chef-d'Oire,"Melior's enchanted capital, with Constantinople, though likely enough,is not much more important. Clovis and Byzantium (of which theenchantress is Empress) were well-known names and suited the _abonne_ ofthose times. The actual "argument" is of the slightest. One of Spenser'scurious doggerel common measures--say:
A fairy queen grants bliss and troth On terms, unto the knight: His mother makes him break his oath, Her sister puts it right--
would almost do; the following prose abstract is practically exhaustive.
Partenopeus, Count of Blois, nephew of King Clovis of France, anddescendant of famous heroes of antiquity, including Hector, the mostbeautiful and one of the most valiant of men, after displaying hisprowess in a war with the Saracen Sornagur, loses his way while huntingin the Ardennes. He at last comes to the seashore, and finds a shipwhich in fifteen days takes him to a strange country, where all isbeautiful but entirely solitary. He finds a magnificent palace, where heis splendidly guested by unseen hands, and at last conducted to agorgeous bedchamber. In the dark he, not unnaturally, lies awakespeculating on the marvel; and after a time light footsteps approach thebed, and a form, invisible but tangible, lies down beside him. Hetouches it, and finds it warm and soft and smooth, and though itprotests a little, the natural consequences follow. Then the ladyconfesses that she had heard of him, had (incognita) seen him at theCourt of France, and had, being a white witch as well as an Empress,brought him to "Chef d'Oire," her capital, though she denies havingintentionally or knowingly arranged the shepherd's hour itself.[67] Sheis, however, as frank as Juliet and Miranda combined. She will be hiswife (she makes a most interesting and accurate profession of Christianorthodoxy) if he will marry her; but it is impossible for the remainderof a period of which two and a half years have still to run, and at theend of which, and not till then, she has promised her vassals to choosea husband. Meanwhile, Partenopeus must submit to an ordeal not quite sopainful as hot ploughshares. He must never see her or attempt to seeher, and he must not, during his stay at Chef d'Oire, see or speak toany other human being. At the same time, hunting, exploring the palaceand the city and the country, and all other pastimes independent ofvisible human companionship, are freely at his disposal by day. r />
Et moi aures cascune nuit
says Melior, with the exquisite simplicity which is the charm of thewhole piece.
One must be very inquisitive, exceedingly virtuous (the mediaeval valueof consummated betrothal being reckoned), superfluously fond of thecompany of one's miscellaneous fellow-creatures, and a person of verybad taste[68] to boot, in order to decline the bargain. Partenopeus doesnot dream of doing so, and for a whole year thinks of nothing but hisfairy love and her bounties to him. Then he remembers his uncle-king andhis country, and asks leave to visit them, but not with the faintestintention of running away. Melior gives it with the same frankness andkindness with which she has given herself--informing him, in fact, thathe _ought_ to go, for his uncle is dead and his country in danger. Only,she reminds him of his pledges, and warns him of the misfortunes whichawait his breach of them. He is then magically wafted back on ship-boardas he came.
He has, once more, no intention of playing the truant or traitor, anddoes his duty bravely and successfully. But the new King has a niece andthe Count himself has a mother, who, motherlike, is convinced that herson's mysterious love is a very bad person, if not an actual _maufes_ ordevil, and is very anxious that he shall marry the niece. She hasclerical and chemical resources to help her, and Partenopeus hasactually consented, in a fit of aberration, when, with one of the oddWemmick-like flashes of reflection,[69] not uncommon with knights, heremembers Melior, and unceremoniously makes off to her. He confesses(for he is a good creature though foolish) and is forgiven, Meliorbeing, though not in the least insipid or of a put-up-with-anythingdisposition, full of "loving _mercy_" in every sense. But the situationis bound to recur, and now, though the time of probation (probation verymuch tempered!) is nearly over, the mother wins her way. Partenopeus isdeluded into accepting an enchanted lantern, which he tries on hisunsuspecting mistress at the first possible moment. What he sees, ofcourse, is only a very lovely woman--a woman in the condition bestfitted to show her loveliness--whom he has offended irreparably, andlost.
Melior is no scold, but she is also no milksop. She will have nothingmore to do with him, for he has shamed her with her people (who nowappear), broken her magic power, and, above all, been false to her wishand his word. The entreaties of her sister Urraca (whose gracious figureis now elaborately introduced) are for the time useless, and Partenopeusis only saved from the vengeance of the courtiers and the household byUrraca's protection.[70]
To halt for a moment, the scene of the treason and discovery is anotherof those singular vividnesses which distinguish this poem and story. Thelong darkness suddenly flashing into light, and the startled Melior'sbeauty framed in the splendour of the couch and the bedchamber--theoffender at once realising his folly and his crime, and dashing theinstrument of his treachery (useless, for all is daylight now, the charmbeing counter-charmed) against the wall--the half-frightened,half-curious Court ladies and Court servants thronging in--theapparition of Urraca,--all this gives a picture of extraordinarilydramatic power. It reminds one a little of Spenser's famous portrayal ofBritomart disturbed at night, and the comparison of the two brings outall sorts of "excellent differences."
But to return to the story itself. Although the invariablecut-and-driedness of romance incidents has been grossly exaggerated,there is one situation which is almost always treated in the same way.The knight who has, with or without his own fault, incurred thedispleasure of his mistress, "doth [_always_] to the green wood go," andthere, whether in complete sanity or not, lives for a time a half orwholly savage life, discarding knightly and sometimes any other dress,eating very little, and in considerable danger of being eaten himself.Everybody, from Lancelot to Amadis, does it; and Partenopeus does ittoo, but in his own way. Reaching Blois and utterly rejecting hismother's attempts to excuse herself and console him, he drags out amiserable time in continual penance and self-neglect, till at last,availing himself of (and rather shabbily if piously tricking) a Saracenpage,[71] he succeeds in getting off incognito to the vague "Ardennes,"where his sadly ended adventure had begun. These particular Ardennesappear to be reachable by sea (on which they have a coast), and tocontain not only ordinary beasts of chase, not only wolves and bears,but lions, tigers, wyverns, dragons, etc. A single unarmed man haspractically no chance there, and the Count determines to condemn himselfto the fate of the Roman arena. As a preliminary, he dismounts and turnsloose his horse, who is presently attacked by a lion and wounded, butluckily gets a fair blow with his hoof between his enemy's eyes, andkills him. Then comes another of the flashes (and something more) of thepiece. Stung by the pain of his wound and dripping with blood, theanimal dashes at full speed, and whinnying at the top of his powers, tothe seashore and along it. The passage is worth translating:
He [_the horse after he has killed the lion_] lifts his tail, and takes to flight down a valley towards nightfall. Much he looks about him and much he whinnies. By night-time he has got out of the wood and has fled to the sea: but he will not stop there. He makes the pebbles fly as he gallops and never stops whinnying. Now the moon has mounted high in the heavens, all clear and bright and shining: there is not a dark cloud in all the sky, nor any movement on the sea: sweet and serene is the weather, and fair and clear and lightened up. And the palfrey whinnies so loudly that he can be heard far off at sea.
He _is_ heard at sea, for a ship is waiting there in the calm, and onboard that ship is Urraca, with a wise captain named Maruc and a stoutcrew. The singularity of the event induces them to land (Maruc knows thedangers of the region, but Urraca has no fears; the captain also knowshow to enchant the beasts), and the horse's bloodmarks guide them up thevalley. At last they come upon a miserable creature, in rags,dishevelled, half-starved, and altogether unrecognisable. After a littletime, however, Urraca does recognise him, and, despite his forlorn andrepulsive condition, takes him in her arms.
Si le descouvre un poi le vis.
Yet another of the uncommon "flashlight" sketches, where in two shortlines one sees the damsel as she has been described not so long before,"tall and graceful, her fair hair (which, untressed, reached her feet[now, no doubt, more suitably arranged]), with forehead broad and high,and smooth; grey eyes, large and _seignorous_" (an admirable word foreyes), "all her face one kiss"; one sees her with one arm round thetottering wretch, and with the "long fingers" of her other white handclearing the matted hair from his visage till she can recognise him.
They take him on board, of course, though to induce him to go thisdelightful creature has to give an account of her sister's feelings(which, to put it mildly, anticipates the truth very considerably), andalso to cry over him a little.[72] She takes him to Saleuces,[73] anisland principality of her own, and there she and her maid-of-honour,Persewis (see above), proceed to cocker and cosset him up exactly as oneimagines two such girls would do to "a dear, silly, nice, handsomething," as a favourite modern actress used to bring down the house bysaying, with a sort of shake, half of tears and half of laughter, in hervoice. Indeed the phrase fits Partenopeus precisely. We are told thatUrraca would have been formally in love with him if it had not beenunsportsgirl-like towards her sister; and as for Persewis, there is oncemore a windfall in the description of the "butter-cup's" delight whenUrraca, going to see Melior, has to leave her alone with the Count. ThePrincess is of course very sorry to go. "But Persewis would not haveminded if she had stayed forty days, or till August," and she "gloriesgreatly" when her rival departs. No mischief, however, comes of it; forthe child is "too young," as we are earnestly assured, and Partenopeus,to do him justice, is both too much of a gentleman, and too dolefully inearnest about recovering Melior, to dream of any.
Meanwhile, Urraca is most unselfishly doing her very best to reconcilethe lovers, not neglecting the employment of white fibs as before, andoccasionally indulging, not merely in satiric observation on poorMelior's irresolution and conflict of feeling, but in decidedly sisterlyplainness of speech, reminding the Empress that after
all she hadentrapped Partenopeus into loving her, and that he had, for two wholeyears, devoted himself entirely to her love and its conditions. At lasta rather complicated and not always quite consistently told provisionalsettlement is arrived at, carrying out, in a manner, the undertakingsreferred to by Melior in her first interview with her lover. An immensetourney for the hand of Melior is to be held, with a jury of kings tojudge it: and everybody, Christian or pagan, from emperor to vavasour isinvited to compete. But in case of no single victor, a kind of"election" by what may be called the States of Byzantium--kings, dukes,counts, and simple fief-holders--is to decide, and it seems sometimesas if Melior retained something of a personal veto at last. Of theincidents and episodes before this actually comes off, the mostnoteworthy are a curious instance of the punctilio of chivalry (theCount having once promised Melior that no one but herself shall gird onhis sword, makes a difficulty when Urraca and Persewis arm him), and amisfortune by which he, rowing carelessly by himself, falls into thepower of a felon knight, Armans of Thenodon. This last incident,however, though it alarms his two benefactresses, is not really unlucky.For, in the first place, Armans is not at home, and his wife, falling avictim, like every woman, to Partenopeus' extraordinary beauty, allowshim his parole; while the accident enables him to appear at thetournament incognito--a practice always affected, if possible, by theknights of romance, and in this case possessing some obvious and specialadvantages.
On his way he meets another knight, Gaudin le Blond, with whom he gladlystrikes up brotherhood-in-arms. The three days of the mellay are not_very_ different from the innumerable similar scenes elsewhere, nor canthe author be said to be specially happy at this kind of business. Butany possible tedium is fairly relieved by the shrewd and sometimesjovial remarks made by one of the judging kings, the before-quotedCorsols--met by grumbles from another, Clarin, and by the fears andinterest of the three ladies, of whom the ever-faithful and shrewdUrraca is the first to discover Partenopeus. He and Gaudin perform theusual exploits and suffer the usual inconveniences, but at the end it isstill undecided whether the Count of Blois or the Soldan of Persia--agood knight, though a pagan, and something of a braggart--deserves thepriceless prize of Melior's hand with the empire of Byzantium to boot.The "election" follows, and after some doubt goes right, while Meliornow offers no objection. But the Soldan, in his _outrecuidance_, demandssingle combat. He has, of course, no right to do this, and the Counciland the Empress object strongly. But Partenopeus will have no stain onhis honour; consents to the fight; deliberately refuses to takeadvantage of the Soldan when he is unhorsed and pinned down by theanimal; assists him to get free; and only after an outrageous menacefrom the Persian justifies his own claim to belong to the class ofchampions
Who _always_ cleave their foe To the waist
--indeed excels them, by entirely bisecting the Soldan.
An episodic restoration of parole to the widow of Armans (who hasactually taken part in the tourney and been killed) should be noticed,and the piece ends, or rather comes close to an end, with the marriageswhich appropriately follow these well-deserved murders. Marriages--not amarriage only--for King "Lohier" of France most sensibly insists onespousing the delightful Urraca: and Persewis is consoled for the lossof Partenopeus by the suit--refused at first and then granted, with theobviously intense enjoyment of both processes likely in a novice--of hisbrother-in-arms, to whom the "Emperor of Byzantium" abandons his own twocounties in France, adding a third in his new empire, and winning bythis generosity almost more popularity than by his prowess.
But, as was hinted, the story does not actually end. There is a greatdeal about the festivities, and though the author says encouraginglythat he "will not devise much of breeches," he _does_--and of many othergarments. Indeed the last of his liveliest patches is a mischievouspicture of the Court ladies at their toilette: "Let me see that mirror;make my head-dress higher; let me show my mouth more; drop the pleatover the eyes;[74] alter my eyebrows," etc. etc. But beyond the washingof hands before the feast, this French book that Crapelet printedfourscore years ago goeth not. Perhaps it was a mere accident; perhapsthe writer had a shrewd notion that whatever he wrote would seem butstale in its reminder of the night when Partenopeus lay awake, andseemingly alone, in the enchanted palace--now merely an ordinary placeof splendour and festivity--and when something came to the bed, "step bystep, little by little," and laid itself beside him.
Such are the contents and such some of the special traits and featuresof one of the most famous of those romances of chivalry, the reading ofwhich with anything like the same interest as that taken in Homer,seemed to the Reverend Professor Hugh Blair to be the most suitableinstance he could hit upon of a total lack of taste. This is a point, ofcourse, on which each age, and each reader in each age, must judge foritself and himself. I think the author of the _Odyssey_ (the _Iliad_comes rather in competition with the chansons than with these romances)was a better poet than the author of _Partenopeus_, and I also thinkthat he was a better story-teller; but I do not think that the latterwas a bad story-teller; and I can read him with plenty of interest. So Ican most of his fellows, no one of whom, I think, ever quite approachesthe insipidity of their worst English imitators. The knights do notweary me with their exploits, and I confess that I am hyperbolicalenough to like reading and thinking as well as talking of the ladiesvery much. They are of various sorts; but they are generally lovable.There is no better for affection and faithfulness and pluck than theJosiane of _Bevis_, whose husband and her at one time faithful guardian,but at another would-be ravisher, Ascapart, guard a certain gate notmore than a furlong or two from where I am writing. It is good to thinkof the (to some extent justified) indignation of l'Orgueilleuse d'Amourswhen Sir Blancandin rides up and audaciously kisses her in the midst ofher train; and the companion picture of the tomb where Idoine apparentlysleeps in death (while her true knight Amadas fights with a ghostly foeabove) makes a fitting pendant. If her near namesake with an L prefixed,the Lidoine of _Meraugis de Portlesguez_, interests me less, it isbecause its author, Raoul de Houdenc, was one of the first to mix loveand moral allegory--a "wanity" which is not my favourite "wanity." Tothe Alexandrine of _Guillaume de Palerne_ reference has already beenmade. Blanchefleur--known all over Europe with her lover Floire (Floris,etc.)--the Saracen slave who charms a Christian prince, and is rescuedby him from the Emir of Babylon, to whom she has been sold in hopes ofweaning Floris from his attachment, more than deserved her vogue. But,as in the case of the _chansons_, mere cataloguing would be dull andunprofitable, and analysis on the scale accorded to _Partenopeus_impossible. One must only take up once more the note of this whole earlypart of our history, and impress again on the reader the evident_desire_ for the accomplished novel which these numerous romances show;the inevitable _practice_, in tale-telling of a kind, which theproduction of them might have given; and, above all, the openings,germs, suggestions of new devices in fiction which are observable inthem, and which remained for others to develop if the first finders leftthem unimproved.
FOOTNOTES:
[58] That is, of nothing like the length of the latest forms of the_Chansons de Geste_ or the Arthurian Romances proper. Some of the latefourteenth- and fifteenth-century Adventure stories, before they droppedinto prose, are indeed long enough, and a great deal too long; but theyshow degeneracy.
[59] The _h_ (Part_h_-) does occur in both forms, and there are othervariation, as "Part_o_nopeus," etc. But these are trifles.
[60] Taking honour to the mother as separate from that to the father.
[61] The Spanish-English form is perhaps the prettier. I am sorry to saythat the poet, to get a rhyme, sometimes spells it "Urra_cle_," which is_not_ pretty. Southey's "Queen _O_rraca" seems to me to have changed hervowel to disadvantage.
[62] The original author of the _Court of Love_, whether Chaucer oranother, pretty certainly knew it; and Spenser spiritualised thedoctrine itself in the _Four Hymns_.
[63] I think the medical people (borrowing,
as Science so often does,the language which she would fain banish from human knowledge) call thissort of thing _a syndrome_.
[64] See below on Urraca's plain speaking.
[65] Not too commentatorially identified with Constantinople.
[66] It may be worth noting that in this context appears the originalform of an English word quite common recently, but almost unknown a veryshort time ago--"grouse" in the sense of "complain," "grumble": "Ce distCorsols et nul n'en _grouce_."
[67] No one will be rude enough to disbelieve her, and, as will be seen,her supernatural powers had limits; but it was odd, though fortunate,that they should have broken down exactly at this important juncture.Who made those rebellious candles take him to that chamber and couch,unknown to her?
[68] For Melior, though of invisible beauty, is represented asdelightful in every other way, as wise and witty and gracious in speechas becomes a white witch. And when her lover on one occasion thanks herfor her _sermon_, there is no satire; he only means _sermo_.
[69] Like Guy of Warwick; still more like Mr. Jaggers's clerk, thoughthe circumstances are reversed. _He_ almost says in so many words,"Hullo! here's an engagement ring on my finger. We _can't_ have amarriage."
[70] The author, _more suo_, intimates that the Court _ladies_ by nomeans shared these hostile feelings, and would have willingly been inMelior's place.
[71] He induces him to turn Christian on the supposition of being hiscompanion; and then gives him the slip. The neophyte's expressions onthe occasion are not wholly edifying.
[72] The good palfrey is found and in a state to carry his master, whois quite unable to walk. One hopes they did not leave the beast to thelions, tigers, wyverns, etc., for he could hardly hope for such aliteral "stroke of luck" again.
[73] The name will suggest, to those who have some wine-lore, no less avintage than Chateau Yquem. Nothing could be better for a person in theCount's condition as a restorative.
[74] These two directions obviously refer to the common mediaeval"wimple" arrangement.