chariot drawn by four snow-white steeds, she cried, "Lo, here is the sun coming to us in his chariot. I knew not that Joseph was a son of God. Who can beget so great beauty, and what woman's womb can bear such light?" Joseph agrees to marry her on condition that she will cast away her idols. So Asseneth, sick with fear and joy, renounces her gods, and does penance. For seven days, in black apparel and ashes on her brow, she weeps bitterly. She has thrown her idols out of the window, and given all her royal food to the dogs. Then a light gleams in the east; an angel, his face all aflame, comes down from heaven into her chamber. He lays his hand on her head and blesses her. "Asseneth! Asseneth! rejoice and be comforted, for thy virgin's name is written in the book of the living, and I have given thee to Joseph to wife." On the morrow Joseph returns to the tower. Pharaoh sets on their heads crowns of gold, the best that he has, makes a great wedding and great feasts that last seven days, and commands that none do any work during the interval. Perceforest. It would be pleasant to give some account of Perceforest, which, according to M. Gaston Paris, belongs to the fourteenth century. Unluckily, the composition as a whole exists. only in black-letter. Some notion of its character, however, may be gleaned from a liberal excerpt in Bartsch's Chrestomathie describing in considerable detail the knighting of a young "damoysel." It is tempting to compare this narrative with the over ture to Don Quixote: here, a handsome youth, at the outset of his career, arrayed by fair ladies and gallant knights; there, the old, lean, crack-brained, but withal magnanimous, adventurer of La Mancha, who essays the same part amidst solitude and ridicule. In Perceforest is no jarring note of the mad, the mundane, and the modern. All is sweet, and serious, and serene. Each garment, each armour-piece wherewith. the lad is attired, has its mystical meaning; and, while the rites and ceremonies remind us of freemasonry, the doctrinal exposition accompanying each act, and the pious responses of the novice, compel us to see in chivalry a type of the Church militant. The first part of the programme is undertaken by three ladies. They enter a little pavilion and seat the candidate, "tout nud fors les brayes," on a chair. His white and tender flesh excites the admiration of Queen Fezonas, who slaps him on the shoulder, saying, "Sire damoyseau, bien vous a nourry celle, qui vous a eu en garde jusques à ores." However, there is no suspicion of impropriety, and the investiture is at once begun. First they put on him a white shirt, which, the ladies explain, is a symbol of purity. Over this they place a red silk tunic, which signifies an ardent desire for all knightly virtues and graces. Lastly, one of them fastens a belt-symbol of retention, this-round his waist. Fourteen knights then receive the youth, and dress him in armour, while Perceforest gives him the accolade with the words, "Chevalier, soyés hardi et preux." With romances like Perceforest, instinct with the spirit of the past, it is natural to associate the dits of Bandouin and Baudouin and Jean de Condé.1 The dit, Jean de Condé. a very loose sort of poem, and first cousin to "debates" and "disputes," professed to sum up the qualities of an object. Later, it became tinged with satire, and was hardly distinguishable from the fabliau. (The fabliau, it should be observed, disappeared in the course of this century, and was represented in the next, on the one hand, by the prose "novel," and, on the other, by the farce.) Baudouin de Condé, who lived towards the close of the thirteenth century, wrote many dits in "equivocal verses"-i.e., with rhymes formed of the same words in two or three different senses. That on Gentillece anticipates Tenny "Nul n'est vilains si de cuer non; Nul n'est gentils hom ensement, These lines, however, it must be confessed, are somewhat delusive, for, taken generally, the dits are by no means "popular." They are extremely finished compositions addressed to high society, of which they reflect the tone. This remark is especially applicable to those of Jean. In the sweet merry season when every creature is gay by right of nature, and joyous, and the flowers 1 A. Scheler, Dits et contes de Baudouin de Condé et de son fils, Jean de Condé. 3 vols., Brussels, 1866. Dit of the spring in the meadow, and the birds sing morn and night, and lead a glorious life in this Two Lovers. delicious time, coveting the joy of love, and being, moreover, intent on making a new song, Jean de Condé entered a very beautiful orchard, where he met two ladies of high degree. Immediately he saluted them, and one of them said to the other, "Here is Jean, who will tell us his opinion of our debate." Jean consents to be umpire, all three sit down in a part of the orchard remote from passers-by, and the discussion is resumed. The problem agitating these dear creatures is, Whether of the two loves better, the bold or the timorous wooer? One supports the claim of the bold suitor who speaks out-" couars n'ara ja bielle amie "-while the other doubts if such boldness consists with true passion. Each in turn defends her own view, and at length they call upon Jean, whose heart is grounded in love-lore, to enlighten them. Jean, without pretending to universal knowledge, feels himself equal to the task, and decides in favour of the timorous wooer, though, to flatter the other side, he says that a lover should be bold in serving: “Je di, u qu'il ait finne amour, Ce ne poet iestre sans cremour; One source of this fear is the possibility of rejection. Another is the risk of displeasing the lady. Nay, the very force of love robs a man of nerve, of self-posses sion, when he is in his lady's presence. So Jean concludes: "Ne croi c'onques hons bien amast Qui hardiëment s'en clamast." In his dit of the Magnificat Jean is more sombre. His subject is the legend of the Proud Emperor, of which there are other versions, and the story is not unlike that of Nebuchadnezzar. The emperor, fancying himself above the power of heaven, sees an angel or demon take possession of his throne, and it is only after a severe penance that he is allowed to regain it. Other dits teach other lessons; and, indeed, though a court - poet, Jean de Condé is also undeniably a preacher. Troubadour The romance was but sparsely cultivated by the Troubadours.1 The best specimen is Jaufre, an Arthurian romance composed in Aragon Romances. between 1222 and 1232. To the scanty total, amounting to less than a dozen, the fourteenth century contributed two romans d'aventures, in themselves of no great mark or likelihood. Blandin de Cornoalha et Guilhot Ardit de Miramur 2 describes the achievements of these heroes, who traverse the world in search of adventures, fight with giants, serpents, and dragons, and emerge victorious from their conflicts. Blandin is lucky enough to awake a lady called Brianda from a trance, and she rewards him by becoming his wife. Her friend Irlanda confers her 1 Compare a remark of Raimon Vidal: "La parladura francesca val mais et es plus avinenz a far romanz e pastorellas, mas cella de Lemosin val mais per far vers et cansons et serventes." 2 Paul Meyer, Romania, ii. 170-202. |