d in the characters of these two friends, the conflicting
qualities of sense and spirit, of worldliness and self-immolation, of
the most shrewd and literal perspicacity and the most visionary
exaltation, which make up the singular antithesis of the Middle Ages.

A contrast no less complete, though of a different nature, is to be
found in the most important poetical work of the thirteenth century--_Le
Roman de la Rose_. The first part of this curious poem was composed by
GUILLAUME DE LORRIS, a young scholar who wrote for that aristocratic
public which, in the previous generation, had been fascinated by the
courtly romances of Chretien de Troyes. Inspired partly by that writer,
and partly by Ovid, it was the aim of Lorris to produce an _Art of
Love_, brought up to date, and adapted to the tastes of his aristocratic
audience, with all the elaborate paraphernalia of learned disquisition
and formal gallantry which was then the mode. The poem, cast in the form
of an intricate allegory, is of significance chiefly on account of its
immense popularity, and for its being the fountain-head of a school of
allegorical poetry which flourished for many centuries in France. Lorris
died before he had finished his work, which, however, was destined to be
completed in a singular manner. Forty years later, another young
scholar, JEAN DE MEUNG, added to the 4000 lines which Lorris had left no
fewer than 18,000 of his own. This vast addition was not only quite out
of proportion but also quite out of tone with the original work. Jean de
Meung abandoned entirely the refined and aristocratic atmosphere of his
predecessor, and wrote with all the realism and coarseness of the middle
class of that day. Lorris's vapid allegory faded into insignificance,
becoming a mere peg for a huge mass of extraordinarily varied discourse.
The whole of the scholastic learning of the Middle Ages is poured in a
confused stream through this remarkable and deeply interesting work. Nor
is it merely as a repository of medieval erudition that Jean de Meung's
poem deserves attention; for it is easy to perceive in it an
intellectual tendency far in advance of its age--a spirit which, however
trammelled by antiquated conventions, yet claims kinship with that of
Rabelais, or even that of Voltaire. Jean de Meung was not a great
artist; he wrote without distinction, and without sense of form; it is
his bold and voluminous thought that gives him a high place in French
literatur