ulge in lovely sentimental
fancies concerning this world of gentle singers and fair ladies and
poesy and sunshine. But in sober fact the loves of the troubadours were
neither so romantic nor even so innocent as one would gladly think. In a
certain class of modern novels, the hero rarely experiences a _grande
passion_, as it is charitably called, except for some other man's wife;
so the lady to whom the troubadour devotes himself, to whom he pours out
his passion with all the cunning and warmth that art can devise, and of
whose favors he sometimes most ungallantly boasts, is almost invariably
a married woman. Fortunately, despite the fact that poets are given to
proclaiming that truth and poetry are almost synonyms, most of us do not
take them _au pied de la lettre_. "Most loving is feigning," says a good
authority, and certainly most of the protestations in erotic poetry are
hardly to be taken at their face value. So we may safely assume that the
intercourse between the troubadours and the ladies to whom their songs
are dedicated was generally quite innocent; and the burning desire, the
tragic despair, or the exultant passion, of the poems was also largely
figurative, mere squibs and crackers of love. Certainly, if it were
otherwise, the husbands of Provence were most unselfish patrons of art.

Yet, making all the allowances that common sense or charity may warrant,
we have to admit that there is only too much evidence of deplorable
moral laxity in the days of the troubadours. The very first troubadour
of note, Count William of Poitou, Eleanor's grandfather, was notorious
for his contemptuous attitude toward the Church and for his
licentiousness. In fact, the poems of William are coarse and almost
brutal in their tone, utterly lacking in the superfine gallantry, the
preciosity, which is characteristic of the love poetry of his troubadour
successors. There is in the poems a sort of bold laughter and wit, and
the technical part of the work shows a most surprising artistic finish,
but nothing that speaks of chivalrous ideals. It is with some wonder,
therefore, that we read in the old Provencal biography of this first of
the troubadours that "the Count of Poitou was one of the most courteous
men in the world, and a great deceiver of ladies; and he was a brave
knight and had much to do with love affairs; and he knew well how to
sing and make verses; and for a long time he roamed all through the land
to deceive the ladies." Ac