II. BERNART ARNAUT DE MONCUC, ER CAN LI ROZIER (55,1)

 

Alfred Jeanroy, after drawing up a list of the troubadour poems inspired by the “Albigensian crusade” (1209-1229), (1) finds them surprisingly few and surprisingly lacking in genuine concern. Such a feeble response is indeed cause for wonder, since this crusade against the heretical Cathars and those who harbored them devastated the poets’ homeland and took away the patronage of the nobles who had fostered their talent. Jeanroy suggests that their seeming indifference may have been prudently suggested by the southern lords themselves, still hoping for an honorable settlement and unwilling to irritate the invaders. In my opinion, a more likely explanation is the fact that these regions had for centuries been contested by many rulers  — from other parts of the South, from Spain, from England, from northern France — so that the troubadours accepted invasion and war as a normal part of life, even a source of enjoyment, as we have seen in our first poem. What they failed to realize, at least in the beginning, was that this invasion in the name of religion was undertaken on a grander scale and was bound to result in far graver consequences than any they had experienced: the end of their poetry, their code of love, their way of life. Nonchalance, at any rate, is the attitude one may sense in our second poem, written apparently just before the disastrous battle of Muret (1213). (2)

All that we know of Bernart Arnaut de Moncuc is what we can learn from his name and from this, his only preserved work. He was presumably born at Moncuq (Lot, 25 km south of Cahors), which was captured by the crusaders in 1212. Is there, then, a personal sense of loss in his poem? If so, it is hard to find. On the contrary, what we see is a mood of business as usual, the business in this case being double: war and love, evidently the author’s two consuming passions. Both themes are curiously mingled here in a novel combination of political commentary and love song. Each stanza begins with battles or preparations for battle, then turns to the author’s love for his lady, and his prospects for winning her favor.

The manner in which these themes are woven together deserves comment. In the first stanza, the season is the dead of winter, but Bernart anticipates with pleasure writing a satirical sirventes about certain petty nobles, because he enjoys seeing them quarrel (which they will doubtless do when they hear his sirventes). In the same wintry setting, love keeps him happier than fine spring weather could do, and he is particularly happy now because he foresees a suitable reward for his protestations of love. That is, in both parts there is a contrast between the poet’s mood and the weather around him, and in both he sees pleasant prospects ahead. The light, tripping meter reinforces this cheerful tone, which continues throughout the poem, in spite of occasional misgivings.

The second stanza begins with the news that a valiant king (not further identified) is approaching with his troops, but the French have little fear of him there near Carcassonne; but, Bernart continues, he does fear his lady here, because of the great desire he has for her beautiful body. There is thus a fourfold contrast involved: between the French and himself, between the lack of fear and the presence of fear, between the king and his lady, and between there and here.

In the third stanza, Bernart says that he prizes the accoutrements of war more highly than the ornaments and amusements of peace, just as he also prizes the difficulty of attaining his most noble lady more than he would value the easy conquest of another.

The fourth stanza opens with a picture of warlike activity, whereupon Bernart expresses the wish that such scenes were as pleasing to the English king as his thoughts of his lady are pleasing to him — again a contrast: between the king and himself, between war and thoughts of his lady, between what is pleasing only in his wishes and what is actually pleasing.

At the end of the fourth stanza comes a parenthetical remark that Bernart’s lady has gained the pretz (‘fame, reputation’) of beauty; this word is taken up in the fifth stanza in another connection: the English king would have complete pretz (‘fame, valor, worth’) if he would enter the fight on the side of the South. If he did so, the count would come to his aid (valensa) — a count whose name he does not say because it is so short. He will say that, with fear and trembling, he loves his lady; but what will he do if mercy and his good faith do not come to his aid (no·m val) with his lady? Thus, in addition to the echo of a word from the previous stanza, we have here two  verbal repetitions between the first and second themes: what the poet does not say in one case, what he will say in another; and the aid that would come

to the king of England, repeated as the aid that may or not come to the poet. In view of this carefully integrated structure, what appeared at first sight a capricious juxtaposition of unrelated themes becomes a much more tightly woven unity than one might think possible.

 

ATTRIBUTION: B. Āt de Mōcuc.

VERSIFICATION: A sirventes-canso consisting of five coblas unissonans of fifteen lines and a tornada of six. The metrical pattern (Frank 289,1) is unique among the troubadours: the five rimes ier, ana, ensa, es, ai arranged as follows:

a

b

a

b

a

c

d

c

d

e

e

e

e

d

d

5

5’

5

5’

5

5’

5

5’

5

3

3

5

5

7

5

 

TEXT: That of R, with only a few emendations, all by Rochegude.

 

Notes:

1) Alfred Jeanroy, La Poésie lyrique des Troubadours, 2 vols. (Toulouse/Paris, 1934), 2:212 ff., esp. 214-215. (↑)

2) Friedrich Diez, Leben und Werke der Troubadours, zweite vermehrte Auflage von Karl Bartsch (Leipzig, 1882), pp. 442-443. Jeanroy, Poésie lyrique, 1:343 (although he seems less sure of the date in 2:214; but see below, notes on vv. 54-81). (↑)