aucassin and nicolete(奥加西恩和尼古里特)-第1章
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Aucassin and Nicolete
Aucassin and Nicolete
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Aucassin and Nicolete
INTRODUCTION
There is nothing in artistic poetry quite akin to 〃Aucassin and
Nicolete。〃
By a rare piece of good fortune the one manuscript of the Song…Story
has escaped those waves of time； which have wrecked the bark of
Menander； and left of Sappho but a few floating fragments。 The very
form of the tale is peculiar； we have nothing else from the twelfth or
thirteenth century in the alternate prose and verse of the cante… fable。 ｛1｝
We have fabliaux in verse； and prose Arthurian romances。 We have
Chansons de Geste； heroic poems like 〃Roland；〃 unrhymed assonant
laisses； but we have not the alternations of prose with laisses in seven…
syllabled lines。 It cannot be certainly known whether the form of
〃Aucassin and Nicolete〃 was a familiar form used by many jogleors； or
wandering minstrels and story…tellers such as Nicolete； in the tale； feigned
herself to be；or whether this is a solitary experiment by 〃the old captive〃
its author； a contemporary； as M。 Gaston Paris thinks him； of Louis VII
（1130）。 He was original enough to have invented； or adopted from popular
tradition； a form for himself； his originality declares itself everywhere in
his one surviving masterpiece。 True； he uses certain traditional formulae；
that have survived in his time； as they survived in Homer's； from the
manner of purely popular poetry； of Volkslieder。 Thus he repeats
snatches of conversation always in the same； or very nearly the same
words。 He has a stereotyped form； like Homer； for saying that one
person addressed another； 〃ains traist au visconte de la vile si l'apela〃
＇Greek text which cannot be reproduced＇ 。 。 。 Like Homer； and like popular
song； he deals in recurrent epithets； and changeless courtesies。 To
Aucassin the hideous plough…man is 〃Biax frere；〃 〃fair brother；〃 just as the
treacherous Aegisthus is ＇Greek text＇ in Homer； these are complimentary
terms； with no moral sense in particular。 The jogleor is not more curious
than Homer； or than the poets of the old ballads； about giving novel
descriptions of his characters。 As Homer's ladies are 〃fair…tressed；〃 so
Nicolete and Aucassin have； each of them； close yellow curls； eyes of vair
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（whatever that may mean）； and red lips。 War cannot be mentioned except
as war 〃where knights do smite and are smitten；〃 and so forth。 The
author is absolutely conventional in such matters； according to the
convention of his age and profession。
Nor is his matter more original。 He tells a story of thwarted and
finally fortunate love； and his hero is 〃a Christened knight〃like
Tamlane；his heroine a Paynim lady。 To be sure； Nicolete was baptized
before the tale begins； and it is she who is a captive among Christians； not
her lover； as usual； who is a captive among Saracens。 The author has
reversed the common arrangement； and he appears to have cared little
more than his reckless hero； about creeds and differences of faith。 He is
not much interested in the recognition of Nicolete by her great Paynim
kindred； nor indeed in any of the 〃business〃 of the narrative； the fighting；
the storms and tempests； and the burlesque of the kingdom of Torelore。
What the nameless author does care for； is his telling of the love… story；
the passion of Aucassin and Nicolete。 His originality lies in his charming
medley of sentiment and humour； of a smiling compassion and sympathy
with a touch of mocking mirth。 The love of Aucassin and Nicolete …
〃Des grans paines qu'il soufri；〃
that is the one thing serious to him in the whole matter； and that is not
so very serious。 ｛2｝ The story…teller is no Mimnermus； Love and Youth
are the best things he knew；〃deport du viel caitif；〃 and now he has
〃come to forty years；〃 and now they are with him no longer。 But he does
not lament like Mimnermus； like Alcman； like Llwyarch Hen。 〃What is
Life； what is delight without golden Aphrodite？ May I die！〃 says
Mimnermus； 〃when I am no more conversant with these； with secret love；
and gracious gifts； and the bed of desire。〃 And Alcman； when his limbs
waver beneath him； is only saddened by the faces and voices of girls； and
would change his lot for the sea…birds。〃 ｛3｝
〃Maidens with voices like honey for sweetness that breathe desire；
Would that I were a sea…bird with limbs that never could tire； Over the
foam…flowers flying with halcyons ever on wing； Keeping a careless heart；
a sea…blue bird of the spring。〃
But our old captive； having said farewell to love； has yet a kindly
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smiling interest in its fever and folly。 Nothing better has he met； even
now that he knows 〃a lad is an ass。〃 He tells a love story； a story of love
overmastering； without conscience or care of aught but the beloved。 And
the viel caitif tells it with sympathy； and with a smile。 〃Oh folly of
fondness；〃 he seems to cry； 〃oh merry days of desolation〃
〃When I was young as you are young； When lutes were touched and
songs were sung； And love lamps in the windows hung。〃
It is the very tone of Thackeray； when Thackeray is tender； and the
world heard it first from this elderly； nameless minstrel； strolling with his
viol and his singing boys； perhaps； like a blameless d'Assoucy； from castle
to castle in 〃the happy poplar land。〃 One seems to see him and hear him
in the twilight； in the court of some chateau of Picardy； while the ladies on
silken cushions sit around him listening； and their lovers； fettered with
silver chains； lie at their feet。 They listen； and look； and do not think of
the minstrel with his grey head and his green heart； but we think of him。
It is an old man's work； and a weary man's work。 You can easily tell the
places where he has lingered； and been pleased as he wrote。 They are
marked； like the bower Nicolete built； with flowers and broken branches
wet with dew。 Such a passage is the description of Nicolete at her
window； in the strangely painted chamber；
〃ki faite est par grant devisse panturee a miramie。〃
Thence
〃she saw the roses blow； Heard the birds sing loud and low。〃
Again； the minstrel speaks out what many must have thought； in
those incredulous ages of Faith； about Heaven and Hell； Hell where the
gallant company makes up for everything。 When he comes to a battle…
piece he makes Aucassin 〃mightily and knightly hurl through the press；〃
like one of Malory's men。 His hero must be a man of his hands； no mere
sighing youth incapable of arms。 But the minstrels heart is in other
things； for example； in the verses where Aucassin transfers to Beauty the
wonder…working powers of Holiness； and makes the sight of his lady heal
the palmer； as the shadow of the Apostle； falling on the sick people； healed
them by the Gate Beautiful。 The Flight of Nicolete is a familiar and
beautiful picture； the daisy flowers look black in the ivory moonlight
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against her feet； fair as Bombyca's 〃feet of carven ivory〃 in the Sicilian
idyll； long ago。 ｛4｝ It is characteristic of the poet that the two lovers begin
to wrangle about which loves best； in the very mouth of danger； while
Aucassin is yet in prison； and the patrol go down the moonlit street； with
swords in their hands； sworn to slay Nicolete。 That is the place and time
chosen for this ancient controversy。 Aucassin's threat that if he loses
Nicolete he will not wait for sword or knife； but will dash his head against
a wall； is in the very temper of the prisoned warrior…poet； who actually
chose this way of death。 Then the night scene； with its fantasy； and shadow；
and moonlight on flowers and street； yields to a picture of the day； with the
birds singing； and the shepherds laughing； in the green links between
wood and water。 There the shepherds take Nicolete for a fairy； so bright
a beauty shines about her。 Their mockery； their independence； may make
us consider again our ideas of early Feudalism。 Probably they were in
the service of townsmen； whose good town treated the Count as no more
than an equal of its corporate dignity。 The bower of branches built by
Nicolete is certainly one of the places where the minstrel himself has
rested and been pleased with his work。 One can feel it still； the cool of
that clear summer night； the sweet smell of broken boughs； and trodden
grass； and deep dew； and the shining of the star that Aucassin deemed was
the translated spirit of his lady。 Romance has touched the book here with
her magic； as she has touched the lines where we read how Consuelo came
by moonlight to the Canon's garden and the white flowers。 The pleasure
here is the keener for contrast with the luckless hind whom Aucassin
encountered in the forest： the man who had lost his master's ox； the
ungai
