Chapter 6

Deceitful love beguiles the simple foolAnd binds with magic thongs the hapless wight;That like a moth lured by the candle-light,He hovers, helpless, round the heartless ghoul.I cast thee out and follow other starsFull evil was my meed and recompense—New courage steels my fainting heart, and henceI kneel at shrines which passion never mars.

Deceitful love beguiles the simple foolAnd binds with magic thongs the hapless wight;That like a moth lured by the candle-light,He hovers, helpless, round the heartless ghoul.

Deceitful love beguiles the simple fool

And binds with magic thongs the hapless wight;

That like a moth lured by the candle-light,

He hovers, helpless, round the heartless ghoul.

I cast thee out and follow other starsFull evil was my meed and recompense—New courage steels my fainting heart, and henceI kneel at shrines which passion never mars.

I cast thee out and follow other stars

Full evil was my meed and recompense—

New courage steels my fainting heart, and hence

I kneel at shrines which passion never mars.

In an interesting poem Garin the Red imploresMezurato teach him the way to love purely and nobly; but he is anything but pleased with his instructress, and comes to the conclusion that her whole wisdom is "just good form" and nothing else.

But by my merry mood impelledI kiss and dally night and mornAnd do the things I feel compelledTo do—or else, with tonsure shorn,I'd seek a cloister. . . .

But by my merry mood impelled

I kiss and dally night and morn

And do the things I feel compelled

To do—or else, with tonsure shorn,

I'd seek a cloister. . . .

Elias of Barjols, finding that his love will never be returned, and having no mind to sigh all his life in vain, renounces love altogether. "I should be a fool if I served love any longer!"

"All you lovers are fools!" exclaimed another. "Do you think you can change the nature of women?" This is one of the very rare criticisms of woman; as a rule we hear only of her angelic perfection, wisdom, beauty and aloofness.

The distinguished poet Marcabru was a woman-hater, and enemy of love from the very beginning. He said of himself that he had never loved a woman and that no woman had ever loved him.

The love which is always a lieAnd deceiver of men, I decryAnd denounce; I had more than enough.Can you count all the evil it wrought?When I think of it I am distraught.What a madman I was to believe,To sigh, to rejoice and to grieve;But no longer I'll squander my days,We have come to the parting of the ways. Etc.

The love which is always a lie

And deceiver of men, I decry

And denounce; I had more than enough.

Can you count all the evil it wrought?

When I think of it I am distraught.

What a madman I was to believe,

To sigh, to rejoice and to grieve;

But no longer I'll squander my days,

We have come to the parting of the ways. Etc.

He was indefatigable in abusing the tender passion, and had a great deal to say about the immorality of women. But it is characteristic of the strong public opinion of the time that even this misogynist (who, perhaps, after all was only a disappointed man) praised "high love."

The subject also found its theorists, prominent among whom was the court-chaplain Andreas, who wrote a very learned book on love in Latin. He expressed in propositions and conclusions what the contemporary poets expressed in verse, proving thereby that spiritual love was not merely a poeticfiction but the profoundest belief of the period, supported by the full complement of its philosophical weapons. "In the whole world there is no good and no courtliness outside the fountain of love. Therefore love is the beginning and foundation of all good." He also proved that a noble-minded man must be a lover, for if he were not, he could not have attained virtue. "Love disregards all barriers, and makes the man of low origin the equal and superior of the nobleman."

This conception of spiritual nobility, which was later on perfected in the theory of thecor gentil, only existed in Provence and in Italy; it remained unknown in France and Germany.

Andreas drew a distinction between base love, theamor mixtus sive communis, and pure love, theamor purus. "Love," he maintained, fully agreeing with the poets, "gives to a man the strength of chastity, for he whose heart is brimming over with the love of a woman, cannot think of dallying with another, however beautiful she may be." He proved from substance and form that a man cannot love two women. In theLeys d'Amors, a voluminous fourteenth-century Provençal treatise, largely a text-book of grammar and prosody, we read: "And now lovers must be taught how to love; passionate lovers must be restrained, so that they may come to realise their evil and dishonourable desires. No good troubadour, who is at the same time an honest lover, has ever abandoned himself to base sensuality and ignoble desires." The same author opined that a troubadour who asked his lady for a kiss, was committing an act of indecency. On the other hand, Andreas was very broad-minded in drawing the line between both kinds of love, allowing kisses, and even more, in the case of true love. (The best troubadours disagree with him in this respect.)

A scholasticism of love, modelled on ecclesiastical scholasticism and substituting the beloved womanfor the Deity, was gradually evolved. Love, veneration, humility, hope, etc., were the sacrifices offered at her shrine. She was full of grace and compassion, and was believed in as fervently as was God. Some of the poets were animated by a curious ambition "to prove" their feelings with scholastic erudition, and more especially by the later, Italian, school,amore,cor gentil,valore, were conceived as substances, attributes, inherent qualities, etc. The allegories ofamoreplayed a prominent part, and spoiled many a masterpiece. The German poets steered clear of these absurdities, which even Dante did not escape.

At the famous courts of love, presided over by princesses, the most extraordinary questions relating to love were discussed and decided with a ceremonial closely following the ceremonial of the petty courts of law. Andreas preserved for us a number of these judgments, some of which prove the really quite obvious fact that love and marriage are two very different things, for if spiritual love be considered the supreme value, matrimony can only be regarded as an inferior condition. And it was a fact that in the higher ranks of society,—the only ones with which we are concerned,—a marriage was nothing but a contract made for political and economical reasons. The baron desired to enlarge his estate, obtain a dowry, or marry into an influential family; no one dreamed of consulting the future bride, whom marriage alone could bring into contact with people outside her own family. To her marriage meant the permission to shine and be adored by a man who was not her husband. "It is an undeniable fact," propounded Andreas asregula amoris, "that there is no room for love between husband and wife," and Fauriel translated a passage as follows: "A husband who proposed to behave to his wife as a knight would to his lady, would propose to do something contrary to the canons of honour; such a proceeding could neither increase his virtue nor the virtue of his lady, andnothing could come of it but what already properly exists."—Another judgment maintained "that a lady lost her admirer as soon as the latter became her husband; and that she was therefore entitled to take a new lover." At the court of love of the Viscountess Ermengarde, of Narbonne, the problem whether the love between husband and wife or the love between lovers were the greater, was decided as follows: "The affection between a married couple and the tender love which unites two lovers are emotions which differ fundamentally and according to custom. It would be folly to attempt a comparison between two subjects which neither resemble each other, nor have any connection." A husband declared: "It is true, I have a beautiful wife, and I love her with conjugal love. But because true love is impossible between husband and wife, and because everything good which happens in this world has its origin in love, I am of opinion that I should seek an alliance of love outside my married life." All this was not frivolity, but the only logical conclusion of dualistic eroticism, incapable of blending sensuality and love. It was equally logical that love between divorced persons was not only regarded as not immoral, but as perfectly right and justifiable; it was even decided that "a new marriage could never become a drawback to old love." In the old novel,Gérard of Roussillon, the princess, beloved by Gérard, is married to the emperor Charles Martel, and compelled to part from her knight. At their last meeting, before a number of witnesses, she called on the name of Christ and said: "Know ye all that I give my love to Sir Gérard with this ring and this flower from my chaplet. I love him more than father and husband, and now I must weep tears of bitter sorrow." After this they parted, but their love continued undiminished though there was nothing between them but tender wishes and secret thoughts.

Matrimony had no advantage over the love-alliance,not even the sanction of the Church. A love-alliance was frequently accompanied by a ceremony in which a priest officiated. Fauriel describes—without mentioning his source—such a ceremony as follows: "Kneeling before his lady, with his folded hands between hers, he dedicated himself to her service, vowing to be faithful to her until death, and to shield her from all harm and insults as far as lay within his power. The lady, on her side, declared her willingness to accept his service, promised to devote her loftiest feelings to him, and as a rule gave him a ring as a symbol of their union. Then she raised and kissed him, always for the first, usually for the last time." The parting of the lovers, too, was a solemn act, resembling in many ways the dissolution of a marriage.

So that our solemn plighted trothWhen love is dead, we shall not break,We'll to the priest ourselves betake.You set me free, as I do you,A perfect right then shall we bothEnjoy to choose a love anew,

So that our solemn plighted troth

When love is dead, we shall not break,

We'll to the priest ourselves betake.

You set me free, as I do you,

A perfect right then shall we both

Enjoy to choose a love anew,

wrote Peire of Barjac.

It was far more easy to dissolve a marriage than a true love-alliance; the husband had only to state that his wife was a distant relation of his, and the Church was ready to annul the contract. But the love-alliance—so Sordello maintained, in a long poem—should be more binding than any marriage.

Only one love a woman canPrefer. So let her choose her manWith care. To him she must be true,For choosing once she ne'er may rue.More binding than the wedding-tieIs love; for a diversityOf causes wedlock may divide,By death alone be love untied.

Only one love a woman can

Prefer. So let her choose her man

With care. To him she must be true,

For choosing once she ne'er may rue.

More binding than the wedding-tie

Is love; for a diversity

Of causes wedlock may divide,

By death alone be love untied.

The idea that marriage and love cannot be combined is therefore only the logical conclusion of the fundamental feeling that love and desire cannot together be projected on one woman.

If matrimonial love had not been questioned, the choice would have lain between two alternatives: the canonisation of matrimony—an expedient chosen by the Church—or a fusion of love and sexuality in our modern sense. The first was a stage which humanity had left behind, for the ideal of absolutely perfect and pure love had already been evolved, and the world was not ripe for the second. The tendency of the rarest minds was in the direction of a further idealisation of love, of freeing it from all earthly shackles and bringing it nearer and nearer to heaven. One of the early troubadours, Jaufre Rudel, Prince of Blaya, gave a practical illustration to this feeling by falling in love with a lady whom he had never seen. The story of his love was famous for centuries. He loved a Countess of Tripoli, a Christian princess, and his whole soul was filled with his imaginary picture of her. TheProvençal Biographyrelates that "he worshipped her for all the good the pilgrims had narrated of her." In order to see her, he took the cross and journeyed across the sea; he fell ill on the ship and was carried ashore in a dying condition. The countess, on hearing of his great love, hastened to the inn where he lay. As she entered his room, Jaufre regained consciousness; he knew her at once and died happily in her arms. She was so touched by his love that she henceforth renounced the world.—This story is no fairy tale; it is well attested and universally accounted genuine to-day. Jaufre's love, expressed in touching poems, was noamour de tête, as it is sometimes called, but a genuineamour de cœur, a purely spiritual love which asked nothing of the beloved woman but permission to love her. There are other instances, and even in later times it is not an infrequent occurrence in the case of imaginative people (I need only mention Bürger and Klopstock).

We men of the present age look upon this eccentric woman-worship with uncomprehending eyes. Perhaps we shall feel a little less bewildered when we meet it, stripped of courtly theories and mediaeval fashions, in some of the great men who are closely connected with our own period; in Michelangelo, in Goethe, and in Beethoven.

The Church, dualistic and ascetic from its inception, waged war against sensuality as the evil of evils. "As fire and water will not mix," wrote St. Bernard, "so spiritual and carnal delights cannot be experienced together." The toleration of matrimony was never more than a compromise; we require no proof that as far as the Church was concerned, chastity was the only real value. Even Luther took up that position, and to this day Christianity and sexuality remain unreconciled. But both the Catholic and the Protestant professions of faith regarded matrimony as the lesser evil, a concession made to the enemy, in order to render existence possible. It is very interesting to observe the position taken up by the Church in connection with the new woman-worship which, although it sprang from the most genuine Christian dualism, had for its object not God, but mortal woman. The logical attitude of the Church would have been one of welcome, for the chaste worship of woman which regarded matrimony as an inferior state, was her natural ally. Two clerics, the court-chaplain Andreas, and the prolific rhymester Matfre Ermengau, actually elaborated the theory of spiritual love contrary to the spirit of the Church, but both men hastened to utter a timely recantation and recommendation of orthodoxy as the only means of salvation. After establishing all the desirable details of love according to substance and accidents, Andreas deduced that every love not dedicated to God was bound to offend Him, and advanced eighteen points against the love of woman, starting with the well-known argument that woman was naturally of abase disposition, covetous, envious, greedy, fickle, garrulous, stubborn, proud, vain, sensual, deceitful, etc. "He who serves love, cannot serve God," he declared, "and God will punish every man who, apart from matrimony, serves Venus. What good could come from acting against the will of God?" Here we are face to face with a grotesque position: the official Church favouring sexuality, that is matrimony, as against the newer and higher standard of ascetic, spiritual love. This attitude was quite logical, if not in the spirit of religion and in contradiction to the principle of asceticism, yet in the spirit of orthodoxy; for "whatever was not for her, was against her." The brave, Janus-headed abbé was spokesman for the whole clergy, which branded love not projected on God asfornicatio. In his recantation Andreas upheld the previously-despised matrimonial state at the expense of love; "love," he maintained, "destroys matrimony." Matfre did exactly the same thing; after recapitulating in hisBreviari d'Amorall the splendid achievements rooted in the cult of woman, he suddenly veered round (at the 27,445th verse):

And Satan blows on their desire,In monstrous flames leaps up the fire,And maddened by the raging fiend,From love of God and honour weaned,They turn from their Creator's shrineAnd call their mistresses divine.With soul and body, mind and sense,They worship woman's excellence.Abandoned in her beauty revel,And unawares adore the devil.

And Satan blows on their desire,

In monstrous flames leaps up the fire,

And maddened by the raging fiend,

From love of God and honour weaned,

They turn from their Creator's shrine

And call their mistresses divine.

With soul and body, mind and sense,

They worship woman's excellence.

Abandoned in her beauty revel,

And unawares adore the devil.

Three hundred years later the fanatical Savanorola stormed: "You clothe and adorn the Mother of God as you clothe and adorn your courtesans, and you give her the features of your mistresses!" which, as we shall presently see, was literally true.

The clergy resisted all counsels of thecorteziaandcavalariawith the sure instinct desiring the continuance of existing conditions rather than the victory of the higher conception. Some writers aver that it was partly due to this fact that later on the cult of woman developed into the cult of Mary. Again we are confronted by a process which in the course of time has been repeated more than once: the spiritual-mystical principle of Christianity entered upon a new stage, and took possession of a new and important domain; but the Church, rigid and unyielding, preferred clinging to a past lower stage rather than tolerating any change. Had she been absolutely consistent, her greatest poet would be on the index to-day, for, following his own intuition and ignoring her rigid dogma, he introduced his beloved Beatrice into the Catholic heaven.

The new spiritual love was not without its caricatures. Famous in Provence for many strange exploits, committed in order to please his lady, was the talented Peire Vidal. On one occasion he caused himself to be sewn into a wolfskin and ran about the fields; but he was set upon by dogs and so badly mangled that he nearly succumbed to his wounds. He was an insufferable braggart, but never had any success in love. The prince of caricatures, however, was the German knight and minnesinger, Ulrich of Lichtenstein. He is responsible for a novel in prose, entitledThe Service of Woman, which is faintly reminiscent of Goethe'sWerther. As a page he commenced his glorious career by drinking the water in which his lady had washed her hands; later on he caused his upper lip to be amputated because it displeased his mistress, for "whatever she dislikes in me, I, too, hate." On another occasion he cut off one of his fingers and used it, set in gold, as a clasp for a volume of his poems which he sent to her. One of his most famous exploits was a journey through nearly the whole of Austria, disguised as Venus, jousting, dressed in women's clothes, with every knight he met. But in spite of his eccentricities,the tendency of his mind was not at all metaphysical; he craved very obvious favours, but as a rule contented himself with a kind, or even an unkind word. Incidentally, we learn that he was married; but he devoted his whole life to "deeds of heroism" in honour of his lady. Not the great book of Cervantes, as is commonly believed, held up mediaeval court life to ridicule and destroyed it as an ideal, but the life and exploits of this knight and minnesinger. The same spirit animated Guilhem of Balaun. At the command of his lady he had a finger-nail extracted and sent to her, after which he was re-admitted to her favour.

Spiritual love was discovered by the Provençals, but the greater and profounder Italian poets developed it and brought it to perfection. What had been a naïve sentiment with the troubadours, became in Dante's circle a system of the universe and a religion. The Italian poet, Sordello, who wrote in Provençal, may be regarded as the connecting link, and the forerunner of the great Italians. He died in the year of grace 1270, and Dante, who was almost a contemporary, immortalised his name in theDivine Comedy. The doctrine on which thedolce stil nuovowas based pointed to the love of a noble heart as the source of all perfection in heaven and earth. Purely spiritual woman-worship was regarded as an absolute virtue. The words of the last of the Provençal troubadours, Guirot Riquier, "Love is the doctrine of all sublime things"—was developed into a philosophy. I will quote a few characteristic verses, omitting Dante for the present. One of the finest lyric poems of all tongues and ages, written by Guido Guinicelli, begins as follows:

Within the gentle heart love shelters him,As birds within the green shades of the grove;Before the gentle heart in nature's schemeLove was not, or the gentle heart ere love.(Transl. byD.G. Rossetti.)

Within the gentle heart love shelters him,As birds within the green shades of the grove;Before the gentle heart in nature's schemeLove was not, or the gentle heart ere love.

Within the gentle heart love shelters him,

As birds within the green shades of the grove;

Before the gentle heart in nature's scheme

Love was not, or the gentle heart ere love.

(Transl. byD.G. Rossetti.)

Cino da Pistoia says in epigrammatic brevity:

You want to know the inmost core of love?'Tis art and guerdon of a noble heart.

You want to know the inmost core of love?

'Tis art and guerdon of a noble heart.

A wonderful canzone by Guinicelli contains the following verses:

A song she seems among the rest and theseHave all their beauties in her splendour drowned.In her is ev'ry grace,—Simplicity of wisdom, noble speech,Accomplished loveliness;All earthly beauty is her diadem.This truth my song must teach—My lady is of ladies chosen gem.(Transl. byD.G. Rossetti.)

A song she seems among the rest and these

Have all their beauties in her splendour drowned.

In her is ev'ry grace,—

Simplicity of wisdom, noble speech,

Accomplished loveliness;

All earthly beauty is her diadem.

This truth my song must teach—

My lady is of ladies chosen gem.

(Transl. byD.G. Rossetti.)

And Cavalcanti sings:

What's she whose coming rivets all men's eyes,Who makes the air so tremble with delight,And thrills so every heart that no man mightFind tongue for words but vents his soul in sighs?(Transl. bySir Theodore Martin.)

What's she whose coming rivets all men's eyes,Who makes the air so tremble with delight,And thrills so every heart that no man mightFind tongue for words but vents his soul in sighs?

What's she whose coming rivets all men's eyes,

Who makes the air so tremble with delight,

And thrills so every heart that no man might

Find tongue for words but vents his soul in sighs?

(Transl. bySir Theodore Martin.)

The sentiment which pervades these verses has lifted us into the higher sphere which will henceforth be our main theme. The beloved was more and more extolled; in her presence the lover became more and more convinced of his insignificance; she was worshipped, deified. The overwhelming emotion, the longing for metaphysical values which dominated the whole epoch, had reached its highest characteristic, had reached perfection. It proved the eternal quality of human emotion: the impossibility of finding satisfaction, the striving towards the infinite; it soared above its apparent object and sought its consummation in metaphysic. The love of woman and the mystical love of God were blended in a profounder devotion; love had become the sole giver of the eternal value and consolation, yearned for by mortal man. Christianity had taught man tolook up; now his upward gaze lost its rigidity and beheld living beauty—metaphysical eroticism had been evolved—the canonisation and deification of woman. The ideal of the troubadours to love the adored mistress chastely and devoutly from a distance in the hope of receiving a word of greeting, no longer satisfied the lover; she must become a divine being, must be enthroned above human joy and sorrow, queen of the world. Traditional religion was transformed so that a place might be found in it for a woman.

The reason for the recognition of spiritual love from the moment of its inception as something supernatural and divine, is obvious. The heart of man was filled with an emotion hitherto unknown, an emotion which pointed direct to heaven. The soul, the core of profound Christian consciousness, had received a new, glad content, rousing a feeling of such intensity that it could only be compared to the religious ecstasy of the mystic; man divined that it was the mother of new and great things—was it not fitting to regard it as divine and proclaim it the supreme value? The troubadours had known it. Bernart of Ventadour had sung:

I stand in my lady's sightIn deep devotion;Approach her with folded handsIn sweet emotion;Dumbly adoring her,Humbly imploring her.

I stand in my lady's sight

In deep devotion;

Approach her with folded hands

In sweet emotion;

Dumbly adoring her,

Humbly imploring her.

Peire Raimon of Toulouse:

I would approach thee on my knees,Lowly and meek,I would fare far o'er lands and seasThy ruth to seek.And come to thee—a slave to his lord—I'd pay thee homage with eyes that mourn,Until thy mercy I'd implored,Heedless of laughter, heedless of scorn.

I would approach thee on my knees,Lowly and meek,I would fare far o'er lands and seasThy ruth to seek.

I would approach thee on my knees,

Lowly and meek,

I would fare far o'er lands and seas

Thy ruth to seek.

And come to thee—a slave to his lord—I'd pay thee homage with eyes that mourn,Until thy mercy I'd implored,Heedless of laughter, heedless of scorn.

And come to thee—a slave to his lord—

I'd pay thee homage with eyes that mourn,

Until thy mercy I'd implored,

Heedless of laughter, heedless of scorn.

Raimon of Miraval had said, "I am no lover, I am a worshipper," and Cavalcanti:

My lady's virtue has my blindness riven,A secret sighing thrills my humbled heart:When favoured with a sight of her thou art,Thy soul will spread its wings and soar to heaven.

My lady's virtue has my blindness riven,

A secret sighing thrills my humbled heart:

When favoured with a sight of her thou art,

Thy soul will spread its wings and soar to heaven.

Peire Vidal:

God called the women close to Him,Because he saw all good in them.

God called the women close to Him,

Because he saw all good in them.

And:

The God of righteousness endowedSo well thy body and thy mindThat His own radiancy grew blind.And many a soul that has not bowedTo Him for years in sin enmeshed,Is by thy grace and charm refreshed.

The God of righteousness endowed

So well thy body and thy mind

That His own radiancy grew blind.

And many a soul that has not bowed

To Him for years in sin enmeshed,

Is by thy grace and charm refreshed.

The beauty of the adored was divine. Bernart of Ventadour wrote:

Her glorious beauty sheds a brilliant rayOn darkest night and dims the brightest day.

Her glorious beauty sheds a brilliant ray

On darkest night and dims the brightest day.

Guilhem of Cabestaing:

God has created her without a blemishOf His own beauty.

God has created her without a blemish

Of His own beauty.

Gaucelm Faidit:

The beauty which is God HimselfHe poured into a single being.

The beauty which is God Himself

He poured into a single being.

And Montanhagol, anticipating Dante:

Wherefore I tell you, and my words are true,From heaven came her beauty, rare and tender,Her loveliness was wrought in Paradise,Men's dazzled eyes can scarce support her splendour.

Wherefore I tell you, and my words are true,

From heaven came her beauty, rare and tender,

Her loveliness was wrought in Paradise,

Men's dazzled eyes can scarce support her splendour.

Folquet of Romans:

When I behold her beauty rare,I'm so confused and startled by her worth,I ween I am no longer on this earth.

When I behold her beauty rare,

I'm so confused and startled by her worth,

I ween I am no longer on this earth.

A canzone which has been attributed to Cavalcanti, Cino da Pistoia and Dante, reads as follows:

My lady comes and ev'ry lip is silent;So perfect is her beauty's high estateThat mortal spirit swoons and falls prostrateBefore her glory. And she is so noble:If I uplift to her my inward eye,My soul is startled as if death were nigh.

My lady comes and ev'ry lip is silent;

So perfect is her beauty's high estate

That mortal spirit swoons and falls prostrate

Before her glory. And she is so noble:

If I uplift to her my inward eye,

My soul is startled as if death were nigh.

Cavalcanti says:

Round you are flowers, is the tender green,The sun is not as bright as your dear face,All nature in her glorious summer-sheenHas not so fair and beautiful a place,It pales beside you. Earth has never seenA thing so full of loveliness and grace.

Round you are flowers, is the tender green,

The sun is not as bright as your dear face,

All nature in her glorious summer-sheen

Has not so fair and beautiful a place,

It pales beside you. Earth has never seen

A thing so full of loveliness and grace.

The perfection which the mere presence of the beloved was supposed to bestow on the lover, is here conceived more broadly and freely; not only the lover, but all men are touched and transfigured by her appearance. The sentiment of the lover aspired to become objective truth. This was an important stage on the road from the spiritual to the deifying love, which I have called metaphysical eroticism. Another rung of the ladder of evolution had been climbed—the mistress had become queen of the world and goddess, a being enthroned by the side of God. I will again quote Guinicelli:

Ever as she walks she has a sober grace,Making bold men abashed and good men glad,If she delight thee not, thy heart must err,No man dare look on her, his thoughts being base;Nay, let me say even more than I have said,No man could think base thoughts who looked on her.(D.G. Rossetti.)

Ever as she walks she has a sober grace,

Making bold men abashed and good men glad,

If she delight thee not, thy heart must err,

No man dare look on her, his thoughts being base;

Nay, let me say even more than I have said,

No man could think base thoughts who looked on her.

(D.G. Rossetti.)

The same poet in his canzone,Al Cor Gentilsays:

"She shines on us as God shines on His angels."

When madonna dies the angels receive her, rejoicing that she has joined them. The Provençal, Pons of Capduelh, anticipated Dante:

And now we know that the celestial choirSings songs of jubilee at her releaseFrom this dull earth; I heard and am at rest;Who praise His hosts, praise the Eternal Sire.I know she is in Heaven with the blest,'Midst flow'rs whose glory time can never dimSinging God's praise, and blest by seraphim.Nought but the truth from my glad lips shall fall,In Heaven she is, enthroned above all.

And now we know that the celestial choir

Sings songs of jubilee at her release

From this dull earth; I heard and am at rest;

Who praise His hosts, praise the Eternal Sire.

I know she is in Heaven with the blest,

'Midst flow'rs whose glory time can never dim

Singing God's praise, and blest by seraphim.

Nought but the truth from my glad lips shall fall,

In Heaven she is, enthroned above all.

Folquet of Romans wrote a letter to his beloved, in which he said amongst other things:

Kneeling in church before God's face,—A sinner to beseech His grace,—And for my sins to make amends,—'Twas you to whom I raised my hands;Your loveliness alone was there,My soul knew only of one pray'r.I fancied "Our Father" framedMy trembling lips, when they exclaimedExultant at His sacred shrine:Oh! Lady! All my soul is thine!Lady, you have bewitched me with your beauty,That God I have forgotten and myself.

Kneeling in church before God's face,

—A sinner to beseech His grace,—

And for my sins to make amends,—

'Twas you to whom I raised my hands;

Your loveliness alone was there,

My soul knew only of one pray'r.

I fancied "Our Father" framed

My trembling lips, when they exclaimed

Exultant at His sacred shrine:

Oh! Lady! All my soul is thine!

Lady, you have bewitched me with your beauty,That God I have forgotten and myself.

Lady, you have bewitched me with your beauty,

That God I have forgotten and myself.

Cino da Pistoia wrote the following commendatory prayer:

Into thy hands, sweet lady of my soul,The spirit that is dying I commend;And which departs so sorrowful that LoveViews it with pity, while dismissing it.By you to His dominion it was bound,So firmly, that it since hath had no powerTo call on Him but thus: Oh, mighty Lord,Whate'er thou wilt of me, Thy will is mine.(Transl. byC. Lyell.)

Into thy hands, sweet lady of my soul,The spirit that is dying I commend;And which departs so sorrowful that LoveViews it with pity, while dismissing it.

Into thy hands, sweet lady of my soul,

The spirit that is dying I commend;

And which departs so sorrowful that Love

Views it with pity, while dismissing it.

By you to His dominion it was bound,So firmly, that it since hath had no powerTo call on Him but thus: Oh, mighty Lord,Whate'er thou wilt of me, Thy will is mine.

By you to His dominion it was bound,

So firmly, that it since hath had no power

To call on Him but thus: Oh, mighty Lord,

Whate'er thou wilt of me, Thy will is mine.

(Transl. byC. Lyell.)

Lancelot, one of the great mediaeval lovers, possessed a lock of Guinevere's hair, which he prized above all the relics of the saints. When he parted from his mistress (whom he had loved not only spiritually) he fell on his knees before the door of herchamber and prayed as if "he were kneeling before the altar."

Spiritual love was obviously acquiring a religious tinge. The mistress took the place of God; her grace was the source of all joy and consolation; she led the souls of the dying to eternal life. God had yielded His position to her, she had stepped to His side, nay, above Him. With the curse of the Church still clinging to her, she had been remoulded by man's emotion into a perfect, a celestial being. The God of Christianity was in danger—would the new religion of cultured minds, the religion of woman (unwilling to tolerate any other God beside her) replace the religion of the masses? Was a reformation imminent? Would the traditional religion be transformed into metaphysical eroticism, dethroning God, enthroning a goddess? It is impossible to say in what direction the spiritual history of Europe would have developed if Dante had been merely a metaphysical lover, and not also an orthodox theologian; if instead of penetrating to the vision of the divine secret, he had fainted before the face of Beatrice....

The religion of woman and the dominant religion came to terms. This compromise was possible because the Christian pantheon included a female deity who, although she had not hitherto played a prominent part, held an exceptional position: this was Mary, the Mother of the Redeemer. Froma.d.400 toa.d.1200, her rank had been on a level with the rank of the antique goddesses; now the new emotion enveloped and revivified her. The rigid, soulless image with the golden circle round the head slowly melted into sweet womanhood. In Italy this sentiment inspired wonderful paintings of the Madonna, and was responsible for the development of portraiture in general. The hold of the overwhelming tradition was broken. Rejecting the universal conviction that the historical Mary had resembled the Mary of Byzantine art, the artist, under thedominion of his woman-worship—which surpassed and re-valued all things—drew his inspiration from the fulness of life. I do not agree with Thode that we are indebted to the legend of St. Francis for the modern soulful and highly individualised art. Its source must have been the strongest feeling of the most cultured minds, and that was undoubtedly spiritual love. The Jesuit Beissel wrote with deep regret: "Every master almost formed his own conception of Mary, but in such a way that the hieratic severity of earlier times disappeared but slowly." And he continued: "It is true, the artists' models were the noble ladies of their period; not only on account of their kindly smiling faces, but also on account of the charming coquetry with which their hands drew their cloaks across the bosom." And the art-historian, Male, says: "It is a remarkable fact that in the thirteenth century the legend, or the story, of the Virgin Mary was depicted on the doors of all our (i.e., French) cathedrals."

The difference between the Catholic and the Protestant world-principles is strongly marked in this connection. Catholicism with its striving for absolute uniformity, acknowledging no individual differences, but eager to shape all life and all doctrines in harmony with one definite ideal, very consistently pronounced one single, historical woman to be divine, and made her the object of universal worship. This dogma had to be rigid, immutable, and almost meaningless. Again, the historic and pagan principle of Catholicism was maintained; a unique event in the history of the world was immortalised and systematised and all new religious conceptions were excluded. Catholicism invariably places all really important events in the past, even in a quite definite period of the past, a period unassailable by historical criticism. But with the commencement of individual intellectual life the uniform, ecclesiastical image of the Madonna gradually gained life and individuality.Just as according to Protestant teaching every soul must establish its individual relationship with God (which is subject to change because individuality is not excluded as it is in Catholicism), so the imaginative emotionalist created his own Queen of Heaven. Frequently he was still under the impression—this was especially the case with monks—that he was worshipping the ecclesiastical deity, when he had long been praying to a metaphysical conception of his own. The great Italian art since the fourteenth century, as well as the Neo-Latin and German cults of the Virgin Mary were, though apparently still orthodox, in their innermost essence the outcome of a personal desire for love, and had therefore abandoned the teaching of the Church and become Protestant. The fact that the so-called Protestant Church looked askance at Mary, and that the rather coarse-minded Luther said, in his annoyance: "Popery has made a goddess of Mary, and is therefore guilty of idolatry," does not contradict my statement. The true Queen of Heaven was a conception of the artist and lover, incomprehensible to those who were only thinkers and moralists.

Through the legitimation of a divine woman open enmity between the religion of woman and the religion of the Church was avoided. A woman had stepped between God and humanity as mediator, intercessor and redeemer. Every metaphysically-loving soul could conceive her as it pleased, could love her and pray to her without being a heretic and worshipper of the devil. Matfre had complained that men

Abandoned in her beauty revelAnd unawares adore the devil.—

Abandoned in her beauty revel

And unawares adore the devil.—

but now a means had been found to adore the beloved, and yet remain faithful to God. Once in a way it was remembered that the adored, strictly speaking, was the Mother of God—if for no other reason, for fear of the Inquisition which the Dominicans had foundedand placed under the special patronage of Mary—her bodyguard as it were, defending her from the onslaught of minds all too worldly. Very rarely the adored earthly woman was identified with the official Queen of Heaven—(this may have been done occasionally by monks); sometimes as in the case of Michelangelo and Guinicelli, the beloved was the sole goddess; other poets, among whom we may include Dante and Goethe, conceived her as enthroned by the side of Mary.

At this point I must interrupt my argument, and briefly sketch the position occupied by Mary in the western world from the dawn of Christianity.

(b) The Queen of Heaven.

During the first two hundred years Mary did not occupy a prominent place in the Christian communities; even in the fourth century she was still regarded as a human woman and denied divinity by St. Chrysostom, who reproached her with vainglory. But in proportion as Christ transcended humanity, and was more dogmatically and formally interpreted by the Church—more especially the Greek Church—the desire for a mediator between the wrathful Deity and sinful humanity grew more pronounced, a mediator who, although a human being, could be endowed after the manner of the ancient demi-gods with super-human virtues. The Mother of the Saviour gradually assumed this position. She had been an earthly woman, born of earthly parents, and would be able to understand human needs and wishes, and she had become the Mother of God. Would not her intercession have weight with the Son of God? Simultaneously with the growing recognition of asceticism, the doctrine of the immaculate conception gained ground; in the course of time this moment was more and more emphasised, and virginity was set up as an ideal.

St. Athanasius (fourth century) had written: "What God did to Mary is the glory of all virgins; for they are attached as virginal saplings to her who is the root." At the close of the fourth century a long and bitter controversy arose over the question as to whether Mary had remained a virgin after the birth of Jesus. St. Ambrose, St. Jerome and St. Augustine were in favour of this new doctrine. St. Ambrose, the founder of Western music, was the first to praise her perfection in the Latin tongue, and St. Augustine in his treatiseDe Natura et Gratia, maintained that she was the only human being born without original sin. This was the first important step towards the stripping of the Saviour's mother of her humanity, and establishing her as a divine being. St. Irenaeus contrasted Eve, the bringer of sin, with Mary, the second Eve, the bringer of salvation, and St. Ambrose said: "From Eve we inherited damnation through the fruit of the tree; but Mary has brought us salvation through the gift of the tree, for Christ too, hung on the tree like a fruit."

Hitherto Mary had not been worshipped; all prayers had been addressed to God and to Christ. The idea of approaching her in prayer appeared for the first time in a pamphlet entitled "On the Death of Mary," written about the end of the fourth century, and Gregory of Nazianz pictured Mary in Heaven, caring for the welfare of humanity. The fourth and fifth centuries produced the first hymns to the Virgin, written in Syriac; but orthodox bishops objected to her deification; St. Epiphanus (end of fourth century) said: "Let us honour Mary by all means, but let us worship only the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost."

This was the position of the evangelical and historical Mary before the famous and decisive Council of Ephesus.

There is a very important fact which must not be overlooked. All the nations dwelling on the shores ofthe Mediterranean, Semites, and Egyptians, as well as Greeks and Romans, had been accustomed to the worship of female deities. In the minds of the ancient peoples, woman, the symbol of sex, had always been endowed with qualities of magic and mystery. There was something supernatural in her power of bringing forth a living specimen of the race, and in all cults the maternal woman occupied a very important position. Had Christianity suddenly destroyed this ancient and natural need? We know that the Church had assimilated a great number of antique superstitions; nor were the female deities sacrificed. The great Asiatic Mothers had not been forgotten; the very ancient Babylonian Istar (Astarte), Rhea Kybele of Asia Minor, and above all the Egyptian Isis, still lived in the heart of man,—subconsciously, probably—as lofty, sacred memories, but nevertheless influencing his life. The Egyptian Isis with Horus in her lap is the direct model of the Madonna with the Child. She represented earth, bringing forth fruit without fertilisation. "This religious custom (the worship of Isis)," says Flinders Petrie, "exerted a powerful influence on nascent Christianity. It is not too much to say that without the Egyptians we should have had no Madonna in our creed. The cult of Isis was widely spread at the time of the first emperors, when it was fashionable all over the Roman Empire; when later on it merged into that other great religious movement, and fashion and conviction could be combined, its triumph was assured."

Advancing Christianity had depopulated the national pantheon. There must have been a great sense of loss, especially among the lower classes, and it does not require much psychological insight to realise that it was the lack of female deities which more especially roused a feeling of anxiety and distress. The masses were yearning for a goddess, and it was at Ephesus, the classical seat of the hundred-breasted Diana, that the stolen divinity wasrestored to them. The theologians were divided into three camps. While some of them regarded Mary merely as "the mother of man" others acknowledged her as the "Mother of God," and Nestorius suggested as a compromise the title "Mother of Christ." At the synod of Alexandria, in the year of grace 430, and at the council of Ephesus in 431, Nestorius was found guilty of blasphemy and deprived of his bishopric. Henceforth Mary was Θεοτὁχοϛ, the "Mother of God," and her worship was sanctioned by the Church. "Through Thee the Holy Trinity has been glorified," exclaimed Cyril joyfully, "through Thee the Cross of the Saviour has been raised! Through Thee the angels triumphed, the devils were driven back; the tempter was beaten and human nature uplifted to Heaven; through Thee all intelligent creatures who were committing idolatry, have learned the truth!" Loud rejoicing filled the streets of Ephesus. When the judgment passed on Nestorius was announced, the people exclaimed: "The enemy of the Holy Virgin has been overcome; glory be to the great, the divine Mother of God!" The highest authority in the land had re-established the public worship of the great goddess, who had for many years been worshipped in secrecy. The ancient paganism had triumphed over the spiritual intuition of the loftier minds. According to ancient custom sacrifices were offered at Mary's shrine; the second epoch of her history had begun.

In the East the worship of female divinities was older and more spontaneous than in the Western world, and thus the cult of Mary existed in the Orient long before it penetrated to Italy and thence into the newly Christianised countries. The Virgin, who for the first few hundred years had held a clearly defined position in evangelical history, had become an independent object of worship. Festivals were held in her honour; churches were dedicated to her; the will of the people triumphed in the litany; art tookpossession of the grateful subject. The tendency to make Mary the equal of Christ grew steadily. Metaphors originally intended for Christ alone were used indifferently for either. We constantly find her addressed as the "archetype, the light of the world, the vine, the mediator, the source of eternal life, etc." Finally she ceased being regarded as a passive participator in the work of salvation, as the Mother of the Saviour, and was accredited with independent saving power. John of Damascus (eighth century) first called Mary σὡτειρα του χὁσμου, and soon after she was styled "Saviour of the World" in the Occident also. With this the cult of Mary had reached its third stage, the stage which interests us; she had become the object of metaphysical love. But before dealing with this third stage, we must glance, in passing, at the ancient Teutonic tribes. They, too, worshipped goddesses and sacred women; virginity, a virtue not appreciated by the Orientals, here stood in high repute. According to Tacitus and others, the Teutons looked upon the Virgin as a mysterious being, approaching divinity more closely than all others. Thus there was here, perhaps, more than on the shores of the Mediterranean, a favourable soil for the cult of Mary. The characteristics of Holda and Freya, as well as their perfect beauty, were transferred to Mary, and Mary's name was substituted for the names of the old auxiliary goddesses. In the oldest German evangelical poems Mary does not yet rank as a divinity, she is merely extolled as the most perfect of all earth-born women. In the "Heliand" (abouta.d.830) she is called "the most beautiful of all women, the loveliest of all maidens"; and the monk Otfried, of Weissenburg (860), calls her, "Of all women to God the most pleasing, the white jewel, the radiant maid."

Mary had now taken her place by the side of God, and was commonly addressed as divine. Anselm of Canterbury explains: "God is the Father of allcreated things, Mary the Mother of all things recreated.... God begat the creator of the world, Mary gave birth to its Saviour." Peter of Blois declared that the Virgin was the only mediatress between Christ and humanity. "We were sinners and afraid of the wrath of the Father, for He is terrible; but we have the Virgin, in whom there is nothing terrible, for in her is the fulness of mercy and purity." The twelfth century produced theAve Maria, the angelic salutation, the principal prayer to Mary, which was introduced into all churches. The Italian Franciscan monk, Bonaventura, and Peter Damiani, were above all others instrumental in spreading the worship of the Virgin, and Damiani said of her: "To Thee has been given all power in heaven and on earth." The fresco of the Camposanto at Pisa, ascribed to Orcagna, shows the transfigured Virgin sitting by the side of Christ, not below Him. The numerous legends in which Mary, often regardless of justice and propriety, delivers her faithful worshippers from all manner of dangers, were written during the same period. One of the most famous of these is the legend of Theophilus, the forerunner of Faust. In a German version (by Brun of Schönebeck) dating from the thirteenth century, Theophilus abjures God and all things divine, with the sole exception of Mary, wherefore she saves him from eternal damnation. This poem therefore shows us Mary as absolutely opposed to God.

We have now arrived at the third stage of the cult of Mary; the new, spiritual love, translated into metaphysics, was projected on her; she was approached by her worshippers with the ardent love which hitherto had been the prerogative of earthly women. The two currents, the one arising in ecclesiastical tradition, and the other in the soul of the metaphysical lover, had met; the genuine spiritual cult of Mary was the creation of the great metaphysical lovers, who existed not only in the twelfth andthirteenth centuries, but are met not infrequently later on; man's irresistible need to raise woman above him and worship her, created the true Madonna, for whose sake romantic souls of all times have "returned home" into the fold of the Church, the true Madonna who at heart is alien to the principles of the Church, but is re-born daily in the soul of the metaphysical lover. The hierarchy knew how to take advantage of and control this adoring love; the metaphysical lover raised his mistress above humanity and prayed before her shrine; religion said: "The celestial woman whom you may lovingly adore is here, with me. All you have to do is to call her by the name I have given her, and the kingdom of Heaven will be yours."

But on the other hand Mary represents to-day, and doubtless will do for a long time to come, a dogmatically acknowledged deity, recognised by the spirit of Protestantism as a remnant of Paganism, and duly detested; the masses in Italy and Spain pray to-day to her image, as in bygone days the masses prayed to the images in Greek and Roman temples. This goddess is unchanging, and from the point of view of the psychologist uninteresting.

It is not difficult to understand why the two conceptions of Mary (more especially in the souls of the monks) were so often inextricably intermingled; circumstances frequently demanded a complete fusion. As late as in the nineteenth century, a romantic poet, Zacharias Werner, said:

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