Chapter XXIII (3)

The South of France, not as yet incorporated into the monarchy, but existing as a semi-independent state, and governed by the Count of Toulouse, one of the most powerful feudatories in Europe, was the scene of another great mediæval revolt of the human mind against Papal despotism and intellectual servitude. From a period so remote that its beginning is lost in tradition, that region had been the seat of a splendid civilization, at once the exemplar and the pride of antiquity. The Phœnicians had early established trading-posts on its shores, and had introduced, with the commercial policy and enterprise of their race, the arts, the learning, and the culture which had laid the foundation of the wealth and renown of Carthage. To the Phœnicians succeeded the Greeks of Phocæa, that flourishing Ionian seaport which, for dignity, elegance of manners, and erudition, ranked among the most famous cities of the Grecian name. Its principal colony, Massilia, exercised dominion over nearly all of the territory south of the Loire; a territory already rich and populous, and containing, among the twenty-five important cities subject to its jurisdiction, such great and opulent communities as Monaco, Nice, Arles, Nîmes, Béziers, Avignon. Unaided by extraneous support, the people of Massilia, in spite of the efforts of barbarian neighbors and jealous rivals, preserved their political and mercantile importance until their conquest by Cæsar degraded their commonwealth to a subordinate rank among the provinces composing the gigantic fabric of the Roman Empire. The policy of that great soldier despoiled them of their dependencies, crippled their resources, and turned to letters and the arts the restless spirit which had formerly been engrossed by the pursuits of commerce and the exercise of arms. Before its political annihilation, the colony of Massilia, in extent, in population, in wealth, and in intelligence, ranked higher than any Grecian republic that had ever existed, save Athens alone. Its possessions were not acquired by conquest. They were gradually absorbed through the imperceptible influence of superior knowledge, the example of prosperity and luxury, the acuteness of sagacious and aggressive rulers, the exhibition of magnificent monuments of artistic genius. Under the Romans, this region, designated as Narbonnese Gaul, was one of the most flourishing provinces of the empire. Its literary culture was proverbial. Its schools were famous. It is mentioned by Livy as having preserved without contamination the arts, the manners, and the laws of Greece. The ancient polity of Massilia is eulogized by Cicero as a scheme of almost ideal perfection. The philosophers of that city enjoyed such a reputation for learning, that the patronage of such of the Roman youth as were ambitious of the most finished education was equally divided between it and Athens. The first three professors of Latin rhetoric at Rome were Gauls educated at Massilia. Its intellectual progress was greatly assisted by the mercantile spirit of its citizens, whose faculties were developed and enlarged by constant and familiar intercourse with other nations. Its navigators possessed all the skill and activity of their Phœnician ancestors. Their vessels were seen on the western coast of Africa, in the Euxine, in the Baltic, in the distant fjords of Norway. Their factories and their agents were established in Germany and Britain. Their internal trade was most extensive and important. They traversed the course of the Rhone and the Loire from their sources to the sea. Every tribe in communication with those waterways paid tribute to their shrewdness and shared the benefits of their experience. The Greek language was familiar to the inhabitants of Gaul; it was even adopted and used by the Druidical priesthood, and eventually became the general medium of commercial and social intercourse. The dark and cruel superstitions and legends of the country were supplanted by the elegant and graceful fictions of Paganism; by the songs, the dances, the floral games, the pomp of sacrifice, the joyous festivals, which characterized the religious ceremonials of Greece and Italy. The existence of such conditions could not fail to exert a marked effect upon the minds of a people, barbarous indeed, yet highly susceptible to impressions which appealed equally to its imagination and its interest. Narbonnese Gaul, under the emperors, maintained the literary and artistic pre-eminence which had, from time immemorial, distinguished it among the provinces of Western Europe. The most copious, elegant, and euphonic of languages was still spoken throughout the various municipalities that formerly acknowledged the jurisdiction of the Massilian Republic. The capital was especially renowned for its philosophers and physicians; for its patronage of letters; for the refinement of its society; and for the number and excellence of its educational institutions, which, in the estimation of many distinguished Romans, took precedence of the schools of Greece. Imperial favor bestowed upon the Narbonnese province monuments whose perfection was eminently worthy of the taste and splendor of the Augustan age. Its cities were adorned with beautiful temples, porticos, and theatres. In the gardens were peristyles of precious marble, mosaic pavements, superb fountains, vases filled with flowers, and statues of gilded bronze. Sumptuous baths administered to the luxury of the populace. In the circus, the chariot race displayed a pomp but little inferior to that exhibited by the imperial spectacles of Rome. Aqueducts of colossal dimensions brought, for a distance of many leagues, the water demanded by the requirements of an immense population. In no portion of the Roman world have such a variety of the architectural memorials of classic elegance survived as in the district of Provence and Languedoc. From the magnificent ruins that still remain, we are enabled to form a grand but inadequate idea of the structures created by imperial munificence and Grecian taste which have perished by the neglect and the violence of thirteen centuries. After the Roman came the Goth, and then the Arab, himself at first but a marauder. By degrees, however, his nobler instincts obtained the mastery over his love of rapine; his predatory strongholds were transformed into centres of trade; and with the habits and religion of the Orient were introduced all the benefits and all the vices of its voluptuous existence. The Moorish principality of Narbonne was subject to the Western Emirate only forty years; yet, during that short period, the impressions produced by Moorish occupancy were so deeply stamped upon the mental and physical characteristics of the population that no subsequent revolutions have ever been able to entirely efface them. The practical genius of the Arab, which considered utility as the first and most valuable of all the objects of civilization, was again exhibited in the improvements applied to all the arts and avocations of life which sprang up in the track of his victorious armies. The Oriental principles of agriculture, with its painstaking tillage of the soil, its perfect irrigating system, its introduction of foreign plants, were applied with wonderful success to the delightful region watered by the Rhone and the Garonne. Many varieties of grain, including the buckwheat, originally brought from Persia, and which at that time obtained its significant name of sarrasin, were imported from Spain. The bark of the cork-tree, still one of the greatest sources of wealth to Catalonia and Provence, was then first made known to Europe. The boundless evergreen forests on the slopes of the Pyrenees were utilized for the manufacture of pitch and rosin. In every district, the breed of horses was improved by crosses with the best blood of Arabia. Innumerable articles of luxury preserved in museums and private collections--beautiful objects of silver, ivory, and crystal, damascened armor, and silken robes--attest the variety and excellence of the Moorish manufactures. The popular dances and other amusements of Southern France are also striking reminiscences of the Moslem ascendency. While Arabic literature must have exercised an important influence upon the public mind of Provence and Languedoc, no historical information has been transmitted to us relative to its character, and even its existence during this period is largely a matter of conjecture. There is no doubt, however, concerning the effects subsequently produced by familiarity with Moorish civilization, established by conquest and perpetuated by the aid of merchants and travellers. The learning, the elegance, the refinement, and the infidelity of the court of Cordova were carried beyond the Pyrenees. The writings of Averroes and other Arabian philosophers were studied with pleasure by the scholars of Southern France. That entire region was more Mohammedan than Christian and more infidel than either. The nobles adopted polygamous habits and maintained harems filled with concubines. A thriving trade in eunuchs was carried on with the Spanish Arabs, whose profits, it was notorious, were principally engrossed by ecclesiastics. A passionate love of poetry developed the troubadour, a most important factor of European intellectual progress, and the counterpart and representative of the Arab bard, whose improvisations had, from time immemorial, been the delight of the emotional tribes of the Desert. A language infinitely sweeter and more melodious than modern French, and exhibiting a strong similarity to the Italian formed at the court of Frederick II., became the vehicle of charming poetical compositions, which satirized the lives of the priesthood, recounted the achievements of the tournament and the foray, and celebrated, in graceful and rhythmic hyperbole, the beauty and fascinations of woman. This tongue, known as the Langue d’Oc, while indirectly derived from the Latin, owed, in fact, nothing to classic associations or influence. It was the first of the numerous family of languages and dialects of Roman origin which, during mediæval times, attained to any marked degree of perfection in grammatical construction or in elegance of expression. It is a significant fact that it only obtained a permanent foothold in countries once subject to Arab domination. It spread eventually all over the South of Europe. It was spoken in Valencia, Barcelona, and the Balearic Isles, whose dialects are now corrupted forms of the ancient Limousin. The productions of which it formed the medium were read in Italy, Germany, Sicily, and England. It adapted itself with such ease to the purposes of the poet that it almost seemed constructed especially for that variety of composition. It early incurred the hostility of the Church on account of the Albigensian heresy; and in 1248, Innocent IV., by a special bull, forbade its study to all good Catholics. The rapidity with which it was perfected, the extent of its distribution, the number of provincial dialects to which it gave rise, the richness of the literature which adopted it, and the suddenness and completeness of its extinction constitute one of the most interesting and extraordinary phenomena in the annals of linguistics.

The literary and social condition of Southern France was, with the single exception of Sicily, which bore to it a remarkable resemblance, anomalous among the countries of civilized Europe. Its population was singularly cosmopolitan; half a score of races had contributed to its formation; it had inherited the culture of the Greek, the Roman, the Arab; mixture of blood and comparison of creeds had produced universal toleration of belief and widespread and uncompromising skepticism. In its courts, its schools, its learned professions, Semitic ideas, traditions, and influence preponderated. Not a few Moslems had established themselves in the cities of Nîmes, Narbonne, and Toulouse, and the Jews abounded in every community which afforded encouragement to scientific attainments or facilities for traffic. The system of public instruction was essentially Hebrew; the faculty of the famous medical school of Montpellier, the successful competitor of that of Salerno, was at first principally composed of Jews and Mohammedans, and retained for centuries, amidst foreign conquest and domestic convulsion, the impress derived from the character of its founders. The closest relations were maintained between the academies of Languedoc and those of imperial Sicily and Moorish Spain. This intimacy was strengthened by the multiplicity of mercantile transactions arising from a constant interchange of commodities dependent upon a vast and profitable trade. The capitals of Cordova, Seville, and Palermo were better known to the people of Provence than any of the Mediterranean cities to the inland towns of continental Europe; now, great centres of wealth, commerce, and civilization; then, despised as semi-barbarous and rarely visited. The continuance of this friendly intercourse with Mohammedan countries, confirmed at once by congenial pursuits and by the powerful influence of pecuniary advantage, was portentous in its effects, and boded ill to the propagation of Christianity and the maintenance of ecclesiastical discipline. The succession of numerous forms of worship, distinct in their origin, unlike in their ceremonial, irreconcilably hostile in their polity, each asserting divine infallibility, yet each, in turn, overthrown by a new and more popular belief, was not favorable to the existence of any religion. Strongly attached to the cheerful festivals of Paganism, the inhabitants of Southern France had embraced the precepts of the Gospel with insincerity and reluctance. Their disposition, their traditions, the souvenirs of classic magnificence and beauty which surrounded them, all contributed to confirm the deeply grounded affection they entertained for the creed of their fathers. Nowhere else in Christendom was such a spectacle presented of all that is attractive to the luxurious, and all that is admired by the intellectual, as that disclosed by the life of the polished and corrupt society of Southern France. That entire region was subjected to the highest cultivation of which the soil, naturally fertile and improved by every resource of scientific agriculture, was susceptible. The cities, large and populous, enjoyed every advantage of wealth which could be derived from an extensive traffic. Béziers had sixty thousand inhabitants, a larger number than any town in England. Nîmes, Arles, Carcassonne, were but little inferior in size and grandeur. Every commercial device was familiar to the people. Their shrewdness was proverbial. Their trade was enormous. A knowledge of banking and bills of exchange, with many important fiscal regulations, had been introduced by the Jews of Barcelona.

Toulouse, one of the most beautiful and licentious of mediæval capitals, was the focus of this splendid civilization. It was the seat of the Muses, the home of chivalry, the goal of every devotee of love and of ambition. There the knightly adventurer sought distinction in the tournament and the tilt of reeds, martial amusements borrowed from the Moor. Thither journeyed the troubadour and the jongleur, sure of hospitality and reward in palace and castle, in the comfortable home of the merchant, in the humble dwelling of the laborer. There was crowned the poet, successful in the literary contest, two hundred years before the laurel was placed upon the brow of Petrarch in the Capitol at Rome. There were held the Courts of Love, where women argued and determined, with all the grave impartiality of a judicial tribunal, questions involving the laws of gallantry, their observance and their violation. The potentate, who, under the modest title of count, governed this great and opulent realm, enjoyed a larger measure of authority than most representatives of the royal houses of Europe. His family was of high antiquity, and its rank dated back for many centuries. The rich fiefs of Béziers, Foix, Quercy, Montpellier, and Narbonne, with their numerous important dependencies, acknowledged his authority as suzerain. Wealthier than any of his Christian contemporaries, he was more powerful in all the attributes of monarchical dignity than the King of France. His dominions included the greater part of the territory south of the Loire, and embraced the fertile and flourishing districts bounded by the Garonne, the Isère, the Mediterranean, and the Alps. He had achieved renown in the Crusades. His sword had won for him the principality of Tripoli. He had been an unsuccessful but prominent competitor for the throne of Jerusalem. In his public relations he was the soul of chivalric courtesy; in his personal habits a fastidious voluptuary; in belief a skeptic; in tastes a Mohammedan. The conspicuous valor he displayed on the fields of Palestine was, in some degree, neutralized by a moral cowardice which instinctively shrank from a conflict involving the dearest privileges for which humanity can contend,--the preservation of political integrity and the exercise of the right of intellectual freedom. Brave, impetuous, sensual, vacillating, and insincere, such was Raymond VI., Count of Toulouse, the representative of the most polished and dissolute state in Europe.

The political organization of the various cities and provinces composing the County of Toulouse presented a strange anomaly. Some were, in all but name, republican; their magistrates, under the title of consuls, administered the affairs of government, and were elected by the public voice of the people. The civil regulations of others partook rather of the nature of feudal tenures in which the most oppressive privileges had been relaxed or entirely discharged. But neither the feeble copy of the institutions of ancient Rome nor the barbarous laws of mediæval tyranny were sufficient to compel the obedience of such a heterogeneous population. The authority of the elective magistracy was frequently defied. The fealty of the great vassals was but nominal. The jurisdiction of the suzerain was, under various, and sometimes under frivolous, pretexts, questioned or ignored. There was no organized military power to enforce the mandates of the ruling authority. Enervated by pleasure, the people of Languedoc and Provence passed their existence in a constant round of intellectual diversions and refined sensuality. The martial sports of the chase and the tourney did little but recall the profession of arms, once the only occupation worthy of the dignity of the mediæval cavalier. Thus, broken up into semi-independent communities, destitute of military resources, and incapable of systematic defence or united action, the power of the Count of Toulouse was ready to crumble at the approach of the first resolute aggressor. The civilization represented by that power lacked the indispensable essentials of every permanent government,--loyalty and religion. Want of centralization, and a multiplicity of rulers, weakened the patriotic attachment of the people, and discouraged the growth of an enlightened and healthy public sentiment. National pride could not exist when there was no royal personage to whom all could appeal, no common country to exalt and defend. In addition to these serious impediments to durability and progress was added an absolute want of religious feeling. Numerous causes had combined to produce this condition. Comparisons of many forms of faith had exposed their defects and inconsistencies, and led to a general rejection of them all. The Crusaders had familiarized all Europe, and especially France, with the manners and religion of the Mussulmans. Hundreds of enterprising merchants had assumed the cross, much less for the piety it was presumed to indicate and the sacred privileges it conferred, than for the worldly advantages to be procured by traffic with distant, and otherwise inaccessible, regions. Their glowing reports of Oriental civilization had dissipated the remaining prejudices of a people whose intercourse with the Moslem kingdoms beyond the Pyrenees had long predisposed them in favor of a race held in peculiar abhorrence by the See of Rome. The silks and gold of Syria and Egypt appealed far more eloquently to the passions of the multitude than the genuflexions of the priest or the rosary and cowl of the friar. Even the sacred profession was invaded by the prevailing spirit of toleration, itself dependent on material interests; the inferior clergy dealt as brokers in the money of the East, and from the mints of bishops and metropolitans were issued coins impressed with Mohammedan texts and symbols. In addition to this extraordinary partiality for infidel customs, and the practical renunciation of the vow of poverty, which were calculated to arouse, especially among the vulgar, a suspicion of heterodoxy, the entire body of the Provençal clergy had become thoroughly debased and profligate. Those of high rank vied with the nobles in prodigal and ostentatious luxury. Prelates constantly abandoned the duties of their office for the fascinations of the chase and the licentious pleasures of intrigue. They travelled in state with numerous trains of ladies and attendants, the richness of whose appointments rivalled that of a royal equipage. The Archbishop of Narbonne kept in his pay a band of foreign outlaws who levied blackmail on opulent citizens, and who, protected by their ecclesiastical patron, defied the weak and disorganized civil power of the land. In every gay assembly where the song of the troubadour recounted the triumphs of love and gallantry, or aimed its satirical shafts at the failings of the priesthood, the bishop was foremost in laughter and applause. It was a common saying among the people that while the apostles were poor, their successors, plunged in luxury, “loved fine horses and splendid garments, white women and red wine.” The vices of the higher class, confirmed by the possession of great wealth and secure from the censure of ecclesiastical tribunals, surpassed, in turpitude and effrontery, the excesses of any other society then existing in Christendom.

The episcopal dignitaries were usually of noble blood and connected with the most ancient and distinguished families of France. Not so, however, with the inferior members of the hierarchy. The avarice, the extortion, the hypocrisy, the drunkenness, and the debauchery universally imputed to all included in that sacred profession had made it infamous. The prelates, indeed, enjoyed all that could be purchased or exacted by eminent birth, boundless opulence, and irresistible power. The priests, however, were nearer the people, and were taken from the lowest ranks of society. Such was their degradation, that it had passed into a proverb. The populace, by way of imprecation, were accustomed to say, “May I become a priest before I do such a thing!” Livings were filled exclusively from the ranks of the coarse and brutal peasantry, for no citizen of the middle class would permit his son to be disgraced by the assumption of the tonsure. Even respectable vassals recoiled from the equivocal honors of the Church, and the lords, who regarded the tithes as a portion of their legal perquisites, were forced to select as candidates for holy orders the most ignorant and degraded of their dependents and slaves. The rude manners and vicious tastes engendered by a debased and plebeian origin increased the hatred and contempt of the scoffing multitude. In some parts of Languedoc public feeling ran so high against the clergy, that priests, to avoid personal violence, were forced to conceal from the passers-by all outward evidences of their calling.

The Pope, long aware of the insults offered to his dignity and of the evils which threatened the faith of Rome, had frequently condemned in unmeasured terms the conditions which imperilled the existence of all religion in the South of France. Ecclesiastical fulminations, however, possessed no terrors for the blithe and careless inhabitants of Provence and Languedoc. The Papal bulls only furnished another amusing theme for the sarcasm of the poet. Interdicts, elsewhere so potent, in that land, alone of all those subject to Christian authority, were treated with derision. The pretensions of the legate of the Apostolic See were ridiculed in his very presence, and even the Holy Father himself was not able to escape the raillery and censure of those whom experience had made acquainted with the shocking venality and license of the Roman court. Every vestige of moral influence upon which rested public consideration for the clergy had disappeared. The churches were all but deserted. Latin, the language of the altar, had been discarded for the Langue d’Oc, the idiom of the skeptical and the dissolute. In many parishes bells had ceased to announce the hour of worship, for no one heeded them. The priest, intent on his pleasures, was only too ready to abandon the duties enjoined by his calling, especially when there were few to listen and still fewer to contribute. The revenues of the Church, greatly diminished, were diverted into channels entirely foreign to the purpose for which they had nominally been collected. Some were appropriated by the nobles, whose vassals had been presented to livings. Vast sums were squandered by licentious prelates in vices whose enormity appalled every sincere Christian. The greatest profits which enured to the benefit of the clergy were derived from the uncanonical and prohibited practices of simony and usury. No effort was made to conceal the existence of these abuses, and the ecclesiastical residence was generally recognized as the head-quarters of brokerage in bills and benefices.

Thus had the Roman Catholic Church, by the corruption and effrontery of its ministers, forfeited the respect of mankind. Its edicts were disregarded. Its lessons were unheard. The pious turned with loathing from the hypocritical exhortations of religious teachers whose lives were stained with every crime, and whose conduct presented examples of flagrant iniquity, which fortunately had few parallels outside of their profession. The reverence once attaching to the Vatican was sensibly impaired. While its policy encouraged the promotion of the humble, its authority necessarily suffered through the enrolment into the priesthood of men without education, refinement, honor, decency, or independence. Public respect could not be retained by a class degraded by servile associations and still subject to the arbitrary caprices of a secular lord. As in every community are to be found many individuals to whom religion is a necessity, so in the Provençal cities and villages devout persons turned from the ancient and discredited hierarchy to other quarters for the inestimable consolations of forgiveness and hope. Such conditions infallibly generate heresy, and the eagerness and unanimity with which heterodox opinions were adopted in that populous region demonstrated at once the extent of the evil and the necessity for the radical measures by which its removal was accomplished.

The centre of intellectual culture in Southern France was the University of Montpellier. It has been well said that the history of the faculty of that famous institution is to a great extent the history of medicine in Europe. During the early part of the twelfth century, Montpellier was the most important emporium of France. The trade of the entire country converged to that point. Its commercial establishments were upon a colossal scale. Its population was cosmopolitan. The conquests of Ferdinand and Jaime, the occupation of Cordova, Seville, Majorca, and Valencia had attracted to Languedoc, and especially to its most thriving city, tens of thousands of Mohammedan refugees. The Jews had long been numerous in that region, and were already conspicuous for wealth, intelligence, and power.

From that epoch dates, in reality, the foundation of the University. A school of medicine had existed there for nearly a century, but to the influx of Moorish and Hebrew learning must be attributed the reputation soon obtained by that institution throughout Europe. The majority of its professors belonged to those two nationalities. They brought with them the experience, the methods, the remedies, and the instruments of the most eminent and successful practitioners of the Peninsula. Many of them from time to time visited the colleges of Granada and Toledo for the purpose of adding to their stock of information, and of profiting by the superior facilities those schools afforded. A broad and catholic spirit controlled the organization and the policy of the University. Sectarian prejudice was unknown. Teacher and scholar were free to worship according to their belief, or to entertain and express the most radical philosophical opinions. Intellectual attainments and marked ability were the principal qualifications for admission to the Faculty.

The Lords of Montpellier, and subsequently the Kings of France, were the patrons of the school. They conferred upon it at different times great and extraordinary privileges. The rights it had enjoyed under the Count were confirmed by the sovereign. Philip of Valois, in 1331, by a special edict placed its doctors under the royal protection. Charles VI., in 1350, granted its beadles permission to carry silver maces as symbols of its dignity. The Duke of Aragon, in 1364, exempted it from taxation. The patents of Charles VIII., in 1484, transferred all causes in which the professors and students were interested to the jurisdiction of the Governor of Montpellier. The execution of legal process could only be made in the presence of the Chancellor. To the officers of the Faculty were committed the supervision and inspection of the apothecary shops of the city, in order to insure the purity of the medicines dispensed.

At Montpellier were performed the first public anatomical demonstrations of Christian Europe. The surgical investigations of the School of Salerno had been principally confined to the lower animals. Moorish and Hebrew operators carried into France the advanced ideas of Mohammedan Spain, which, in defiance of ancient prejudice and mediæval superstition, sought for the knowledge of the location and functions of the human organs in the intelligent and systematic dissection of the human body. In the thirteenth century, the corpse of a criminal was every year given to the Faculty of Montpellier for this purpose. Two hundred years elapsed before similar demonstrations were authorized by the University of Paris.

The Medical Academy of Montpellier inherited the energetic and progressive spirit of its prototype, the University of Cordova. It absorbed all the available learning of antiquity. It adopted the maxims and the methods of the great Arab surgeons and physicians of the Peninsula. Among its most celebrated professors were graduates of the School of Salerno. It utilized the talents and experience of famous practitioners of every country and of every creed. There the works of Hippocrates and Galen were translated from the Arabic, in which idiom they had been preserved, into the Latin, by which they were to be transmitted to posterity. There the learned disquisitions of Averroes, Avicenna, Rhazes, and Abulcasis were enriched with voluminous and invaluable commentaries.

A long and thorough course of study was required to obtain the title of Doctor. The office of Chancellor was one of great dignity, and carried with it many privileges. It may well be imagined that ecclesiastical imposture could not flourish in the shadow of such an institution. Such was its influence, even with a class naturally hostile, that as early as the last half of the twelfth century the First and Second Councils of Montpellier prohibited all members of the clergy from teaching medicine, under severe penalties. The scientific character of the studies pursued in that city, and the success of those who profited by them, discredited the practice of shrine-cure and the imposition of relics. The theological odium attaching to the University was not less than that which had stigmatized kindred seats of learning among the Arabian infidels. Many works of its professors were publicly burned by the Inquisition.

And yet no class of men was more highly esteemed by the orthodox sovereigns of Christendom than the graduates of the University of Montpellier. They were the friends and confidants of popes and kings. Their heretical principles were forgotten at the bedside of the sick and the afflicted. Arnold de Villanova was the physician of Clement V., of Peter III., King of Aragon, of Frederick II., Emperor of Germany. Guy de Chauliac was the regular medical adviser of Clement VI., of Innocent VI., of Urban V. While its greatest reputation is derived from its influence on medicine, the labors of the School of Montpellier were not confined to that science. They gave rise to many valuable contributions to various branches of literature. The astronomical researches of the Spanish Jew, Profatius, in 1300,--his tables of longitude; his calculations, which established the declination of the sun and the inclination of the earth’s axis, by means of which terrestrial motion was conclusively demonstrated, have not lost their authority in our time.

The treatises of Gordonius on Diseases of the Kidneys, of Gerard de Solo on Hygiene, of Raymond de Vinario on the Plague, indicate to the medical scholar the extraordinary accomplishments of the members of the Faculty of Montpellier. The great work of Guy de Chauliac on General Surgery was the main reliance of European operators for two hundred and fifty years.

The mad extravagance of the Provençal nobility, their lavish expenditures, the pomp of their retinues, their efforts to surpass in prodigality and luxury the splendid festivals of imperial Rome, aroused the wonder of Europe. Their chargers were shod with silver. Their dogs wore collars set with precious jewels. It was an ordinary occurrence for a wealthy lord to scatter great sums to be scrambled for by the populace. One sowed like seed thirty thousand gold crowns in the neighborhood of his castle. Another enriched his noble guests by the bestowal of gifts of incalculable value. A third sacrificed upon a funeral pyre, in the presence of an immense assemblage, thirty of his finest horses. There was apparently no limit to the intoxication produced by the pride, the opulence. and the voluptuousness of Provençal society. In that society differences in rank were not so sharply defined as in those of other countries. The serf, indeed, retained his degradation; but the ordinarily intermediate class of burghers were practically the equals of the feudal aristocracy. Many of them boasted a purer and a more distinguished lineage. They used coats of arms. They had their mansions, their embattled castles, their bodies of organized retainers. They excelled in martial exercises, and it was no unusual occurrence for knights who had crossed swords with the infidels of Palestine to be worsted by them in the tournament. The title to noble rank was thus to a considerable extent connected with municipal residence. In the cities all was splendor, gayety, courtesy. Outside of them, the inhabitants were for the most part condemned to villeinage. In the Courts of Love, whose absurdity has caused them to be regarded as mythical by many subsequent writers, judicial decisions were rendered on every point of amorous casuistry. The mock solemnity with which such matters were propounded and determined was only exceeded by the dissolute tendency of the customs that governed the proceedings of these extraordinary tribunals. No greater proof of the prevalent laxity of morals could be desired than that furnished by their canons. They encouraged the violation of the marriage vow. They defined with minute and curious particularity the rules of intrigue. The nature of the questions debated by high-born ladies in the presence of a numerous auditory was such as cannot be even designated, still less described, in a modern book. The brazen coarseness which characterized these ridiculous controversies afforded a remarkable contrast to the refinement of manners otherwise displayed by those who participated in them. The popularity of this unique system of jurisprudence was so great, that, at the time of the Albigensian crusade, it was on the point of being generally established in every part of France. No institution, even in those times of heresy and unbelief, was so fatal to religion. It undermined the vital principles by which society is held together. It defied the injunctions and ridiculed the dogmas of the Church. The Virgin, as the object of adoration, was supplanted by the mistress of the cavalier, often a woman of dissolute character and the recipient of the adulation of a score of favored lovers.

A charming picture of mediæval society is presented by the life of the educated classes of Languedoc and Provence. Everywhere was dispensed the most elegant and lavish hospitality. The table was spread before the open door of the castle. Marked attention was shown to the guest, whether merchant, knight, pilgrim, minstrel, or troubadour. He was welcomed with unaffected cordiality. He was tendered the use of the hot-air bath. A wreath of flowers was placed upon his brow. The ladies themselves ministered to his necessities. In accordance with a custom borrowed from the Arabs, the choicest morsels were placed in his mouth by dainty white and jewelled fingers perfumed with lavender and rose. The diversions of the day were feats of strength and displays of horsemanship, the game of chess, the chase with the falcon, the contest for the prize of knightly dexterity in the lists of the tournament. In winter, the company gathered about the huge fireplace of the banqueting hall; in summer, under the rustling foliage of the park. The evening was spent with song and dance, with the recital of the story-teller, with the improvisations of the poet. The feast was enlivened by wit, by jest, by sparkling repartee. The returned crusader related his adventures in the Holy Land,--the bloody encounters of the siege of Acre; the quarrels of the Christian chieftains; the events in which were displayed the dignity, the valor, the noble generosity of Saladin. The trader, just from the Moorish cities of Spain,--then, indeed, sadly fallen from their first estate, but still exhibiting in their fading splendor no unworthy image of their former grandeur and power,--described in glowing language the beauties of Cordova, Valencia, and Seville. Between cavalier and mistress communication was constantly maintained unobserved, through the silent and pantomimic medium of the language of flowers.

In this brilliant company the troubadour was pre-eminently conspicuous. Although often the butt of the equivocal speeches and practical jokes of his companions of both sexes,--attentions which he did not fail to repay with interest in the cutting satire of his verse,--his opinions, generally authoritative, were always heard with respect. He determined points of precedence and etiquette. He gave wholesome advice to young ladies on the care of their persons, on their behavior at table, on their treatment of lovers. His principal duties were, however, the glorification of the family of his patron and the celebration of the charms of his mistress. All courted his favor. Few were rash enough to provoke his enmity. In the society of Languedoc, whether the dependent of a noble house or a careless wanderer from court to court, he was always the central figure.

Among the inmates of the baronial palace, if an intrigue existed, it was concealed by the mask of decency. The poet, in the burning verses which enumerated the charms of his lady-love, never mentioned her name, or betrayed the slightest indication of her identity. His attachment he regarded in the same light as the tribute paid by a Pagan worshipper to his tutelary goddess. The laws of his code demanded impenetrable reserve. The object of his devotion was, to all appearances, an imaginary personage, an ideal of feminine perfection.

The highest development of splendor, taste, intelligence, and luxury was to be found in the feudal castle. In the cities, it is true, great pomp and extravagance, the results of the accumulation of incredible wealth, were constantly displayed. The mansions of many opulent merchants far surpassed in the magnificence of their interiors the palaces of the King of France. On occasions of festivity priceless hangings of brocade and velvet, of silken tapestry and cloth of gold, were suspended over the streets. The households of these powerful citizens were on a scale commensurate with the dignity of their masters. Hundreds of retainers obeyed their bidding. Their apartments were full of singers, dancers, buffoons, and eunuchs. There was no delicacy not to be found upon their tables; no means of sensual enjoyment which did not contribute to the stimulation of their blunted appetites; no vice with which they were not familiar.

Thus in the courts of the numerous principalities of Southern France, amidst the delights of a society gay, skeptical, licentious, the troubadour was the arbiter of taste, the oracle of the populace, the idol of women. Public opinion was far from discouraging the practice of gallantry in an age which scoffed alike at the maxims of social morality and the ceremonies of religion. The mistress of the vagrant bard was always the wife of a noble, not infrequently a princess of the highest dignity. To her was addressed his passionate homage, often in strains whose expressions are too bold and ardent for translation into a modern language. The adoration they convey, unsurpassed in fervency by any vows ever offered at the shrine of a celestial divinity, affords a key to both the influence of the poet and the relaxation of manners. The life of the latter was passed in an intoxicating atmosphere of music, flattery, and amorous intrigue. His power over society was not less important than that formerly exercised by the repudiated clergy, and was, morally speaking, fully as pernicious. The adulation he lavished upon the object of his affections, represented as the personification of every physical grace and every mental accomplishment, could not fail to fire the romantic imagination of the goddess in whose veins coursed the hot blood of the South, and whose vanity caused her to recognize in this extravagant flattery and devotion the highest tribute to her charms. Around the bard, in the brilliant circles of Arles or Carcassonne, was grouped a mirthful and appreciative auditory,--ladies in brocades and jewels, knights in burnished armor, pages in silk and gold. In that animated assemblage the restraints of rank, never rendered irksome by the exactions of pompous ceremonial, were for the moment entirely suspended. The conversation sparkled with epigram, equivocal allusions, and good-humored satire. Its character, formed by the dissolute customs of the age, often transgressed the rules of propriety which govern modern social intercourse. Inspired by such surroundings, the troubadour arose and began the recital of an impromptu amatory ode. Young, slender, and handsome, his physical appearance alone might well elicit female admiration. His long, dark locks fell in ringlets upon his shoulders. A golden chain hung about his neck. His fingers glittered with gems. From his belt an enamelled poniard was suspended. His picturesque costume of brilliant colors, his silken doublet, his velvet cloak, set off to the best advantage the graces of his person, and revealed the popularity which he enjoyed with his patrons. All eyes were turned upon him, for his talents were of the highest order, and the object of his admiration was present, perchance in the person of the chatelaine herself. As he chanted his verses in accents, now ardent, now pathetic, now humorous, the enraptured audience, swayed by conflicting emotions, broke forth alternately into tears and laughter. His ambiguous expressions, his licentious images,--whose boldness the severity of modern criticism would reject as offensive to decency,--were received with every manifestation of approval by his delighted hearers. The nature of the entertainment was often varied by the performances of the jongleur. That personage, who, as a retainer of the troubadour, occupied a position analogous to that of esquire to knight, united in his calling the office of minstrel, juggler, story-teller, and buffoon. Sometimes he accompanied the song of the poet upon the harp or the guitar; sometimes, with expressive gesticulation, he recounted the legends, the martial exploits, and the popular romances whose relation was a favorite diversion of mediæval society. His rank was ordinarily far beneath that of his companion; yet it was not unusual for the two professions to be combined; and there were instances when their positions were reversed through the vicissitudes of success or misfortune.

The extraordinary privileges enjoyed by these vagrant sonneteers were by no means entirely attributable to the amusement which their talents afforded. Their compositions were the sole medium by which public opinion could be aroused and the abuse of power and the excesses of social depravity restrained. The influence of the pulpit, long omnipotent in the regulation of morals, had declined; in some localities it had wholly disappeared. Centuries were destined to elapse before the press, the most formidable weapon of political censure, could become available. The satire of the poet, whose verses, carried from place to place, in a fortnight became familiar to a hundred communities, was recognized as the instrument of moral correction, the dread of the tyrant, the scourge of the shamelessly dissolute. Its potent effects were feared by wrong-doers of every class, and by none so much as by those of exalted position.

The fierceness and rancor displayed by the troubadours in their attacks upon obnoxious personages, in an age of irresponsible authority, can only be explained upon the hypothesis that they were encouraged and protected by the force of overwhelming public sentiment. Their poems were composed in the Langue d’Oc, the first perfected and the most important of the Romance languages,--an idiom of great compass and power, and beyond the Loire used by the educated and polished members of society alone. The finest of these productions frequently owed their origin to authors destitute of literary culture; many troubadours could not even read. They evinced no admiration of the beauties of nature. The stanzas were isolated, often absolutely without continuity. A common similarity of type and resemblance of ideas pervaded all. It is a singular circumstance, that in form and metrical arrangement the last poem of a troubadour was not, in any important particular, superior to the oldest, at present, known; there was no improvement in two hundred years. In delicacy of sentiment, in vigor of expression, in sweetness of melody, these compositions are not excelled by the lyrics of any nation. Their analogy to those of the Spanish Mohammedans is striking and self-evident. There is the same play of words, the same predominating class of subjects, the same far-fetched and extravagant similes, the same incessant obtrusion of the author’s personality. The Langue d’Oc contains a greater number of rhyming terminations than any other language except Arabic; a coincidence to be attributed to imitation or a common poetic taste, and certainly not the result of accident. In the productions of both idioms the prevailing rhyme is by distichs, and occurs throughout the entire poem, the second verse of every distich always ending with the same sound; and the meaning is often obscured or sacrificed to preserve continuous harmony of versification.

The taste for letters was introduced into France partly as a consequence of the Moslem occupation, but principally by the Jews, who remained after their allies had been driven back over the Pyrenees. The similarity of taste and expression existing between the poets of these two branches of the Semitic race is apparent to every one who has compared the Bible and the Koran. Many of the Hebrew colonists of Narbonne and Marseilles had been educated at Cordova, and all spoke the Arabic language with fluency. Not a few were scholars of marked ability, gifted with poetic talents, the possessors of large libraries. These superior advantages had great weight with a semi-barbarous people steeped in ignorance, with no mental resources except the interchange of gossip, and the exhortations of a priest, who often could not understand his breviary. The ferocious and intolerant spirit with which the Jew was generally regarded, counteracted, in a measure, the effect of his influence, but the power of intellect and culture finally prevailed. The Hebrews familiarized the population of Languedoc and Provence with the art, the science, and the literature of the Arabs. Through their agency an acquaintance with the Arabic language and literature became in Southern France and in Sicily indispensable to the education of a scholar. Another factor of great importance in the intellectual development of Southern Europe was the number of Moslem refugees who sought safety in foreign lands from the influx of African barbarism and from the perils incident to constant revolution. A large proportion of these were philosophers, whose high attainments had made them dangerously conspicuous, and whose heretical doctrines were obnoxious to the stern fanaticism of the Almoravides. Such an immigration could not fail to produce a profound impression upon the mental characteristics and literary habits of any people.

The intercourse of all classes of the population in Southern France was distinguished by every manifestation of courtesy. The degrees of precedence, the style of dress, the order of amusements, the arrangement of the banquet, were governed by established rules of etiquette.

Nor was this life by any means devoted to frivolous pursuits. The great hall of the castle was often the scene of debate between famous scholars and ecclesiastics. There, too, were performed the burlesque miracle-plays of the age. An expensive library was the pride of the count. The philosopher was frequently, the astrologer almost invariably, a member of his household. In the secret vaults of the laboratory, surrounded by crucibles and alembics, the adept sought for the secret of potable gold; from the summit of the keep the astronomer held nightly communion with the stars.

An inclination to dialectical controversy, inherited from their Greek ancestry; the subtle arguments of Arab metaphysicians and natural philosophers; commercial intercourse with the Orient, which familiarized them with the religious theories and principles of various heretical beliefs; and the corrupt and debauched lives of the clergy, which excited the universal abhorrence of all, predisposed the piously inclined to the acceptance of new forms of faith. Among the heterodox sects which arose in the early ages of Christianity, that of the Paulicians was the most numerous, the most popular, and the most enduring. Its tenets were partly borrowed from those of the Gnostics, but largely derived from the ancient Persian doctrine of the two antagonistic Principles of Good and Evil, ever contending for the mastery of the universe and the empire of mankind. The peculiar ideas of this Manichean sect had, from the first, awakened the apprehensions and called forth the anathemas of the Church. The mysticism which characterized them, the ascetic life which they inculcated, appealed powerfully to the superstitions and devout impulses which most strongly influence the human mind. From Armenia the belief of the Paulicians rapidly invaded every province of the Byzantine Empire, and then, following the lines of trade, made innumerable proselytes in Germany, Italy, Spain, and France. It gave rise to the Waldenses and the Albigenses, names of sad and ominous import in the religious annals of Europe. In no country were these false doctrines embraced with such enthusiasm as in Provence and Languedoc. Their adoption was not confined to the ignorant and the obscure, for many personages of the most exalted rank openly avowed their adherence to this dangerous heresy. Simplicity of creed and purity of manners distinguished the new sectaries from the subjects of the ancient hierarchy. They denied the real presence in the Eucharist; the value of baptism as a ceremony; the efficacy of absolution granted by a priest whose calling was not unfrequently dishonored by acts of the most glaring profligacy. Their ministers discarded the splendid vestments of the Roman Catholic priesthood for simple robes of black. They rejected the Old Testament, as inspired by the Spirit of Evil, because of the sanguinary deeds authorized by a superior power, which, by the extermination of populous communities, indicated irreconcilable enmity to the human race. Bells and images of every kind alike shared their animadversion. They advocated benevolence, abstinence, chastity, celibacy. In self-abnegation many of them exceeded the discipline of the most exacting of the monastic orders. They denounced as one of the most grievous offences against morality the practice of every form of lying and deceit. In their creed the sacerdotal office and the ceremonial of the Church were invested with no sanctity, and could confer no benefits, if not associated with honesty of purpose and purity of life. Their very existence was a protest against Papal infallibility and an assertion of the right of individual judgment. Their liberal opinions, their charity, the persuasive eloquence with which they promulgated their doctrines, obtained for them the respect of the nobility and the ardent devotion of the multitude. The name of the obnoxious sect was to every consistent member of the Catholic communion a term of peculiar infamy and reproach.

Throughout the region tainted with this heresy, which derived its name from the diocese of Albi, where its professors were most numerous, the authority of the Vatican was undermined or entirely destroyed. The habits of the clergy had prejudiced all classes against them. The churches were empty. Payment of tithes had ceased. Vassals subject to ecclesiastical jurisdiction refused obedience and withheld their tribute. In certain districts it was unsafe for a priest to appear upon the highway. The public exhortations of friars, whose extraordinary influence was now for the first time disclosed, were interrupted by shouts of derision and flying missiles. At Toulouse, the centre of the Albigensian doctrines, a renegade prelate, usurping the functions of the Pope, convoked at intervals councils of heretic bishops. The recalcitrant sectaries possessed houses of worship, ecclesiastical residences, cemeteries. The piety or fears of the devout bestowed upon their clergy valuable estates and great sums in legacies. That portion of the community which did not accept the new belief--which probably equalled the rest in numbers, and certainly surpassed it in wealth and social importance, infected with the theories of Arabic philosophy--was thoroughly infidel. Against such rebels the thunders of the Vatican availed nothing. Apostolic admonitions were treated with ridicule. Interdicts had lost their power. Even the Papal legate was treated with scant courtesy. The missionary efforts of Dominic, whose fiery zeal now began to raise him to eminence, met with signal and ignominious failure. The Church--menaced at the same time by this serious defection, by rebellion in her own temporal dependencies, and by the aspiring genius of the youthful emperor, Frederick II.--was in great distress. At no time in her history had she been confronted with such powerful enemies or been exposed to more deadly perils. And yet this beautiful land, now under the ban of the Papal See, had scarcely a century before been regarded as one of the bulwarks of the Christian faith. It was at Clermont that the first Crusade was proclaimed by the Languedocian Bishop of Puy, as the representative of the Pope. A hundred thousand persons from Southern France followed Peter the Hermit to Palestine. The famous Order of Hospitallers was a Provençal institution. A large proportion of its Grand Masters were natives of Languedoc. The treasure contributed by its people to the prosecution of these chimerical expeditions of Rome was far from inconsiderable. Such a radical change had increased intelligence and the untrammelled exercise of reason wrought in the minds of the inhabitants of the most civilized country of Christian Europe.