Part 5 (1/2)

Their mutual confidence is so strong that he is quite willing to have her receive any visitors whom she pleases, and she added that her true mind served him better than any safeguard which he could put upon her.

Awkward as such a line of conversation made it, Ulrich began to tell the story of his heart, and entreats her to respond to his devotion. She a.s.sured him that she had no thought of ever loving him; she had consented to this interview only to a.s.sure him of her kindly feeling, and satisfy him from her own lips that he must cherish no romantic hope.

If he continued to ask her to love him, he should lose her favor. ”I was horrified,” he declares, ”and started up at the threat.”

At this point in the interview he withdraws to talk to his cousin, who was with other ladies in an adjoining apartment, and who advised him to return and plead again. But an abrupt dismissal sends him into a moody reflection, which culminates in a desperate resolve. Now or never; he sends her word of his determination, and then rushes in and tells her that if she will not say she loves him, he will kill himself then and there. The lady sees that such a suicide would be compromising, and tries to persuade him that perhaps she may some time. Ah, no such coyness; she must confess her love to-night. Finally, as a last resource, she thinks of employing the usual right of a courted woman--putting her lover to a test of his devotion. He has already given her so many that a trifling, a merely formal one will serve now. Let him just get into the clothes-rope again and be lowered part way down, and pulled back; then she will say she loves him. A glimmer of suspicion flits over his mind, but she gives him her hand as a pledge, and he gets into the rope. Now he is hanging outside the window, still holding the dear hand, and such sweet things as she whispers, as she leans out--no knight was ever so dear to her; now comes his contentment, all his troubles are past now! She even coddles his chin with her disengaged hand, and bids him kiss her. Kiss her! In his joy he lets go the hand he was holding, to throw both arms about her neck, when suddenly he is dropped to the ground so swiftly ”that he ran great peril of his life.”[7]

In the rooms above a score of voices ringing with laughter, on the ground a too credulous child of Mars and Venus, cursing his day. Ulrich spies a deep pool and is about to drown himself, when his companion arrives with a little present sent by the lady. She promises--(the gentleman afterward confesses that this is a falsehood of his own to preserve Ulrich from despair)--that if he will return in three weeks, she will a.s.sure him of her real affection. But now it is near day, and they must hasten off; providentially there is a tournament awaiting them, which will distract his attention. But he sends his friend back to have a talk with the lady, who is in a rather humorous mood, and says that Ulrich made so much noise when he fell that one of the guard thought it was the Devil. But though she laughs, she evidently has had enough of such fun, for she tells the messenger that if his lord wishes her favor he must make the journey over-sea. Ulrich agrees to go, but he is warned against the almost hopeless dangers of that most formidable of pilgrimages; he is reminded that no one ever took such a perilous journey except for G.o.d, and that he would surely sacrifice his soul, if he lost his life thus for a woman.

But one grows tired of the story, which runs on with ups and downs, over the long thirteen years through which Ulrich served this lady. Toward the end of the period he was plainly growing impatient. He wrote more lyrics, which suggest here and there that devotion without love in return is foolish, and that he is contemplating a change. Finally he conceived himself treated shamefully (we are not told what the discourtesy was which he could not idealize), and he made a final break with his old wors.h.i.+p. But now the time pa.s.sed wearily, and he felt that he must still have a lady to serve. ”How joyfully once the days went by; alas, no longer have I any service to render. How happy ladies' service makes one.” But the knight has learned the lesson of his trials, and this time he arranges for a judicious pa.s.sion. He runs over all his female acquaintance, to see which of them he had best select. Finally he fixes upon one who, of course, is beautiful and good, and wholly free from change; who has finished manners and gentle ways, chast.i.ty and force of character, and to her he offers his service, which she accepts.

From this point in Ulrich's memoirs we have an increasing number of lyrics; he likes them all, but complains that one or two were not appreciated by the public, though whoever was clever enough to understand his poetry, he tells us, did appreciate it. Perhaps we are not clever enough to understand it all; but some of the songs, as he himself says, ”are good for dancing and very cheerful; the martial ones were gladly sung when in the jousts fire sprung from helmets,” and more than one of his poems is a contribution to the graceful though minor work of the later minnesingers. For example:

Summer-hued, Is the wood, Heath and field; debonair Now is seen White, brown, green, Blue, red, yellow, everywhere.

Everything You see spring Joyously, in full delight; He whose pains Dear love deigns With her favor to requite-- Ah, happy wight.

Whosoe'er Knows love's care, Free from care well may be; Year by year Brightness clear Of the May shall he see.

Blithe and gay All the play Of glad love shall he fulfil; Joyous living Is in the giving Of high love to whom she will, Rich in joys still.

He's a churl Whom a girl Lovingly shall embrace, Who'll not cry ”Blest am I”-- Let none such show his face.

This will cure you (I a.s.sure you) Of all sorrows, all alarms; What alloy In his joy On whom white and pretty arms Bestow their charms?

And again:

Sweet, in whom all things behooving, Virtue, brightness, beauty, meet, Little troubles thee this loving, Thou art safe above it, sweet.

My love-trials couldst thou feel From thy dainty lips should steal Sighs like mine, as deep and real.

Sir, what is love? Prithee, answer; Is it maid or is it man?

And explain, too, if you can, sir, How it looks; though I began Long ago, I ask in vain; Everything you know explain, That I may avoid its pain.

Sweet, love is so strong and mighty That all countries own her sway; Who can speak her power rightly?

Yet I'll tell thee what I may.

She is good and she is bad; Makes us happy, makes us sad; Such moods love always had.

Sir, can love from care beguile us And our sorrowing distress?

With fair living reconcile us, Gaiety and worthiness?

If her power hath controlled Everything as I've just told, Sure her grace is manifold.

Sweet, of love there's more to tell thee; Service she with rapture pays; With her joys and honors dwell; we Learn from her dear virtue's ways.

Mirth of heart and bliss of eye Whom she loves shall satisfy; Nor will she higher good deny.

Sir, I fain would win her wages, Her approval I would seek; Yet distress my mind presages; Ah, for that I am too weak.

Pain I never can sustain.

How may I her favors gain?

Sir, the way you must explain.

Sweet, I love thee; be not cruel; Thou to love again must try.