I recently finished the Medieval French poem Le Roman de la Rose, which is usually translated as The Romance of the Rose. It is the source of many images of courtly love that circulated in the Middle Ages, including the famous scene of storming the Castle of Love. It was written in two different stages by two very different authors, and so I have broken down my thoughts on the poem into two sections. As with many works from the pre-Enlightenment era, the poem speaks to a mentality that is very alien to our own in many ways, and can seem stilted at times. I readily admit that there is probably limited interest among most modern readers, unless they have an affinity for Medieval history.

However, I enjoyed reading Le Roman de la Rose very much. On the offhand chance that someone is interested, I have cited passages from the poem that I thought were relevant to my review, but any essential information from the passages is either paraphrased in the review itself or in a few instances translated. To have translated all of the passages would have taken a great deal of time that I do not have, and so they remain in their Old French glory for the odd individual who may wish, like me, to read them. This review is the result of notes made while reading and has assumed a somewhat massive character which will probably dissuade anyone from reading it in full, but I am going to post it online to save it, if for no one else other than myself.

I. Le Roman de la Rose, as written by Guillaume de Lorris

Le Roman de la Rose, as written by Guillaume de Lorris, is a Medieval allegory about love. It is a poem written in a wonderfully clear Old French with the standard structure of octosyllabic rhyming couplets typical for the period in which it was written, c. 1230. Sadly, it ends abruptly after 4056 lines, in mid-story, which lead to at least two different attempts to resolve the plot by later additions (see below).

The author begins by noting that the entire story was a dream, though this should not dissuade the reader from seeing value in the story, as many things that are dreamt of come true, though the significance of the dream may not be apparent immediately:

Car androit moi ai ge creance
Que songe sont senefiance
Des biens au genz et des anuiz
Que li plusor songent de nuiz
Maintes choses covertement
Que l’en voit plus apertement. (15-20)

In Guillaume’s dream, he sees a beautiful garden surrounded by high walls upon which are depicted the allegorical representations of vice and evil, notably Haine, Felonie, Vilonie, Avarice, Anvie and Viellece (I have left the Old French spelling of the names of Hatred, Treason, Baseness, Avarice, Envy and Age). The last in particular is not a sin per se, though it was regarded as an evil from the perspective of the lover. According to the footnote to the text, Viellece takes the form of an old hag in the representations on the wall because an older man was seen as a source of wisdom. In my opinion, that is a flawed and postmodern interpretation of what was likely simply an expression of the fact that young women were often guarded from their lovers by old women in the Middle Ages.

Finally, the author finds a small door, and a beautiful woman named Oisseuse agrees to open it for him. The name appears to be one that is intentionally ambiguous. The explicit meaning that the reader is meant to derive from the name is that it is an orthographic variant of oiseuse, which means “at leisure” or “idle”, though this also has the negative connotation of laziness. However, there are other words that it would remind the Medieval French reader of. One such word is oissir, which means “to exit” in Old French, since she guards the exit from and entrance to the garden. Another word that immediately comes to mind is oissel (Modern French oiseau), “bird” or its plural, oisseaus, as the author spends a considerable amount of time enumerating the varied species of birds that fly through the garden and sing a perfect melody in unison immediately before introducing Oisseuse. I believe the name is meant to evoke all of these connotations at once, as there is a great deal of word play in the poem, where often the same word with different meanings creates one rhyming couplet, e.g.:

Je le vous requerroie en dons.
Por dieu, sire, dites moi dons
Se il vous plest que je la bese,
Car ce n’iert ja tant qu’il vos plese. (3389-3392)

Just as dons is used in the first line to correspond with the modern French don, “gift”, and then in the second line to correspond with the modern French donc, “then”, Oisseuse is probably a composite allegorical figure. She is the keeper of the exit, she is like the birds that surround her and she is a personification of leisure and idleness (the last meaning being the primary one).

Inside, the author watches various graceful figures with names like Deduiz, Cortoisie, Franchise, Largece and Douz Regarz (Pleasure, Courtesy, Honesty, Largesse and what I would call a Kind Glance) perform a carol (round dance) in the garden. The author then wanders off, entranced by the fragrance of the rose bushes. The Dieus d’Amour, the God of Love, then spies him from afar and follows him. After the author has determined to take a rose from the garden that is fairer than the rest – presumably, an allegory for his beloved – the Dieus d’Amour pierces him with five arrows of love.

The author pleads for mercy as the arrows pain him but cannot be removed, and agrees to become a vassal to the God of Love, who will be his liege lord. The act of pledging himself to the Dieus d’Amour is an exact copy of the way that a real vassal would pledge himself to his liege lord, by grasping the liege’s arms with one’s own, making the pledge and sealing it with a kiss on the lips:

A tant deving ses hom mains jointes,
Et sachiez que mout me fis cointes :
De sa bouche besa la moie,
Ce fu ce dont j’oi greignor joie. (1952-1955)

The God of Love then instructs the author on how a true lover (fins amanz) ought to comport himself. It includes instruction on dress, behavior and thought, with reference to the Arthurian legends at one point, as was expected of a text on love in the Middle Ages. Much of the actual advice is a paraphrase of Ovid’s compositions on the subject.

The author returns to take his rose, only to be rebuked by the Dieus d’Amour’s assistant, Bel Acueil (which I would translate loosely as “Good Reception”) for his lack of tact. He also attracts the attention of the terrifying Dongier (I note in passing that the Old French dongier means both “danger” and “power”, which is an interesting commentary on the nature of power) and is forced to retreat. At that point, Raison (Reason) finds him and rebukes him for entering the garden, saying that Oisseuse is bad, and nothing but folly comes from love:

Fous est qui s’acointe d’oisseuse :
S’acointance est trop perilleuse,
Ele t’a traï et deceü.
Amors ne t’eüst ja veü
S’oisseuse ne t’eüst conduit
Ou biau vergier qui est deduit. (3003-3008)

The author then drives off Reason fairly quickly, and remembers that the God of Love had recommended he have a friend in whom he might confide. He finds Amis (literally, “Friend”), who reconciles him with Dongier, but Dongier refuses to let him in the rose-bower. At that point, Franchise, joined by Pitié (“Pity”) browbeat Dongier into letting him in. They also summon back Bel Acueil, who still believes it is improper to touch, much less kiss, the author’s beloved rose. Venus then appears and convinces Bel Acueil that there is no problem:

Car vos savez bien et veez
Qu’il sert et aime en loiauté.
Si a en lui assez biauté
Por qu’il est dignes d’estre amez.
Veez com is est acesmez’
Com il est biaus, com il est genz
Et dous et frans sor toutes genz
(Et avec ce il n’est pas vieus)
Ainz est enfes, dont il vaut mieus. (3444-3452)

(Note the separate uses of genz in the passage, as well as the way that Venus stresses at 3451 that the lover is not old, recalling the figure on the wall of the garden).

The author then steals a kiss from his beloved (who is still allegorized as a rose). Immediately upon doing so, Honte (Shame) summons Jalousie (Jealousy), Paour (Fear) and Malebouche (literally, a “bad mouth”, but I would translate it as “Slander”) to find out why Dongier has let his guard down. Dongier becomes indignant and raises a mighty castle, and poor Bel Acueil is locked up in a tower. As a result, the rose is a prisoner and Bel Acueil is a prisoner.

It is clear from statements made earlier by the author by way of foreshadowing that this castle was going to be stormed, the rose and Bel Acueil would be ransomed and the author would find happiness with his love before waking from the dream. However, the poem abruptly ends in what could be termed mid-sentence on line 4056. An anonymous author penned a short, 78-line ending that hastily wraps things up, but it is clear that stylistically this sloppy and overly quick conclusion was a failure. As a result, a generation later, Jean de Meun decided to finish the poem, albeit in a completely different style and with different ideas from the original story of Guillaume de Lorris.

One thing that is interesting to note in the original version of Le Roman de la Rose is that Reason and Chastity are on the “negative” side of the story along with Jealousy, Shame, Slander, Fear and Old Age. Guillaume penned a story that exalted irrational love and passion over the Classical notions of temperance and reason, as well as over the Church’s notions of chastity and reserve.

Why did Guillaume stop abruptly? No one knows exactly, though there are reasons to believe he died (see below). The copyist of the work wrote “ou pour ce qu’il ne vost ou pour ce qu’il ne pot” (either he didn’t want to or couldn’t [continue]).

II. Le Roman de la Rose, as continued by Jean de Meun

Because the popularity of the unfinished Le Roman de la Rose left readers with the desire to find out more, the aristocratic circles that enjoyed the original text seem to have had no issue with it being extended by Jean de Meun a couple of generations later, c. 1270. This second author created an additional 17,000 lines in what has to be the most oversized epilogue (relative to the original work) in recorded history. Not only did Jean de Meun vastly expand the length of the original poem, but he also took it in a completely different direction and changed the tone entirely.

The book suddenly transforms into a philosophical dialogue along the lines of a Platonic treatise. Reason returns to once again chastise the lover (calling him “the author” seems disingenuous at this point as the author has been changed). This time, however, instead of chasing reason off and calling on the powers of the host of Love to free Bel Acueil from his imprisonment, the lover not only listens to Reason, but begins to interrogate her, to the point where she complains that he asks too many questions:

Par foi, quant de proeves me charges,
Et d’essamples, ce sont granz charges! (5513-5514)

Reason takes the opportunity to hold forth not only on love, but also on other philosophical questions of the day. She attacks greed, and chastises youth for its indiscretions. This criticism of youth is in marked contrast to Guillaume’s contempt for age:

Par juenece s’en va li hons
En toutes dissolucions,
Et suit les males compaignies
Et les desordenees vies,
Et mue son propos souvent;
Ou se rent en aucun couvent,
(Qu’il ne set garder la franchise
Que nature avoit en lui mise) (4435-4442)

Reason takes a very cynical view of love, as something that humans and animals feel so that they want to procreate and continue the species. Reason also points to friendship as a pure and useful form of love, which leads to the extended criticism of avarice that is totally off point for the lover.

Jean de Meun is very eager to display his understanding of ancient authors and mythology, registering approximately 80 references to Classical authors and texts, which is in sharp contrast to Guillaume de Lorris, who made a couple of references but based his “dream” mostly on Medieval imagery. Despite this, Jean has reason spend some 200 lines of text describing the allegorical palace of Fortune, which was a popular motif of the time. This excursus begins with the image of the “Wheel of Fortune” that was ubiquitous in the Middle Ages:

Laisse la sa roe tourner
Qui torne adés sanz sejourner.
Et siet el milieu comme avugle,
Les uns de richoises avugle
Et d’onnours et de dignitez ;
As autres donne povretez
Et quant li plaist, tout en reporte.
S’est mout fous qui s’en desconforte
Et qui de riens s’en esjoïst,
Puis que deffendre s’en pouist,
Car il le puet certainement,
Pour qu’il le vueille seulment.
D’autre part, ce rest chose expresse,
Vous faites fortune deesse
Et jusques as ciels la levez,
Ce que pas faire ne devez,
Qu’il n’est pas droiz ne n’est raison
Qu’ele ait en paradis maison :
El n’est pas si beneüreuse,
Ainz a maison trop perilleuse. (5897-5916)

It is interesting to note that Reason says that Fortune “blinds some with riches and with honors and dignities”, following up on her earlier point that wealth leads to avarice. Jean seems to realize that he is traveling far afield of Guillaume’s original intent and does have the good sense to have the lover ask Reason from time to time what all this has to do with his particular predicament.

The introduction of the notion of Fortune leads Reason to recount the stories of Nero, Croesus and Manfred of Sicily, showing how each was undone by pride and hubris. Jean’s work, incidentally, is dated based on the statement that Charles of Anjou overthrew Manfred and was still ruling Sicily, meaning that the continuation was written prior to the Sicilian Vespers of 1282. Reason attempts to show that each disregarded the good advice that was given to them in order to show that Fortune was not as unpredictable as was commonly believed. Finally, at line 6743, Reason comes back around to the base story, implying that the lover’s kiss of the rose was an act of pride and hubris and asking if he thought he would kiss it endlessly with no reversal of Fortune:

Et tu qui la rose baisas,
Por coi de duel si grant fais as,
Que tu ne t’en sez apaisier,
Cuidoies tu touz jors baisier,
Tous jours avoir aise et délices?
Par mon chief, tu es fous et nices! (6743-6748)

Though I doubt I still have an audience for this review, Reason finally concludes her long-winded case and requests three things of the lover: that he follow reason, that he disavow the God of Love and that he refuse to reverence Fortune in any way. The lover replies that he must remain loyal, and also calls Reason discourteous for having used the word coilles (modern French couilles, a slang word for testicles) at line 5533, for which he already once scolded her but feels necessary to bring up again at 6925. This causes Reason to give the lover a condescending smile, after which she excoriates him for being uptight in an extended diatribe, declaring that she will call things by their names because God made Reason to say things openly, and further mocking the way that women use euphemisms to avoid saying, in essence, “balls”:

Chascune qui les va nommant
Les apele ne sai commant :
Bourses, hernois, riens, piches, pines,
Aussi com se fussent espines ; (7143-7146)

The one hundred lines of Reason’s response are a wonderful riposte to the overly prudish and their absurd sensibilities. Reason’s tone highlights the fact that Jean de Meun, unlike Guillaume before him, has decided to inject scathing criticism of foolish social mores into the poem and turn Le Roman de la Rose into a work of satire.

After conceding that Reason can speak as she pleases, the lover nonetheless dismisses her because he says that he cannot break his feudal vows to the God of Love, thus restoring the situation that Guillaume de Lorris had established. The lover then turns once again to Amis for advice. Amis, like Reason, is far more wordy in Jean de Meun’s expansion of the story than he was in the original poem. He supplies the lover with suggestions as to how to court a young woman as well as how to help Bel Acueil. The lover objects to his proposed solutions, as they all involve a level of deception. Amis takes a cynical view of love, much like Reason did, and says the only other way to rescue Bel Acueil and pick the rose is to engage in fole largece, or foolish largesse. He then explains how he himself acted in a spendthrift manner in love and found that it led to poverty, and when his money ran out, everyone abandoned him.

The real talent of Jean de Meun can be seen in Amis’s interaction with the lover, and it probably helps the reader to understand why Jean’s continuation of Le Roman de la Rose was accepted as worthy of being copied thousands of times in an era that did not have the printing press. Jean carefully interweaves his story with Guillaume’s original, drawing on the same personages who appeared earlier in the poem. He also subtly reinforces motifs that appeared before, such as having Amis’s experience with fole largece mirror the warning that Reason gave earlier about the false friendship that wealth creates. Finally, he leaves hints as to themes that he is going to develop further at a later time, such as when both Reason and Amis criticize the hypocrisy of monks in passing (see below).

Jean de Meun’s version also has a more timeless quality. His consistent reference to antiquity makes the poem seem less attached to a particular time. Likewise, he addresses various aspects of the human condition that have changed little over the ages. Amis waxes poetic for the “Golden Age” under the rule of Saturn. Another theme of Jean’s version of the story, it was reference to the castration of Saturn that first led Reason to use the word coilles which upset the lover so:

Joustice qui jadis regnot
Au tans que Saturnus regne ot,
Cui Jupiter coupa les coilles,
Ausi com se fussent andoilles, (5531-5534)

Jean’s theme is one of decline and degeneration. Saturn’s Age ended, and Amis regrets this. Additionally, like the archetypical single friend who laments the marriage of his friends, Amis proceeds to dissuade the lover from ever considering marriage. He first paints the picture of the jealous husband as something to be avoided, and then he makes this jealous husband present a very dim view of women, noting that they hide their flaws until they have gotten a man to marry them:

Mais l’en prent fame sanz epreuve,
Ne ja ne sera decouverte
Ne pour gaaigne ne pour perte,
Ne pour solaz ne pour mesaise,
Mais pour ce qu’el ne li desplaise,
Devant qu’ele soit espousée.
Et quant el voit la chose outrée,
Lors primes moustre sa malice,
Lors pert s’ele a en li nul vice,
Lors fait au fol ses meurs sentir,
Quant rien n’i vaut li repentir. (8676-8686)

Amis (speaking as the jealous husband) quotes Valerius and Juvenal and says that suicide is a better alternative to marriage. He also feels it necessary to mention the tragic love affair between Abélard and Héloïse, noting that Héloïse herself advised her lover against marriage. In an interesting parallel, Amis reminds the lover that Abélard had his coilles cut off, again using the word that caused Reason so much trouble, but in this instance without admonishment from the lover. The castration reference also again reminds the reader the Age of Saturn has ended. After finishing the story of Abélard and Héloïse, Amis adds that he doesn’t really believe that a woman that honest and virtuous really existed:

Mais je ne croi mie, par m’ame,
C’onques puis fust une tel dame. (8829-8830).

Amis continues, telling how Biautez (Beauty) and Chastaé (Chastity) hate each other, and how even Laideur (Ugliness) hates Chastity. According to Amis, all women, including nuns, also hate Chastity. This leads them to buy expensive clothing and jewelry, that they might engage in debauchery. This leads to the accusation that all women are by their nature whores:

Toutes estes, serez ou fustes
De fait ou de voulenté, pustes! (9159-9160)

Amis’s statement mirrors similar assertions made by Reason earlier:

Nus hons ne se devroit ja prendre
A fame qui sa chair veult vendre (4561-4562)

Neïs fames se veulent vendre,
Mal chief puisse tel vente prendre! (5149-5150)

One of Jean de Meun’s principle themes, the degeneration of society over time, finds its expression in his conviction that many women offer themselves to lovers who give them jewels and clothing, which he equates with prostitution. This is the essence of the fole largece Amis had mentioned earlier, which he also characterizes as trop donner (giving too much). It should be noted in passing that Amis at several points during this extended monologue mentions the Virgin, without bothering to stop and explain the logical disconnect between the blanket statements about women and the seeming devotion implied in the way that Mary the Mother of God is referred to.

After finishing the extended monologue of the jealous husband, Amis lets the lover know that he agrees with the husband’s statements but then advises the lover to be more tactful in his dealings with women rather than confronting them as the husband did. Amis tells the lover that women, just as men, are free to do as they please and cannot be constrained. Instead, a successful lover will keep his beloved faithful by applying more carrots and fewer sticks (to borrow a metaphor not employed in the poem). For this selfish and deceitful reason, Amis advises courtesy to women. Guillaume’s original story certainly lacked this sort of cynicism.

Amis leaves, and the lover, still as foolish as ever, seeks out the path of fole largece that he might quickly and easily free Bel Acueil and retrieve his beloved rose from the Castle of Dongier. He finds Richece (Wealth, though the Medieval notion of “wealth” is not confined to a monetary sense, but rather, implies a sense of “plenty” and “satiety” as well) guarding the path, which she refuses to let him embark on. She tells the lover that while she guards the entrance to the path, Povretez (Poverty) guards its exit, together with Fains (Hunger) and Larrecin (Theft). The lover, dismayed at finding his path blocked, finds that suddenly the Dieus d’Amour has returned to him, unhappy that he doubted in the God of Love’s power and spoke at length with Reason:

Et por foul neïs te tenoies
Dont en mon servise venoies,
Et t’acordoies a raison.
N’estoies tu bien mauvais hon? (10339-10342)

The lover pleads with the Dieus d’Amour that he has been faithful to his liege lord, prompting the God of Love to ask him if he remembers the ten commandments which were given to him, to which the lover replies:

…Voulentiers. Vilonnie
Doi fuir et que ne mesdie ;
Saluz doi tost donner et rendre ;
A dire ordure ne doi tendre ;
A toute fames honnourer
M’estuet en touz tans labourer ;
Orgueill fuie, cointes me tiengne ;
Jolis et renvoisiez deviengne ;
A larges estre m’abandoingne ;
En .i. seul lieu tout mon cuer doigne. (10407-10416)

These commandments, which form the heart of all advice the lover has received from both the God of Love and from those allied with him, can be translated as follows: (1) flee betrayal, (2) avoid speaking ill of someone, (3) promptly give and receive salutations, (4) avoid using obscene language, (5) strive at all times to honor all women, (6) flee pride, (7) conduct oneself elegantly, (8) be happy and pleasant, (9) abandon oneself to largesse, and (10) keep one’s heart fixed in one place (i.e., on one beloved).

The Dieus d’Amour is overjoyed at the lover’s response, exclaiming “tu sez bien ta leçon!” (you learned your lesson well). He then proceeds to call his host that they might storm the castle, whose owner he names as Jalousie rather than Dongier. The God of Love then states that it is up to the lover to write a romance about his efforts. This portion of the poem is very interesting from a historical standpoint because it sheds some light on the circumstances in which the poem ended and was continued by a new author. First, the God of Love names the lover as Guillaume de Lorris:

Vez ci Guillaume de Lorriz
Cui jalousie sa contraire
Fait tant d’angoisse et de duel traire
Qu’il est en perill de morir,
Se je ne pens del secorir. (10530-10534)

The Dieus d’Amour then predicts that Guillaume will die and be placed in a fragrant tomb, and that “Jehans Chopinel…who will be born on the Loire at Meun” will take up the poem:

Ci se reposera Guillaumes
Li cui tombliaus soit plains de baumes,
D’encens, de mirre et d’aloé
Tant m’a servi, tant m’a loé.
Puis vendra Jehans Chopinel,
Au cuer jolif, au cors isnel,
Qui naistra sur Laire a Meun,
Qui a saoul et a geun
Me servira toute sa vie,
Sanz avarice et sanz envie,
Et sera si tres sages hon
Qu’il n’avra cure de raison
Qui mes oignemenz het et blasme,
Qui plus flairent soef que basme. (10565-10578)

It is hard to tell whether Jean is praising himself or not when he put the words in the God of Love’s mouth saying that Jean will be such a wise man that he will have no use for Reason. In any event, Jean goes on to say that his continuation was written forty years after the original poem:

Car quant Guillaumes cessera,
Jehans le continuera
Aprés sa mort, que je ne mente,
Anz trespassez plus de .xl. (10591-10594)

Thus, if we estimate the original poem to have been written c. 1230, Jean’s continuation would be dated to c. 1270. This is in keeping with a date of composition prior to the Sicilian Vespers of 1282 (after which Charles of Anjou no longer reigned in Sicily). A second name is given to the book at this point, Le Miroer aus Amoureus (The Mirror of Lovers), after which the narrative resumes.

Richece leaves the host that is assembled because she disdains the lover after his attempt to take the easy road of fole largece without having the monetary wherewithal to do so. This, combined with the earlier statements about prostitution and the denunciation of rich presents, seems to indicate that Jean de Meun was insecure about matters of wealth, or that he sought to highlight the changes in society that were beginning to be felt as commerce increased and a bourgeoisie developed, or both.

One of the virtues in the God of Love’s war-host is Constrainte Astinence (Constrained Abstinence), which is not the same as chastity, but rather, the temporary restraint on the part of the lover in order to win the beloved more completely. As such, she is accompanied by a roguish fellow named Faus Samblant (False Appearance), who is essentially an embodiment of hypocrisy. He accompanies Constrainte Astinence because she personifies a somewhat deceitful tactic that requires a measure of hypocrisy to accomplish.

The God of Love then challenges him and asks him to honestly explain to the war-host who exactly he is. It is at this point that Jean de Meun has the opening to level his most pointed and devastating satire. Comparing himself to Ysangrin (also called Isengrim), the wolf of Medieval legend, dressed in sheep’s clothing, he proceeds to attack the mendicant orders of monks with savage abandon. He mentions the habit at the time of confessing to a traveling mendicant rather than to the parish priest, which often meant that the money which would be paid as a penance to the parish church went into the pocket of the mendicant.

Faus Samblant continues by reminding the reader that the first apostles did not beg, but rather, following the injunction of St. Paul, continued to follow their trades, so as not to take away from those who really were in need. He identifies people who have a right to beg – the sick, the mentally ill and incompetent, those out of work and those in serious distress – and says that monks can only take alms from their order if it makes enough money to support their idleness. However, Faus Samblant, speaking as though he were himself a monk, expresses complete contempt for the poor and a desire to serve the rich:

J’ameroie mieus l’acointance
.C. mile tans dou roi de France
Que d’un povre, par nostre dame!
Tout eüst il ausi bonne ame.
Quant je voi touz nuz ces truanz
Trembler sus ces fumiers puanz
De froit, de fain crier et braire,
Ne m’entremet de leur affaire. (11245-11252)

Faus Samblant says that he has no time for poor bastards, naked and shaking their stinking hovels from the cold and crying from hunger. He then remarks that it is better to be a mendicant than to be rich and powerful, because although the powerful rob the weak, the mendicants by donning their simple robe can fool both the deceivers and the deceived and rob both the robbers and the robbed at the same time:

Li plus forz le plus foible robe.
Mais je qui vest ma simple robe,
Lobanz lobez et lobeours,
Robe robez et robeours. (11553-11556)

The level of word play and biting satire has reached a peak in Faus Samblant’s extended monologue, which indicates that the topic was especially close to Jean de Meun’s heart. He also describes the mendicants as those who “have everything without having anything at all” by pretending to be poor:

Et touz jours povres nous faignons,
Mais, comment que nous nous plaignons,
Nous sommes, ce vous faz savoir,
Cil qui tout ont sanz riens avoir. (11679-11682)

The language is so colorful and filled with sarcasm that nearly every line of a nearly thousand-line stretch is worth quoting, and the reader realizes that here is Jean de Meun speaking with his own voice, making his own points and not bothering with the fact that it has nothing to do with the core story of the poem. This issue has touched him personally, and when Faus Samblant speaks, we should understand it to more closely reflect the new author’s intentions than anything else written in the extension of Le Roman de la Rose.

The God of Love is impressed with Faus Samblant’s “confession”, so to speak, and allows him to begin the assault of the Castle. The castle has four gates, each guarded by a Vice personified. Faus Samblant, accompanied by Constrainte Astinence, approaches the gate guarded by Malebouche in the guise of a penitent on a pilgrimage, and Malebouche opens the gate. As is typical for the Medieval psychomachia, or spiritual battle between Virtues and Vices, each Vice must be defeated on its own terms. Faus Samblant swears that he is telling the truth, only to couch his statements in a flurry of imperfect and subjunctive expressions that make him state nothing affirmatively at all. He shames Malebouche by pointing out that if he were friends with the lover as the lover thought Malebouche to be, he would not betray his friend. Finally, Faus Samblant offers to hear Malebouche’s confession if Malebouche is moved by remorse. Malebouche, genuinely repentant, gets down on one knee and gives his confession, only to have Faus Samblant cut his throat, chop off his tongue and throw his corpse into a ditch:

Male bouche tantost s’abesse,
Si s’agenoille et se confesse,
Car verois repentanz ja ert.
Et cil par la gorge l’aert :
A .ii. poinz l’estraint, si l’estrangle ;
Si li a tolue sa jangle.
La langue a son rasoir li oste.
Ainsi chevirent de leur oste.
Puis le tumbent en .i. fossé
Ne l’ont autrement enossé. (12365-12374)

Courtoisie and Largece then follow quickly in to secure the gate that Malebouche had been guarding. It is at this point that La Vieille (the old woman) descends from the tower where she was guarding Bel Acueil. She refuses to surrender until Faus Samblant tells her Malebouche is dead. At this point, she behaves as though an evil spell has been lifted from her and changes sides. She does not represent a “vice” and so she is the only character in the poem that changes sides in this manner without battle.

There is much more to her surrender than initially meets the eye. Faus Samblant, fearing that Jalousie has set traps on the way to and from the tower where Bel Acueil is trapped, has La Vieille take a crown of flowers up to him to lift his spirits. Faus Samblant further entreats her to tell Bel Acueil that she will help him and that his friends will soon rescue him.

The crown of flowers is received in much the same manner that a young woman would treat a token of affection sent to her lover:

Mout est biaus, dist il, li chapiaus,
Mais mieus me vendroit mes drapiaus
Avoir touz ars et mis en cendre
Que de par lui l’osasse prendre.
Mais or soit posé que jel preingne,
A jalousie la rienigne
Que porrons nous ore dire? (12693-12699)

Indeed, even at the time Le Roman de la Rose was written, it would have seemed an odd notion to send a crown of flowers to a friend as a means of letting him know he would soon be rescued from captivity. The crown of flowers is meant to let the reader understand that all is not as it seems. Earlier, Amis had given advice to the lover about how to make sure that even intercepted letters would not compromise a secret love. He suggested that the sex of a person in a written work could be changed, reading “her” for “him” and vice-versa.

The original intent of Guillaume de Lorris seems to have been that the rose signified the beloved, and Bel Acueil was a friend sent by the God of Love. Jean de Meun, by contrast, now lets the reader understand that Bel Acueil is perhaps the beloved, trapped in her tower by a jealous husband or father, which explains why the castle is referred to as the Castle of Jalousie, not of Dongier. Accordingly, the desire of the lover to cut the rose takes on a more directly sexual meaning.

La Vieille’s change of heart makes more sense in this context. If she is a matron who has been assigned to watch over a young woman and keep her from harm, she would be an enemy of the lover if bad things had been said about him. On the other hand, once Slander (Malebouche) has been destroyed and Hypocrisy (Faus Samblant) has lied profusely about the positive qualities of the lover, she would be eager to help her mistress achieve her heart’s desire and try to arrange an assignation. Faus Samblant has indeed extolled the lover’s virtues to La Vieille, comparing him to King Arthur and Alexander the Great:

Qu’il est preuz et hardiz sanz faille :
En cest paîs n’a qui le vaille,
Tant a le cuer plein de noblece
Et seuromonteroit de largece
Le roy Artu, voire Alixandre, (12667-12671)

The role of Bel Acueil as a young woman becomes clear in the long monologue by La Vieille that follows, as she instructs Bel Acueil on how a woman might better play the game of seduction. La Vieille begins her monologue by refuting the final commandment that the Dieus d’Amour had given the lover, telling Bel Acueil not to keep his (her) love in one place, declaring that the God of Love has lied in giving such advice:

Et qu’en .i. seul lieu le doit mettre :
C’est faus texte, c’est fausse lettre!
Ci ment amours li filz Venus,
De ce ne le doit croire nus : (13035-13038)

She then says that there is nothing wrong about lying to men or even swearing false oaths to them, stating that even God himself happily and quickly pardons anyone who has perjured herself in this fashion:

Dieus se rit de tel serement
Et le pardonne liement. (13129-13130)

La Vieille reminds Bel Acueil of the sad fates of women such as Dido and Medea, who gave all they had and trusted their lovers completely, only to find themselves abandoned. She provides practical advice for ladies about dressing well, the proper manner of behavior and table manners, many of which seem sensible (i.e., don’t take large bites, wipe your mouth, don’t let yourself get drunk). La Vieille also encourages women to marry rich, stating that poor men are worthless, even if they are Homer or Ovid:

D’amer povre homme ne li chaille
Qu’il n’est riens que povre hom vaille ;
Se c’ert Ovides ou Omers,
Ne vaudroit il pas .ij. gomers (13621-13624)

She adds to this advice that even so, a woman should avoid men who are concerned about their appearance, as these men tend to be cruel and deceitful. What follows is a series of suggestions that allow a woman to play many men off one another for the woman’s affections. La Vieille then shatters any notion that there is one person meant for each person in love, expressing a sentiment of free love that seems remarkably progressive:

Ainz nous a faiz, biau filz, n’en doutez,
Toutes pour touz et touz pour toutes,
Chascune pour chascun commune
Et chascun commun pour chascune (13889-13892)

The advice takes some very graphic turns at this point. After explaining that it is better to keep affairs quiet, La Vieille gives advice about making sure not to let a lover leave marks on a woman’s body that a jealous husband or other lover can see. She also explains that a woman should attempt to make sure that she and her lover both hold out long enough that they “reach their port” together or, if the woman is not feeling pleasure, she should feign delight so that her lover thinks she is experiencing pleasure over something she doesn’t “value as much as a chestnut” (i.e., not at all):

Et si a point, que il couveigne
Que li deliz ensamble veigne
De l’une et de l’autre partie,
Ainz que l’oevre soit departie,
Et s’entredoivent entr’atendre
Pour ensamble a leur bonne tendre.
L’uns ne doit pas l’autre lessier :
De nagier ne doivent cessier
Jusqu’il preingnent ensamble port :
Lors avront enterin deport.
Et s’el n’i a point de delit,
Faindre doit que trop s’i delit,
Et faigne et face touz les singnes
Qu’el sent qui sont au delit dingnes,
Si qu’il cuit que cele a gre preingne
Ce qu’el ne prise une chasteingne. (14299-14314)

This advice, which echoes what modern women read in popular magazines, is not what one would associate with the Middle Ages. It must have been incredibly scandalous for its time, which could only have contributed to the extreme popularity of the poem.

Eventually, La Vieille confesses that had she followed her own advice she would be rich. Unfortunately for her, she fell in love with a man who made his money cheating at dice and wasted her youth and beauty on him. He never married her and eventually their luck ran out, they became destitute and she became old. With that she ends her extended monologue. Bel Acueil thanks her, and she goes down to tell the lover that she will leave a door open for him to sneak in and secretly meet with Bel Acueil without Jalousie finding out, which Bel Acueil fears greatly. The lover praises La Vieille for helping him and performing this service, which is in keeping with the advice given earlier by Amis that a lover must befriend all the servants of his beloved whenever possible.

Going through the gate that has been captured, the lover praises Faus Samblant and Constrainte Astinance, though he then, out of nowhere, mentions to the reader that he knows Astinance is pregnant with the Antichrist by Faus Samblant but is willing to praise them both anyway:

Et dame astinance contrainte
Qui de faus samblant est ençainte,
Preste d’enfanter Antecrist
- Si com je truis en livre escrit –
Cil la desconfirent sanz faille.
Si pri pour euls, vaille que vaille. (14747-14752)

While this comment seems bizarre, the reader should remember that one of Jean de Meun`s primary themes is a degeneration of society, and so he obviously believes that the end of the world is at hand. Why the lover praises the parents of the Antichrist is still left essentially without explanation.

The lover rushes up the stairs and greets Bel Acueil and expresses again his desire for the rose. At this point Dongier confronts him, having been hidden in a corner, and Paour and Honte (Fear and Shame) come when he demands the lover flee. Reinforcing the role of Bel Acueil as the beloved, Dongier accuses the lover of trying to dupe Bel Acueil with lies in order to “steal his rose” (emphasis mine):

Fu ce de venir le lober
Pour lui sa rose desrober? (14878-14879)

Bel Acueil thought the lover came to offer assistance, but Dongier accuses the lover of seeking to harm the prisoner :

Il vous cuida faire servise
Et vous tendez a son damage. (14900-14901)

The lover calls out for help and the God of Love declares that the battle must begin to take the Castle of Jalousie. The reader can tell that Jean de Meun is loath to actually describe the battle, or for that matter advance the plot in any meaningful way, because instead of writing about the battle, Jean de Meun composes an apology to his readers, begging their pardon if his work seems inappropriate in any way. In particular, he claims that he has nothing against the clergy in general, obviously realizing that his criticisms of the mendicants in particular (under the guise of Faus Samblant) was effective and biting:

C’onques ne fu m’entencion
De parler contre houme vivant
Sainte religion sivant
Ne qui sa vie use en bonne oevre,
De quelque robe qu’il se coevre. (15256-15260)

The author then begins a battle sequence that by contrast with some of his earlier invectives seems lacklustre and boring. Franchise attacks Dongier, but Honte arrives to help Dongier, which follows Guillaume’s original story, in which Honte always causes Dongier to rededicate himself to fighting the lover and his allies. Honte’s interference Pitié to become involved from the side of the Virtues, which leads Paour to join the battle on the side of the Vices, which in turn causes Hardemenz (Courage) to fight Paour. Hardemenz cannot defeat Paour alone, and so Seürtez (Surety) joins the battle to assist Hardemenz. After a few hundred lines of battle, in which the swords and shields of the combatants are described as being built of component elements of their natures rather than of physical materials, the Dieus d’Amour requests a truce.

Jean de Meun uses the truce, which appears in the psychomachia only of Le Roman de la Rose, and not of any other Medieval text of the genre, in order to get away from the plot he so fervently avoids and allow him to diverge from the plot yet again, this time for a full five thousand lines. Venus descends in a chariot drawn by doves to demand the truce, allowing the author to relate the story of Adonis. After that, the poem turns to a philosophical study of Nature. The human condition is then described as the flight of individuals from the inevitability of death, no matter where a person flees:

Qui fuient pour euls deporter
Tant com piez les pueent porter,
Dont l’uns s’en fuit a la querole,
L’autre au moustier, l’autre a l’escole,
Li autre en leur marchandeïses,
Li autre as arz qu’il ont aprises,
Li autre a leur autres deliz
De vins, de viandes, de liz ;
Li autre, pour plus tost fouir
Que mors ne les face enfouir,
S’en montent sor les granz destriers
A tout leur seurorez estrierz ; (15927-15938)

Death comes to all, but even so Nature, forging life day and night, makes life itself like a phoenix that death cannot swallow. These qualities of Nature are then compared to alchemy, and at length Jean confesses that no man can accurately convey the beauty and mystery of Nature. Nature responds with delight but says she is neglected and has a confession to make to her priest, Genius. She decries the avaricious nature of mortal women and explains how they pry secrets out of their husbands that their husbands are better off keeping to themselves:

Seigneur, gardez vous de voz fames
Se vos cors amez ne vos ames,
Au mains que ja si mal n’ouvrez
Que les secrez leur descouvrez
Que dedenz voz cuers estuiez.
Fuiez, fuiez, fuiez, fuiez,
Fuiez, enfanz, fuiez tel beste (16581-16587)

Jean seems to feel a sense of urgency, because a few lines later one again sees a quadruple imperative, which prior to these lines had not been seen in the entire poem, imploring men to keep their silence :

Mais se preuz estes et senez
Quant entre vos braz les tenez
Et les acollez et baisiez,
Taisiez, taisiez, taisiez, taisez! (16661-16664)

Nature complains that of all her creations, only humans act against the Nature’s appointed course of things. She mentions the stars and planets in their courses, and the elements, and that everything has a time to exist. Human beings, however, often cut their lives short and mutilate themselves. She mentions the castration of Origen, once again reminding the reader of the original reference regarding the end of the Age of Saturn.

The five-thousand-line divergence is Jean’s attempt to hold forth on pretty much whatever idea he might have held an opinion on. From the woes of peoples, Jean provided his opinion on predestination, proposing that, although God knows all possible outcomes and actual outcomes, human free will is the factor that moves an outcome from the possible to the actual, thus refuting the notion that all decisions were necessary decisions, which would deny mankind free will and make all actions on Earth empty of meaning. The language is a bit less colorful, and the author has dropped even the semblance of tying the dialogue to the core story.

He wants to mention a magnifying lens, which he calls a miroer (mirror), so he throws that in for no good reason. Remembering the story of Venus and Mars, caught by Vulcan with fine ropes on the bed of Venus in their adultery, he offers the clever and completely useless observation that, had they had such mirrors, they would have noticed the ropes and made love elsewhere:

Se cil tels miroers eüssent
Car de la place s’en fuïssent
Quant les laz tenduz i veïssent
Et corussent ailleurs gesir (18086-18089)

This priceless observation is followed by the realization that even without mirrors they might have chosen a different place for their frolic, in which case Vulcan’s plan would have come to naught. Genius points out that Venus should have found a better lie to keep Vulcan from discovering her indiscretions, but then Nature thinks that it would be better to keep discussing mirrors, so she continues praising their miraculous powers of magnification. The power to burn is listed, though sadly no mention is made that ants in particular make good objects for burning.

The conversation moves on, almost in a “stream of consciousness” fashion, to visions that people see in extreme situations, and from there to a discussion of clouds and comets. The worth of hereditary nobility is called into question by the statement that the only nobility that counts is nobility of the spirit:

Noblece vient de bon corage,
Car gentillece de lignage
N’est pas gentillece qui vaille,
Pour coi bontez du cuer i faille. (18623-18626)

Nature’s complaint is then renewed. She again bewails that of all her creations, only man defies her. The sole solace she may receive for seeing them engage in numerous sins and transgressions is the knowledge that God will judge them and sentence them to punishment in Hell. Nature then asks Genius to go visit the host of the God of Love and aid them. He leaves her and when he arrives, the Dieus d’Amour clothes him as though he were a bishop:

Tantost li dieus d’amours afuble
A genius une chasuble ;
Anel li baille et croce et mistre
Plus clere que cristal ne vistre (19481-19484)

This act of investiture is actually the pretext under which Jean de Meun may continue to make various pronouncements, following the digression that began over 4000 lines earlier. Genius pronounces quite pompously that he has been sent under the authority of Nature to condemn and pronounce an anathema upon those who have sinned against Nature, excepting those who confess to him and seek absolution. He states that procreation is necessary to continue the species and condemns those who maintain their virginity, following the negative portrayal of chastity that characterizes the poem from its very inception. There is a sense that Genius only allows a grudging exception for those who have taken religious vows. Anyone else who holds to chastity should be wiped from the earth. Genius then decries homosexuality in a short but vituperative invective, filled with personal animus. This denunciation, when read together with Jean’s contemptuous remarks on the mendicant orders, leads the reader to wonder whether he had been the object of the unwanted attention of a Franciscan brother somewhere.

After this, Genius exhorts the reading of Le Roman de la Rose and the free exchange of love. If lovers keep free of the Vices, they will merit the entry into heaven, which is allegorized as a park in which the Lamb of God resides. This paradise is compared to the earthly paradise under Saturn, which the author apparently prefers to the Biblical paradise of Eden in his allegory:

Tel k’ainc en printans pardurable
Si bel ne vit ne si pur nus,
Neïs quant regnoit Saturnus
Qui tenoit les dorez aages (20034-20037)

This park is compared to the garden where the poem takes place, and in all instances the garden is found lacking. Genius takes care to point out that the paradise of the Lamb is round, not square like the garden, and that in it is a fountain of eternal life, unlike the perilous fountain that Guillaume mentioned as being the downfall of Narcissus in the first part of Le Roman de la Rose. Furthermore, the fountain from Guillaume’s portion was under a pine tree, from which coffins were traditionally made, whereas the fountain of life in the paradise of the Lamb is in the shade of an olive tree, which symbolizes life.

Finally, at line 20709, the author returns to the battle and the siege of the castle. At this point Venus herself has joined the side of the Virtues, and she declares that she will destroy the castle and let all the roses be cut, and she professes her hatred for both Honte and Raison, Honte’s mother:

Certes, honte, ja n’ameré
Ne vous ne raisons vostre mere
Qui tant est as amanz amere :
Qui vostre mere et vous creroit,
Jamais par amours n’ameroit. (20782-20786)

Venus takes aim with her bow and spots a beautiful statue through an arrowslit, which allows Jean his last digression, mirroring Guillaume’s story of the destructive unnatural love of Narcissus with the unnatural love of Pygmalion (Pymalyon as Jean spells it). However, because Pygmalion begged Venus to have mercy on him and deliver him from his chastity, the statue became real. Jean reminds the reader that their descendants include Myrrha, whose unnatural and incestuous love led to her being transformed into a myrrh tree.

Returning to the main story, Venus shoots a flaming arrow into the castle and it starts to burn, causing all its defenders to abandon it. Thus, the conclusion of the assault, which was delayed for over 5000 lines of discourse, ended in something like 100 lines. The lover enters the castle and approaches the rose as though it were a relic, with a fence around it in a shrine, and finds a gap in the fence. He makes his way there and picks the rose, after which he awakes and the poem ends.

III. Conclusion

Le Roman de la Rose was certainly an influential work in the Middle Ages. The fact that more copies of it exist than any other secular work from the period attests to its enduring appeal. It was scandalous and beautiful at the same time and had a practical appeal for lovers that few other works did. It drew heavily on contemporary imagery and beliefs but also referenced the ancient world and its myths in what was mostly a satisfying synthesis.

As anyone who has read to this point can see, I do think the later digressions were excessive and detracted from the story. The earlier digressions at least offered Jean de Meun the opportunity to provide his often cynical advice on love and amorous relationships, but the later ones had only the most tenuous relationship to the core story of the poem. I rolled my eyes when reading the part about comets in particular. Comets? Really?

When viewed as a whole, however, Le Roman de la Rose is a very unique literary achievement. It is not a morality lesson though it does attempt to instruct lovers as to the proper attitude to have towards love. It is not a direct attack on the Church but it undermines so much of the power structure that the Church rested on that it could be called subversive. Perhaps these qualities would not be enough to call the book notable, but with some rare exceptions it is written quite well. It was written so well, in fact, that I felt the need to continue citing passages even though I knew that perhaps no one will ever read them.

I found the poem to be intriguing in many ways. It drew me into a world that has long since passed and ways of thought that are radically different from our own. At the same time, much of the advice is timeless. I very happy to have read Le Roman de la Rose.