conscience and of emotion which confront them are as complex as
those presented on the modern stage. Indeed, there is no break
between the Breton romance and the psychological-analytical novel
of our own day.

Whence comes this amazing modernity and complexity? From many
sources:--Provencal love-lore, Oriental subtlety, and Celtic
mysticism--all blended by that marvellous dexterity, style,
malice, and measure which are so utterly French that English has
no adequate words for them. We said "Celtic mysticism," but there
is something else about Chretien which is also Celtic, though
very far from being "mystic". We talk a great deal nowadays about
Celtic melancholy, Celtic dreaminess, Celtic "other-worldliness";
and we forget the qualities that made Caesar's Gauls, St. Paul's
Galatians, so different from the grave and steadfast Romans--that
loud Gaulois that has made the Parisian the typical Frenchman. A
different being, this modern Athenian, from the mystic Irish
peasant we see in the poetic modern Irish drama!--and yet both
are Celts.

Not much "other-worldliness" about Chretien. He is as positive as
any man can be. His is not of the world of Saint Louis, of the
Crusaders, of the Cathedral-builders. In Cliges there is no
religious atmosphere at all. We hear scarcely anything of Mass,
of bishops, of convents. When he mentions Tierce or Prime, it is
merely to tell us the hour at which something happened--and this
something is never a religious service. There is nothing behind
the glamour of arms and love, except for the cas de conscience
presented by the lovers. Nothing but names and framework are
Celtic; the spirit, with its refinements and its hair-splitting,