CAT Forklift NR4000-36V Schematic, Operation & Maintenance Manual

CAT Forklift NR4000-36V Schematic,

Operation & Maintenance Manual
To download the complete and correct content, please visit:

https://manualpost.com/download/cat-forklift-nr4000-36v-schematic-operation-mai
ntenance-manual/

**CAT Forklift NR4000-36V Schematic, Operation & Maintenance Manual** Size:

15.4 MB Format: PDF Language: English Brand: CAT Caterpillar Type of Machine:
Forklift Type of Manual: Schematic, Operation & Maintenance Manual Model: CAT
NR4000-36V Forklift Date: 2011 Content: 99750-8D100-00 Operation &
Maintenance Manual: Foreword 99750-8D100-01 Operation & Maintenance
Manual: Safety Rules 99750-8D100-02 Operation & Maintenance Manual: Know
Your Truck 99750-8D100-03 Operation & Maintenance Manual: Stability
99750-8D100-04 Operation & Maintenance Manual: Operation 99750-8D100-05
Operation & Maintenance Manual: Special Situations 99750-8D100-06 Operation
& Maintenance Manual: Storing Your Truck 99750-8D100-07 Operation &
Maintenance Manual: Transportation Hints 99750-8D100-08 Operation &
Maintenance Manual: Service Data SEBU2900-03-00 Operation & Maintenance
Manual: FOREWORD SEBU2900-03-01 Operation & Maintenance Manual:
SAFETY RULES FOR REACH TRUCK OPERATORS SEBU2900-03-02
Operation & Maintenance Manual: KNOW YOUR REACH TRUCK
SEBU2900-03-03 Operation & Maintenance Manual: STABILITY SEBU2900-03-04
Operation & Maintenance Manual: OPERATION SEBU2900-03-05 Operation &
Maintenance Manual: SPECIAL SITUATIONS SEBU2900-03-06 Operation &
Maintenance Manual: STORING THE REACH TRUCK SEBU2900-03-07
Operation & Maintenance Manual: MAINTENANCE SEBU2900-03-08 Operation &
Maintenance Manual: SERVICE DATA SEBU2900-03-09 Operation &
Maintenance Manual: TO THE CAT REACH TRUCK OWNER Cat Pub List
Publication List (Service, Operator, & Parts Manuals) Mast Tilting Angles Mast
Tilting Angles REF-18-0001C How To Determine Correct Mast Rails Lift Cylinders
And Mast Hosing REF-18-0001C How To Determine Correct Mast Rails Lift

Visit ManualPost.com to get correct and complete item

Cylinders And Mast Hosing (Spanish) REF-18-0002C How To Locate Fluid
Capacities REF-18-0002C How To Locate Fluid Capacities (Spanish)
REF-18-0003C How To Use A Pick List REF-18-0003C How To Use A Pick List
(Spanish) REF-18-0007C Abbreviations And Acronyms List REF-18-0008C
Diagnostic Trouble (Error) Codes Schematic POWER SUPPLY 1 MAIN CIRCUITS
2 DRIVE CIRCUIT 1 3 STEERING CIRCUIT 4 HYDRAULIC CONTROL CIRCUIT
1 5 HYDRAULIC CONTROL CIRCUIT 2 6 DISPLAY 7 CONTROL CIRCUIT 8
SIGNAL / LIGHT CIRCUIT 9 FANS, AUX. 10 COLD STORAGE 11 GROUND /
VOLTAGE PEAK SUPPRESSOR 12 This part manual inlcude all spare parts
number you need inside this model, for you easier in fixing your forklift replace new
spare part hight performance. This service manual is a guide for servicing Cat Lift
Trucks. For your convenience the instructions are grouped by systems as an easy
reference. This Original Instructions (Operator's) Manual describes operating
procedures, daily checks and simple maintenance for safe usage of your Cat lift
truck. SERVICE MANUAL CHAPTER 1 GENERAL INFORMATION 1.1 Model
View 1.2 Models Covered 1.2.1 Lift Truck Nomenclatures and Definitions 1.3 Serial
Number Locations 1.4 Dimensions 1.5 Technical Data 1.6 Performance CHAPTER
2 COOLING SYSTEM 2.1 Specifications 2.2 Structure 2.3 Removal and
Installation 2.3.1 Fan Belt Removal 2.3.2 Suggestions for Removal 2.3.3
Installation 2.4 Inspection and Adjustment 2.4.1 Fan Belt Inspection 2.4.2 Fan Belt
Tension 2.4.3 Connecting Hoses 2.4.4 Coolant 2.4.5 Radiator Cap CHAPTER 3
ELECTRIC SYSTEM 3.1 Chassis Electrical Devices Wiring Outline 3.1.1
Harnesses Layout 3.1.2 Components Layout 3.2 Structure 3.2.1 Console Box 3.2.2
Major Electrical Components 3.2.3 Table of Lamps 3.3 Console Box 3.3.1
Disassembly 3.4 Battery Maintenance 3.4.1 State of Charge and Electrolyte
Specific Gravity (S.G.) Adjustment 3.4.2 Specific Gravity Reading and State of
Charge 3.4.3 Charging Precautions 3.5 Instrument Panel 3.5.1 Instrument Panel
Screen Element 3.5.2 Basic Screen Display 3.5.3 Basic Operation 3.5.4 When An
Error Occurs 3.5.5 Warning Lamps 3.5.6 Optional Functions 3.5.7 Hour Meters
3.5.8 Troubleshooting 3.6 Wire Color 3.6.2 List of Wire Colors 3.7 Troubleshooting
3.7.1 Starter System 3.7.2 Gauges 3.7.3 Lighting System 3.8 Electrical Schematic
CHAPTER 4 CONTROLLERS 4.1 Outline 4.2 Main Functions 4.2.2 Instrument
Panel 4.2.3 VCM (Vehicle Control Module)1-M 4.2.4 ECM (Gasoline Engine
Control Module) 4.2.5 Remote Input/Output Units 4.2.6 GSE Connector 4.3
Service Tool Functions 4.3.1 Service Tool Menus 4.3.2 Service Tool Box 4.4 Mast
Interlock System 4.4.1 Function 4.4.2 VCM1-M Controller, Mast Interlock System
Checking Procedure 4.4.3 Active Test Inspection Procedure 4.5 Driving Interlock
System 4.5.1 Function 4.5.2 Driving Interlock System Checking Procedure for
Powershift T/M Lift Trucks 4.5.3 Active Test Inspection Procedure 4.6 Seat Belt
Warning Lamp 4.6.1 Function 4.6.2 Seat Belt Warning Lamp Checking Procedure
4.7 Parking Brake Warning Buzzer and Lamp 4.7.1 Function 4.7.2 Parking Brake
Warning Buzzer/Lamp Checking Procedure 4.7.3 Parking Brake Warning
Buzzer/Lamp Checking Procedure with Key in OFF Position 4.8 Harness Codes
4.9 Controller Details 4.9.1 VCM1-M Controller 4.9.2 Seat Switch/Seat Belt Switch
4.9.3 Parking Brake Switch 4.9.4 Direction Lever 4.9.5 Speed Sensor 4.9.6 T/M
Solenoid 4.9.7 Unload Solenoid 4.9.8 Lift Lock Solenoid 4.9.9 Warning Buzzer
4.9.10 Warning Buzzer Relay 4.9.11 Warning Buzzer Circuit 4.9.12 Instrument
Panel 4.10 Error Codes and Troubleshootings 4.10.1 Error Code Display 4.10.2
Diagnosis Table (F Code) 4.10.3 Error Codes and Troubleshooting 4.11 Locations
of Sensors and Switches CHAPTER 5 POWER TRAIN 5.1 Removal and
Installation (MC Models) 5.1.1 Removal of Engine and Transmission Assembly
5.1.2 Removal of Engine and Transmission Assembly (for Gasoline-Engine Lift
Trucks) 5.2 Removal and Installation (FC Models) 5.2.1 Removal of Engine and
Transmission Assembly CHAPTER 6 POWERSHIFT TRANSMISSION 6.1
Structure and Functions 6.1.1 Transmission 6.1.2 Torque Converter 6.1.3 Control
Valve 6.1.4 Hydraulic System Schematic of Powershift Transmission 6.2 Removal
and Installation 6.2.1 Removal 6.2.2 Installation 6.3 Control Valve 6.3.1
Disassembly 6.3.2 Reassembly 6.4 Input Shaft Assembly 6.4.1 Disassembly 6.5
Oil Pump Assembly 6.5.1 Disassembly 6.5.2 Reassembly 6.6 Inspection and
Adjustment 6.6.1 Oil Pressure Measurement 6.6.2 Clutch (Inching) Pedal
Adjustment 6.6.3 Inching Cable, Adjustment 6.7 Troubleshooting 6.8 Tightening
Torque 6.9 Service Data CHAPTER 7 FRONT AXLE AND REDUCTION
DIFFERENTIAL 7.1 Structure 7.1.1 Front Axle 7.1.2 Reduction Differential 7.2
Removal and Installation 7.2.1 Front Wheels 7.3 Front Axle 7.3.2 Reduction
Differential 7.4 Disassembly and Reassembly 7.4.1 Front Axle 7.4.2 Reduction
Differential 7.5 Troubleshooting 7.6 Service Data CHAPTER 8 REAR AXLE 8.1
Structure and Functions 8.1.1 Rear Axle in General 8.1.2 Structure of Each
Component 8.1.3 Steering Cylinder 8.2 Removal and Installation 8.2.1 Rear Wheel
and Rear Axle Assembly 8.3 Disassembly and Reassembly 8.3.1 Wheel Hub,
Disassembly and Reassembly 8.3.2 Knuckle (King Pin), Disassembly and
Reassembly 8.3.3 Steering Cylinder, Disassembly and Reassembly 8.3.4 Tie Rod,
Disassembly and Reassembly CHAPTER 9 BRAKE SYSTEM 9.1 Structure 9.1.1
Brake System 9.2 Disassembly and Reassembly 9.2.1 Master Cylinder 9.2.2
Wheel Brakes 9.2.3 Wheel Cylinder 9.3 Inspection and Adjustment 9.3.1 Automatic
Adjuster Test 9.3.2 Manual Adjustment 9.3.3 Parking Brake Cable Adjustment
9.3.4 Brake Pedal Adjustment 9.3.5 Brake Lines Bleeding 9.3.6 Braking
Performance Test 9.3.7 Parking Brake Lever 9.4 Troubleshooting 9.5 Service Data
CHAPTER 10 STEERING SYSTEM 10.1 Structure and Functions 10.1.1 Steering
System 10.1.2 Steering Valve 10.1.3 Steering Column 10.2 Disassembly and
Reassembly 10.2.2 Steering Wheel and Steering Valve, Removal and Installation
10.2.3 Steering Wheel 10.2.4 Steering Valve 10.2.5 Tilt Lock Lever 10.3 Steering
Valve 10.3.1 Disassembly 10.3.2 Reassembly 10.4 Troubleshooting 10.5 Service
Data CHAPTER 11 HYDRAULIC SYSTEM 11.1 Structure and Functions 11.1.1
Outline 11.2 Hydraulic Circuit Diagram (For Models With MC Control Valve) 11.3
Hydraulic Circuit Diagram (For Models With FC Control Valve) 11.4 Hydraulic Tank
11.5 Hydraulic Pump (Gear Pump) 11.6 Control Valve 11.7 Flow Regulator Valve
(for Models with FC Control Valve Only) 11.8 Down Safety Valve 11.9 Lift Cylinder
11.10 Tilt Cylinder 11.11 Disassembly and Reassembly 11.11.1 Hydraulic Pump
11.11.2 Lift Cylinder 11.11.3 Tilt Cylinder 11.11.4 Flow Regulator Valve 11.11.5
Piping 11.11.6 Suction Strainer and Return Filter 11.12 Inspection and Adjustment
11.12.1 Hydraulic Tank 11.12.2 Control Valve 11.12.3 Descent Test 11.12.4
Forward Tilt Test 11.13 Troubleshooting 11.13.2 Hydraulic System Cleaning After
a Component Failure 11.14 Service Data 11.15 MC Control Valve 11.15.1
Structure and Operation 11.15.2 Control Valve, Removal and Installation 11.15.3
Disassembly and Assembly 11.16 FC Control Valve 11.16.1 Structure and
Operation 11.16.2 Disassembly and Assembly CHAPTER 12 MAST AND FORKS
12.1 Simplex Mast 12.1.1 Mast System 12.2 Structure and Functions 12.2.1
Simplex Mast (5A15C to 5A33C) 12.2.2 Mast Operation 12.3 Removal and
Installation 12.3.1 Mast and Lift Bracket Assembly 12.4 Disassembly and
Reassembly 12.4.1 Simplex Mast Disassembly 12.4.2 Simplex Mast Reassembly
12.5 Removal and Installation of Mast Rollers and Strips without Removing 12.5.1
Simplex Mast 12.6 Inspection and Adjustment (Simplex Mast) 12.6.2 Forks 12.6.3
Chain Tension Inspection and Adjustment 12.6.4 Checking Chain Elongation
12.6.5 Adjusting Clearance Between Lift Bracket Roller and Inner Mast 12.6.6
Mast Roller Clearance Adjustment 12.6.7 Mast Strip Clearance Inspection and
Adjustment 12.6.8 Tilt Angle Adjustment 12.6.9 Right and Left Lift Cylinder Stroke
Inspection and Adjustment 12.7 Troubleshooting (Simplex Mast) 12.8 Service Data
(Simplex Mast) 12.9 Duplex Mast 12.9.1 Mast System 12.10 Structure and
Functions 12.10.1 Duplex (Dual Full-Free Panoramic) Mast (5B15C to 5B33C)
12.10.2 Mast Operation 12.11 Removal and Installation 12.11.1 Mast and Lift
Bracket Assembly 12.12 Disassembly and Reassembly 12.12.1 Duplex Mast
Disassembly 12.12.2 Duplex Mast Reassembly 12.13 Removal and Installation of
Mast Rollers and Strips without Removing 12.13.1 Duplex Mast 12.14 Inspection
and Adjustment (Duplex Mast) 12.14.1 Inspection and Adjustment (Duplex Mast)
12.14.2 Forks 12.14.3 Chain Tension Inspection and Adjustment 12.14.4 Checking
Chain Elongation 12.14.5 Adjusting Clearance Between Lift Bracket Roller and
Inner Mast 12.14.6 Mast Roller Clearance Adjustment 12.14.7 Mast Strip
Clearance Inspection and Adjustment 12.14.8 Tilt Angle Adjustment 12.14.9 Right
and Left Lift Cylinder Stroke Inspection and Adjustment 12.15 Troubleshooting
(Duplex Mast) 12.16 Service Data (Duplex Mast) 12.17 Triplex Mast 12.17.1 Mast
System 12.18 Structure and Functions 12.18.1 Triplex (Triple Full-Free Panoramic)
Mast (5C15C to 5C33C) 12.18.2 Mast Operation 12.19 Removal and Installation
12.19.1 Mast and Lift Bracket Assembly 12.20 Disassembly and Reassembly
12.20.1 Triplex Mast Disassembly 12.20.2 Triplex Mast Reassembly 12.21
Removal and Installation of Mast Rollers and Strips without Removing 12.21.1
Triplex Mast 12.22 Inspection and Adjustment (Triplex Mast) 12.22.2 Forks 12.22.3
Chain Tension Inspection and Adjustment 12.22.4 Checking Chain Elongation
12.22.5 Adjusting Clearance between Lift Bracket Roller and Inner Mast 12.22.6
Mast Roller Clearance Adjustment 12.22.7 Mast Strip Clearance Inspection and
Adjustment 12.22.8 Tilt Angle Adjustment 12.22.9 Right and Left Lift Cylinder
Stroke Inspection and Adjustment 12.23 Troubleshooting (Triplex Mast) 12.23.1
Troubleshooting (Triplex Mast) 12.24 Service Data (Triplex Mast) 12.24.1 Triplex
Mast CHAPTER 13 SERVICE DATA 13.1 Maintenance Schedule 13.2
Maintenance Note 13.2.1 Brake System 13.2.2 Cooling System 13.2.3 Electric
System 13.2.4 Engine System 13.2.5 Frame and Chassis 13.2.6 Fuel System
13.2.7 Hydraulic System 13.2.8 Ignition System 13.2.9 Intake System 13.2.10
Front End Section 13.2.11 Steering and Axle System 13.2.12 T/M and Drive
System 13.2.13 Wheels and Tires 13.2.14 General 13.3 Tightening Torque for
Standard Bolts and Nuts 13.4 Periodic Replacement Parts 13.4.2 Location of
Periodic Replacement Parts 13.5 Lubrication Instructions 13.5.1 Lubrication Chart
13.5.2 Fuel and Lubricant Specifications 13.5.3 Adjustment Value and Oil
Quantities 13.6 Special Service Tools 13.6.1 Special Service Tools (Standard
Tools for Both MC and FC LiftTrucks) 13.6.2 Special Service Tools (for FC Lift
Truck Only) 13.6.3 Special Service Tools (for Powershift Transmission)
OPERRATION MANUAL CHAPTER 1 SAFETY RULES AND PRACTICES 1.1
SAFETY SIGNS AND SAFETY MESSAGES 1.2 WARNING SYMBOLS AND
LEVELS 1.3 OPERATOR QUALIFICATIONS 1.4 SAFETY GUARDS 1.5
PERSONAL PROTECTIVE EQUIPMENT FOR OPERATING LIFT TRUCK 1.6
DAILY INSPECTION 1.7 OPERATOR RESPONSIBILITY 1.8 GENERAL 1.9 NO
RIDERS 1.10 TRAVELING 1.11 LOADING 1.12 DOCKBOARDS (BRIDGE
PLATES), TRUCKS AND RAILROAD CARS 1.13 SURFACE AND CAPACITY
1.14 FUEL HANDLING 1.15 INSTALLATION OF ATTACHMENTS 1.16 IN CASE
OF TIP-OVER 1.17 TRANSPORTING LIFT TRUCK 1.17.2 APPROACH ANGLE,
DEPARTURE ANGLE AND GANGWAY 1.17.3 HOISTING (LIFTING) UP THE
TRUCK 1.18 FUNCTION TESTS 1.19 TRACTION BAR 1.20 POSITION OF DATA
AND CAPACITY PLATES AND DECALS 1.21 DATA AND CAPACITY PLATES
AND DECALS 1.21.2 DATA PLATE 1.21.3 IDENTIFICATION NUMBERS 1.21.4
CAUTION DRIVE DECAL (IN CASE OF TIP-OVER DECAL) 1.21.5 WARNING
DRIVE DECAL (TRAINED AND AUTHORIZED) 1.21.6 PINCH POINT DECAL
1.21.7 CAUTION FORK DECAL 1.21.8 MAST WARNING DECAL 1.21.9
CAUTION DRIVE DECAL (OPERATION) 1.21.10 RADIATOR WARNING DECAL
1.21.11 COOLING FAN WARNING DECAL 1.21.12 ADJ LPG WARNING DECAL
1.21.13 LPG LATCH WARNING DECAL 1.21.14 LPG FUEL WARNING DECAL
CHAPTER 2 OPERATING CONTROLS AND FUNCTIONS 2.1 APPLICATIONS
2.2 APPLICATION FOR CAT LIFT TRUCKS 2.3 PROHIBITED APPLICATIONS
FOR CAT LIFT TRUCKS 2.4 MAIN COMPONENTS 2.5 METERS, INDICATORS
AND WARNING LIGHTS 2.5.2 LCD 2.5.3 OPERATION BUTTONS 2.5.4 !
MULTIPURPOSE WARNING LIGHT 2.5.5 MALFUNCTION INDICATOR
LIGHT-ENGINE CHECK WARNING 2.5.6 OIL PRESSURE WARNING LIGHT
2.5.7 CHARGE WARNING LIGHT 2.5.8 PARKING BRAKE WARNING LIGHT
2.5.9 SEAT BELT WARNING LIGHT 2.5.10 METER DISPLAY 2.5.11 WATER
TEMPERATURE GAUGE 2.5.12 FUEL GAUGE 2.5.13 TRANSMISSION
POSITION 2.6 MALFUNCTION AND WARNING INDICATIONS 2.6.2 MAST
INTERLOCK WARNING 2.6.3 LPG LEVEL WARNING/LPG RACK LOCK
WARNING 2.6.4 TORQUE CONVERTER FLUID TEMP WARNING 2.6.5
RADIATOR LEVEL WARNING 2.6.6 AIR CLEANER WARNING 2.6.7 SERVICE
REMINDER DISPLAY 2.6.8 DISPLAYS WHEN MALFUNCTION OCCURS 2.7
DRIVER RECOGNITION MODE 2.8 LPG REMAINING TIME MANAGEMENT 2.9
SWITCHES 2.9.2 HORN BUTTON 2.9.3 REAR RIGHT GRIP WITH HORN
BUTTON 2.9.4 IGNITION SWITCH 2.9.5 LIGHTING AND TURN SIGNAL
SWITCHES 2.9.6 MAXIMUM SPEED CHANGE SWITCH (OPTION) 2.9.7
THROTTLE SENSITIVITY ADJUST SWITCH (OPTION) 2.9.8 BACK-UP
OPERATION LIGHT SWITCH (OPTION) 2.10 OPERATING CONTROLS 2.10.2
SELECTOR LEVER 2.10.3 PARKING BRAKE LEVER 2.10.4 INCHING BRAKE
PEDAL 2.10.5 BRAKE PEDAL 2.10.6 ACCELERATOR PEDAL 2.10.7
CARGO-HANDLING CONTROL LEVERS 2.10.8 ANSI/ITSDF STANDARDS FOR
LIFT TRUCK CLAMP ATTACHMENTS 2.10.9 STEERING CHARACTERISTICS
CHAPTER 3 OPERATING THE LIFT TRUCK 3.1 OPERATION 3.2 INSPECTION
BEFORE OPERATING 3.3 LIFT TRUCK OPERATING PRECAUTIONS 3.4
PRECAUTIONS FOR COLD AND HOT WEATHER 3.5 OPERATIONAL
PROCEDURES 3.6 LPG LIFT TRUCK STARTING 3.7 PROCEDURE FOR JUMP
STARTING EFI ENGINES 3.8 AUTOMATIC TRANSMISSION 3.9 LOADING 3.10
TRANSPORTING LOADS 3.11 UNLOADING 3.12 CLIMBING 3.13 STOPPING
AND PARKING THE LIFT TRUCK 3.14 FORKS 3.15 SEAT ADJUSTMENT 3.15.1
SUSPENSION SEAT OPERATOR'S WEIGHT ADJUSTMENT 3.15.2 FORWARD
AND BACKWARD CONTROL LEVER 3.15.3 BACKREST INCLINATION
ADJUSTMENT 3.15.4 LUMBAR ADJUSTMENT 3.15.5 SWIVEL SEAT 3.16 SEAT
BELT 3.17 TOP PANEL 3.18 TILT STEERING WHEEL 3.19 SERVICE RELEASE
LATCH 3.20 RADIATOR COVER 3.21 REARVIEW MIRROR (OPTION) 3.22 LPG
CYLINDER (TANK) HOLDER CHAPTER 4 GENERAL CARE AND
MAINTENANCE 4.1 WET CELL BATTERY CARE AND MAINTENANCE 4.2
BATTERY SPECIFIC GRAVITY 4.3 DAILY INSPECTION 4.4 OPERATOR'S
DAILY CHECKLIST (SAMPLE) 4.5 MAINTENANCE AND INSPECTION 4.5.1
ENGINE OIL LEVEL 4.5.2 REFILLING ENGINE OIL 4.5.3 ENGINE COOLANT
LEVEL 4.5.4 REFILLING ENGINE COOLANT 4.5.5 COOLING SYSTEM
BLEEDING INSTRUCTIONS 4.5.6 BRAKE FLUID LEVEL 4.5.7 REFILLING
BRAKE FLUID 4.5.8 AUTOMATIC TRANSMISSION FLUID LEVEL 4.5.9
REFILLING AUTOMATIC TRANSMISSION FLUID 4.5.10 HYDRAULIC OIL
LEVEL 4.5.11 REFILLING HYDRAULIC OIL 4.5.12 STEERING WHEEL PLAY
4.5.13 WHEEL AND TIRE 4.5.14 TIRE REPLACEMENT 4.5.15 CHECKING MAST
4.5.16 CHECKING LIFT CHAIN 4.5.17 FORK INSPECTION 4.5.18 FORK REPAIR
4.5.19 CHECKING HORN 4.5.20 CHECKING LIGHTS 4.5.21 CHECKING
CARGO-HANDLING CONTROL LEVER(S) 4.5.22 CHECKING BRAKE PEDAL
4.5.23 PEDAL FREE PLAY 4.5.24 CHECKING PARKING BRAKE LEVER 4.5.25
CHECKING TOP PANEL LOCK 4.5.26 FUSES 4.5.27 CHECKING AIR CLEANER
4.5.28 CHECKING FAN BELT 4.5.29 DRAINING OF TAR FROM THE
VAPORIZER 4.5.30 PRECAUTIONS FOR USING LPG 4.5.31 RECOMMENDED
LPG FUEL TYPE 4.5.32 CYLINDER (TANK) SIZE 4.5.33 LPG CYLINDER (TANK)
REPLACEMENT 4.5.34 REFILLING LPG CYLINDERS (TANKS) 4.5.35
PERIODIC MAINTENANCE AND LUBRICATION SCHEDULE 4.5.36 PERIODIC
MAINTENANCE AND LUBRICATION SCHEDULE FOR EMISSION CONTROL
SYSTEM 4.5.37 LUBRICATION CHART 4.5.38 RECOMMENDED LUBRICANTS
4.5.39 RECOMMENDED SAE VISCOSITY CHART 4.5.40 PUTTING LIFT TRUCK
IN STORAGE 4.6 SIDE SHIFT 4.6.1 OVERVIEW OF SIDE SHIFT 4.6.2 MAIN
TERMS USED IN THIS SECTION 4.6.3 SAFETY RULES AND PRACTICES 4.6.4
SIDE SHIFT CONTROL LEVER OPERATION 4.6.5 SIDE SHIFT OPERATION
4.6.6 DAILY CHECKS AND SIMPLE MAINTENANCE CHAPTER 5
SPECIFICATIONS 5.1 MODEL IDENTIFICATION 5.1.1 MODEL VARIATION
CAT Forklift NR4000-36V Schematic, Operation & Maintenance Manual

(LONG MODEL CODE) BREAKDOWN 5.2 MAIN TRUCK 5.2.1 MAIN TRUCK -
2C7000 AND 2C8000/2C8000-SWB 5.3 MAST 5.3.1 2C7000 AND
2C8000/2C8000-SWB 5.4 FUEL AND OIL CAPACITY 5.5 ENGINE 5.6 ENGINE
OIL CAPACITY 5.7 NOISE LEVEL
Download all on: manualpost.com.

Visit ManualPost.com to get correct and complete item

 [Unrelated content]
Another random document on
Internet:
of lilies by Cupid, of Matteo Boiardo. The Renaissance took up the
old epic-romantic materials and made out of them works of art; but
works of art which, as I said before, were playthings gets written for
its delectation the comic-tragic novels of rapscallions, panders,
prostitutes, and card-sharpers, which, from "Lazarillo de Tormes" to
"Gil Bias," and from "Gil Bias" to "Tom Jones," finally replace the
romances of the Launcelots, Galahads, Rinaldos, and Orlandos.

MEDIEVAL LOVE.

On laying down the "Vita Nuova" our soul is at first filled and
resounding with the love of Beatrice. Whatever habits or capacities
of noble loving may lurk within ourselves, have been awakened by
the solemn music of this book, and have sung in unison with Dante's
love till we have ceased to hear the voice of his passion and have
heard only the voice of our own. When the excitement has
diminished, when we have grown able to separate from our own
feelings the feelings of the man dead these five centuries and a half,
and to realize the strangeness, the obsoleteness of this love which
for a moment had seemed our love; then a new phase of
impressions has set in, and the "Vita Nuova" inspires us with mere
passionate awe: awe before this passion which we feel to be no
longer our own, but far above and distant from us, as in some rarer
stratum of atmosphere; awe before this woman who creates it, or
rather who is its creation. Even as Dante fancied that the people of
Florence did when the bodily presence of this lady came across their
path, so do we cast down our glance as the image of Beatrice
passes across our mind. Nay, the glory of her, felt so really while
reading the few, meagre words in the book, is stored away in our
heart, and clothes with a faint aureole the lady—if ever in our life we
chance to meet her—in whom, though Dante tells us nothing of
stature, features, eyes or hair, we seem to recognize a likeness to
her on whose passage "ogni lingua divien tremando muta, e gli occhi
non ardiscon di guardare." Passion like this, to paraphrase a line of
Rossetti's, is genius; and it arouses in such as look upon it the
peculiar sense of wonder and love, of awe-stricken raising up of him
who contemplates, which accompanies the contemplation of genius.
But it may be that one day we feel, instead of this, wonder indeed,
but wonder mingled with doubt. This ideal love, which craves for no
union with its object; which seeks merely to see, nay, which is
satisfied with mere thinking on the beloved one, will strike us with
the cold and barren glitter of the miraculous. This Beatrice, as we
gaze on her, will prove to be no reality of flesh and blood like
ourselves; she is a form modelled in the semblance of that real,
living woman who died six centuries ago, but the substance of which
is the white fire of Dante's love. And the thought will arise that this
purely intellectual love of a scarce-noticed youth for a scarce-known
woman is a thing which does not belong to life, neither sweetening
nor ennobling any of its real relations; that it is, in its dazzling purity
and whiteness, in fact a mere strange and sterile death light, such as
could not and should not, in this world of ours, exist twice over. And,
lest we should ever be tempted to think of this ideal love for Beatrice
as of a wonderful and beautiful, but scarcely natural or useful
phenomenon, I would wish to study the story of its origin and its
influence. I would wish to show that had it not burned thus
strangely concentrated and pure, the poets of succeeding ages could
not have taken from that white flame of love which Dante set alight
upon the grave of Beatrice, the spark of ideal passion which has, in
the noblest of our literature, made the desire of man for woman and
of woman for man burn clear towards heaven, leaving behind the
noisome ashes and soul-enervating vapours of earthly lust

I.

The centuries have made us; forcing us into new practices, teaching
us new habits, creating for us new capacities and wants; adding,
ever and anon, to the soul organism of mankind features which at
first were but accidental peculiarities, which became little by little
qualities deliberately sought for and at lengths inborn and hereditary
characteristics. And thus, in, what we call the Middle Ages, there
was invented by the stress of circumstances, elaborated by half-
consciuos effort and bequeathed as an unalienable habit, a new
manner of loving.
The women of classical Antiquity appear to us in poetry and
imaginative literature as one of two things: the wife or the mistress.
The wife, Penelope, Andromache, Alkestis, nay, even the charming
young bride in Xenophon's "Oeconomics," is, while excluded from
many concerns, distinctly reverenced and loved in her own
household capacity; but the reverence is of the sort which the man
feels for his parents and his household gods, and the affection is
calm and gently rebuking like that for his children. The mistress, on
the other hand, is the object of passion which is often very
vehement, but which is always either simply fleshly or merely
fancifully aesthetic or both, and which entirely precludes any save a
degrading influence upon the sensual and suspicious lover. Even
Tibullus, in love matters one of the most modern among the
ancients, and capable of painting many charming and delicate little
domestic idyls even in connection with a mere bought mistress, is
perpetually accusing his Delia of selling herself to a higher bidder,
and sighing at the high probability of her abandoning him for the
Illyrian praetor or some other rich amateur of pretty women. The
barbarous North—whose songs have come down to us either, like
the Volsunga Saga translated by Mr. Morris, in an original pagan
version, or else, as the Nibelungenlied, recast during the early
Middle Ages—the North tells us nothing of the venal paramour, but
knows nothing also beyond the wedded wife; more independent and
mighty perhaps than her counterpart of classical Antiquity, but
although often bought, like Brynhilt or Gudrun, at the expense of
tremendous adventures, cherished scarcely more passionately than
the wives of Odysseus and Hector. Thus, before the Middle Ages,
there existed as a rule only a holy, but indifferent and utterly
unlyrical, love for the women, the equals of their husbands, wooed
usually of the family and solemnly given in marriage without much
consultation of their wishes; and a highly passionate and singing,
but completely profligate and debasing, desire for mercenary though
cultivated creatures like the Delias and Cynthlas of Tibullus and
Propertius, or highborn women, descended, like Catullus' Lesbia, in
brazen dishonour to their level, women towards whom there could
not possibly exist on the part of their lovers any sense of equality,
much less of inferiority. To these two kinds of love, chaste but cold,
and passionate but unchaste, the Middle Ages added, or rather
opposed, a new manner of loving, which, although a mere passing
phenomenon, has left the clearest traces throughout our whole
mode of feeling and writing.
To describe mediaeval love is a difficult matter, and to describe it
except in negations is next to impossibility. I conceive it to consist in
a certain sentimental, romantic, idealistic attitude towards women,
not by any means incompatible however with the grossest
animalism; an attitude presupposing a complete moral, aesthetical,
and social superiority on the part of the whole sex, inspiring the very
highest respect and admiration independently of the individual's
qualities; and reaching the point of actual worship, varying from the
adoration of a queen by a courtier to the adoration of a shrine by a
pilgrim, in the case of the one particular lady who happens to be the
beloved; an attitude in the relations of the sexes which results in
love becoming an indispensable part of a noble life, and the devoted
attachment to one individual woman, a necessary requisite of a
gentlemanly training.
Mediaeval love is not merely a passion, a desire, an affection, a
habit; it is a perfect occupation. It absorbs, or is supposed to
absorb, the Individual; it permeates his life like a religion. It is not
one of the interests of life, or, rather, one of life's phases; it is the
whole of life, all other interests and actions either sinking into an
unsingable region below it, or merely embroidering a variegated
pattern upon its golden background. Mediaeval love, therefore,
never obtains its object, however much it may obtain the woman;
for the object of mediaeval love, as of mediaeval religious mysticism,
is not one particular act or series of acts, but is its own exercise, of
which the various incidents of the drama between man and woman
are merely so many results. It has not its definite stages, like the
love of the men of classical Antiquity or the heroic time of the North:
its stages of seeking, obtaining, cherishing, guarding; it is always at
the same point, always in the same condition of half-religious, half-
courtier-like adoration, whether it be triumphantly successful or
sighingly despairing. The man and the woman—or rather, I should
say, the knight and the lady, for mediaeval love is an aristocratic
privilege, and the love of lower folk is not a theme for song—the
knight and the lady, therefore, seem always, however knit together
by habit, nay, by inextricable meshes of guilt, somehow at the same
distance from one another. Once they have seen and loved each
other, their passion burns on always evenly, burns on (at least
theoretically) to all eternity. It seems almost as if the woman were a
mere shrine, a mysterious receptacle of the ineffable, a grail cup, a
consecrated wafer, but not the ineffable itself. For there is always in
mediaeval love, however fleshly the incidents which it produces, a
certain Platonic element; that is to say, a craving for, a pursuit of,
something which is an abstraction; an abstraction impossible to
define in its constant shifting and shimmering, and which seems at
one moment a social standard, a religious ideal, or both, and which
merges for ever in the dazzling, vague sheen of the Eternal
Feminine. Hence, one of the most distinctive features of mediaeval
love, an extraordinary sameness of intonation, making it difficult to
distinguish between the bonâ fide passion for which a man risks life
and honour, and the mere conventional gallantry of the knight who
sticks a lady's glove on his helmet as a compliment to her rank; nay,
between the impure adoration of an adulterous lamia like Yseult, and
the mystical adoration of a glorified Mother of God; for both are
women, both are ladies, and therefore the greatest poet of the early
Middle Ages, Gottfried von Strassburg, sings them both with the
same religious respect, and the same hysterical rapture. This
mediaeval love is furthermore a deliberately expected, sought-for,
and received necessity in a man's life; it is not an accident, much
less an incidental occurrence to be lightly taken or possibly avoided:
it is absolutely indispensable to man's social training, to his moral
and aesthetical self-improvement; it is part and parcel of manhood
and knighthood. Hence, where it does not arise of itself (and where
a man is full of the notion of such love, it is rare that it does not
come) but too soon it has to be sought for. Ulrich von Liechtenstein,
in his curious autobiography written late in the twelfth century,
relates how ever since his childhood he had been aware of the
necessity of the loyal love service of a lady for the accomplishment
of knightly duties; and how, as soon as he was old enough to love,
he looked around him for a lady whom he might serve; a proceeding
renewed in more prosaic days and with a curious pedantic smack, by
Lorenzo dei Medici; and then again, perhaps for the last time, by the
Knight of La Mancha, in that memorable discussion which ended in
the enthronement as his heart's queen of the unrivalled Dulcinea of
Toboso. Frowendienst, "lady's service," is the name given by Ulrich
von Liechtenstein, a mediaeval Quixote, outshining by far the mad
Provençals Rudel and Vidal, to the memoirs very delightfully done
into modern German by Ludwig Tieck; and "lady's service" is the
highest occupation of knightly leisure, the subject of the immense
bulk of mediaeval poetry. "Lady's service" in deeds of arms and
song, in constant praise and defence of the beloved, in heroic
enterprise and madcap mummery, in submission and terror to the
wondrous creature whom the humble servant, the lover, never calls
by her sacred name, speaking of her in words unknown to Antiquity,
dompna, dame, frowe, madonna—words of which the original sense
has almost been forgotten, although there cleave to them even now
ideas higher than those associated with the puella of the ancients,
the wib of the heroic days—lady, mistress—the titles of the Mother
of God, who is, after all, only the mystical Soul's Paramour of the
mediaeval world. "Lady's service"—the almost technical word,
expressing the position, half-serf-like, half-religious, the bonds of
complete humility and never-ending faithfulness, the hopes of
reward, the patience under displeasure, the pride in the livery of
servitude, the utter absorption of the life of one individual in the life
of another; which constitute in Provence, in France, in Germany, in
England, in Italy, in the fabulous kingdoms of Arthur and
Charlemagne, the strange new thing which I have named Mediaeval
Love.
Has such a thing really existed? Are not these mediaeval poets
leagued together in a huge conspiracy to deceive us? Is it possible
that strong men have wept and fainted at a mere woman's name,
like the Count of Nevers in "Flamenca," or that their mind has
swooned away in months of reverie like that of Parzifal in
Eschenbach's poem; that worldly wise and witty men have shipped
off and died on sea for love of an unseen woman like Jaufre Rudel;
or dressed in wolf's hide and lurked and fled before the huntsmen
like Peire Vidal; or mangled their face and cut off their finger, and,
clothing themselves in rags more frightful than Nessus' robe, mixed
in the untouchable band of lepers like Ulrich von Liechtenstein? Is it
possible to believe that the insane enterprises of the Amadises,
Lisvarts and Felixmartes of late mediaeval romance, that the
behaviour of Don Quixote in the Sierra Morena, ever had any serious
models in reality? Nay, more difficult still to believe—because the
whole madness of individuals is more credible than the half-madness
of the whole world—is it possible to believe that, as the poems of
innumerable trouvères and troubadours, minnesingers and Italian
poets, as the legion of mediaeval romances of the cycles of
Charlemagne, Arthur, and Amadis would have it, that during so long
a period of time society could have been enthralled by this
hysterical, visionary, artificial, incredible religion of mediaeval love? It
is at once too grotesque and too beautiful, too high and too low, to
be credible; and our first impulse, on closing the catechisms and
breviaries, the legendaries and hymn-books of this strange new
creed, is to protest that the love poems must be allegories, the love
romances solar myths, the Courts of Love historical bungles; that all
this mediaeval world of love is a figment, a misinterpretation, a
falsehood.
But if we seek more than a mere casual impression; if, instead of
feeling sceptical over one or two fragments of evidence, we attempt
to collect the largest possible number of facts together; if we read
not one mediaeval love story, but twenty—not half a dozen
mediaeval love poems, but several scores; if we really investigate
into the origin of the apparent myth, the case speedily alters. Little
by little this which had been inconceivable becomes not merely
intelligible, but inevitable; the myth becomes an historical
phenomenon of the most obvious and necessary sort. Mediaeval
love, which had seemed to us a poetic fiction, is turned into a
reality; and a reality, alas, which is prosaic. Let us look at it.
Mediaeval love is first revealed in the sudden and almost
simultaneous burst of song which, like the twitter and trill so dear to
trouvères, troubadours, and minnesingers, fills the woods that
yesterday were silent and dead, and greeted the earliest sunshine,
the earliest faint green after the long winter numbness of the dark
ages, after the boisterous gales of the earliest Crusade. The French
and Provençals sang first, the Germans later, the Sicilians last; but
although we may say after deliberate analysis, such or such a form,
or such or such a story, was known in this country before it
appeared in that one, such imitation or suggestion was so rapid that
with regard to the French, the Provençals, and the Germans at least,
the impression is simultaneous; only the Sicilians beginning distinctly
later, forerunners of the new love lyric, wholly different from that of
trouvères, troubadours, and minnesingers, of the Italians of the
latter thirteenth century. And this simultaneous revelation of
mediaeval love takes place in the last quarter of the twelfth century,
when Northern France had already consolidated into a powerful
monarchy, and Paris, after the teachings of Abélard, was recognized
as the intellectual metropolis of Europe; when south of the Loire the
brilliant Angevine kings held the overlordship of the cultured
Raymonds of Toulouse and of the reviving Latin municipalities of
Provence \ when Germany was welded as a compact feudal mass by
the most powerful of the Stauffens; and the papacy had been built
up by Gregory and Alexander into a political wall against which
Frederick and Henry vainly battered; when the Italian
commonwealths grew slowly but surely, as yet still far from guessing
that the day would come when their democracy should produce a
new civilization to supersede this triumphant mediaeval civilization of
the early Capetiens, the Angevines, and the Hohenstauffens. Europe
was setting forth once more for the East; but no longer as the
ignorant and enthusiastic hordes of Peter the Hermit: Asia was the
great field for adventure, the great teacher of new luxuries, at once
the Eldorado and the grand tour of all the brilliant and inquisitive
and unscrupulous chivalry of the day. And, while into the West were
insidiously entering habits and modes of thought of the East;
throughout Germany and Provence, and throughout the still obscure
free burghs of Italy, was spreading the first indication of that
emotional mysticism which, twenty or thirty years later, was to burst
out in the frenzy of spiritual love of St. Francis and his followers. The
moment is one of the most remarkable in all history: the premature
promise in the twelfth century of that intellectual revival which was
delayed throughout Northern Europe until the sixteenth. It is the
moment when society settled down, after the anarchy of eight
hundred years, on its feudal basis; a basis fallaciously solid, and in
whose presence no one might guess that the true and definitive
Renaissance would arise out of the democratic civilization of Italy.
Such is the moment when we first hear the almost universal song of
mediaeval love. This song comes from the triumphantly reorganized
portion of society, not from the part which is slowly working its way
to reorganization; not from the timidly encroaching burghers, but
from the nobles. The reign of town poetry, of fabliaux and
meistersang, comes later; the poets of the early Middle Ages,
trouvères, troubadours, and minnesingers are, with barely one or
two exceptions, all knights. And their song comes from the castle.
Now, in order to understand mediaeval love, we must reflect for a
moment upon this feudal castle, and upon the kind of life which the
love poets of the late twelfth and early thirteenth century—whether
lords like Bertram de Born, and Guillaume de Poitiers, among the
troubadours; the Vidame de Chartres, Meurisses de Craon, and the
Duke of Brabant among the trouvères of Northern France; like Ulrich
von Liechtenstein among the minnesingers; or retainers and
hangers-on like Bernard de Ventadour and Armand de Mareulh, like
Chrestiens de Troyes, Gaisses Brulez, or Quienes de Béthune, like
Walther, Wolfram, and Tannhäuser—great or small, good or bad, saw
before them and mixed with in that castle. The castle of a great
feudatory of the early Middle Ages, whether north or south of the
Loire, in Austria or in Franconia, is like a miniature copy of some
garrison town in barbarous countries: there is an enormous
numerical preponderance of men over women; for only the chiefs in
command, the overlord, and perhaps one or two of his principal
kinsmen or adjutants, are permitted the luxury of a wife; the rest of
the gentlemen are subalterns, younger sons without means, youths
sent to learn their military duty and the ways of the world: a whole
pack of men without wives, without homes, and usually without
fortune. High above all this deferential male crowd, moves the lady
of the castle: highborn, proud, having brought her husband a dower
of fiefs often equal to his own, and of vassals devoted to her race.
About her she has no equals; her daughters, scarcely out of the
nurse's hands, are given away in marriage; and her companions, if
companions they may be called, are the waiting ladies, poor
gentlewomen situated between the maid of honour and the ladies'
maid, like that Brangwaine whom Yseult sacrifices to her intrigue
with Tristram, or those damsels whom Flamenca gives over to the
squires of her lover Guillems; at best, the wife of one of her
husband's subalterns, or some sister or aunt or widow kept by
charity. Round this lady—the stately, proud lady perpetually
described by mediaeval poets—flutters the swarm of young men, all
day long, in her path: serving her at meals, guarding her
apartments, nay, as pages, admitted even into her most secret
chamber; meeting her for ever in the narrowness of that castle life,
where every unnecessary woman is a burden usurping the place of a
soldier, and, if possible, replaced by a man. Servants, lacqueys, and
enjoying the privileges of ubiquity of lacqueys, yet, at the same
time, men of good birth and high breeding, good at the sword and
at the lute; bound to amuse this highborn woman, fading away in
the monotony of feudal life, with few books to read or unable to
read them, and far above all the household concerns which devolve
on the butler, the cellarer, the steward, the gentleman, honourably
employed as a servant. To them, to these young men, with few or
no young women of their own age to associate, and absolutely no
unmarried girls who could be a desirable match, the lady of the
castle speedily becomes a goddess, the impersonation at once of
that feudal superiority before which they bow, of that social
perfection which they are commanded to seek, and of that
womankind of which the castle affords so few examples. To please
her, this lazy, bored, highbred woman, with all the squeamishness
and caprice of high birth and laziness about her, becomes their ideal;
to be favourably noticed, their highest glory; to be loved, these
wretched mortals, by this divinity—that thought must often pass
through their brain and terrify them with its delicious audacity; oh
no, such a thing is not possible. But it is. The lady at first, perhaps
most often, singles out as a pastime some young knight, some
squire, some page; and, in a half-queenly, half-motherly way,
corrects, rebukes his deficiencies, undertakes to teach him his duty
as a servant. The romance of the "Petit Jehan de Saintré," written in
the fifteenth century, but telling, with a delicacy of cynicism worthy
of Balzac, what must have been the old, old story of the whole
feudal Middle Ages, shows the manner in which, while feeling that
he is being trained to knightly courtesy and honour, the young man
in the service of a great feudal lady is gradually taught dissimulation,
lying, intrigue; is initiated by the woman who looms above him like a
saint into all the foulness of adultery. Adultery; a very ugly word,
which must strike almost like a handful of mud in the face
whosoever has approached this subject of mediaeval love in
admiration of its strange delicacy and enthusiasm. Yet it is a word
which must be spoken, for in it is the explanation of the whole origin
and character of this passion which burst into song in the early
Middle Ages. This almost religious love, this love which conceives no
higher honour than the service of the beloved, no higher virtue than
eternal fidelity—this love is the love for another man's wife. Between
unmarried young men and young women, kept carefully apart by the
system which gives away a girl without her consent and only to a
rich suitor, there is no possibility of love in these early feudal courts;
the amours, however licentious, between kings' daughters and brave
knights, of the Carolingian tales, belong to a different rank of
society, to the prose romances made up in the fourteenth century for
the burgesses of cities; the intrigues, ending in marriage, of the
princes and princesses of the cycle of Amadis, belong to a different
period, to the fifteenth century, and to courts where feudal society
scarcely exists; the squires, the young knights who hang about a
great baronial establishment of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,
have still to make their fortune, and do not dream of marriage. The
husband, on the other hand, the great lord or successful knightly
adventurer, married late in life, and married from the necessity, for
ever pressing upon the feudal proprietor, of adding on new fiefs and
new immunities, of increasing his importance and independence in
proportion to the hourly increasing strength and claims of the
overlord, the king, who casts covetous eyes upon him—the husband
has not married for love; he has had his love affairs with the wives
of other men in his day, or may still have them; this lady is a mere
feudal necessity, she is required to give him a dower and give him
an heir, that is all. If the husband does not love, how much less can
the wife; married, as she is, scarce knowing what marriage is, to a
man much older than herself, whom most probably she has never
seen, to whom she is a mere investment. Nay, there is not even the
after-marriage love of the ancients: this wife is not the housekeeper,
the woman who works that the man's house may be rich and
decorous; not even the nurse of his children, for the children are
speedily given over to the squires and duennas; she is the woman of
another family who has come into his, the stranger who must be
respected (as that most typical mediaeval wife, Eleanor of Guienne,
was respected by her husbands) on account of her fiefs, her vassals,
her kinsfolk; but who cannot be loved. Can there be love between
man and wife? There cannot be love between man and wife. This is
no answer of mine, fantastically deduced from mediaeval poetry. It is
the answer solemnly made to the solemnly asked question by the
Court of Love held by the Countess of Champagne in 1174, and
registered by Master Andrew the King of France's chaplain: "Dicimus
enim et stabilito tenore firmamus amorem non posse inter duos
jugales suas extendere vires." And the reason alleged for this
judgment brings us back to the whole conception of mediaeval love
as a respectful service humbly waiting for a reward: "For," pursues
the decision published by André le Chapelain, "whereas lovers grant
to each other favours freely and from no legal necessity, married
people have the duty of obeying each other's wishes and of refusing
nothing to one another." "No love is possible between man and
wife," repeat the Courts of Love which, consisting of all the highborn
ladies of the province and presided by some mighty queen or
princess, represent the social opinions of the day. "But this lady,"
says a knight (Miles) before the love tribunal of Queen Eleanor,
"promised to me that if ever she should lose the love of her lover,
she would take me in his place. She has wedded the man who was
her lover, and I have come to claim fulfilment of her promise." The
court discusses for awhile. "We cannot," answers Queen Eleanor, "go
against the Countess of Champagne's decision that love cannot exist
between man and wife. We therefore desire this lady to fulfil her
promise and give you her love." Again, there come to the Court of
Love of the Viscountess of Narbonne a knight and a lady, who desire
to know whether, having been once married, but since divorced, a
love engagement between them would be honourable. The
viscountess decides that "Love between those who have been
married together, but who have since been divorced from one
another, is not to be deemed reprehensible; nay, that it is to be
considered as honourable." And these Courts of Love, be it
remarked, were frequently held on occasion of the marriage of great
personages; as, for instance, of that between Louis VII. and Eleanor
of Poitiers in 1137. The poetry of the early Middle Ages follows
implicitly the decisions of these tribunals, which reveal a state of
society to which the nearest modern approach is that of Italy in the
eighteenth century, when, as Goldoni and Parini show us, as
Stendhal (whose "De l'Amour" may be taken as the modern "Breviari
d'Amor") expounds, there was no impropriety possible as long as a
lady was beloved by any one except her own husband. No love,
therefore, between unmarried people (the cyclical romances, as
before stated, and the Amadises, belong to another time of social
condition, and the only real exception to my rule of which I can think
is the lovely French tale of "Aucassin et Nicolette"); and no love
between man and wife. But love there must be; and love there
consequently is; love for the married woman from the man who is
not her husband. The feudal lady, married without being consulted
and without having had a chance of knowing what love is, yet lives
to know love; lives to be taught it by one of these many bachelors
bound to flutter about her in military service or social duty; lives to
teach it herself. And she is too powerful in her fiefs and kinsmen, too
powerful in the public opinion which approves and supports her, to
be hampered by her husband. The husband, indeed, has grown up
in the same habits, has known, before marrying, the customs
sanctioned by the Courts of Love; he has been the knight of some
other man's wife in his day, what right has he to object? As in the
days of Italian cecisbei, the early mediaeval lover might say with
Goldoni's Don Alfonso or Don Roberto, "I serve your wife—such or
such another serves mine, what harm can there be in it?" ("Io servo
vostra moglie, Don Eugenio favorisce la mia; che male c' è?" I am
quoting from memory.) And as a fact, we hear little of jealousy; the
amusement of En Barral when Peire Vidal came in and kissed his
sleeping wife; and the indignation of all Provence for the murder of
Guillems de Cabestanh (buried in the same tomb with the lady who
had been made to eat of his heart)—showing from opposite sides
how the society accustomed to Courts of Love looked upon the
duties of husbands.
Such was the social life in those feudal courts whence first arises the
song of mediaeval love, and that this is the case is proved by the
whole huge body of early mediaeval poetry. We must not judge, as I
have said, either by poems of much earlier date, like the Nibelungen
and the Carolingian chansons de geste, which merely received a new
form in the early Middle Ages; still less from the prose romances of
Mélusine, Milles et Amys, Palemon and Arcite, and a host of others
which were elaborated only later and under the influence of the
quite unfeudal habits of the great cities; and least of all from that
strange late southern cycle of the Amadises, from which, odd as it
seems, many of our notions of chivalric love have, through our
ancestors, through the satirists or burlesque poets of the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries, been inherited. We must look at the tales
which, as we are constantly being told by trouvères, troubadours,
and minnesingers, were the fashionable reading of the feudal classes
of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries: the tales best known to us in
the colourless respectability of the collection made in the reign of
Edward IV. by Sir Thomas Malory, and called by him the "Morte
d'Arthur"—of the ladies and knights of Arthur's court; of the quest of
the Grail by spotless knights who were bastards and fathers of
bastards; of the intrigues of Tristram of Lyoness and Queen Yseult;
of Launcelot and Guenevere; the tales which Francesca and Paolo
read together. We must look, above all, at the lyric poetry of France,
Provence, Germany, and Sicily in the early Middle Ages.
Vos qui très bien ameis i petit mentendeis
Por l'amor de Ihesu les pucelles ameis.
Nos trouvons en escris de sainte auctoriteis
Ke pucelle est la fleur de loyaulment ameir.
This strange entreaty to love the maidens for the sake of Christ's
love, this protest of a nameless northern French poet (Wackernagel,
Altfranzösische Lieder and Leiche IX.) against the adulterous passion
of his contemporaries, comes to us, pathetically enough, solitary,
faint, unnoticed in the vast chorus, boundless like the spring song of
birds or the sound of the waves, of poets singing the love of other
men's wives. But, it may be objected—how can we tell that these
love songs, so carefully avoiding all mention of names, are not
addressed to the desired bride, to the legitimate wife of the poet?
For several reasons; and mainly, for the crushing evidence of an
undefinable something which tells us that they are not. The other
reasons are easily stated. We know that feudal habits would never
have allowed to unmarried women (and women were married when
scarcely out of their childhood) the opportunities for the relations
which obviously exist between the poet and his lady; and that, if by
some accident a young knight might fall in love with a girl, he would
address not her but her parents, since the Middle Ages, who were
indifferent to adultery, were, like the southern nations among whom
the married woman is not expected to be virtuous, extreme sticklers
for the purity of their unmarried womankind. Further, we have no
instance of an unmarried woman being ever addressed during the
early Middle Ages, in those terms of social respect—madame,
domna, frowe, madonna—which essentially belong to the mistress of
a household; nor do these stately names fit in with any theory which
would make us believe that the lady addressed by the poet is the
jealously guarded daughter of the house with whom he is plotting a
secret marriage, or an elopement to end off in marriage. This is not
the way that Romeo speaks to Juliet, nor even that the princesses in
the cyclical romances and in the Amadises are wooed by their
bridegrooms. This is not the language of a lover who is broaching
his love, and who hopes, however timidly, to consummate it before
all the world by marriage. It is obviously the language of a man
either towards a woman who is taking a pleasure in keeping him
dangling without favours which she has implicitly or explicitly
promised; or towards a woman who is momentarily withholding
favours which her lover has habitually enjoyed. And in a large
proportion of cases the poems of trouvères, troubadours, and
minnesingers are the expression of fortunate love, the fond
recollection or eager expectation of meetings with the beloved. All
this can evidently not be connected with the wooing, however
stealthy, however Romeo-and-Juliet-like of a bride; still less can it be
explained in reference to love within wedlock. A man does not,
however loving, worship his wife as his social superior; he does not
address her in titles of stiff respect; he does not sigh and weep and
supplicate for love which is his due, and remind his wife that she
owes it him in return for loyal, humble, discreet service. Above all, a
man (except in some absurd comedy perhaps, where the husband,
in an age of cicisbeos, is in love with his own wife and dares not
admit it before the society which holds "that there can be no love
between married folk ")—a husband, I repeat, does not beg for,
arrange, look forward to, and recall with triumph or sadness, secret
meetings with his own wife. Now the secret meeting is, in nearly
every aristocratic poet of the early poetry, the inevitable result of the
humble praises and humble requests for kindness; it is, most
obviously, the reward for which the poet is always importuning.
Mediaeval love poetry, compared with the love poetry of Antiquity
and the love poetry of the revival of letters, is, in its lyric form,
decidedly chaste; but it is perfectly explicit; and, for all its
metaphysical tendencies and its absence of clearly painted pictures,
the furthest possible removed from being Platonic. One of the most
important, characteristic, and artistically charming categories of
mediaeval love lyrics is that comprising the Provençal serena and
alba, with their counterparts in the langue d'oil, and the so-called
Wachtlieder of the minnesingers; and this category of love poetry
may be defined as the drama, in four acts, of illicit love. The faithful
lover has received from his lady an answer to his love, the place and
hour are appointed; all the day of which the evening is to bring him
this honour, he goes heavy hearted and sighing: "Day, much do you
grow for my grief, and the evening, the evening and the long hope
kills me." Thus far the serena, the evening song, of Guiraut Riquier.
A lovely anonymous alba, whose refrain, "Oi deus, oi deus; de l'
alba, tan tost ve!" is familiar to every smatterer of Provençal, shows
us the lady and her knight in an orchard beneath the hawthorn,
giving and taking the last kisses while the birds sing and the sky
whitens with dawn. "The lady is gracious and pleasant, and many
look upon her for her beauty, and her heart Is all in loving loyally;
alas, alas, the dawn! how soon it: comes!—" "Oi deus, oi deus; de
l'alba, tan tost ve!" The real alba is the same as the German
Wachtlieder, the song of the squire or friend posted at the garden
gate or outside the castle wall, warning the lovers to separate. "Fair
comrade (Bel Companho), I call to you singing. 'Sleep no more, for I
hear the birds announcing the day in the trees, and I fear that the
jealous one may find you;' and in a moment it will, be day, 'Bel
Companho, come to the window and look at the signs in the sky!
you will know me a faithful messenger; if you do it not, it will be to
your harm" and in a moment it will be dawn (et ades sera 1' alba)...
Bel Companho, since I left you I have not slept nor raised myself
from my knees; for I have prayed to God the Son of Saint Mary, that
he should send me: back my faithful comrade, and in a moment it
will be dawn In this alba of Guiraut de Borneulh, the lover comes at
last to the window, and cries to his. watching comrade that he is too
happy to care either for the dawn or for the jealous one. The
German Wachtlieder are even more explicit. "He must away at once
and without delay," sings the watchman in a poem of Wolfram, the
austere singer of Parzifal and the Grail Quest; "let him go, sweet
lady; let him away from thy love so that he keep his honour and life.
He trusted himself to me that I should bring him safely hence; it is
day ..." "Sing what thou wilt, watchman," answers the lady, "but
leave him here." In a far superior, but also far less chaste poem of
Heinrich von Morungen, the lady, alone and melancholy, wakes up
remembering the sad white light of morning, the sad cry of the
watchman, which separated her from her knight. Still more frankly,
and in a poem which is one of the few real masterpieces of
Minnesang, the lady in Walther von der Vogelweide's "Under der
linden an der Heide" narrates a meeting in the wood. "What passed
between us shall never be known by any! never by any, save him
and me—yes, and by the little nightingale that sang Tandaradei! The
little bird will surely be discreet."
The songs of light love for another's wife of troubadour, trouvère,
and minnesinger, seem to have been squeezed together, so that all
their sweet and acrid perfume is, so to speak, sublimated, in the
recently discovered early Provençal narrative poem called
"Flamenca." Like the "Tristram" of Gottfried von Strassburg, like all
these light mediaeval love lyrics, of which I have been speaking, the
rhymed story of "Flamenca," a pale and simple, but perfect petalled
daisy, has come up in a sort of moral and intellectual dell in the
winter of the Middle Ages—a dell such as you meet in hollows of
even the most wind-swept southern hills, where, while all round the
earth is frozen and the short grass nibbled away by the frost, may
be found even at Christmas a bright sheen of budding wheat
beneath the olives on the slope, a yellow haze of sun upon the grass
in which the little aromatic shoots of fennel and mint and marigold
pattern with greenness the sere brown, the frost-burnt; where the
very leafless fruit trees have a spring-like rosy tinge against the blue
sky, and the tufted little osiers flame a joyous orange against the
greenness of the hill.
Such spots there are—and many—in the winter of the Middle Ages;
though it is not in them, but where the rain beats, and the snow and
the wind tugs, that grow, struggling with bitterness, the great things
of the day: the philosophy of Abélard, the love of man of St. Francis,
the patriotism of the Lombard communes; nor that lie dormant,
fertilized in the cold earth, the great things of art and thought, the
great things to come. But in them arise the delicate winter flowers
which we prize: tender, pale things, without much life, things either
come too soon or stayed too late, among which is "Flamenca;" one
of those roses, nipped and wrinkled, but stained a brighter red by
the frost, which we pluck in December or in March; beautiful, bright,
scentless roses, which, scarce in bud, already fall to pieces in our
hand. "Flamenca" is simply the narrative of the loves of the beautiful
wife of the bearish and jealous Count Archambautz, and of Guillems
de Nevers, a brilliant young knight who hears of the lady's sore
captivity, is enamoured before he sees her, dresses up as the priest's
clerk, and speaks one word with her while presenting the mass book
to be kissed, every holiday; and finally deceives the vigilance of the
husband by means of a subterranean corridor, which he gets built
between his inn and the bath-room of the lady at the famous waters
of Bourbon—les—Bains. In this world of "Flamenca," which is in
truth the same world as that of the "Romaunt of the Rose," the
"Morte d'Arthur," and of the love poets of early France and Germany,
conjugal morality and responsibility simply do not exist. It seems an
unreal pleasure-garden, with a shadowy guardian—impalpable to us
gross moderns—called Honour, but where, as it seems, Love only
reigns. Love, not the mystic and melancholy god of the "Vita Nuova,"
but a foppish young deity, sentimental at once and sensual, of
fashionable feudal life: the god of people with no apparent duties
towards others, unconscious of any restraints save those of this
vague thing called honour; whose highest mission for the knight, as
put in our English "Romaunt of the Rose" is to—
 Set thy might and alle thy witte
Wymmen and ladies for to plese,
And to do thyng that may hem ese;
while, for the lady, it is expressed with perfect simplicity of
shamelessness by Flamenca herself to her damsels, teaching them
that the woman must yield to the pleasure of her lover. Now love,
when young, when, so to speak, but just born and able to feed (as a
newborn child on milk, without hungering for more solid food) on
looks and words and sighs; love thus young, is a fair-seeming
godhead, and the devotion to him a pretty and delicate piece of
aestheticism. And such it is here in "Flamenca," where there
certainly exists neither God nor Christ, both complete absentees,
whose priest becomes a courteous lover's valet, whose church the
place for amorous rendezvous, whose sacrifice of mass and prayer
becomes a means of amorous correspondence: Cupid, in the shape
of his slave Guillems de Nevers—become patarin(zealot) for love—
peeping with shaven golden head from behind the missal, touching
the lady's hand and whispering with the words of spiritual peace the
declaration of love, the appointment for meeting. God and Christ, I
repeat, are absentees. Where they are I know not; perhaps over the
Rhine with the Lollards in their weavers' dens, or over the Alps in the
cell of St. Francis; not here, certainly, or if here, themselves become
the mere slaves of love. But this King Love, as long as a mere infant,
is a sweet and gracious divinity, surrounded by somewhat of the
freshness and hawthorn sweetness of spring which seem to
accompany his favourite Guillems. Guillems de Nevers, "who could
still grow," this brilliant knight and troubadour, in his white silken and
crimson and purple garments and soundless shoes embroidered with
flowers, this prince of tournaments and tensos, who hearing the
sorrows of the beautiful Flamenca, loves her unseen, sits sighing in
sight of her prison bower, and faints like a hero of the Arabian Nights
at her name, and has visions of her as St. Francis has of Christ; this
younger and brighter Sir Launcelot, is an ideal little figure, whom
you might mistake for Love himself as described in the "Romaunt of
the Rose;" Love's avatar or incarnation, on whose appearance the