In order to bring it into being, all that was necessary was a slight alteration in the vocabulary of Latin, and the introduction of a few syntactical notions borrowed from Celtic and other languages till then unknown in the West of Europe. The Imperial colonies had brought in a fair number of Italian, African, and Asiatic elements. The Burgundian, and especially the Gothic, invasions added another, which was marked by considerable harmony, liveliness, and sonority. Its vocabulary was further increased after the inroads of the Saracens. Thus the _lingua romana_ became, in its rhythmic quality, quite distinct from Gallic, and soon assumed a character of its own. It is true that we do not find this in its perfection, in the “Oath of the Sons of Ludwig the Pious,” as we do later in the poems of Raimbaut de Vaqueiras or Bertran de Born.[134] Yet even in the “Oath” we can recognize the language for what it is; it has already acquired its main features, and its future path is clearly mapped out. It formed henceforth (in its different dialects of Limousin, Provençal, and Auvergnat) the speech of a people of as mixed an origin as any in the world. It was a refined and supple language, witty, brilliant, and satirical, but without depth or philosophy. It was of tinsel rather than gold, and had never been able to do more than pick up a few ingots on the surface of the rich mines that lay open to it. Without any serious principles, it was destined to remain an instrument of indifference, of universal scepticism and mockery. It did not fail to be used as such. The people cared for nothing but pleasure and parade. Brave to a fault, beyond measure gay, spending their passion on a dream, and their vitality on idle toys, they had an instrument that was exactly suited to their character, and which, though admired by Dante, was put to no better use in poetry than to tag satires, love-songs, and challenges, and in religion to support heresies such as that of the Albigenses, a pestilent Manicheism, without value even for literature, from which an English author, in no way Catholic in his sympathies, congratulates the Papacy on having delivered the Middle Ages.[135] Such was the _lingua romana_ of old, and such do we find it even to-day. It is pretty rather than beautiful, and shows on the surface how little it is fitted to serve a great civilization.